But Moeko has always been a sore loser, and the way that Meiko had explained it all must have really grated on her nerves. And so she had gone and used it without uttering a word to anyone.
“You thief!”
“What? It isn’t yours!”
The two of them lunged toward one another.
“You two, stop it!” Mom screamed.
I glanced across the room, my interest suddenly shifting to Yōko. She was perfectly composed, busy occupying herself with the brie cheese and Earl Grey tea that Mom had bought from the Queen’s Isetan department store at Koishikawa. She had remained silent the whole time, simply enjoying the food and drink.
Yōko. Maybe it was Yōko who had used the lipstick. But it looked like that possibility hadn’t even occurred to Meiko. At times like this, Moeko is always the one who gets blamed first. She can be pretty tactless, and she doesn’t have Yōko’s innate sense of cunning, so if she were to use it without saying anything, it was obvious that she would end up getting caught out.
“Why…? Why…?” Moeko began to cry. “It isn’t even yours! He only gave it to you because you ran into him at the library, that’s all!”
But that wasn’t all, was it? Moeko understood that better than anyone. If he was going to go to the library, why didn’t he bump into me there? Maybe he would have given me that tube of lipstick, and then I would have had an excuse to talk to him.
That’s what happened, isn’t it? That’s what she wanted to ask Meiko. Moeko was so jealous, so envious, that she couldn’t even understand her own feelings anymore.
That’s what happened, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Meiko? This month’s novelist is Kawabata Yasunari, right? Are you a fan of his? That’s the kind of conversation you had with him, isn’t it?
This had probably all occurred to Moeko only subconsciously, but she was so paranoid about Meiko and S having just such an exchange that the mere possibility of it only ended up fanning her jealousy.
Yōko, her expression perfectly composed, continued to sip at her tea, as if savoring the flavor.
Meiko, Moeko, Yōko. My three bewitching sisters. Please kill me. Mess me up. The visions kept on coming. I could see them playing with the phallus that I shouldn’t have. And then, when I finally became one with them, there I was, melting away into nothingness. Maybe this is what it means to feel in love, I wondered. I had never seen anything particularly charming about S. That was why I didn’t have much reason to fight with my sisters anymore after he popped up. I was on neutral ground.
But, I thought, it was without a doubt thanks to S that my sisters had become even more enthralling.
Ever since that S moved here, Meiko and Moeko have really fallen out, Mom said to me one day. Even Yōko’s holed herself up in her room ever since the two of them started fighting. What on earth has happened to those girls? I wish that man had never come here.
But Mom, that’s wrong, I murmured in my heart. They’ve always been that way. Jealous, secretive, stubborn. To me, on the other hand, ever since S appeared, the three of them had become only more attractive.
Compared to my three sisters, I don’t really have much drive, or a sense of self for that matter. I’ve always had this mental complex. I’ve never once understood what I want, or what’s right. For example, I’ve never been in love. I’ve only ever dated guys who have asked me out first. My individuality, my sense of being, they’ve all been stolen away from me—my three sisters’ personalities have robbed me of them all.
Is what I’ve been doing really so sinful? Is it wrong to want to be like silk, to want to be dyed the colors of my sisters? Hey, Mom, do women exist to be dyed the color of men? To be dyed by someone else—is that only allowed during the act of making love? I wonder whether I’m a bad daughter.
I’ll be sucked dry by my sisters. They’ll caress my body, my heart, until my very existence turns into nothing. When my sisters die, I’ll probably end up disappearing. Not dying—disappearing. There would be no pain. It wouldn’t bother me at all to just turn invisible and fade away.
People will point out at me as I make my way through the Yanaka Ginza, shopping basket dangling from my hand: Look, there’s someone who’s lost themselves. Make sure you don’t end up like her! You’ve got to be able to stand and walk on your own two legs!
I don’t know why I’m so disappointed with love, with life. They’re all just so boring. I’m just completely taken by my sisters, my sisters who don’t let themselves get overwhelmed by such things, who are able to go on fighting fearlessly among themselves over the same man. They’re my whole standard of reference. My personality only serves to add something to theirs. It might not even add anything. I’m just an echo of them. But it’s an erotic experience, this way of being.
Meiko, squeeze your hands around my neck. Moeko, stab me with a knife. Yōko, put your mouth to mine and fill me with poison. I’m getting close to them, slowly, little by little. I’m becoming one with them. Like ice melting drop by drop. My sisters are a coordinate axis, and I’m the mathematical function that draws a phallus over them.
I don’t have my own story. My story is that of my sisters. They laugh, they get angry. It’s composed of those kinds of things, this story of mine. I watch them all closely, like a blouse clammy with sweat. After all, the youngest sister always takes the supporting role.
My sisters might teach me how to play bad one day, like they did back when I was a kid. Do it naturally! Your heart, your body, don’t hold back, lay it all bare, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But don’t tell Mom. She’d probably say it’s wrong. But it isn’t. It’s completely natural. I mean, if we’re all honest about our desires, of course we’d want to mess around like this.
Mom would probably get angry. That I might die and go on living inside my sisters. But that’s the only way that I can go on living. All I can do is face my beautiful sisters head on, and lose myself inside them.
The day came out of nowhere. Mom saw Yōko strolling through town hand-in-hand with S. That was pretty sloppy of her, I thought. I wondered whether the power of love had paralyzed all those qualities that defined who she was.
“Just what exactly is going on between you two?” Mom demanded.
Yōko, however, kept silent.
It wasn’t like Mom was saying that she couldn’t go out on dates. She had young daughters, so it was only a matter of course that they would want to hang out with guys. She of all people ought to have understood that. But this time, that person was S—and that was why she would have none of it.
Meiko and Moeko listened in as Mom kept on questioning Yōko in the living room.
Yōko remained silent for a short while, before finally opening her mouth. “I’m going out with him.”
At this, Meiko burst into tears.
“You two, leave us alone for a minute!” Mom shouted.
Finally, she let out a tired sigh. “It isn’t like I’m telling you not to go out with boys, you know,” she said, as if reciting a line from a movie. “But out of everyone you could have chosen, why did it have to be him? Even since that man popped up here, you three seem to have all lost your minds. Nanako is the only one of you with any sense. Just because some strange young man’s moved here, you three have all managed to convince yourselves that you’ve fallen in love with him. Haven’t you?”
“That isn’t it,” Yōko said. “I’m serious about him. We’ve even promised to get married next year.”