The Boy in the Earth Read online

  6

  When I opened my eyes, my heart was pounding and Sayuko was shaking me by the shoulders. She stared at me dubiously and kept asking if I was okay. I shivered in a cold sweat; it was difficult to breathe. “You were having a nightmare,” she said. “You usually quiet down when I shake you by the shoulders, but this time you woke up.”

  She smiled and her dimples showed in her cheeks. Seeing them suddenly made me feel depressed. The dream from a moment ago remained clear in my mind—I remembered every detail. A huge dark mass had been trying to crush my body. But it wasn’t fear that I’d felt; I had been laughing as I was being crushed. Sleep with me, I said, and Sayuko nodded calmly.

  While we were having sex, I couldn’t shake the thought that this act was totally absurd. Despite her lack of sensation, Sayuko ran her fingertips through my hair, which gave me some solace. I was filled with foreboding at the thought that a person like me was alive. I checked myself before my mind headed off in this direction; nothing good ever came of it.

  The next thing I knew, I had stopped moving. I felt a ripple of premonition; still holding her in my arms, I couldn’t go on any longer. When she asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t find the right words. After a little while, she let out a sigh loud enough for me to hear.

  “It gets boring, doesn’t it?” Sayuko said with a defensive iciness in her voice.

  “That’s not it.”

  “So then why did you give up?”

  “I didn’t give up. I don’t know why, I can’t really say.”

  “Because it’s boring, isn’t it? Sleeping with a woman like me. You’d be better off not bothering, wouldn’t you? There’s no reason to be sentimental—just be objective.”

  “That’s not it, I just, I feel bad about how I treat you.”

  “What?”

  “Because you do so much for me, and I just want to sleep with you, right? Even though you don’t get any pleasure from it.”

  “You let me stay in this apartment, don’t you?”

  “That’s not what I mean. Other than that, I don’t do anything for you.”

  She was looking at me curiously. “What happened all of a sudden? Are you worried about me?”

  “Probably. But . . . that’s not all it’s about. I’m sick of it.”

  “Sick of sleeping with someone like me?”

  “Not that.”

  “So what then?”

  “Just of myself, of being totally useless, like an insect waiting to die. I’m good for nothing. Aren’t I right?”

  She parted her lips, but seemed unable to fathom the meaning of what I had said. The moonlight shone faintly through a gap in the curtains, casting a pale shadow on Sayuko’s gaunt cheek. I don’t know why, but for some reason the sight of it made me choke up. Even though we were in the midst of a quarrel, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

  “Fine. If you want to end things with me.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean, but for now—what am I trying to say?—I still want to be with you. It’s just . . . I want things to be different from how they always are, at least for today. That sounds stupid—it probably makes you sick,” I said, and for the first time, she laughed.

  “Ah, you’re in a bad way. And now, in this state, you’re stuck having to rely on someone like me.”

  “You’re not the kind of person you think you are.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to coddle me.”

  I tried to reply, but again I couldn’t find the right words to say.

  Sayuko said she was going out to get some things and I saw her to the door, but then I was feeling pretty lazy so I got back into bed and slept. I figured I’d take the day off from work again. I knew I would get fired if I kept this up, but I couldn’t muster any sense of urgency. I turned on the television, but nothing stuck in my brain. The apartment felt claustrophobic; I felt a strange oppressiveness throughout my entire body.

  A mosquito that had come in through the window flew at me relentlessly. I pitied its sorry existence, this creature that announces itself by buzzing whenever it approaches its target. I blocked its way with my hand, but it managed to get around. When it went behind the television, I even got up to follow it. It settled on the wall and I struck it with my hand; it got away and I tried to catch it in the air. I knew I was being ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I saw it land on the table, and I covered it with a glass. For a moment the mosquito flew up fiercely, but then it just drifted within the confined space, seemingly confused by the situation in which it found itself. It could no longer escape. Maybe I was now like a god to it. I could do whatever I liked with it.

  •

  I went outside. The sultry heat was stifling. I cast an eye over my surroundings as I walked along, thinking I would try to distract myself from my deteriorating mood. The intense moonlight formed a circle behind the thin and uneven cloud cover, its pale bluish-gray color gleaming hazily. I came out of a narrow passageway between brick condominiums, turned alongside a row house, and came out onto a wide road with cars on it. As I turned my attention to the light from a convenience store, a tall woman came out with a crying child in tow. She was trying to soothe the child, but he seemed inconsolable, and his cries were rising in intensity. With every step, the child’s shoes made a high and comical sound, like a whistle. I felt an affinity for these two, and I stopped where I was to light a cigarette. Just then, the woman struck the child. It was as if an intense light had flashed before my eyes, momentarily blinding me. A delayed numbness spread down both my arms, and my heart had gradually begun to race. The sound of the child’s shoes echoed in my mind. My head ached, and I wanted to get away from there, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Yet right in front of me was the figure of this woman, gently soothing the child. Everything about the scene from before I had stopped in my tracks remained the same. The woman continued to console the child, and the child kept crying. Could it have been my imagination? I could have sworn that the woman had struck the child, but in fact maybe she hadn’t? I didn’t know, but I gave up thinking about it and left the scene.

  I turned the corner of an old apartment building and headed into an alley where, on the asphalt illuminated by the streetlight, there was a huge number of shriveled-up earthworm carcasses, so many that there wasn’t anywhere to walk. Not wanting to turn back, I had no choice but to step on them. But the unmistakable soft sensation nauseated me. Four or five young guys were walking nearby, their laughter exaggerated. As they came closer, I got nervous, practically holding my breath as I passed them. At that moment, the image of the woman striking the child flashed in my mind, and I assumed that must have been the cause of my stress.

  When I came out onto the road alongside the river, something about the faint current partially obscured by the barrier fence made me stop in my tracks. I don’t know what bothered me about it, but the idea of falling to one’s death in those depths gave me a bad vibe. On the riverbank there was the wreckage of a bicycle, broken in two and covered in dried gray mud, as if it had been forced down into the earth. I could not tear my eyes away from the sight of that gray mass that used to be a bicycle. As I was beginning to feel more relaxed, I felt a warmth that seemed to permeate my entire body. I realized that I hoped I would end up like that wrecked bicycle—I would be broken in two, shriveled up, buried in the mud. I imagined the cool sensation of the earth as each tiny coarse grain penetrated inside me, trying to erode me. I shuddered in an attempt to shake off the image, and I left the scene behind me.

  Still without an objective, I had no choice but to keep walking. As I moved along, I thought about death. At first, like a game, I tried to imagine what might happen if I were to die now. My heartbeat became violent; it was so impossibly fierce, it seemed to bash about my insides. It gave me the creeps, and I stopped walking. My anxiety seemed to have a will of its own, and I couldn’t stop it from spreading through me. Did I wish f
or my own death? Was that the effect of being caught up in all of these strange behaviors? It might seem like that was the case, but I had the feeling it wasn’t. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but think that death might be near at hand. My heart still pounding, I concentrated my attention on the sound of a railroad crossing that I could hear in the distance. I thought I might die soon. With a steady rhythm, the railroad crossing called to me, and I felt myself drawn by it as if I were a puppet on a string. It wasn’t so bad. I must really be vulnerable to be so obviously open to suggestion. Suddenly the world surrounding me seemed enormous. The land that spread out into fields, the sky covered in gray clouds, the road, even the air that was invisible to the eye—everything seemed to possess an immense and overwhelming presence. Cast within such a vastness, my own existence was futile, utterly powerless—even if I devoted my entire being I couldn’t leave even the slightest mark on this world. The world was mighty, it expanded coldly—it existed without seeing me. I might as well die. Even if I gave my life, the world would still not take notice of me. Death had the same value as everything else within this cruel vastness spread before me—no value at all. There were no second chances. My heart ached, I had no strength in my legs—I couldn’t move. And yet, despite this terrifying feeling, I still couldn’t quite grasp its significance; I never caught up with myself. The railroad crossing continued to chime its steadfast rhythm. It felt as though another me was trying to free himself from the version of me who was frightened by this. I was a part of the cold world. And my death wouldn’t make any difference. I walked in the direction of the sound, but I could no longer hear it, and the green fence, the ground, the clouds, the row of utility poles—everything started to take back its ordinary color. Once again I found myself in front of the wide road. I was lightheaded and, unable to stand, I sank to the ground. Several pedestrians passed by me. Where was I? I wondered, and I looked around for a moment. Some people looked down on me and frowned as they walked past, others purposely avoided looking my way. I wondered what they were doing in a place like this. I looked up, and I could see a billboard for a personal finance loan I had never heard of. I felt another wave of dizziness and thought I might throw up. There was something familiar about this feeling. As if my physiological frenzy was pumping the blood through my veins, and my own contours seemed like they were gradually becoming more distinct.

  The balance in my bank account was dwindling since I had been taking off from work. I thought about what would happen if I stayed on this slippery downward slope, just kept borrowing money, without any limits. That salaryman that Sayuko had talked about, had he ultimately found something? She said he seemed content—had he reached a place where he was satisfied? Strangely, out of nowhere, I thought of my father. The image of this man—a complete stranger to me—busily borrowing money flitted through my mind. It made me uncomfortable. I recalled my earlier belief that as long as I was a respectable person then my parents could have been respectable too. It was paradoxical, a strange kind of logic. My lips went slack at the thought. It seemed reasonable to me. I knew it didn’t really matter, but I chose to believe it anyway.

  On my way home, I tried to think about something that would make me feel better, but I got back to my apartment before I could come up with anything. The glass with the mosquito inside was still on top of the table. I set it free, and it bit me more than once. I had no choice but to swat it with my hand. When I saw its corpse clinging to my chest, for some reason it made me angry and I slapped it again. Even when I saw the completely smushed body, it still wasn’t enough for me, and I whacked my chest over and over again until it hurt. Reduced to dust, what was left of the mosquito fell to the floor.

  7

  I got a call from the hospital saying that Sayuko had been injured, so I hailed a taxi. I tried to imagine how she could have ended up drunk in a club and have fallen down the stairs when she’d originally gone out to pick up some things at the store, but I knew that it was entirely plausible. For a heavy drinker like her, it was difficult to stop. When she had asked me why she shouldn’t keep drinking, why she should lead a reasonable life, I hadn’t been able to give her a good reason.

  Visiting hours were over, but I gave Sayuko’s name and was allowed into her hospital room. She was in the bed closest to the door in a six-person room divided by curtains. Sayuko’s right shoulder and right leg were in slings, and when she saw me, she let go of the magazine she was reading. “Are you all right?” I asked, but I could tell that, in more ways than one, she was not.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. You’re lucky you got off light, aren’t you?”

  Although I had seen her without makeup countless times, I was surprised by her pale, dispirited expression. Her hair was a mess, and her body reeked of alcohol. I had never seen her so weakened, so unresisting. I averted my gaze and would have liked to smoke a cigarette, but I remembered there was no smoking in the hospital. Blankly, she watched my every move.

  “If I had gone head-first, I probably would have died, but it’s like I was unconsciously protecting myself. Like an idiot.”

  “Stop that,” I said.

  She hung her head, her shoulders seeming to tremble from strain. Her breathing was unsteady. My throat tightened with increasing pressure, as if her distress were contagious.

  “I was so scared. This was the second time I fell down the stairs . . . When I was pregnant, I was pushed down the stairs . . . The baby’s father got angry about something stupid—he was the one who did it. When I fell this time, I had a flashback.”

  She exhaled deeply.

  “In the ambulance, I found out that the baby and I were both okay. I wasn’t too far along yet, but the doctor told me it was a miracle. But the baby was stillborn anyway . . . Poor thing. It was saved by a miracle, only to die in the end . . . You know, how could someone use that much force against something that’s so weak? I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling of his hands on my back. That’s what was so scary—it seemed like it was happening all over again.”

  Her head still hung down, she didn’t look up.

  “When someone uses force, they always use it against someone who is weaker than they are,” I said. “They know they’ll win, which is why they do it. It’s cowardly.”

  “. . . I guess so. I’m sorry. Always talking about myself.”

  “Hm? Oh . . . It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  The white bedcover was finely creased and twisted. The creases were tinged with shadow, and they were now sharply outlined, like they were trying to form the shape of various faces. Every time Sayuko shifted, the faces would contort in strange laughter. I averted my gaze.

  “Do you have insurance?”

  I thought I would change the subject, but I immediately regretted asking something so impersonal. She gently shook her head.

  “Really? Well, it’ll be all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I can’t afford not to worry. I’m the idiot who did this to myself. One way or another, I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  “One way or another—how are you going to figure it out?”

  “If she is so inclined, a woman can make money quickly, can’t she? Well, I guess a man can, too.”

  She tried to laugh, but she didn’t have the strength, and it came out sounding like a sigh.

  “It’s okay, I have money,” I said. “You can use whatever’s in my account, if you need to. I don’t have any use for it anyway. Don’t be stubborn, or I’ll just pay for it myself.”

  “Aren’t you almost out of money?”

  “I can manage. Really, it’ll be all right. Not the way you meant, but if I were so inclined, I could manage to work it out somehow,” I said.

  She frowned for a moment. “You seem a little desperate lately. I mean, there’s no reason to do that kind of thing for me, is there? And I’m not just talking about this—this
giving away all your money. It’s like you’re all worked up. It’s kind of creepy.”

  “You’re the one with the problem right now. The drinking . . . You really should lighten up.”

  “Yeah . . . but I know I’m not going to quit. I’m sure I’ll screw up again somehow, like the idiot I am.”

  The curtain next to us moved slightly, as if someone were there. It might have been my imagination, but I felt as though everyone else in the hospital room was listening closely to our conversation. Must be pretty interesting, I thought, and I started to feel uneasy. I wondered how long it had been since I’d felt this mix of vexation and humiliation? I made sure not to let my unsettled feelings show on my face. She won’t be looked down upon, I murmured to myself. I didn’t know what sort of people were here in this hospital room, but I wanted to tell them that she was a better person than they were.

  “Being sober makes me jumpy. But I’m not sure drinking really changes anything.”

  “Then I guess there’s no right answer.” I laughed, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

  “Why? I think we should call it quits. Don’t you think you would be better off that way? I do.”

  “You’re blowing this out of proportion. You fell down and hurt yourself, is all. It’s not like you did any damage to us.”

  A nurse came in the door and told us that it was time to turn out the lights. I nodded, still looking at Sayuko.

  “Anyway, don’t worry about the money. Is there anything you want me to bring you?”

  “. . . Bring me a book. You read a lot, don’t you? I could die of boredom here.”

  “All the books I have are depressing.”

  “So why do you read them?”

  “I don’t really know,” I said, laughing softly. “I feel like they save me. They get me thinking about things, even if it’s just that I’m not the only person who thinks it’s hard to get around in this world.”