Part 5 (2/2)

'It wasn't a show! It was just me and Koji.'

'You're both really good musicians. Dad didn't shut up about you.'

'Nah... Koji's good, he makes me sound pa.s.sable. He phoned about twenty minutes ago. I hope we weren't too gooey at the bar last night. Koji thought we were a bit obvious.'

'Don't worry about it. And hey! Dad even implied, in his roundabout way, you could visit during your holidays. He might manage to find a bar for you to play sax in, if you wanted to.'

'Does he know? About us?'

'I don't know.'

'Takes.h.i.+ doesn't exactly give me holidays... At least, I've never asked for one.'

'Oh...' She changed the subject. 'How long did it take you to get so good?'

'I'm not good. John Coltrane is good good ! Wait a sec-' I grabbed a copy of John Coltrane and Duke Ellington, playing 'In a Sentimental Mood'. Smoky and genuflective. We listened to it together for a while. So many things I wanted to say to her. ! Wait a sec-' I grabbed a copy of John Coltrane and Duke Ellington, playing 'In a Sentimental Mood'. Smoky and genuflective. We listened to it together for a while. So many things I wanted to say to her.

There was a series of urgent rings. 'I'm running of out money there's something Oh, d.a.m.n, 'Bye!'

''Bye!'

'When I get back I'll-'

A lonely hum.

At lunchtime Mr Fujimoto came in, saw me, and laughed. 'Good afternoon, Satoru-kun!' he jubilated. 'Blue skies, just you wait and see! Tell me, what do you think of this little beaut?' He put a little package of books on the counter, and straightened out his bow tie, arching his eyebrows and acting proud.

A grotesque polka-dot frog-green bow tie. 'Absolutely unique.'

His whole body wobbled with mirth. 'We're having a disgusting tie compet.i.tion in the office. I've got 'em licked, I think.'

'How was Kyoto?'

'Oh, Kyoto was Kyoto. Temples and shrines, meetings with printers. Uppity shopkeepers who think they have a monopoly on manners. It's good to be back. Once a Tokyoite, always a Tokyoite.'

I started my rehea.r.s.ed speech. 'Mr Fujimoto, when I told Mama-san about your kind offer to help me get an interview at your office she gave me this to give you. She thought you and your co-workers might enjoy it at a cherry-blossom party.' I heaved the huge bottle of rice-wine onto the counter.

'Sake! My word, that My word, that is is a big boy! This will last awhile, even in an office full of publishers! How extraordinarily kind.' a big boy! This will last awhile, even in an office full of publishers! How extraordinarily kind.'

'No, it was kind of you. I'm sorry I'm too ignorant to accept your generous offer.'

'Not at all, not at all. No umbrage taken, I promise you... It was just a pa.s.sing...' Mr Fujimoto looked for the right word, blinking hard, and laughed when he couldn't find it. 'I don't blame you in the least. You wouldn't want to end up being like me, would you?' He found that a lot funnier than I did.

'It's not my place to say this, but I wouldn't mind ending up being like you at all. You've got a good job. Unforgettable bow ties. A great taste in the world's finest jazz discs.'

He stopped smiling for once and gazed out. 'The last of the cherry blossom. On the tree, it turns ever more perfect. And when it's perfect, it falls. And then of course once it hits the ground it gets all mushed up. So it's only absolutely absolutely perfect when it's falling through the air, this way and that, for the briefest time... I think that only we j.a.panese can really understand that, don't you?' perfect when it's falling through the air, this way and that, for the briefest time... I think that only we j.a.panese can really understand that, don't you?'

A van roaring the message Vote for s.h.i.+mizu, the only candidate who really has the guts to fight corruption Vote for s.h.i.+mizu, the only candidate who really has the guts to fight corruption screeched past like a drunken batmobile. screeched past like a drunken batmobile. s.h.i.+mizu never betrays, s.h.i.+mizu never betrays, s.h.i.+mizu never betrays. s.h.i.+mizu never betrays, s.h.i.+mizu never betrays, s.h.i.+mizu never betrays.

Mr Fujimoto trailed his fingers through the air. 'Why do things happen the way they do? Since the gas attack on the subway, watching those pictures on TV, watching the police investigate like a crack squad of blind tortoises, I've been trying to understand... Why do things happen happen at all? What is it that stops the world simply... seizing up?' at all? What is it that stops the world simply... seizing up?'

I'm never sure whether Mr Fujimoto's questions are questions. 'Do you know?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know the answer, no. Sometimes I think it's the only question, and that all other questions are tributaries that flow into it.' He ran his hand through his thinning hair. 'Might the answer be ”love”?'

I tried to think, but I kept seeing pictures. I imagined my father that man who I had imagined was my father looking out through the rear window of a car. I thought of b.u.t.terfly knives, and a time once three or four years ago when I was walking out of McDonald's and a businessman slammed down onto the pavement from a ninth floor window of the same building. He lay three metres away from where I stood. His mouth was gaping open in astonishment. A dark stain was trickling from it, over the pavement, between the bits of broken teeth and gla.s.ses.

I thought about Tomoyo's eyebrows, her nose, her jokes, her accent. Tomoyo on an aeroplane to Hong Kong. 'I'd rather be too young to have that kind of wisdom.'

Mr Fujimoto's face turned into a smile that hid his eyes. 'How wise of you.' He ended up buying an old Johnny Hartman disc with a beautiful version of 'I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart'.

A mosquito blundered its way into my ear, suddenly there, loud as an electric blender. I pulled my head away and swatted the little b.u.g.g.e.r. Mosquito season. I was sc.r.a.ping its fuselage onto a bit of paper when Takes.h.i.+'s estranged wife marched in, pus.h.i.+ng her sungla.s.ses up into her bountiful hair. She was accompanied by a sharp-dressed man who I immediately sensed was a lawyer. They have a look about them. When Takes.h.i.+ offered me this job I'd spent a whole evening over at their apartment in Chiyoda, but now apart from the curtest of nods Takes.h.i.+'s wife ignored me. The lawyer did not acknowledge my existence.

'He,' Takes.h.i.+'s wife p.r.o.nounced the p.r.o.noun with the unique bitterness of the ex-wife, 'only leases the property, but the stock is worth quite a lot. At least, he he was always boasting that it is. The real money's in the hair salons, though. This is just a hobby, really. One of was always boasting that it is. The real money's in the hair salons, though. This is just a hobby, really. One of his his many hobbies.' many hobbies.'

The lawyer demurred.

They turned to go. Takes.h.i.+'s wife looked at me as she was stepping through the door. 'You can learn something from this, Satoru. Never Never make a big decision which will alter the shape of your life on the basis of a relations.h.i.+p! You may as well take out a mortgage on a house made of sponge cake. Remember that.' And she was gone. make a big decision which will alter the shape of your life on the basis of a relations.h.i.+p! You may as well take out a mortgage on a house made of sponge cake. Remember that.' And she was gone.

I thought about what she had said as I put on a Chet Baker disc. A trumpet with nowhere urgent to be and all day to get there. And his voice, zennish murmurings in the soft void. My funny valentine My funny valentine, You don't know what love is You don't know what love is, I get along without you very well. I get along without you very well.

The phone rang. A hysterical Takes.h.i.+. Drunk again.

'Don't let them in! Don't let that mad cow in!'

'Who?'

'Her! Her and her backstabbing-sc.u.mbag-bloodsucking lawyer, who should should be representing be representing me me! They're going after my t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es with a meat cleaver! Don't let them look at the stock don't don't let them look at the accounts it's illegal and hide the limited edition original Louis Armstrong. And the gold disc of 'Maiden Voyage'. Stick it down your boxer shorts or something and-' let them look at the accounts it's illegal and hide the limited edition original Louis Armstrong. And the gold disc of 'Maiden Voyage'. Stick it down your boxer shorts or something and-'

'Takes.h.i.+!'

'What?'

'It's a bit late, I'm afraid.'

'What?'

'They've already been. Just to look around for a few seconds, so the lawyer could see the place. They didn't look at the accounts, they didn't evaluate anything.'

'Oh. Great. Just great. Great. What an utter, utter, pigging, mess. That woman is Mad Cow Disease on two legs... And what legs they are...' He hung up. pigging, mess. That woman is Mad Cow Disease on two legs... And what legs they are...' He hung up.

The sunlight hummed and was soft. Shadows of twigs and branches swayed ever so slightly against the back wall. I thought of a time many years ago when two or three of Mama-san's girls had taken me boating on a lake. One of my earliest memories.

Your place does keep you sane, but can also keep you lonely.

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