‘Why would I? Don’t be so silly,’ Minako said, reprimanding him gently.
To Mikami, it sounded like someone who was trying their best. He’d ruined her life. Out of all the paths her life could have taken, he’d led her down the worst. The thoughts came like tidal waves.
‘You could have stayed in the force.’
‘Hmm?’
‘You gave up being an officer because you married me. Don’t you regret that?’
‘Why would you ask me that?’
‘It’s something Mizuki said. She told me you worked harder than anyone else.’
‘I was thinking of leaving, even before we got married.’
‘You were?’
‘I wasn’t suited to the job.’
Not suited? It was the first he’d heard of it.
‘That doesn’t sound right.’
‘I was full of energy at the start. I really thought I could do something to help, to make the world a better place, you know?’
‘And you did, no doubt about it.’
‘No, that wasn’t it. It took a while, but I realized it eventually – I’d only joined the force because I wanted to be loved.’
In the dark, Mikami stared, open-eyed.
‘I just couldn’t warm to people, to society. All those cases, accidents, all those egotists. I started to hate everything. That was when it dawned on me that I was only doing my job so I could feel loved – I wanted people to show me gratitude. When it hit me, I didn’t know what to do. I got cold feet about the whole thing. How could someone like that ever hope to protect people? Why had I ever thought about doing something so off the mark as keeping the peace? That was when . . .’
There was a long pause.
‘I thought, maybe I could protect a smaller world. Maybe I could build a family. Protect it. That much I thought I . . .’
Her voice clouded over.
Mikami sprung up. He turned around and put his hand under Minako’s duvet. He traced the mattress until he found her slender arm and took hold of her hand. She held his back, her grip weak.
‘It’s not your fault.’
Again, Minako said nothing.
‘Ayumi . . . she’s not well.’
‘. . .’
‘Maybe it’s because of me that she’s like this. I never tried to get to know her, not really. I thought I could just leave her be and she’d grow up all on her own.’
‘. . .’
‘And she inherited my face. It’s been a big obstacle for—’
‘That’s not the reason,’ Minako said, cutting him off. ‘Maybe it isn’t even about what we did right, what we did wrong. Maybe we just weren’t right for her.’
Mikami’s head spun. Not right for her?
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s possible we’d never have understood her properly, however much we tried. Just because we’re her parents, it doesn’t mean we know what she’s thinking.’
Mikami felt himself flinch.
‘How can you say that? We lived under the same roof for sixteen years. You gave birth to her, you raised her—’
‘It’s not a case of how long. There are some things you just can’t understand. Parents and their children are different people; it’s not so strange that this happened.’
‘You think it’s a mistake she was born to us?’
‘That’s not what I’m trying to say. I just wonder . . . whether Ayumi just needs somebody else. Someone other than us.’
‘Who?’
‘Someone has to be out there. Someone ready to accept Ayumi as she is, who won’t try to change her one way or another. Someone who’ll tell her she’s perfect, who’ll stand silently by her side and protect her. That’s where she belongs. She’ll be free to be herself, do what she wants. Not here, not with us. That’s why she left.’
It was painful to listen. What was she trying to say? Was she giving up hope? Was she trying to tell him she was ready to let go? Or was she simply clinging to an idea, some kind of hope? Whichever the case, it was the dark making her talk. It had taken a small idea, nothing genuine, and amplified it, until it came to dominate the infinite space before them.
‘It just doesn’t make sense.’
Mikami rested his head back on the pillow. Their hands had come apart without either having consciously let go.
‘It does make sense. I know, because I was the same. I never felt like I belonged at home, even as a child. The feeling was always there.’
‘You?’
‘My parents seemed really happy together, right? The truth is they were really unhappy. There was a girl at my dad’s work who he’d been involved with for a long time. My mum was always unstable as a result. I remember you said you were glad there was someone to look after him when he remarried a few years after she passed away. That was the girl from work.’
Mikami felt dizzy. Something else he was hearing for the first time. This made sense of the fact that Minako hardly ever got in touch with her father.
Even so . . .
‘We’re not like that.’
‘Of course not. But their problems weren’t the reason I didn’t belong. I didn’t find out about the adultery until much later, and my parents were good to me most of the time. Still, I felt alone. I never told them how I felt. And I never got the impression they knew. I’d just assumed they wouldn’t understand. I don’t know why.
‘I always felt like I was coming back to an empty house, even though Mum would be there when I got back from school. How was school? I already knew everything she’d ask, and my answers were all fixed. It all seemed pointless. The feeling of emptiness didn’t change even when Dad got back. Even now, thinking back, it’s only the empty spaces I can remember. The wind or the sun coming through the window. The worn-out couch. The kokeshi doll, gathering dust on one of the shelves.’
Her voice had trailed off. Mikami shut his eyes. The dark became darker still. Had she fallen asleep? Was she staring at nothing? She was quiet. Mikami had begun to lose sense of time, even the feeling of being on his futon, when he heard her speak again.
‘The woman’s son. I hope he comes back to her.’
‘Hmm?’
‘The man from Forensics. I hope he’s able to come back.’
To come back . . .
‘Yeah. I do, too.’
‘Because . . . it could be you.’
‘What could?’
‘You could be that someone, for him.’
You think so . . .?
Mikami stopped thinking. He couldn’t think any more. He breathed out. As though it was a sign, it carried him into the dark.
59
The next morning Mikami found his shoes polished as usual.
The commissioner was due to arrive in one day. He geared himself up and left the house. Anything could happen in the next twenty-four hours. For the moment, the papers had been empty of surprises. With nothing to suggest a repeat bombardment from Criminal Investigations, the pages had been filled with news articles catching up on the previous day’s scoop.
The first shock had come a minute after his arrival in Media Relations. Kuramae and Mikumo had already been out, gathering details of a land survey for the new station building; Suwa had been by himself, brooding as he waited for Mikami.
‘Did you hear the news?’
‘What news?’
‘There was a tip-off. It made its way around Criminal Investigations, late last night.’