Let’s Compare Answers
Here, my buffoonery really picked up the pace.
It had too long since I’d called someone myself rather than being called. I stared at the name “Wakana” on the phone’s screen for a long time.
True, I missed a lot of opportunities thanks to that, but it also allowed me to avoid an equal amount of worry. I’m not particularly regretful nor content with it.
Four, five, six. It didn’t feel like she was going to “answer any moment now.” Part of me was relieved.
At this point, I felt a sudden welling of loneliness. The first change I felt once the end of my life was made clear was an unfathomable longing to be with another person. I had a violent urge to at least talk to someone.
Wakana was the only person at college who showed me any affection. I’d met her this spring, at that old bookstore, when she’d only just entered the school.
“No,” I answered. “Never seen you until now.”
“So, essentially, we met in this bookstore?”
“I think I’m right about that, too. That’s great,” said Wakana, putting an old book back on the shelf.
A few days later, we reunited at college. After that, we had a few lunches together, having long conversations about books and music.
“I’m only reading, though. I don’t get anything from it,” I replied. “I lack the ability to get the real value out of a book. All I’m doing is pouring soup from a pot to a little plate. It overflows from the sides, and it doesn’t make anything nutritious.”
“Well, maybe that’s true. I just think… I’m saying this because of the way I am, but I don’t think it’s healthy to drown yourself in books when you’re young. Reading is for people with nothing else to do.”
“Other than part-time jobs, not really,” I answered.
But I was still determined in my adolescence to keep Himeno’s promise, and ensure I was still on the shelf. So I never called Wakana, and while I did get a few texts and calls, they soon stopped. I can’t get her hopes up, I thought.
I didn’t feel like leaving a message on the answering machine. I decided to send a text instead, telling her I’d called.
The reply came right away. I was unmistakably comforted by it. So there is still someone who cares about me.
The text was not from Wakana. Which would have been fine. But the English on the screen told me that no such recipient existed.
Basically, it meant this. Wakana changed her address, but didn’t tell me about it. It meant she didn’t consider it necessary to keep communications between us.
But I had a gut feeling what the truth was. That time had long past.
Miyagi seemed to have an idea of the situation from the hollow look I was giving the phone screen.
“Now then, let’s compare answers,” she said.
“Henceforth, there will never again be a person who comes to love you. The fact that you see people as a means to fill your lonesomeness is much more transparent than you seem to think.”
I heard happy laughter from the window next-door. It sounded like a group of college kids. The light from their window couldn’t even be compared to the light from mine.
My phone rang at the worst possible time. It was Wakana. I considered ignoring it, but I didn’t want to bother with her calling later, so I answered.
“Kusunoki, did you call earlier? What’s the matter?”
“Sorry, I called by mistake,” I said, trying to sound cheery.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I told her thanks for calling back and hung up.
The party next door got noisier by the second.
After two smokes, I headed to a local supermarket and wandered around, putting a six pack of beer, fried chicken, and cup ramen in my basket.
She didn’t feel like she was particularly human, so a fundamentally human act like eating didn’t seem to fit her.
Still… We must look exactly like lovers who live together, I silently thought to myself. It was a truly ridiculous - but happy - hallucination.
Every time I saw a couple doing that, I let out a shallow sigh. So even if her purpose was to observe me, I enjoyed shopping in a supermarket late at night with a young girl.
Miyagi quickly finished up at the self-checkout before I did. We returned to the apartment together carrying our bags.
The noisiness next door was still going on, and I frequently heard footsteps through the walls.
But being made aware of my death must have corrected my desperately warped value system. I longed for companionship just like anyone else.
Most people probably look to family at times like this, I thought. Whatever the situation, you can always count on family for support, so it’s the ultimate place to return to - I knew that was a common line of thought.
He was honest, tall, handsome. From twelve to his present nineteen, he was never lacking a girlfriend, and he went to a better college than me. He even had good reflexes, and took the mound at the national high school baseball tournament.
It was absolutely true that compared to him, I was a failure. What would be unfair was if we did receive equal attention from our parents.
There was practically zero chance that if I went home to my parents, I could live peacefully with their unconditional parental love. It was more likely that if I jumped into the party next door, they’d let me in.
While I ran a bath, I drank beer while eating the fried chicken. By the time the cup ramen was ready, I was already pretty drunk.
“That’s fine. I’m on duty.” Miyagi refused without even looking up.
“A record of actions. Yours.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Miyagi nodded begrudgingly.
“Yes, I heard,” Miyagi said with a sigh.