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hopeless。 I don't agree with Nagasawa。 I do care if people understand
me。〃
〃That's practically the same thing as what I'm saying；〃 said Nagasawa；
picking up his coffee spoon。 〃It is the same！ It's the difference
between a late breakfast or an early lunch。 Same time； same food；
different name。〃
Now Hatsumi spoke to Nagasawa。 〃Don't you care whether I
understand you or not？〃
〃You don't get it； do you？ Person A understands Person B because the
time is right for that to happen； not because Person B wants to be
understood by Person A。〃
〃So is it a mistake for me to feel that I want to be understood by
someone … by you； for example？〃
〃No； it's not a mistake；〃 answered Nagasawa。 〃Most people would call
that love； if you think you want to understand me。 My system for
living is way different from other people's systems for living。〃
〃So what you're saying is you're not in love with me； is that it？〃
〃Well； my system and your … 〃
〃To hell with your fucking system！〃 Hatsumi shouted。 That
was the first and last time I ever heard her shout。
Nagasawa pushed the button by the table； and the waiter
came in with the bill。 Nagasawa handed him a credit card。 〃Sorry
about this； Watanabe；〃 said Nagasawa。 〃I'm going
to see Hatsumi home。 You go back to the dorm alone； OK？〃 〃You
don't have to apologize to me。 Great meal；〃 I said； but
no one said anything in response。
The waiter brought the card； and Nagasawa signed with a ballpoint
pen after checking the amount。 Then the three of us stood and went
outside。 Nagasawa started to step into the street to hail a taxi； but
Hatsumi stopped him。
〃Thanks； but I don't want to spend any more time with you today。 You
don't have to see me home。 Thank you for dinner。〃
；；Whatever；〃 said Nagasawa。
〃I want Toru to see me home。〃
〃Whatever；〃 said Nagasawa。 〃But Watanabe's practically the same as
me。 He may be a nice guy； but deep down in his heart he's incapable
of loving anybody。 There's always some part of him somewhere that's
wide awake and detached。 He just has that hunger that won't go away。
Believe me； I know what I'm talking about。〃
I flagged down a taxi and let Hatsumi in first。 〃Anyway；〃 I said to
Nagasawa； 〃I'll make sure she gets home。〃
〃Sorry to put you through this；〃 said Nagasawa； but I could see that he
was already thinking about something else。
Once inside the cab； I asked Hatsumi； 〃Where do you want to go？
Back to Ebisu？〃 Her flat was in Ebisu。
She shook her head。
〃OK。 How about a drink somewhere？〃
〃Yes；〃 she said with a nod。
〃Shibuya；〃 I told the driver。
Folding her arms and closing her eyes； Hatsumi sank back into the
corner of the seat。 Her small gold earrings caught the light as the taxi
swayed。 Her midnight…blue dress seemed to have been made to match
the darkness of the interior。 Every now and then her lightly made…up；
beautifully formed lips would quiver slightly as though she had caught
herself on the verge of talking to herself。 Watching her； I could see
why Nagasawa had chosen her as his special panion。 There were
any number of women more beautiful than Hatsumi； and Nagasawa
could have made any of them his。 But Hatsumi had some quality that
could send a tremor through your heart。 It was nothing forceful。 The
power she exerted was a subtle thing； but it called forth deep
resonances。 I watched her all the way to Shibuya； and wondered；
without ever finding an answer； what this emotional reverberation
could be that I was feeling。
It finally hit me some dozen or so years later。 I had gone to Santa Fe
to interview a painter and was sitting in a local pizza parlour； drinking
beer and eating pizza and watching a miraculously beautiful sunset。
Everything was soaked in brilliant red … my hand； the plate； the table；
the world … as if some special kind of fruit juice had splashed down on
everything。 In the midst of this overwhelming sunset； the image of
Hatsumi flashed into my mind； and in that moment I understood what
that tremor of the heart had been。 It was a kind of childhood longing
that had always remained … and would for ever remain … unfulfilled。 I
had forgotten the existence of such innocent； almost burnt…in longing：
forgotten for years that such feelings had ever existed inside me。 What
Hatsumi had stirred in me was a part of my very self that had long lain
dormant。 And when the realization struck me； it aroused such sorrow I
almost burst into tears。 She had been an absolutely special woman。
Someone should have done something … anything … to save her。
But neither Nagasawa nor I could have managed that。 As so many of
those I knew had done； Hatsumi reached a certain stage in life and
decided … almost on the spur of the moment … to end it。 Two years after
Nagasawa left for Germany； she married； and two years after that she
slashed her wrists with a razor blade。
It was Nagasawa； of course； who told me what had
happened。 His letter from Bonn said this： 〃Hatsumi's death has
extinguished something。 This is unbearably sad and painful； even to
me。〃 I ripped his letter to shreds and threw it away。 I never wrote to
him again。
Hatsumi and I went to a small bar and downed several drinks。 Neither
of us said much。 Like a bored； old married couple； we sat opposite
each other； drinking in silence and munching peanuts。 When the place
began to fill up； we went for a walk。 Hatsumi said she would pay the
bill； but I insisted on paying because the drinks had been my idea。
There was a deep chill in the night air。 Hatsumi wrapped herself in her
pale grey cardigan and walked by my side in silence。 I had no
destination in mind as we ambled through the nighttime streets； my
hands shoved deep into my pockets。 This was just like walking with
Naoko； it occurred to me。
〃Do you know somewhere we could play pool around here？〃 Hatsumi
asked me without warning。
〃Pool？ You play？〃
〃Yeah； I'm pretty good。 How about you？〃
〃I play a little。 Not that I'm very good at it。〃
〃OK； then。 Let's go。〃
We found a pool hall nearby and went in。 It was a small place at the
far end of an alley。 The two of us … Hatsumi in her chic dress and I in
my blue blazer and regimental tie … clashed with the scruffy pool hall；
but this didn't seem to concern Hatsumi at all as she chose and chalked
her cue。 She pulled a hairslide from her bag and clipped her hair aside
at one temple to keep it from interfering with her game。
We played two games。 Hatsumi was as good as she had claimed to be；
while my own game was hampered by the thick bandage I still wore
on my cut hand。 She crushed me。
〃You're great；〃 I said in admiration。
〃You mean appearances can be deceiving？〃 she asked as she sized up
a shot； smiling。
〃Where did you learn to play like that？〃
〃My grandfather … my father's father … was an old playboy。 He had a
table in his house。 I used to play pool with my brother just for fun； and
when I got a little bigger my grandfather taught me the right moves。
He was a wonderful guy … stylish； handsome。 He's dead now； though。
He always used to boast how he once met Deanna Durbin in New
York。〃
She got three in a row； then missed