Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [91]
“It’s on the house,” she said, affecting a smile. “I’m unexpectedly conscientious, I guess. But I don’t want my fiancé coming to a place like this, not if I’m going to have a family. Drop in again … before the marriage … won’t you?”
Tashiro stood rooted to the same spot as if he were some cleverly made doll. I lightly touched the girl’s fingers and pushed open the door. It screeched like a startled bird, and a chill wind struck at my collar and the openings of my sleeves. With each step the music receded and changed into the formless gray cacophony of the city, into a stammering like some auditory hallucination. My own senses, fusing with the darkness, continued to scatter. I hastened my steps in the direction of the area beneath the neon-lit sky. I strove to copy the gait of the pedestrians who were walking toward their own goals.
BUT THE faster I walked the more I realized that still another step was pursuing me, undauntedly seeking its goal. The passers-by were not frequent, but in the main street in front of the movie theater, the flow of taxis was unbroken. I continued walking, perhaps because there was none free, but I also wanted to be quickly overtaken by those pursuing steps.
At length a rapid breathing fell into step with me at my side. Without breaking my pace or looking around, I pretended to ignore it, as if it were my own shadow. A soft, pleading tone began to coil around my cold ear like a hungry snake.
“What happened? Don’t you like that kind of woman? I think she has marvelous legs. Even in summer she gives the impression of being a soft, cool cushion. Really, I suppose tastes are different. Why don’t you say something? Ah, of course, you’re dumbfounded, aren’t you. Well, it can’t be helped. I didn’t mean any harm. Somehow I tried too hard to satisfy you. I wonder if I’m shy. I’ve come to hate myself. It’s always like this. I know very well I’ll regret it later … to the point of wanting to kill myself. Why was I born with a character like this? I hate myself. Do me the favor of forgetting the stuff about the blenders and waterers, if you can. I was talking out of turn. To tell the truth the average retailer is an honest fellow. They wouldn’t dare risk such dangerous acrobatics. As for shady dealing, they go about as far as keeping double accounts for getting around taxes. And even if they do water down bills, they’re so incredibly inept at it they get themselves caught. It’s true. Generally they set up a ghost business with only a name, and so even if they’re discovered they’ve taken precautions so that the main store’s never dishonored. So it’s useless, absolutely useless, no matter how you snoop around.”
I made no answer. I neither concurred nor disagreed, but continued walking at exactly the same pace, urgently, like some night insect toward a man-made light; the pedestrians began to be more conspicuous. Tashiro had fallen silent but, at length out of patience, he resumed hurriedly: “There are two reasons why I have to make up stories like I did. I was afraid … you know what I mean … when I considered that Mr. Nemuro had disappeared for no reason, I realized I had been completely abandoned. No, I suppose that’s not quite right. Maybe I should call it an inferiority complex … or jealousy. The best things in life are kept from me, only me; I’m the only one who’s left out. So I explained the disappearance by any old reason … and I was satisfied. People react that way, don’t they. Then, one more thing … it’s hard to say … I’ve been worrying about this but haven’t mentioned anything to anybody until now. Before I do, I’ve got to be more honest. I’m going to get it off my chest—I’d best confess everything now. To tell the truth, those pictures were fakes too. I’m sorry.