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drinking the rest of the wine。 She drank two glasses in the time it took
me to finish one。
Naoko was unusually talkative that night。 She told me about her
childhood； her school； her family。 Each episode was a long one；
executed with the painstaking detail of a miniature。 I was amazed at
the power of her memory； but as I sat listening it began to dawn on me
that there was something wrong with the way she was telling these
stories： something strange； warped even。 Each tale had its own
internal logic； but the link from one to the next was odd。 Before you
knew it； story A had turned into story B； which had been contained in
A； and then came C from something in B； with no end in sight。 I found
things to say in response at first； but after a while I stopped trying。 I
put on a record； and when it ended I lifted the needle and put on
another。 After the last record I went back to the first。 She only had six。
The cycle started with Sgt。 Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and
ended with Bill Evans' Waltz for Debbie。 Rain fell past the window。
Time moved slowly。 Naoko went on talking by herself。
It eventually dawned on me what was wrong： Naoko was taking great
care as she spoke not to touch on certain things。 One of those things
was Kizuki； of course； but there was more than Kizuki。 And though
she had certain subjects she was determined to avoid； she went on
endlessly and in incredible detail about the most trivial； inane things。 I
had never heard her speak with such intensity before； and so I did not
interrupt her。
Once the clock struck eleven； though； I began to feel nervous。 She had
been talking non…stop for more than four hours。 I had to worry about
the last train； and my midnight curfew。 I saw my chance and cut in。
〃Time for the troops to go home；〃 I said； looking at my watch。 〃Last
train's ing。〃
My words did not seem to reach her。 Or； if they did； she was unable to
grasp their meaning。 She clamped her mouth shut for a split second；
then went on with her story。 I gave up and； shifting to a more
fortable position； drank what was left of the second bottle of wine。
I thought I had better let her talk herself out。 The curfew and the last
train would have to take care of themselves。
She did not go on for long； though。 Before I knew it； she had stopped
talking。 The ragged end of the last word she spoke seemed to float in
the air； where it had been torn off。 She had not actually finished what
she was saying。 Her words had simply evaporated。 She had been
trying to go on； but had e up against nothing。 Something was gone
now； and I was probably the one who had destroyed it。My words
might have finally reached her； taken their time to be understood； and
obliterated whatever energy it was that had kept her talking so long。
Lips slightly parted； she turned her half focused eyes on mine。 She
looked like some kind of machine that had been humming along until
someone pulled the plug。 Her eyes appeared clouded； as if covered by
some thin； translucent membrane。
〃Sorry to interrupt；〃 I said； 〃but it's getting late； and 。。。〃
One big tear spilled from her eye； ran down her cheek and splattered
onto a record jacket。 Once that first tear broke free； the rest followed
in an unbroken stream。 Naoko bent forwards on all fours on the floor
and； pressing her palms to the mat； began to cry with the force of a
person vomiting。 Never in my life had I seen anyone cry with such
intensity。 I reached out and placed a hand on her trembling shoulder。
Then； all but instinctively； I took her in my arms。 Pressed against me；
her whole body trembling； she continued to cry without a sound。 My
shirt became damp … then soaked … with her tears and hot breath。 Soon
her fingers began to move across my back as if in search of
something； some important thing that had always been there。
Supporting her weight with my left arm； I used my right hand to
caress her soft； straight hair。 And I waited。 In that position； I waited
for Naoko to stop crying。 And I went on waiting。 But Naoko's crying
never stopped。
I slept with Naoko that night。 Was it the right thing to do？ I can't tell。
Even now； almost 20 years later； I can't be sure。 I suppose I'll never
know。 But at the time； it was all I could do。 She was in a heightened
state of tension and confusion； and she made it clear she wanted me to
give her release。 I turned the lights down and began； one piece at a
time； with the gentlest touch I could manage； to remove her clothes。
Then I undressed。 It was warm enough； that rainy April night； for us to
cling to each other's nakedness without a sense of chill。 We explored
each other's bodies in the darkness without words。 I kissed her and
held her soft breasts in my hands。 She clutched at my erection。 Her
opening was warm and wet and asking for me。
And yet； when I went inside her； Naoko tensed with pain。 Was this her
first time？ I asked； and she nodded。 Now it was my turn to be
confused。 I had assumed that Naoko had been sleeping with Kizuki all
that time。 I went in as far as I could and stayed that way for a long
time； holding Naoko； without moving。 And then； as she began to seem
calmer； I allowed myself to move inside her； taking a longtime to
e to climax； with slow； gentle movements。 Her arms tightened
around me at the end； when at last she broke her silence。 Her cry was
the saddest sound of orgasm I had ever heard。
When everything had ended； I asked Naoko why she had never slept
with Kizuki。 This was a mistake。 No sooner had I asked the question
than she took her arms from me and started crying soundlessly again。 I
pulled her bedding from the closet； spread it on the mat floor； and put
her in beneath the covers。 Smoking； I watched the endless April rain
beyond the window。
The rain had stopped when morning came。 Naoko was sleeping with
her back to me。 Or maybe she hadn't slept at all。 Whether she was
awake or asleep； all words had left her lips； and her body now seemed
stiff； almost frozen。 I tried several times to talk to her； but she would
not answer or move。 I stared for a long time at her naked shoulder； but
in the end I lost all hope of eliciting a response and decided to get up。
The floor was still littered with record jackets； glasses； wine bottles
and the ashtray I had been using。 Half the caved…in birthday cake
remained on the table。 It was as if time had e to a halt。 I picked up
the things off the floor and drank two glasses of water at the sink。 On
Naoko's desk lay a dictionary and a French verb chart。 On the wall
above the desk hung a calendar； one without an illustration or photo of
any kind； just the numbers of the days of the month。 There were no
memos or marks written next to any of the dates。
I picked up my clothes and dressed。 The chest of my shirt was still
damp and chilly。 It had Naoko's smell。 On the notepad lying on the
desk I wrote： I'd like to have a good long talk with you once you've
calmed down。 Please call me soon。 Happy
Birthday。 I took one last look at Naoko's shoulder； stepped outside and
quietly shut the door。
No call came even after a week had passed。 Na