Suicide Forest (18 page)

“You have a nice body.”

“Do you like my breasts?”

“They’re nice.”

“Do you want to see them for real?”

At this point she stands up and leads me
deeper into the trees, where we begin undressing each other. Only
when I take off her clothes I find a dry, rotting body, nothing but
bones jutting through saggy, grayish skin…

I snapped open my eyes. I had been drifting
off to sleep, passing through that murky world where you’re awake
but not awake. Although I was staring into darkness, I was seeing
the body of the hanging man. A cold, clammy, almost paralyzing
sensation overwhelmed me, as if death had followed me into the
tent. I wanted to hold Mel, feel her body, her warmth, her
presence. But I couldn’t. We were in a stupid fight about
nonexistent infidelity.

I closed my eyes again and rolled onto my
side.

Morning couldn’t come quickly enough.

We
were in the
communal kitchen of the Shinagawa guesthouse. I was at the stove,
cooking breakfast for Gary and me. The eggs in the frying pan were
scrambled, how Gary liked them, the bacon extra crispy. Gary was
seated at the table: dark curls, straight nose, gold-flecked green
eyes. He was dressed in his white-and-maroon Hershey Bears hockey
uniform, a captain “C” on the front of his jersey, his number 14 on
the back. He even had his skates on, rubber guards protecting the
blades. Getting dressed at home before a game or practice was
something we had done as kids. It had given our father, who was
regularly hungover on weekend mornings, some extra time to sleep
in.

“Why are you already dressed, Gare?” I asked
him. “You haven’t done that since house league.”

“I have practice this morning, bud.”

“But why not dress at the arena?”

He frowned. “Because I’m late.”

“Who cares? It’s just practice.”

“No, bud. I’m late for something else.”

“For what?”

“I have an appointment to keep.”

“What appointment?”

His frown deepened: sadness or fear, I
couldn’t tell. “I can’t talk about it.” He stood. “Thanks for
breakfast. I have to get going.”

A terminal dread filled me, because I knew
wherever he was going he wasn’t coming back. “Wait! Gare! You
haven’t eaten your breakfast yet. At least stay for breakfast.”

“Don’t burn the eggs, bud.”

Then he was gone. I stared at where he had
been, willing him to come back. Nina appeared instead, from the
hallway, and made her way to the shower stall that was off the
kitchen, near the coin-operated washing machines. A navy T-shirt
fluttered loosely over her body, ending halfway down her
thighs.

“Good morning, Ethan,” she greeted.

“Hey, Nina,” I said, cheering up. “You
missed my brother, Gary.” I wished she could have met Gary.

“Oh, that is too bad.”

“Do you want breakfast? I have extra.”

“Toast is okay. Where is your
girlfriend?”

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. Mel didn’t
sleep in our room. I should have been more concerned—she never went
somewhere overnight without telling me—but I wasn’t. I knew she was
still angry at the whole Shelly thing, and I didn’t want to deal
with any of that right then.

“You should marry her, Ethan.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure.”

Nina disappeared into the shower cubicle.
The water rumbled through the building’s old pipes. I was alone
once more.

I stirred the eggs and turned the bacon.
Then I stuck two pieces of white bread in the toaster. Whole-wheat
bread was about as hard to find in Japan as real mayonnaise, or
toothpaste with fluoride.

Nina began calling me. She needed a
towel.

I fetched one from my room and rapped on the
shower door with my knuckles.

“It is unlocked.”

I opened it. There was a small vestibule
where you can change and the shower stall itself. Nina stood
beneath the needle spray in a white bikini. I hung the towel on the
clothes hook.

“Are you surprised?” she asked me.

“About what?”

“That I have a swimming costume on.”

“No,” I said, though I was—and
disappointed.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

Steam billowed around her. I could feel the
humidity.

“Your toast should be ready.”

“Goodbye, Ethan.”

I remained there for a moment, not wanting
to leave, but she was ignoring me. I closed the door and went back
to the stove. I topped one plate with bacon and eggs, the other
with two slices of toast.

Nina emerged from the shower. The towel I’d
given her was wrapped around her body. When she sat down at the
table, it slipped down her torso and bunched at her waist. She was
no longer wearing the bikini. She didn’t seem to notice or care
that her breasts were exposed, and I felt a sense of déjà vu. Once
again, however, I chose not to say anything. As we ate, she told me
about the time in India when she was almost raped. Halfway into her
story I heard something on the other side of the sliding glass door
that opened onto a balcony. The drapes were drawn and I couldn’t
see out. The noise continued. It sounded like footsteps. Like
someone walking on dry leaves.

“Are you going to see who is there?” Nina
asked me.

I was frozen with indecision. What if it was
Mel? If she saw Nina sitting half naked at the table with me, she
would surely lose it. Still, I felt compelled to check.

I stood and opened the door—

I
snapped awake
again, reliving the last moments of the dream. The guesthouse
kitchen. Gary. Nina. Mel—had she been at the door? I never had a
chance to see. As the immediacy of the dream faded I remembered
where I was.

I had rolled against Mel during the night,
so we were spooning, my right arm draped over her side. Either she
was too deep asleep and wasn’t aware of my transgression, or she’d
noticed at some point but didn’t care. I hoped it was the
latter.

I heard a noise outside the tent and
stiffened with alarm.

Was that what had woken me?

I remained perfectly still, listening.

Footsteps.

The alarm ballooned into full-out fear.

I sat up. The emergency blanket fell away
from me, the vaporized aluminum crackling and making a lot of
noise.

Mel didn’t stir. I listened once more, but
didn’t hear anything else.

I was about to open the tent flap, though I
couldn’t bring myself to do it.

What if it was…what?

A
yūrei
?

I berated myself for being a twenty-six year
old six year old. It was just someone going to urinate. They’d be
in the trees now. They’d be returning any minute. I’d hear them as
they climbed into their tent.

I lay back down, wickedly alert.

“What are you doing?” Mel asked
sleepily.

“I heard something outside.”

“What was it?”

“Someone going to the bathroom, I
think.”

She didn’t reply.

One minute slugged toward two, then three,
then four.

Perhaps it was not a bladder but a bowel
call?

When ten minutes passed, and all remained
quiet outside the tent, I began to wonder if I had imagined the
sound.

No—I was sure I hadn’t.

Had it been an animal then?

It would have to have been something
large.

A bear? A deer?

Maybe. But I wasn’t convinced. I had the
impression the steps had been taken slowly, with the intention of
not making much noise.

Really? You were half asleep. Stop
spooking yourself
.

I closed my eyes and took my own advice.

Through
the haze of
sleep I heard Nina calling Ben’s name. I don’t recall how many
times she called it, or at what intervals, only that I kept hearing
it repeated over and over. For a while I thought I might be
dreaming, but reality slowly penetrated my slumber, telling me I
should probably get up, something might have happened. Reluctantly
I propped myself into a sitting position. It was light out. Not
sunny-day bright. The gray, filtered light of another overcast
morning.

Mel was not in the tent. I never heard her
get up, which meant I must have been pretty out of it. I was
surprised by that, because after hearing the footsteps in the
middle of the night, I rested only fitfully, kept semi-awake by the
conundrum of the footsteps, the hard ground, and the frosty
weather. Also, Mel had been tossing and turning and sleep-talking,
something she never did. It made me wonder if she’d been having
more of those crevice-related nightmares.

I pushed aside the emergency blanket, rubbed
my arms for warmth—and noticed that my right hand had swollen even
more overnight. The pustules had turned into clear blisters filled
with cloudy fluid. They continued to itch terribly, especially the
ones along the creases in my palm and between my fingers. Again,
however, I refused the temptation to scratch them. If I broke any
open, there was a good chance they would become infected out
here.

I crawled outside and stood. The forest
appeared as bleak and desperately hellish as it had the day before,
but I was not so bothered by it. We had gotten through the night,
and we were leaving. Hallelujah.

I could see my breath puff before me. The
fire was going, and the smoky smell made me feel semi-human. Tomo
and Neil sat next to each other. Neil was reading a book—he always
had some non-fiction book or another—while Tomo was thumbing
through one of his manga comics. He says the stories are sci-fi or
horror, but every time I’ve glimpsed a page over his shoulder
there’s something traumatizing happening to a busty woman in skimpy
clothing.

John Scott was curled up at the base of a
nearby tree. He looked bulky, as if he had put on extra clothes
beneath his leather jacket. He was using his rucksack as a pillow.
I must have walked right past him the night before after leaving
Nina.

Mel was twenty yards away, sitting on a
rock, her back to us.

“Hey.” I cleared my parched throat.
“Morning.”

“Morning, Ethan,” Neil said. “Fancy a cuppa
coffee? I’ll put the pot on again.”

I noticed they each had paper cups next to
them, filled with black coffee. This kicked my olfactory sense into
gear, and suddenly I could smell the rich, strong aroma.

“Would love some.”

Neil set the pot directly on the flames,
maneuvering it to keep the black plastic handle from melting. “This
is the last of the water unfortunately.”

“We’re not sticking around.”

Tomo pulled his ear buds free. “Hey, man.
You sleep so late.”

I checked my wristwatch. “It’s only half
past seven.” I glanced at Mel again. Could she hear me? Why wasn’t
she turning around?

“You two lovebirds still fighting?” Neil
asked, shaking instant coffee into a cup.

“Think so.”

“Because you pussy guy,” Tomo said.

“Because Mel and I got in an argument?”

“Yeah, and you run to trees and cry like
girl. You gotta be man, right? Tell her you talk any bitch you
want.”

“Thanks for the advice, Snoop.”

“You know it.”

Nina called Ben’s name again from somewhere
in the trees.

“What’s going on with Ben?” I asked.

Neil shrugged. “He hasn’t been around since
we woke up.”

I frowned. Where did he go? For a
walk—without telling Nina or anyone else?

“You think we should help Nina look?” I
said.

“No need to panic,” Neil said. “We’ll sort
out what’s going on when she comes back.” He poured boiling water
into the cup and handed it to me, which I accepted, pinching it by
the rim so as not to scald my fingers. “Meanwhile,” he added,
nodding past me toward Mel, “you have your own problems to suss
out, don’t you think?”

Mel
didn’t say
anything as I sat on a rock close to hers. I set my coffee beside
me.

“Hey,” I said with false normalcy.

“Hey,” she said.

“What time did you get up?”

“Fifteen minutes ago maybe.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Tea.”

“That’s not eating.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I think there’s some nuts—”

“I’m not hungry, Ethan.”

We sat in silence. The morning air was not
only frosty but damp as well. The fragrant smell of dead leaves
perfumed the air.

“Listen, Mel, this Shelly stuff, it’s such a
dumb thing to get upset over.”

She looked at me. “Are you calling me
dumb?”

“What?”

“I think lying about calls from an
ex-girlfriend is a big thing. You think lying about calls from an
ex-girlfriend is a dumb thing. So are you calling me dumb for
thinking it’s a big thing?”

I clenched my jaw. “No.”

“Well?”

“It’s been blown out of proportion, that’s
all.”

“Benjamin!” It was Nina again. She sounded
closer than before.

“Look,” I said. “It’s not helping us any
putting this off—”

“John and I slept together,” she said
abruptly.

I blinked, not thinking I’d heard her
correctly. But that passed in a flash, and a wave of red-hot
jealousy swept through me. “When?” I asked quietly.

“In college. He was on leave from the Army,
visiting friends at UCLA. I ran into him at a bar.”

“And you took him home?”

She didn’t say anything.

“And after that?” I said. “Did you see him
again?”

“No. He went back to the base he was
stationed at. It was my senior year. I returned to St. Helena a
couple months later. Then I came here.”

I let this revelation sink in. It was
infuriating to hear, and I had to tell myself she hadn’t done
anything wrong. It happened before I knew her. If I hadn’t met John
Scott on this trip, I wouldn’t have cared less. Then again, I
had
met John Scott. He
was
on this trip. What the
fuck was that all about?