“Exactly. It might be karma, too.”
“Sounds good. Fine with me. It’s a celebration, after all. If the mummy would care to join us, I will be happy to issue the invitation. Sounds like we’ll have a pleasant evening. But what should we have for dessert?” He smiled happily. “The problem is, we can’t see him. Makes it hard to invite him.”
“Indeed,” I said. “But the visible is not the only reality. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Menshiki gingerly carried the painting outside. He took an old blanket from the trunk, laid it on the passenger seat, and placed the painting down on top so as not to smear the paint. Then he used some thin rope and two cardboard boxes to secure the painting so it wouldn’t move around. It was all cleverly done. He always seemed to carry around a variety of tools and things in his trunk.
“Yes, what you said may be exactly right,” Menshiki suddenly murmured as he was leaving. He rested both hands on the leather-covered steering wheel and looked straight up at me.
“What I said?”
“That sometimes in life we can’t grasp the boundary between reality and unreality. That boundary always seems to be shifting. As if the border between countries shifts from one day to the next depending on their mood. We need to pay close attention to that movement, otherwise we won’t know which side we’re on. That’s what I meant when I said it might be dangerous for me to remain inside that pit any longer.”
I didn’t know how to respond, and Menshiki didn’t go any further. He waved to me out the window, revving the V8 engine so it rumbled pleasantly, and he and the still-not-dry portrait vanished from sight.
19
CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING BEHIND ME?
At one p.m. on Saturday afternoon my girlfriend drove over in her red Mini. I went out to greet her when she arrived. She had on green sunglasses and a light-gray jacket over a simple beige dress.
“You want to do it in the car? Or do you prefer the bed?” I asked.
“Don’t be silly,” she laughed.
“Doing it in the car doesn’t sound so bad. Figuring out how to manage it in a cramped space.”
“Someday soon.”
We sat in the living room and drank tea. I told her about how I’d just managed to finish the portrait (or portrait-like painting) of Menshiki I’d been struggling with. And how it was totally different from any of the portraits I’d done professionally. Her interest seemed piqued.
“Can I see the painting?”
I shook my head. “You’re a day late. I wanted to get your opinion on it, but Mr. Menshiki already took it home. The paint wasn’t completely dry yet, but it seemed like he wanted to take possession as soon as he could. He seemed worried somebody else might take it away.”
“So he liked it.”
“He said he did, and I don’t have any reason to doubt him.”
“The painting’s successfully completed, and the person who commissioned it likes it. So all’s well that ends well?”
“I guess,” I said. “And I’m happy with it. I’ve never done that type of painting before, and I think it’s opened up some new possibilities.”
“A new style of portrait?”
“I’m not sure. This time, I arrived at that method by using Mr. Menshiki as my model. But maybe it’s just coincidence that it was the framework of a portrait that proved to be the entranceway to that. I don’t know if the same method would be valid if I tried it again. This might have been a special case. Having Mr. Menshiki as my model may have exerted a special power. But the important thing is I’m dying to do some serious painting now.”
“Well, congratulations on finishing the painting.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll also be receiving a fairly hefty payment.”
“The munificent Mr. Menshiki,” she said.
“And he invited me over to his place to celebrate the painting. Tuesday evening, we’ll have dinner together.”
I told her about the dinner that was planned. Nothing about inviting the mummy, though. A dinner for two, with a professional cook and bartender.
“So you’ll finally set foot in that chalk-white mansion, won’t you,” she said, sounding impressed. “The mysterious mansion of the man of mystery. I’m so curious. Make sure to keep your eyes open, and observe what kind of place it is.”
“As much as my eyes can take in.”
“And remember exactly what sort of food was served.”
“Will do,” I said. “You know, the other day you mentioned getting new information about Mr. Menshiki.”
“That’s right. Through the jungle grapevine.”
“What kind of information?”
She looked a little confused. She picked up her cup and took a sip of tea. “Let’s talk about that later,” she said. “There’s something I’d like to do before that.”
“Something you’d like to do?”
“Something I hesitate to put into words.”
We moved from the living room into the bedroom. Like always.
* * *
—
During the six years I lived my first married life with Yuzu (my former marriage, is what it might best be called), I never had a sexual relationship with any other women, not even once. Not that the opportunity didn’t present itself, but during that period I was much more interested in living a peaceful life with my wife than seeking greener pastures elsewhere. And as far as sex was concerned, regular lovemaking with Yuzu more than satisfied me.
But then at a certain point, out of the blue (to me at least) she announced that she couldn’t live with me any longer. An unshakable conclusion, no room for negotiation or compromise. I was shaken, with no clue how to respond. Left speechless. But I did understand one thing: I can’t stay here anymore.
So I threw some belongings into my old Peugeot 205 and set off on an aimless journey. For a month and a half at the beginning of spring I wandered through northern Japan—Tohoku and Hokkaido—where it was still cold. Until my car finally broke down for good. Every night on the trip I remembered Yuzu’s body. Every single detail. How she’d react when I touched certain spots, what sort of cry she made. I didn’t want to remember this, but I couldn’t help it. Occasionally, as I traced those memories, I’d ejaculate. Another thing I didn’t particularly want to do.
But during that long trip I only slept with one actual woman. A truly weird turn of events ended with me spending the night with a young woman I’d never seen before. Not that it was something I was looking for.
This was in a small town in Miyagi Prefecture along the coast. As I recall, it was near the border with Iwate, but I was on the move then and had passed through a number of towns that all blurred into one. My mind wasn’t in a place where I could remember their names. I do recall that it had a big fishing harbor. Though most of the towns in that region had harbors. And I remember how everywhere I went the smell of diesel oil and fish tagged along.
On the outskirts of town, near the highway, was a chain restaurant, and I was eating dinner there by myself. It was about eight p.m. Shrimp curry and house salad. There were only a handful of other customers. I was in a table next to the window, reading a paperback book while I ate, when a young woman abruptly sat down across from me. No hesitation, no asking permission, without a word she sat down onto the vinyl-covered seat like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I looked up, surprised. Of course I didn’t recognize her. It was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on her. It was all so sudden I didn’t know what to think. There were any number of unoccupied tables, and no reason for her to share mine. Maybe that’s how they did things in this town? I put down my fork, wiped my mouth with the paper napkin, and gazed at her, bewildered.