Haruki Murakami - The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

Then, all of a sudden, it occurred to me to ask her, Have you ever had the feeling that you had been defiled by something?

Defiled? She looked at me, her eyes slightly narrowed. You mean physically? You mean, like, raped?

Physically. Mentally. Either.

May Kasahara looked down at her own body, then returned her gaze to me. Physically, no. I mean, I'm still a virgin. I've let a boy feel me up. But just through my clothes.

I nodded. Mentally, hmm, I'm not sure. I don't really know what it means to be defiled mentally. Neither do I, I said. Its just a question of whether you feel its happened to you or not.

If you don't feel it, that probably means you haven't been defiled. Why are you asking me about this? Because some of the people I know have that feeling. And it causes all kinds of complicated problems. Theres one thing I want to ask you, though. Why are you always thinking about death?

She put a cigarette between her lips and nimbly struck a match with one hand. Then she put on her sunglasses.

You mean you don't think much about death, Mr. Wind-Up Bird?

I do think about death, of course. But not all the time. Just once in a while. Like most people.

Heres what I think, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, said May Kasahara. Everybody's born with some different thing at the core of their existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside. I have one too, of course. Like everybody else. But sometimes it gets out of hand. It swells or shrinks inside me, and it shakes me up. What Id really like to do is find a way to communicate that feeling to another person. But I cant seem to do it. They just don't get it. Of course, the problem could be that I'm not explaining it very well, but I think its because they're not listening very well. They pretend to be listening, but they're not, really. So I get worked up sometimes, and I do some crazy things.

Crazy things?

Like, say, trapping you in the well, or, like, when I'm riding on the back of a motorcycle, putting my hands over the eyes of the guy who's driving.

When she said this, she touched the wound next to her eye. And thats how the motorcycle accident happened? I asked.

May Kasahara gave me a questioning look, as if she had not heard what I said to her. But every word that I had spoken should have reached her ears. I couldn't make out the expression in her eyes behind the dark glasses, but a kind of numbness seemed to have spread over her face, like oil poured on still water.

What happened to the guy? I asked.

Cigarette between her lips, May Kasahara continued to look at me. Or rather, she continued to look at my mark. Do I have to answer that question, Mr. Wind-Up Bird?

Not if you don't want to. You're the one who brought it up. If you don't want to talk about it, then don't.

May Kasahara grew very quiet. She seemed to be having trouble deciding what to do.

Then she drew in a chestful of cigarette smoke and let it out slowly. With heavy movements, she dragged her sunglasses off and turned her face to the sun, eyes closed tight. Watching her, I felt as if the flow of time were slowing down little by little-as if times spring were be- ginning to run down.

He died, she said at last, in a voice with no expression, as though she had resigned herself to something.

He died?

May Kasahara tapped the ashes off her cigarette. Then she picked up her towel and wiped the sweat from her face over and over again. Finally, as if recalling a task that she had forgotten, she said in a clipped, businesslike way, We were going pretty fast. It happened near Enoshima.

I looked at her without a word. She held an edge of the beach towel in each hand, pressing the edges against her cheeks. White smoke was rising from the cigarette between her fingers. With no wind to disturb it, the smoke rose straight up, like a miniature smoke signal. She was apparently having trouble deciding whether to cry or to laugh. At least she looked that way to me. She wavered atop the narrow line that divided one possibility from the other, but in the end she fell to neither side. May Kasahara pulled her expression together, put the towel on the ground, and took a drag on her cigarette. The time was nearly five o'clock, but the heat showed no sign of abating.

I killed him, she said. Of course, I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to push the limits. We did stuff like that all the time. It was like a game. Id cover his eyes or tickle him when we were on the bike. But nothing ever happened. Until that day ...

May Kasahara raised her face and looked straight at me.

Anyway, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, no, I don't feel as if I've been defiled. I just wanted to get close to that gooshy thing if I could. I wanted to trick it into coming out of me and then crush it to bits. You've got to really push the limits if you're going to trick it into coming out. Its the only way. You've got to offer it good bait. She shook her head slowly. No, I don't think I've been defiled. But I haven't been saved, either. Theres nobody who can save me right now, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. The world looks totally empty to me. Everything I see around me looks fake. The only thing that isn't fake is that gooshy thing inside me.

May Kasahara sat there for a long while, taking small, regular breaths. There were no other sounds, no bird or insect cries. A terrible quiet settled over the yard, as though the world had in fact become empty.

May Kasahara turned to face me in her chair. She seemed to have suddenly remembered something. Now all expression was gone from her face, as if she had been washed clean. Tell me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, did you sleep with that Kano person?

I nodded. Will you write to me from Crete? asked May Kasahara. Sure I will. If I go. You know, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, she said after some hesitation, I think I might be going back to school. Oh, so you've changed your mind about school, huh? She gave a little shrug. Its a different one. I absolutely refuse to go back to my old school. The new ones kinda far from here. So anyway, I probably wont be able to see you for a while.

I nodded. Then I took a lemon drop from my pocket and put it into my mouth. May Kasahara glanced around and lit up a cigarette.

Tell me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, is it fun to sleep with a bunch of different women? That's beside the point.

Yeah, I've heard that one already. Right, I said, but I didn't know what else to say.

Oh, forget it. But you know, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, its just because I met you that I finally decided to go back to school. No kidding.

Whys that? I asked. Yeah, why is that? May Kasahara said. Then she wrinkled up the corners of her eyes and looked at me. Maybe I wanted to go back to a more normal world. But really, Mr. Wind- Up Bird, its been a lot of fun being with you. No kidding. I mean, you're such a supernormal guy, but you do such unnormal things. And you're so-what?-unpredictable. So hanging around with you hasn't been boring in any way. You have no idea how much good thats done me. Not being bored means not having to think about a lot of stupid stuff. Right? So where thats concerned, I'm glad you've been around. But tell you the truth, its made me nervous too.

In what way? Well, how can I put this? Sometimes, when I'm looking at you, I get this feeling like maybe you're fighting real hard against something for me. I know this sounds weird, but when that happens, I feel like I'm right with you, sweating with you. See what I mean? You always look so cool, like no matter what happens, its got nothing to do with you, but you're not really like that. In your own way, you're out there fighting as hard as you can, even if other people cant tell by looking at you. If you weren't, you wouldn't have gone into the well like that, right? But anyhow, you're not fighting for me, of course. You're falling all over yourself, trying to wrestle with this big whatever-it-is, and the only reason you're doing it is so you can find Kumiko. So theres no point in me getting all sweaty for you. I know all that, but still, I cant help feeling that you are fighting for me, Mr. Wind-Up Bird-that, in a way, you probably are fighting for a lot of other people at the same time you're fighting for Kumiko. And thats maybe why you look like an absolute idiot sometimes. That's what I think, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. But when I see you doing this, I get all tense and nervous, and I end up feeling just totally drained. I mean, it looks like you cant possibly win. If I had to bet on the match, Id bet on you to lose. Sorry, but thats just how it is. I like you a lot, but I don't want to go broke.