What are you doing here? she asked. Looking for the cat, I said. Are you sure? It doesn't look that way to me. You're just sitting there and whistling with your eyes closed. It'd be kinda hard to find much of anything that way, don't you think? I felt myself blushing. It doesn't bother me, she went on, but somebody who doesn't know you might think you were some kind of pervert. She paused. You're not a pervert, are you? Probably not, I said. She approached me and undertook a careful study of the nested lawn chairs, choosing one without too much dirt on it and doing one more close inspection before setting it on the ground and lowering herself into it.
And your whistling's terrible, she said. I don't know the tune, but it had no melody at all. You're not gay, are you?
Probably not, I said. Why? Somebody told me gays are lousy whistlers. Is that true?
Who knows? Its probably nonsense. Anyway, I don't care even if you are gay or a pervert or anything. By the way, whats your name? I don't know what to call you. Toru Okada, I said. She repeated my name to herself several times. Not much of a name, is it? she said. Maybe not, I said. I've always thought it sounded kind of like some prewar foreign minister: Toru Okada. See? That doesn't mean anything to me. I hate history. Its my worst subject. Anyhow, never mind. Haven't you got a nickname? Something easier than Toru Okada? I couldn't recall ever having had a nickname. Never once in my life. Why was that? No nickname, I said. Nothing? Bear? Or Frog? Nothing. Gee, she said. Think of something.
Wind-up bird, I said. Wind-up bird? she asked, looking at me with her mouth open. What is that? The bird that winds the spring, I said. Every morning. In the tree-tops. It winds the worlds spring. Creeeak. She went on staring at me. I sighed. It just popped into my head, I said. And theres more. The bird comes over by my place every day and goes Creeeak in the neighbors tree. But nobody's ever seen it. That's neat, I guess. So anyhow, you'll be Mr. Wind-Up Bird. That's not very easy to say, either, but its way better than Toru Okada. Thank you very much.
She pulled her feet up into the chair and put her chin on her knees. How about your name? I asked.
May Kasahara. May ... like the month of May. Were you born in May? Do you have to ask? Can you imagine the confusion if somebody born in June was named May? I guess you're right, I said. I suppose you're still out of school?
I was watching you for a long time, she said, ignoring my question.
From my room. With my binoculars. I saw you go in through the gate. I keep a little pair of binoculars handy, for watching what goes on in the alley. All kinds of people go through there. I'll bet you didn't know that.
And not just people. Animals too. What were you doing here by yourself all that time? Spacing out, I said. Thinking about the old days. Whistling. May Kasahara bit a thumbnail. You're kinda weird, she said. I'm not weird. People do it all the time.
Maybe so, but they don't do it in a neighbors vacant house. You can stay in your own yard if all you want to do is space out and think about the old days and whistle. She had a point there.
Anyhow, I guess Noboru Wataya never came home, huh? I shook my head. And I guess you never saw him, either, after that? I asked.
No, and I was on the lookout for him, too: a brown-striped tiger cat. Tail slightly bent at the tip. Right?
From the pocket of her short pants she took a box of Hope regulars land lit up with a match. After a few puffs, she stared right at me and said, Your hairs thinning a little, isn't it?
My hand moved automatically to the back of my head.
Not there, silly, she said. Your front hairline. Its higher than it should be, don't you think?
I never really noticed.
Well, I did, she said. That's where you're going to go bald. Your hairlines going to move up and up like this. She grabbed a handful of her own hair in the front and thrust her bare forehead in my face. You'd better be careful.
I touched my hairline. Maybe she was right. Maybe it had receded somewhat. Or was it my imagination? Something new to worry about.
What do you mean? I asked. How can I be careful?
You cant, I guess. Theres nothing you can do. Theres no way to prevent baldness. Guys who are going to go bald go bald. When their time comes, thats it: they just go bald. Theres nothing you can do to stop it. They tell you you can keep from going bald with proper hair care, but thats bullshit. Look at the bums who sleep in Shinjuku Station. They've all got great heads of hair. You think they're washing it every day with Clinique or Vidal Sassoon or rubbing Lotion X into it? That's what the cosmetics makers will tell you, to get your money.
I'm sure you're right, I said, impressed. But how do you know so much about baldness?
I've been working part time for a wig company. Quite a while now. You know I don't go to school, and I've got all this time to kill. I've been doing surveys and questionnaires, that kind of stuff. So I know all about men losing their hair. I'm just loaded with information.
Gee, I said.
But you know, she said, dropping her cigarette butt on the ground and stepping on it, in the company I work for, they wont let you say anybody's bald. You have to say men with a thinning problem. Bald is discriminatory language. I was joking around once and suggested gentlemen who are follically challenged, and boy, did they get mad! This is no laughing matter, young lady, they said. They're so damned seeerious. Did you know that? Everybody in the whole damned world is so damned serious.
I took out my lemon drops, popped one in my mouth, and offered one to May Kasahara. She shook her head and took out a cigarette.
Come to think of it, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said, you were unemployed. Are you still?
Sure am. Are you serious about working? Sure am. No sooner had the words left my mouth than I began to wonder how true they were. Actually, I'm not so sure, I said. I think I need time. Time to think. I'm not sure myself what I need. Its hard to explain.
Chewing on a nail, May Kasahara looked at me for a while. Tell you what, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said. Why don't you come to work with me one day? At the wig company. They don't pay much, but the works easy, and you can set your own hours. What do you say? Don't think about it too much, just do it. For a change of pace. It might help you figure out all kinds of things.
She had a point there. You've got a point there, I said.
Great! she said. Next time I go, I'll come and get you. Now, where did you say your house is?
Hmm, thats a tough one. Or maybe not. You just keep going and going down the alley, taking all the turns. On the left you'll see a house with a red Honda Civic parked in back. Its got one of those bumper stickers Let There Be Peace for All the Peoples of the World. Ours is the next house, but theres no gate opening on the alley. Its just a cinder-block wall, and you have to climb over it. Its about chin height on me.
Don't worry. I can get over a wall that high, no problem. Your leg doesn't hurt anymore? She exhaled smoke with a little sighing kind of sound and said, Don't worry. Its nothing. I limp when my parents are around because I don't want to go to school. I'm faking. It just sort of turned into a habit. I do it even when nobody's looking, when I'm in my room all by myself. I'm a perfectionist. What is it they say-Fool yourself to fool others? But any- how, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, tell me, have you got guts?
Not really, no. Never had em? No, I was never one for guts. Not likely to change, either. How about curiosity? Curiosity's another matter. I've got some of that. Well, don't you think guts and curiosity are kind of similar? said May Kasahara.