Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [99]
However, I had already entered my arrangements for today in the report. I could only act as if they were accomplished. The smallish room with almost no furniture gave me the feeling of being embarrassingly large. Perhaps it was due to the cold. Turning on the gas, I placed my two hands on the kettle to gather up its warmth. I would set out immediately after I had had a cup of strong coffee. If I left the apartment at 5:30, I would get to the housing development on the hill by 6:10. If I got my car back and made a couple of passes in front of the Camellia to check the lay of the land and then went in, it would be about 6:30, just as I had written in the report.
I shaved and changed my clothes. Just as I was looking over last night’s evening edition as I sipped my coffee, a bell again began to ring. It could not be the alarm clock this time … the telephone, of course … the only valuable fixture in my room. Though uneconomical, I had had it installed, thinking it would be of some use for my business. I was almost never at home, but on the rare occasions I overslept I could call in at the office. There had not been a single incoming call in over a fortnight. I wondered, indeed, whether I should not get rid of it. The bell rang a third time. It was unbelievable. Maybe a wrong number. No, maybe it was her. Some unforeseen happening that had made the curtain turn a lemon-yellow again. Or was it my wife? If it was my wife … at half past five in the morning … it must be something like an attack of appendicitis or maybe acute pneumonia. Without waiting for the fourth ring, I picked up the receiver.
“Yes?”
“Were you asleep?” came a murky, effeminate voice. Good God, Tashiro!
“For Christ’s sake,” I blurted out angrily, “what time do you think it is?”
“If you hadn’t got up after one more ring, I was going to hang up. But really, I want to talk to you.”
“Listen, it’s still dark outside. Quit behaving like a spoiled child.”
“It’s not true. The sky’s beginning to change color … such a sad color. And where I am the milk’s been delivered and I can hear the paper boy. A dog’s barking, too. The first streetcar has already left the barns.”
“Stop it. I’m hanging up.”
“No! You’ll be sorry later if you treat a man’s parting words like that. You will … because I’m just about to kill myself. I’ve spent a sleepless night thinking, and I’m fed up. Hey, there’s the paper boy running. Oh, yes, the newspaper. Tonight’s edition’ll have an article on my death, you can bet. The reason … what is the reason? I wonder. A breakdown, I suppose.”
“I’m absolutely impressed by your big scene. But I’m busy, sorry. Let’s let the rest go till tomorrow, shall we?”
“You don’t believe me. You’re stupid. You absolutely can’t tell the lie from the truth in what I’ve said. As long as it’s expressed in words, any lie has some meaning. But I’m going to make you believe me this time. I’ll make you regret it your whole life long. It’s a good feeling. I’ll show you what it is to be insensitive.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Someplace … any place. Looks as if you’re beginning to get worried.”
“Do you really think I’d worry about you?”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Well … I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! I won’t take up your time. I’ll be dying pretty soon. I’d like you to hear what my voice sounds like when I do. Since you treat me like a worm, I wonder if it’ll have no effect on you to witness my death. Anyway, I’m sure you think I’m just faking again. That’s good enough. With that in mind, listen while you drink your tea.”
“I’m drinking coffee.”
“That’s even better. It becomes you. Are you listening? I’m up on the scaffold … it’s a suitcase … I’ll put the rope around my neck … no, I’ll stick my head in the noose.”
“Have you left a note?”
“No, I haven’t. I thought about it, but if I really started to write, I’d never stop. If I wrote a short note, it’d only be: Goodbye.”
“Don’t you have anything else to