‘It’s because you’ve got all this time on your hands.’ I play with my silver bracelet. Emi’s wearing the same one – they have little discs on them that work as a sort of cash card. While we’re on this planet, nothing costs a penny. But neither the barman nor the barmaid wear one.
‘You’re right. It’s so easy to end up imagining stuff when you’re idle.’
Seems like she’s got her mind on other things today.
A languid song, almost dripping with despair, comes on the jukebox. I check the screen – ‘I’ve Got a Mind to Give Up Living’. Paul Butterfield.
‘Can I get you two anything else?’ The barmaid asks.
We take the bus out of Yokohama as dusk nears.
‘What’s the next stop?’
We sit towards the back, and I gaze outside. ‘Yokosuka.’
‘I want to go shopping,’ Emi says, quite out of the blue.
‘Shall we get off, then?’
‘But we only just got on.’
The sky grows an ever-deeper blue; it’s almost too exquisite to watch. I gaze out the window, eyes glued to the view. The sides of the buildings lit by the sinking sun all glow a uniform gold, subtle yet intense. It’s as if rectangular shapes have been cut out of the sky, revealing this shining layer beneath.
‘I didn’t know the city could look like this.’
I feel something drop onto the back of my hand. Tears! Shocked, I turn to face Emi.
‘This is the first time I’ve cried over a little scenery.’
‘It seems like everyone starts being honest with themselves about their feelings, once they come here.’ She takes a tissue from her pocket and puts it to my nose. ‘Well, it’s different for the workers, of course.’
She seems troubled. I blow my nose. Come to think of it, this must be the first time since I was a child that I’ve cried in front of another person.
‘Apparently there’s something in the air here that gets you all wistful and nostalgic. Hey, are you glad you came?’
‘Of course I am!’ I answer, ardently.
I haven’t told Emi about this yet, but I had absolutely no friends before this year. It was a serious problem – and not one that could be easily explained away by shyness or introversion. I did have an idea of why people didn’t like me, but I just wasn’t prepared to admit it. I consoled myself by deciding that I hated other people and had no desire to love anyone.
But I’m drawn to Emi now, after only meeting her a couple of times. And there’s Naoshi, too.
‘We shopping, then?’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Let’s get off here.’
And the magic doesn’t wear off, even after we leave the bus. It’s actually painful how beautiful even the ground is, and how the air is laced with the sweet scents of spring.
The last of the sunlight gives an even coat to the tops of the buildings. I can see the start of Chinatown a little down the road.
‘Ages ago, I used to go out with this boy from Hong Kong. What was his name? Law, something like that.’ Whose words are these coming out of my mouth? There’s no way that could’ve happened to me. On Earth, all I did every day was trudge back and forth between class and home. Are these someone else’s memories?
‘What was he like?’
‘Good at looking after money, but I don’t mean he was a cheapskate! He was very orderly. And extremely romantic.’
‘Hmm, well. Bet he was a pretty randy bastard then, wasn’t he? Often the case with those outwardly rigid types.’ Emi never ceases to impress me with her insight.
‘Yeah, he was! Feels like an age ago now, though.’
‘Bet he was always posing, right? And almost too protective.’
‘Uh… Well, he didn’t love me much, so I never had the benefit of any protection like that.’
And it was aged twenty-four that I lost myself to Law’s almond eyes… Just when did I take over someone else’s life?
We’ve arrived at an area lined with brash American-style boutiques.
‘You know, I was hoping for something grungier.’
‘How about those punky places over there, then?’
I buy a stole made of yellow netting and a rose to wear around my neck. Still not quite there. Then, a black suit from a less racy shop – with a tight skirt, mind, not trousers.
‘Want to come round to mine for dinner?’ Now, I’m only inviting Emi over because I hate being alone with CHAIR. This is a chair that sits in the middle of my apartment and talks to me – and only ever to say mean things! It’s pretty ridiculous for a piece of furniture to have a personality, but that’s just how it is. And it talks just like my mother.
‘I’m kind of tired. It’s been an intense day. I want to take a break and digest it all, by myself.’
The fact is I’ve had my fill of her already, so I’m secretly quite glad. But where’s my sense of agency? It makes me sick, seeing myself so limp-willed.
Emi raises her hand in the darkening blue light, and I sigh as she turns and walks away, as though the words ‘free will’ were written across her back.
Once I get home, I take tonight’s clothes out of my wardrobe and lay them on the bed.
I sit down beside them and light a cigarette, and CHAIR pipes up. ‘What about the new outfit?’
‘Oh, the black one?’ I lay out the black suit, too.
‘Why did you go and buy that?’ She has a rough, raspy voice, husky yet piercing – she sounds just like my mother, and I hate it.
‘I thought maybe Naoshi could be into plain girls. And it makes a statement, doesn’t it?’
‘Do you know why you’ve become so obsessed with that boy without even having spoken to him yet, by the way?’
‘Because he’s bloody gorgeous, right.’
‘Wrong!’ CHAIR gives an evil cackle. ‘You already know him, child.’
She shakes with laughter, her balding velvet cover trembling with its greyish floral pattern, and her armrests wobbling, too.
Now, I’ve never sat on this chair – she started jabbering away at me the day I took this room. Anyway, you can tell her springs are probably broken just by looking at her.
‘Look, Naoshi is someone you used to know. That much is true.’ She takes a few steps to the side.
‘Why did I forget him, then?’
‘Because your long string of failures begins when things start going to pot with him. It takes you a whole decade to even realize he’s serious about you.’
‘Does he dump me?’
‘No, child.’ CHAIR strides about the room.
‘So… You mean there’s some misunderstanding between us and we split up. Is that it? I mean, there’s no way I’d be the one to leave him.’
‘What if you are?’ She lets out a snigger.
‘No, I’d never—’
‘Oh, come on, I just wanted to scare you a bit!’
‘But, look – that’s not something that happens to this “me”, here, right? It’s not me that makes that mistake.’
‘Well, I suppose we could say so,’ CHAIR says with a speculative air, before shimmying back to her original spot.
‘That’s something done by another “me”, in a parallel world, right? How old am I there now?’
I realize it’s a stupid question as soon as I’ve said it. Which ‘now’? How do you even define that?
‘You’re in your thirties, probably. You’ve realized your mistakes and you’re stuck in a whirlpool of despair. You’re in a state, like that last song you put on at the Seaside Club. Seems like you’ve actually gone a bit mad.’
‘Oh, cheers.’
‘No need to thank me, dear.’
‘I seem to be wrong in the head here, too.’
‘How come?’
‘I mean, a chair’s talking to me.’