Her thin swollen-jointed fingers pushed the container gently toward Takeru. Then he heard her voice:
“Eat these with your little brother.”
Did Takeru’s trembling voice say, “Thank you”? And did he hear her all-forgiving voice reply:
“That’s okay.”
It’s okay. Take it. Take it.
Did Bunji, of whose existence Takeru could have had no knowledge yet, shout that in a whisper (if that’s possible) into his ear?
But was what she’d done something to be punished? Did she have to be punished for assuming Takeru was the older brother, for thinking of him and his older brother (yes, his brother was older, not younger), for wanting to share treats with them?
How, since Takeru had always been alone when they met, always completely alone, had the old woman known about his older brother (yes, his older brother, not younger)?
Who or what had told her? The big thing? That big thing that had told Joel about them? In which case, had Joel disappeared because he too had thought Takeru was the older brother? But the big thing, that great big thing—too big to be imagined—couldn’t be so small-minded as to punish someone for a mistake over who was older, who was younger. His brother was older, Takeru was younger—a tiny fact like that couldn’t bother the big thing, the colossal thing that embraced everything, accepted everything. So why the punishment? Punishment for what? Takeru tried to think, but he couldn’t. It was like trying to draw water from a well with a broken bucket. The bucket always came up dry. Was the well so deep that all the water had seeped out by the time it reached his hands? Or was the well just empty? What was it that the big thing had punished? Who had been punished? His brother? No. Definitely not. Takeru? Me? But it wasn’t Takeru who disappeared. Takeru was here. He was here, whether he liked it or not. The old woman disappeared and Joel disappeared. No. It wasn’t just the old woman and Joel who disappeared.
His mother?
Takeru shook his head sharply to drive the thought away. Pointless notions bubbled and spat in his mind like wet things in a fire, they swarmed like flies around a dead fish. Frantically, he shook his head again. It was a stupid thing to do. That’s what made his mother’s face fall from the basket of his memory, never to be recovered.
His brother?
No. No. No.
Then (but when?) he heard. Two junior-high girls were chattering at the table next to his in the supermarket.
“He’s not there!” said the thin one who had short hair and a face rather like an alpaca’s. “When we arrived they said they weren’t doing dolphin shows anymore. I thought, ‘Oh no!’”
Takeru’s heart pounded. Maybe he already knew what they were talking about.
“That’s too bad,” said her friend, owl-like in her glasses. “You’ve wanted to see him forever, haven’t you? The supernatural dolphin!”
She burst out laughing.
“I like so wanted to see him!” said the alpaca, her voice getting louder. “But he’s gone. It’s, like, a real shame!”
They turned, astonished, to look at the boy who was suddenly standing right next to them and staring intently.
“Is that true? Really true?” asked Takeru.
“What’s he want?” said the owl, pouting.
“What’s wrong?” asked the alpaca.
“He’s not there anymore?” said Takeru. “Johnnie’s not there?”
“Huh? Johnnie? What’s he talking about?” said the owl. She screwed up her nose in disgust, then suddenly laughed. “Johnnie? Who’s that?”
“You mean the dolphin?” said the alpaca. “Right?”
“He’s not there anymore? Johnnie’s not there?”
“Ugh!” said the owl. “What’re you crying for? Yuck!”
“Shut up! He’s upset,” said the alpaca.
“Yeah,” she said, turning to Takeru. “He’s gone.”
Takeru was crying so hard he couldn’t form any words. He pulled his Man U cap down to hide his eyes. The tears didn’t stop, but eventually he managed to speak. “Why? Why? Is he dead?”
It was as though he was asking himself as much as the girls. His voice trembled. The words seemed to disintegrate the moment they touched the air.
“I wish you were dead!” said the owl. “Go away!”
The alpaca, though, was doing her best to cheer Takeru up. Maybe she just wanted him to stop crying because he was attracting attention.
She kept talking, saying whatever came to mind.
“I don’t know what happened to him, but they say he’s not there anymore. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Yeah, sure. I mean, like, nobody said he was dead. But he’s gone. That’s for sure. So… yeah, I guess maybe he escaped. He’s, like, gone back to the sea. He’s a dolphin after all. He’ll be in the ocean somewhere, like, enjoying life. Yeah. Definitely.”
While the alpaca rambled on the owl faced the other way, stifling her laughter.
But Takeru wasn’t listening. He turned his back and, still crying, headed for the door. It was all too late.
Maybe there were some adults in the store who were worried about him, but with his cap pulled all the way down all he could see was the floor.
He came out of the supermarket and started running in despair. What pushed him now was the big thing. It didn’t wrap him up and keep him warm, though. It didn’t give him strength. It didn’t affirm anything about him. Entirely the opposite. It had forsaken him. He was abandoned. Repulsed by the big thing, swept forward by overwhelming force, he could do nothing but run. Rejected, displaced, he had no choice but to go somewhere else, somewhere that wasn’t here.
The harsh din of cicadas filled the air. Earlier in the morning there would have been birdsong, playing along with the first rays of sunlight that crept down the western hill toward the village. The hillside would have shimmered in its gentle touch, before the rough assault of full light began. But now, all that could be heard were the cicadas. The newly formed shadows of all the things in the village quivered with their cries. The sound was like that of heavy rain, but the sky was clear. There was no mist out there, it was all in his head, among his memories. He was still in a daze, as always, and thoughts would not form properly. Takeru was sitting on Mitsuko’s wooden veranda, taking large bites from a watermelon she’d cut for him.
He’d been out to the holly tree at the edge of the garden to shout for Saki to come and have some, but there’d been no reply.
“Looks like she’s still asleep, Mitsuko,” Takeru said as Mitsuko washed the dishes from breakfast in the kitchen.
“She shouldn’t be lyin’ ’round in bed, just ’cause it’s the holidays,” said Mitsuko, showing a hint of anger at Saki’s father, Tatsuya.
From Mitsuko’s veranda you could see the hills around the village to the south. The blue sky above them was clear and bright. Takeru knew that the Pacific Ocean lay beyond the hills, and he imagined the sparkling sea. There was a beach over there where sea turtles came to lay their eggs. He wanted to see that.
“I’ll take ya,” Hii-chan had said. They were on the way back from shopping in town and had stopped for some gas at the Shudo Gas Station.
“But, Hii-chan,” said Toshi, “they’ve only just laid their eggs.”
“What difference does that make?” said Hii-chan, flaring his nostrils, making his nose look bigger than ever.
“Well, it’s too late for Takeru. They won’t be back ’til next summer, will they?” said Toshi, mockingly.
“He can stay ’til then,” said Hii-chan smiling. His silver tooth glinted. “Suits ya here, don’t it, Takeru? You’ve gotten fatter.”
Hii-chan prodded Takeru’s cheek. Takeru didn’t know if he was fatter or not. Perhaps he was.