The Earthquake Bird (17 page)

“It was just that you didn’t sound keen on it when we talked about it this morning. That was why we thought you wouldn’t mind
if we went on without you.” Lily the conciliator. Lily the healer, the nurse.

“Yes, you’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

But I’d said in the morning that I wanted to go there. It was Teiji who wasn’t bothered. I knew it was.

We didn’t argue, didn’t discuss it again. We walked in silence to our bikes and then headed to our hotel in Mano. Gradually
their shame and my anger wore off and we made tentative, overpolite comments until, by late evening, we were talking almost
comfortably.

In our room I made sure I was the first to the futon cupboard. I pulled out the bedding so fast that Lily and Teiji had no
time to offer help. I laid one flat in the far corner.

“Lily, here you are.”

“Oh, thanks.” She threw a pillow down and went off to brush her teeth.

I put out the next one, the middle one, and covered it with my own things. Finally, I grabbed the last one and unfolded it
for Teiji.

I’d engineered the futon arrangements to my liking but I didn’t sleep well that night, probably because of my extra sleep
during the day. I was too hot. The muscles in my arms and legs were twitchy. I listened to Teiji and Lily breathing in and
out. There was too much breathing in one room. It was oppressive. I rolled over to Teiji but couldn’t relax enough to snuggle
against him. I wanted Lily out of the room. Then I realized I needed Teiji to go too. I wanted to sleep by myself. I thought
about dragging my bedding out of the room to sleep in the corridor, but I didn’t want to wake the others and provoke interrogation.
I lay for most of the night with one eye in my pillow and the other looking at the square shape of the lampshade against the
dark ceiling. What I wanted was a reason for the night to be over, an interruption in the night so I could get up. What I
wanted was something like an earth tremor, to shake us up, to put an end to Lily and Teiji’s deep breathing sleep that was
suffocating me.

I probably fell asleep at five or six in the morning. The sun had already risen when I finally dropped off.

We had planned to wander around the area of Mano, to visit temples and the museum. I was too tired to go anywhere.

“Go without me. I’ll meet you later.”

They both looked nervous.

“It’s not a problem. I mean, yesterday isn’t a problem. It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night. Until I’ve had a bit
of sleep I don’t think I can do anything.”

“You
have
got a virus. I thought so. You’re very pale, you know.”

Lily put one hand on my forehead. It felt nice.

“You’re a little bit hot, maybe. Well, if you’re sure that’s what you want to do…”

Teiji said, “We’ll stay here with you. It’s OK.”

While I didn’t relish the thought of Lily and Teiji going off together without me, I knew I wouldn’t sleep unless they left.

“Please go. It’s fine. I’ll just have a couple more hours and then I’ll join you.”

“If you’re sure.” Lily looked doubtful.

Of course, they were merely putting on a slick display of politeness. They wanted me to go back to sleep and they wanted to
leave the inn. They left.

We’d agreed to meet later at the town hall but I set off a little earlier and by chance came upon them in a different place.
They were sitting on a street bench, a little back from the pavement. They were close together, not touching. Something about
their silence stopped me crossing the road to greet them. I stayed on my side of the street, far enough not to be seen. Each
of them was holding an ice cream. Lily licked the side of the cone where the ice cream was melting. Her tongue had the quick,
delicate movement of a cat’s. Teiji was crunching into the bottom part of his cone. They were not looking at each other. But
Lily said something to Teiji and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, gave it to her. She started to
wipe her fingers. She handed her half-eaten ice-cream cone to him while she wiped the other hand. Teiji took the ice cream
without a glance at it. He watched, casually, as she moved the handkerchief along her fingers. He licked her ice cream while
he waited. This told me everything I hadn’t wanted to know. They were going to sleep together. There was no stopping them.

It was the simplicity of the action that made my forehead and temples freeze. Teiji and Lily were so close that he could lick
her ice cream without her offering it. They were so intimate that Lily could wipe melted ice cream all over Teiji’s handkerchief
and not feel the need to thank him or apologize. Lucy stared and stared and waited. She wanted to see something that would
show her she was wrong, though she knew she was right.

Teiji gave the ice cream back to Lily. Lily took it. Teiji watched the cars as they passed. Lily looked up at the sky then
closed her eyes, still facing upward. Teiji’s handkerchief was a ball in her hand. They hardly knew each other. They should
have been making polite conversation but they were silent. Lucy understood. They were so comfortable together that it was
obvious. She had indeed been wrong. They had already slept together.

I walked away. I paced around the houses, faster and faster until I was lost. When did it happen? It might have been the previous
morning when Lucy was walking on the beach, or later on the clifftop while she was out cold, or on some hillside, just a moped’s
journey away. Maybe it was during the first night when Lily slept on the middle futon and Lucy was rocking in her dreams with
the sea. Or it could have happened this morning in a secret alley between houses. I went into a public toilet and tried to
cry but nothing happened. When I came out I walked straight into them.

I burst out laughing.

“Lucy, how lucky. We were just on our way to meet you.”

“Yes, how lucky.” I laughed like a hyena. They laughed too, thinking I was tickled by our meeting like this, even though it
was only five minutes before the appointed time and about thirty yards from the place.

I choked on my breath and coughed. I managed to steady the convulsions in my chest.

“What shall we do, then? There are so many places to visit, things to do. Let’s not waste any time. Come on.”

They followed me doubtfully. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. There’s something in every direction so let’s see what we find. We can’t go wrong, can we? Only if the earth
turns out to be flat and we fall off the edge. Ha ha ha.”

“Lucy, what are you talking about?”

I pushed my arm through Teiji’s. “I don’t know. What do you want to do? What have you already done?”

Lily answered. “I went to kokubunji. A big temple. It’s lovely. You two might want to see it.”

I looked at Teiji in surprise. “You haven’t seen it?”

“I went down to look at the sea, took some pictures. We bumped into each other afterward and had an ice cream.”

“Oh.”

With my arm tightly through Teiji’s and this new piece of information, I felt better. What had I actually seen? No kiss, no
touch, no sharing of secrets. No exchanges of glance or flirtatious smiles. No photograph taken of Lily by Teiji. I still
trusted my initial instinct, but was ready to be proven wrong. We spent the afternoon in temples and museums. In the early
evening we collected our bags and headed for the ferry. From the boat’s deck I watched the jagged mountains recede. A rush
of images filled my head so fast and vivid I lost sight of the sea: wooden temples, seagulls, tarmac disappearing under the
moped’s wheels, white futon covers and pillows, moving puppets digging for gold. I was happy to be going home.

Back at Tokyo station Lily and I said goodbye to Teiji. He had to work late that night and early the next morning so there
was no point in my going back with him. We went off in the white maze of underground passages to find our platforms. Lily
was taking the Yamanote line too, but in the opposite direction. I was going clockwise, she counterclockwise. The platforms
faced one another. We went up our separate staircases, said goodbye. I walked onto my platform, glanced at the overhead board
to check the time of my next train. One minute to go. I looked down the length of track. The train was approaching from Kanda
station. The platform was crowded and I wandered toward the rear end where there were usually fewer people. Just before my
train pulled in I looked up at Lily’s platform. I don’t know why I looked. Perhaps if you are aware that someone you know
should be standing on the next platform it’s impossible not to. There was a string of people waiting. The train had not yet
arrived. She should have been at the same end as me. The front of the train was nearest the exit at her station. It was also
the least crowded part of her train. So why couldn’t I see her?

I pushed my way back, ran along the platform against the crowds and up into the station building. I went along the passage,
downstairs to Lily’s platform. I ran from one end to the other, vaguely wondering what I would say to Lily if I found her
calmly buying Coke from a machine. I didn’t need to. Lily wasn’t there.

I stumbled back up the stairs. My rucksack was bashing against my back, getting caught on the shoulders and the bags of passersby.
Briefcases hit my knees and sent me sideways. I didn’t know for certain where I would find her, but there was only one direction
worth trying. I found my way toward Teiji’s platform. It was empty. A train had just left.

I could have taken the next one and hidden outside Teiji’s apartment to see if they were there. I didn’t. If they had gone
to his place, they would be there all night. It would be my final option. In the meantime, I headed back to the barriers for
the shinkansen tracks, the place where Lily and I had said goodbye to Teiji.

I approached cautiously. With my wild, wiry hair and tree-trunk body I am easy to spot from a distance. I stood beside a newspaper
kiosk and peered around. Immediately a customer stood in front of me and obscured my view. The woman inside the kiosk was
regarding me with interest. I bought a copy of the
Daily Asahi
and walked quickly to a pillar.

I was both satisfied and appalled. I had been right. Teiji and Lily were standing together, as lovers. They were face to face,
Lily’s left foot between Teiji’s feet, their thighs almost touching. Teiji whispered something into Lily’s mouth and they
kissed. I wanted to escape quickly and silently but another, uncontrollable, part of me wanted to do something quite different.
I let out a loud cry, the lonely howl of a wolf to the moon, and was horrified to see Lily and Teiji turn and face me, wide-eyed.

I dropped my newspaper and ran.

K
ameyama and Oguchi have forgotten me. I lift myself to my feet, walk around the room. My joints ache. I clear my throat a
few times, hoping someone outside will hear and remember that I’m still shut away in here. My restlessness is due to a sense
that perhaps my story of Lily and Teiji has reached its end. Of course, it hasn’t. I would be fooling myself if I allowed
the thought to persist. The worst is still to come.

I called Natsuko the next morning and told her I would not be at work for several days. I’d been working on a translation
for a steel corporation—instructions for the maintenance of a blast furnace—and the deadline was near. Though it went against
my professional pride, someone else would have to do it. Natsuko was surprised.

“Lucy what’s happened? Are you ill? You’ve never missed a day of work.” She thought for a moment. “I bet you never even missed
a day of school.”

That’s true. I never missed a single day, not even for Noah’s funeral. “I can’t come to work this week. It’s impossible.”

There was a pause. She knew me well enough not to ask questions that probed areas of pain.

“OK. Do you need anything?”

Yes, I needed many things but I didn’t know what to call them, how to ask.

“No, I don’t. Thank you.”

I shut the curtains and locked the door. I lay on my back on the wooden floorboards, closed my eyes.

All day long cars came and went in the garage forecourt. The attendants shouted as they waved customers’ cars into position
by the pumps. I listened to the endless humming of engines punctuated with human voices.

And I stayed in that position, more or less, for three days. I made occasional trips to the kitchen or bathroom, but mostly
I lay on the floor, listened to the garage. Sometimes my fridge seemed noisier than the cars and vans, sometimes I didn’t
hear it. I’m not sure whether I slept at all during those days and nights, or whether I lay there awake. It wasn’t despair
that kept me on the floor, or bitterness. All I felt was nothing. A complete and perfect emptiness. I had been in possession
of a lover and a friend. Now I had neither. They had stolen themselves and each other from me. There was nothing to be done
and so I did nothing. I can’t believe, when I cast a glance of hindsight from the police station to my apartment during those
three days, that I intended to lie there forever, until unconsciousness or death. I suppose I was waiting for something but
I don’t know what it was. I had no intention of speaking to Lily or Teiji again.

On the fourth day, the phone rang. I let it go on all morning. I knew it was Lily—no one would try my number so often if they
were at work—but I couldn’t bring myself to unplug the phone. I wanted to know she was trying to speak to me, even if I refused
to let her succeed. In the evening I walked out of the house toward the station. I didn’t have any destination or route in
mind but I couldn’t stay in the apartment with the telephone whining at me like Lily’s voice.

I walked and walked all night. From Gotanda I set off toward the next station on the Yamanote line, going counterclockwise.
The road to Osaki was quieter and darker, all houses and no neon. I was glad to be outside and let the fresh air tingle against
my stiff body. But when I stopped walking in Osaki, I thought of Lily and Teiji again, the handkerchief and ice cream that
changed hands, their desertion of Lucy on the cliffs. I continued to walk because while I was moving my thoughts moved faster,
and were less clear, less able to cause fresh wounds. I found myself following the train tracks to the next station and then
the next.