‘What about the library?’
‘They only have the mainstream stuff, books and videos both. The other day I went to take out Blade Runner but they didn’t even have that. I couldn’t believe it. Going over to a friend’s place doesn’t cost anything, but talking to other people is so exhausting. I don’t see my friends all that often, so it’s hard to tell how to act. And talking to Daddy is exhausting for different reasons.’ Talking with my mother like this was exhausting too. I’m just no good with living, breathing human beings.
‘You can’t find work at all?’ My mother sounded concerned about me.
‘…Uh-uh.’
It’s because I’m stupid and childish, I thought. Each occupational category has a designated minimum IQ. Most require a higher ability index than mine. There are too many people, so no wonder. Then there are the ones like HIM, who are intelligent but fail the exam on purpose, who want their parents to take care of them forever. Of course, HE also does it to exact revenge on HIS father.
‘Now why would that be, I wonder.’
‘Mama, can I say something weird?’
‘Of course.’
‘Bad luck seems to follow me around. It sucks for me personally that I always get fired after a couple of weeks and never make any money, but the businesses themselves always seem to fall on hard times too. From the day I start working somewhere, the customers just stop showing up… I’ve started to feel like it’s somehow my fault for even putting on a professional act and going to work. It’s like I’m causing trouble for everyone.’
‘You’re imagining things.’
My mother smiled. How could she be so sure? I wish I had the confidence to make pronouncements like that. Does it come from her devotion to her work?
‘Bring me some water, dear.’ My mother shook out her hair.
Going into the kitchen, I let out a sigh. I’m a real sigher, but I do my best to hold it in until I’m alone. That’s part of the reason it’s so hard for me to be around other people. When I’m with HIM, I can sigh. Maybe that’s why I put up with HIM.
‘Why don’t you go back to school?’ my mother asked when I brought her the water.
‘It’s not like there are a lot of places I can go.’
After middle school, I went to a design school that didn’t have an entrance exam. They didn’t take attendance either. They had some fancy ideal of a ‘liberal education’. It was fun. Even after I graduated, I would still go hang out there whenever I got an invite to a dance party or something. That’s where I met HIM. I liked that HE wasn’t an old classmate of mine. Still, it’s not like it had to be HIM. Anyone who was about the same height as me and was similarly skinny and androgynous would’ve done just as well. And that place was chock full of guys like that.
‘Well, you don’t need to worry about money, at least. I’m in the top income bracket.’
‘I know that – is it OK if I go now?’
‘Go ahead.’ My mother reached out and began adjusting her sleep dial.
I went to my room instead of back to the couch. I opened up the TV guide and looked through it. There are so many lines and it takes a fair amount of time. Got to be thorough, though – I almost didn’t notice that one of my favourite bands was on.
I hurriedly turned on the TV.
I think Yūki (that’s the singer) is cute and smart and great. Though I’ve been upset about a daytime show I saw where they revealed he had a lover.
Nothing eases the boredom, of course. Aside from maybe when a pop star I’ve decided I like is on. It’s not that I like the content of the programming itself. So much of it is total trash. I just enjoy the feeling of sitting there spacing out in front of the TV set. Because I don’t have to be active. Doing anything of my own volition is so painful that I can’t handle it. If I can just avoid that pain, that’s enough for me.
I wanted to crank up the volume, so I put on my headphones. The shows would keep on coming forever. I slowly began to slip into a world all my own.
My father committed suicide.
I have no idea what went on between my parents. My mother has taken a leave of absence from work and checked herself into one of those mental hospitals that sells itself like a resort. Apparently she’s going to write an essay on the world of television while she’s there.
The worst part about it is that my dad’s wife has started calling all the time. If someone grabs my hand when I don’t want them to, I can never bring myself to shake them off. That’s just the kind of person I am. So all I can do when this person, the wife of someone who was basically a total stranger to me, calls up is grit my teeth and listen to her reminisce and lament.
‘Do you have any idea how hopelessly in love with him I was?’ What the hell am I supposed to say to that? So I just keep silent. It’s not like I can tell her I thought my father was a loser.
I know perfectly well what a good match my father and his new wife were. They both had total faith in society. Which is I guess why he committed suicide – he actually believed his death might have some kind of effect. Talk about optimistic.
At the same time, I’ve developed a conditioned response to the face of my father’s widow: every time I see it, I’m reminded of that girl HE was with. I’ve become crazed with jealousy. Feels like the first time in forever I’ve felt any kind of emotion. Having emotions is a good thing. Better than not having them, anyway.
‘Why do you have the video switched off?’ HE asked from the screen.
‘Because I’m naked,’ I lied. I felt like messing with HIS head a little.
‘Can you put something on? It makes me anxious when I can’t see your face.’
‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ I replied, suppressing a giggle.
‘…Fine. I’ll turn mine off too.’ The screen went black.
‘So what’s up?’ Having a conversation with just our voices was strange, but kind of fun.
‘I’ve got something important to ask you, so can you get serious?’
‘Sure.’
‘Man, this is embarrassing. I’m not sure about asking this – should I do it anyway, even though I can’t see your face?’
What a weirdo.
‘Just spit it out.’
‘OK then – do you like me?’
‘Sure I like you. You know that.’
‘Like how?’
‘Like I like myself.’
‘That’s one hell of an answer.’
‘What’s this about?’
‘Well, I’ve got this plan – is this conversation being recorded?’
‘Nope.’
‘You sure?’
‘I hate holding on to love letters. What’s up with you anyway?’
‘Well, I mean, I was thinking, what if we became one, like, body and soul. What d’you think?’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’ What could HE possibly have in mind?
‘I got one of those devices installed in my brain. I want you to try it too. It’ll change your whole outlook.’
‘Maybe. But my mum’s against it. She’s away right now, but she’d never give me the money for it anyway.’
‘I want you to get one more than anything. If you don’t, we can never become true mirror images.’
‘What happens when you get it?’
‘All the shitty stuff stops bothering you. Like, you realize that there’s a simple way of dealing with everything that’s been weighing on you up till now. You can just tack on an illogical ending to the story, like a deus ex machina for life. Reality feels like a TV show, and TV shows feel like reality. It’s like the boundary between them breaks down, like you’re living in a dream.’