I had imagined three possible responses. In order of preference they go like this:
“Why? What happened?”
“Is there anything I can do? Just say it. I’ll do anything.”
Remain silent for a moment and then burst into tears.
Her reaction left something to be desired.
On the other hand, when I think about it, even I acted pretty calm when I was told I didn’t have long to live. The whole thing seemed kind of surreal, even to me, so why should I be surprised if other people don’t seem shocked, disappointed, or sad.
I wonder why people always expect things from others that they themselves can’t or won’t do. Did I want her to be shocked, or sad?
“But why so sudden?”
“I just found out. It’s cancer.”
“Oh, that’s terrible… but you don’t seem upset at all. So I guess people are actually pretty calm when they hear that they might die soon?”
Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell her that the Devil was helping me to buy more time. I don’t think there’s anyone who would want his first love to think he’s lost his mind when he’s on the brink of death. And besides, that wasn’t what I came to speak to her about.
“And so…”
“What?”
“Since I might die soon, I feel the need to find out more about myself… you know… to reach some kind of understanding.”
“Is that so?”
“I mean… I guess I need to know if my life had any meaning.”
“Yeah, I guess you’d wonder about that…”
“Well, yeah. So that’s why I wanted to talk about us. I mean, our history. I remember all sorts of things about us, but I wanted to ask you what you remember, even the little things.”
I realized I’d been talking very fast, and then discovering that my coffee had gone cold, I downed the rest of it in one go.
She didn’t seem pleased. “Well, if that was the case you should have given me some advance warning.” She stopped and looked deep in thought. Suddenly I felt really awkward, so I went to the bathroom and took my time getting back to my seat.
“Now that’s something I do remember.”
“What?”
“You always went to the bathroom a lot.”
This was her first offering.
“And you always took a really long time… for a man.”
What? So that was it? No warm up—straight to it.
And besides, she’d never mentioned it before. But now that I think about it, I do go pretty often and take quite a long time. That’s because I tend to start thinking about things while I’m in the bathroom, to the point where I sort of drift off. Then I take a long time washing my hands afterward, and walking back from the bathroom and so on. It seemed like she hardly ever went to the bathroom. And whenever we used public toilets at the same time, she’d always be out first and waiting for me.
“Oh, and you always sighed a lot. I was always thinking how awful life must be for you.”
“Was it really like that… ?”
“And you weren’t much of a drinker. Couldn’t take your liquor.”
“Jeez, sorry…”
“Oh, yeah, and whenever we went to a restaurant you could never decide what to order… even though you’re supposed to be a man. And then you’d always end up ordering the same thing anyway—curry rice. And whenever I got angry you’d sulk and take a really long time to get over it.”
After blurting all of this out she looked pretty pleased with herself and went back to casually sipping her cocoa.
Wow. So this is what I have to listen to as I approach the end? Did my life have any meaning? Was it worth the effort?
This seemed pretty harsh. So this is what you remember about the man you once loved? Or maybe it’s not so strange. Women are always unforgiving and unsentimental about men in their past. That must be it. At least that’s what I told myself.
“Oh, right, and one more thing. Whenever you phoned you’d talk a lot, but then when we met in person, like this, you didn’t have much to say.”
I’ll have to admit she was probably right there.
In those days, we’d talk on the phone for two or three hours at a time. And we only lived a thirty-minute walk from each other. Every now and again we’d talk on the phone for eight hours straight, and then we’d laugh, saying if we were going to talk for that long we should have just spent the day together.
But then when we actually did spend time with each other, we didn’t seem to have much to talk about. On the phone, it seemed more intimate, even though we weren’t with each other, and we’d have the most involved conversations over even the small things.
Even so, her judgment of me seemed a bit negative. Don’t I deserve more than that now, when the end is near? I kept on going even though my heart was breaking.
“But then, you did stick around for more than three years, you put up with all of that.”
“You can say that for sure! But…”
“But what?”
“I liked your phone calls. You used to talk so passionately about music and novels… it was as if the world had suddenly transformed. I liked you. I might have even loved you. Even though you were incapable of talking about anything when we actually met.”
“Yeah. You’re right, you know. The phone calls. It was the same for me. I remember how you’d talk about movies, and how the whole world seemed to change just listening to your voice.”
This seemed to break the ice, and we rambled on endlessly after that. Mostly we talked about old times and people we knew back then, like the skinny kid who had now grown incredibly fat, or that girl who was a plain Jane and really stern, but who married right out of college and now had four children.
The next thing we knew it had got dark, so I walked her home. She lived in a little room above the movie theater where she worked.
“So you finally did it—you married the movies.”
She laughed at me. “Now, now, you’re not allowed to joke about that kind of thing.”
“So how’s your father?” she asked me as we strolled along the cobbled street.
“Mmmm… I wouldn’t know…”
“Still haven’t made up?”
“I haven’t seen him since my mother died.”
“Your mother always said she wanted the two of you to get along.”
“I guess we just weren’t able to live up to her expectations.”
After we had been seeing each other for about six months I took her home to meet my parents. My father didn’t even come out of his shop to say hello, but my mother really took to her. Mom served cake and then cooked a meal, and then served more cake after that. She wouldn’t let her go home!
“I always wanted a daughter,” my mother told her. Mom had only brothers and no sister. Even the cats, Lettuce and Cabbage, were male.
After that the two of them used to go out together without my knowing.
“Your mother was very special,” she said smiling.
“What do you mean?”
“When a new restaurant opened she’d get all excited and invite me to go out with her. She taught me how to cook. We’d even go to the beauty salon together.”
“Huh? You went to the beauty salon together? I never knew.”
Mom died three years after we broke up, but my girlfriend still came to the funeral. She shook and cried, and held on to Cabbage until it was all over. I think she’d sensed how confused and upset Cabbage was, as he went pacing back and forth through the house.
After we broke up Mom would always say, “Now, she was a good catch that one,” making sure to slip it in every time I saw her. When I saw how my girlfriend held Cabbage at the funeral, I think I finally understood what Mom had meant.