After he took a shower, he phoned Sara’s home. The phone went to voicemail. Please leave a message after the beep, the message said. He hesitated, then hung up without saying anything. The clock on the wall showed that it was just after one. He was about to call her cell phone, but thought better of it.
She might be having lunch on her day off with her boyfriend. It was a little early for them to be making love. Tsukuru recalled the man he’d seen her with, walking down Omotesando hand in hand. He couldn’t wipe the picture from his mind. He lay down on the sofa, images buzzing through his head, when suddenly it felt as if a sharp needle had stabbed him in the back. A thin, invisible needle. The pain was minimal, and there was no blood. Probably. Still, it hurt.
He pedaled his bike to the gym and swam his usual distance in the pool. His body remained oddly numb, and as he swam he felt like he fell asleep a couple of times. Of course no one can swim and sleep at the same time. It just seemed that way. Even so, as he swam, his body moved on autopilot, and he was able to finish without any further thoughts of Sara, or of that man, going through his mind. For that, he was thankful.
He came home from the pool and took a thirty-minute nap. It was a deep, dreamless sleep, his consciousness switching off as soon as his head hit the pillow. Afterward he ironed a few shirts and handkerchiefs and made dinner. He grilled salmon with herbs in the oven, drizzled lemon over it, and ate it with potato salad. Tofu and scallion miso soup rounded out the meal. He had half a cold beer and watched the news on TV. Then he lay down on the sofa and read.
It was just before 9 p.m. when Sara phoned.
“How’s the jet lag?” she asked.
“My sleep cycle’s messed up, but otherwise I feel fine,” Tsukuru said.
“Can you talk now? Or are you sleepy?”
“I’m sleepy, but I can hold out another hour before I go to bed. I have to go to work tomorrow and can’t very well take a nap at the office.”
“That’s good,” Sara said. “Someone called my home around one this afternoon. That was you, right? I keep forgetting to check my messages and just noticed I missed a call.”
“That was me.”
“I was out shopping in the neighborhood.”
“Um,” Tsukuru said.
“But you didn’t leave a message.”
“I’m not very good at leaving phone messages. I get kind of nervous and don’t know what to say.”
“You could have at least said your name.”
“You’re right. I should have at least done that.”
She paused for a moment. “I was quite worried about you, you know. Whether your trip went well. You should have left a short message.”
“I’m sorry. I know, I should have,” Tsukuru apologized. “By the way, what did you do today?”
“I did the laundry and went shopping. Cooked, cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. Sometimes I need that kind of quiet day off.” She fell silent for a while. “So, were you able to take care of everything in Finland?”
“I got to see Kuro,” Tsukuru said. “The two of us had a good long talk. Olga really helped me out.”
“I’m glad. She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?”
“She really is.” He told her about driving an hour and a half out of Helsinki to a beautiful lakeside town to see Eri (or Kuro). How she lived in a summer cottage there with her husband, her two young daughters, and a dog. How she and her husband made pottery in a small studio nearby.
“She looked happy,” Tsukuru said. “Life in Finland seems to agree with her.” Except for some nights during the long dark winter—but he didn’t say this.
“Was it worth going all the way to Finland?” Sara asked.
“I think so. There are some things you can only talk about face-to-face. It cleared up a lot of things for me. Not that I’ve found all the answers, but it was definitely worthwhile. On an emotional level, I mean.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m very happy to hear it.”
A short silence followed. A suggestive silence, as if it were measuring the direction of the wind. Then Sara spoke.
“Your voice sounds different. Or am I just imagining things?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. I’ve never been on a plane for that long before.”