The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (46 page)

“The reason I am calling you so late at night, Mr. Okada, is that I felt I should reach you at the earliest possible opportunity,” said Malta Kano. Listening to her speak, I had the impression that she was choosing and arranging each word into well-ordered sentences according to strict principles of logic—which was what she always did. “If you have no objection, there are several questions that I wish to be permitted to ask you, Mr. Okada. May I proceed?”

Receiver in hand, I lowered myself onto the sofa. “Go right ahead, ask me anything you’d like,” I said.

“Have you by any chance been away these past two days, Mr. Okada? I tried telephoning you any number of times, but you seemed always to be out.”

“Well, yes, I was out. I wanted to get away from the house for a while. I needed to be alone to do some thinking. I’ve got lots of things I need to think about.”

“Yes, Mr. Okada, I am very much aware of that. I understand how you feel. A change of scene can be a very good thing when one wishes to think clearly and carefully about something. In this case, however, Mr. Okada—and I know this will sound as if I am prying—were you not somewhere
very
far away?”

“Well, not so
very
far away,” I said, with deliberate ambiguity. I switched the receiver from my left hand to my right. “How can I put this? I was in a somewhat cut-off place. I really can’t go into it, though, in great detail. I have my reasons. And I just got back a little while ago. I’m too tired for long explanations.”

“Of course, Mr. Okada. I understand. All people have their reasons. I will not press you to explain. You must be very tired indeed: I can tell from the sound of your voice. Please do not concern yourself about me. I should not be bothering you with a lot of questions at a time like this. I am terribly sorry. We can always discuss this matter at a more appropriate time. I know it was terribly rude of me to ask such a personal question, but I did so only because I was worried that something very bad had happened to you over the past several days.”

I tried to make an appropriate response, but the little noise that came out of my throat sounded less like a response than like the gasp of an aquatic animal that had breathed the wrong way.
Something very bad
, I thought. Of all the things that were happening to me, which were bad and which were not bad? Which were all right and which were not all right?

“Thank you for being so concerned about me,” I said, after getting my voice to work properly, “but I’m fine at the moment. I can’t say that something good happened to me, but there’s been nothing especially bad, either.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” I added.

Malta Kano made a dainty little sound of clearing her throat. “By the way, Mr. Okada, I wonder if you might have noticed some kind of major physical change during the past few days?”

“A physical change? In me?”

“Yes, Mr. Okada. Some kind of change in your body.”

I raised my face and looked at my reflection in the glass patio door, but I couldn’t make out anything that could be called a physical change. I had scrubbed every part of my body in the shower but had noticed nothing then, either. “What kind of change did you have in mind?” I asked.

“I have no idea what it might be, but it should be very obvious to anyone who looks at you.”

I stretched my left hand open atop the table and stared at the palm, but it was just my usual palm. It had not changed in any way that I could perceive. It had not become covered in gold foil, nor had it developed
webs between the fingers. It was neither beautiful nor ugly. “When you say that it should be very obvious to anyone who looks at me, what do you mean? Something like wings sprouting on my back?”

“It could be something like that,” said Malta Kano, in her usual even tone. “Of course, I mean that as
one possibility.
”

“Of course,” I said.

“So, then,
have
you noticed some such change?”

“Not really. Not so far, at least. I mean, if wings had sprouted on my back, I probably couldn’t help but notice, don’t you think?”

“Probably not,” said Malta Kano. “But do be careful, Mr. Okada. To know one’s own state is not a simple matter. One cannot look directly at one’s own face with one’s own eyes, for example. One has no choice but to look at one’s reflection in the mirror. Through experience, we come to
believe
that the image is correct, but that is all.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

“I do have one more thing I would like to ask you about, Mr. Okada. For some time now, I have been unable to establish contact with my sister Creta—just as I lost contact with you. It may be a coincidence, but I find it very strange. I was wondering if, perhaps, you might have some knowledge of the circumstances behind this.”

“Creta Kano?!”

“Yes,” said Malta Kano. “Does anything come to mind in that regard?”

No, nothing came to mind, I replied. I had no clear basis for thinking so, but I felt that for the time being, it would be better if I said nothing to Malta Kano about the fact that I had recently spoken with Creta Kano in person and that, immediately afterward, she had disappeared. It was just a feeling.

“Creta was worried about having lost contact with you, Mr. Okada. She went out last night, saying that she planned to visit your home and see what she could find there, but even at this late hour she has not returned. And for some reason, I can no longer sense her presence.”

“I see. Well, if she should happen to come here, I’ll tell her to contact you right away,” I said.

Malta Kano remained silent for some time at her end of the line. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Okada, I am worried about Creta. As you know, the work that she and I do is far from ordinary. But she is not as well versed in matters of that world as I am. I do not mean to imply that she is not gifted. In fact, she is very gifted. But she is not yet fully acclimated to her gift.”

“I see.”

Malta Kano fell silent once again. This silence was longer than the last one. I sensed a certain indecision on her part.

“Hello. Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yes, Mr. Okada, I am still here,” she replied.

“If I see Creta, I’ll be sure to tell her to get in touch with you,” I said again.

“Thank you very much,” said Malta Kano. Then, after apologizing for the late-night call, she hung up. I hung up, too, and looked at my reflection in the glass one more time. Then the thought struck me: I might never speak with Malta Kano again. This could be the last contact I would ever have with her. She could disappear from my life forever. I had no special reason for thinking this: it was just a feeling that came to me.

•

Suddenly I thought about the rope ladder. I had left it hanging down in the well. Probably, the sooner I retrieved it, the better. Problems could arise if someone found it there. And then there was the sudden disappearance of Creta Kano. I had last seen her at the well.

I shoved my flashlight into my pocket, put on my shoes, stepped down into the garden, and climbed over the wall again. Then I passed down the alley to the vacant house. May Kasahara’s house was pitch dark. The hands of my watch were nearing 3:00 a.m. I entered the yard of the vacant house and went straight for the well. The rope ladder was still anchored to the base of the tree and hanging down into the well, which was still just half open.

Something prompted me to peer down into the well and call Creta Kano’s name in a kind of whispered shout. There was no answer. I pulled out my flashlight and aimed it down the well. The beam did not reach bottom, but I heard a tiny moaning sort of sound. I tried calling the name again.

“It’s all right. I’m here,” said Creta Kano.

“What are you
doing
in a place like this?” I asked, in a low voice.

“What am I
doing?
I’m doing the same thing
you
were doing, Mr. Okada,” she replied, with obvious puzzlement. “I’m thinking. This really
is
a perfect place for thinking, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, I guess it is,” I said. “But your sister called me at home a little while ago. She’s very worried about your disappearance. It’s the middle of the night and you’re still not home, and she says she can’t feel your presence. She wanted me to tell you to get in touch with her right away if I heard from you.”

“I see. Well, thank you for taking the trouble.”

“Never mind about that, Creta Kano. Will you do me a favor and come out of there? I have to talk to you.”

She did not reply.

I switched off my flashlight and returned it to my pocket.

“Why don’t you come down here, Mr. Okada? The two of us could sit here and talk.”

It might not be a bad idea, I thought, to climb down into the well again and talk with Creta Kano, but then I thought about the moldy darkness at the bottom of the well and got a heavy feeling in my stomach.

“No, sorry, but I’m not going down there again. And you ought to come out, too. Somebody might pull the ladder up again. And the air is stale.”

“I know that. But I want to stay down here a little longer. Don’t worry yourself about me.”

There was nothing I could do as long as Creta Kano had no intention of coming out of the well.

“When I talked to your sister on the phone, I didn’t tell her I saw you here. I hope that was the right thing to do. I just sort of had this feeling that it’d be better to say nothing.”

“You were right,” said Creta Kano. “Please don’t tell my sister I am here.” A moment later, she added, “I don’t want to worry her, but I need a chance to think sometimes too. I will come out as soon as I am done. I would like to be alone now, if you would be so kind. I will not cause you any trouble.”

I decided to leave her and go back to the house for the time being. I could come in the morning and check up on her. If May Kasahara should pull the ladder up again during the night, I could deal with the situation then and manage to help Creta Kano climb out of the well one way or another. I went home, undressed, and stretched out in bed. Picking up the book I had been reading, I opened it to my place. I felt I was too much on edge to get to sleep right away, but before I had read two full pages, I realized I was dozing off. I closed the book, turned out the light, and in the next moment was sound asleep.

•

It was nine-thirty in the morning by the time I awoke. Concerned about Creta Kano, I dressed without bothering to wash my face and hurried down the alley to the vacant house. The clouds hung low in the sky, and the humid morning air seemed to threaten rain at any moment. The rope ladder was gone from the well. Someone must have untied it from the
base of the tree and carried it off somewhere. Both halves of the well cover were set tightly in place, with a stone atop each half. Opening one side and peering down into the well, I called Creta Kano’s name. There was no answer. I tried a few more times, waiting after each call. Thinking she might be asleep, I tossed a few pebbles inside, but there no longer seemed to be anybody in the bottom of the well. Creta Kano had probably climbed out of the well when morning came, untied the ladder, and taken it off with her. I set the cover in place and moved away from the well.

In the alley again, I leaned against the fence of the vacant house, watching May Kasahara’s house for a time. I thought she might notice me there, as she usually did, and come out, but there was no sign of her. The surroundings were absolutely hushed—no people, no noises of any kind, not even the cry of a cicada. I passed the time digging at the surface of the ground with the toe of my shoe. Something felt different about the neighborhood, unfamiliar—as if, in the days I was down in the well, the old reality of this place had been shoved away by a new reality, which had settled in and taken over. I had been feeling this, somewhere deep down, ever since I had emerged from the well and gone home.

Walking back down the alley to my house, I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Several days’ worth of black stubble covered my face. I looked like a newly rescued shipwreck victim. This was the first time in my life I had ever let my beard grow so long. I toyed with the idea of really letting it grow out but after a few moments’ thought decided to shave it. For some reason, it just seemed better to keep the face I had had when Kumiko left.

I softened up my beard with a hot towel and covered my face with a thick layer of shaving cream. I then proceeded to shave, slowly and carefully, so as to avoid cutting myself: first the chin, then the left cheek, then the right cheek. As I was finishing the right cheek, what I saw in the mirror made me catch my breath. It was a blue-black stain of some kind. At first I thought I might accidentally have smeared myself with something. I wiped off the remaining traces of shaving cream, gave my face a good washing with soap and water, and scrubbed at the stained area with a washcloth. But still the stain would not come off. It seemed to have penetrated deep into the skin. I stroked it with a finger. That one patch of skin felt just slightly warmer than the rest of my face, but otherwise it had no special feeling. It was a mark. I had a mark on my cheek in the exact location where, in the well, I had had the sensation of heat.

I brought my face up to the mirror and examined the mark with the utmost care. Located just beyond the right cheekbone, it was about the size of an infant’s palm. Its bluish color was close to black, like the blue-black Mont Blanc ink that Kumiko always used.

One possible explanation was that this was an allergic reaction. I might have come in contact with something in the well that caused an eruption of the skin, the way lacquer can do. But what could there have been down there, in the bottom of the well, to give rise to such a thing? I had examined every nook and cranny of the place with my flashlight, finding nothing there but the dirt bottom and the concrete wall. Besides, did allergies or eruptions ever leave such clearly outlined marks?

A mild panic overtook me. For a few moments, I lost all sense of direction, as when a huge wave crashes over you at the beach, dragging you in. The washcloth fell from my hand. I knocked over the wastebasket and stubbed my foot against something, mumbling meaningless syllables all the while. Then I managed to regain my composure and, leaning against the sink, began thinking calmly about how to deal with this fact.