Haruki Murakami - Sputnik Sweetheart

“They were simply clueless. They questioned people in the harbour and around our cottage, but no one had seen Sumire. The captain of the ferry, and the man who sold ferry tickets, had no recollection of any young Japanese girl getting on the boat in the last couple of days. Sumire must still be on the island. She didn’t have any money on her to buy a ticket in the first place. On this little island a young Japanese girl wandering about in pyjamas wouldn’t escape people’s notice. The police questioned a German couple who’d been swimming for a long time that morning at the beach. They hadn’t seen any Japanese girl, either at the beach or on the road there. The police promised me they’d continue to do their best, and I think they did. But time passed without a single clue.”

Miu took a deep breath and covered half her face with her hands.

“All I could do was call you in Tokyo and ask you to come. I was at my wits’ end.”

I pictured Sumire, alone, wandering the rugged hills in a pair of thin silk pyjamas and flip-flops.

“What colour were the pyjamas?” I asked.

“Colour?” said Miu, a dubious look on her face.

“The pyjamas Sumire was wearing when she disappeared.”

“What colour were they? I’m not sure. I bought them in Milan and hadn’t worn them yet. A light colour. Pale green, maybe? They were very lightweight, with no pockets.”

“I’d like you to call the embassy in Athens again and ask them to send somebody here. Insist on it. Then have the embassy contact Sumire’s parents. It’ll be hard on them, but you can’t keep it from them any more.”

Miu gave a small nod.

“Sumire can be a little outrageous at times, as you know,” I said, “and she does the craziest things. But she wouldn’t leave for four days without a word. She’s not that irresponsible. She wouldn’t disappear unless there’s a very good reason. What reason, I don’t know, but it must be serious. Maybe she fell down a well out in the country, and she’s waiting for someone to rescue her. Maybe somebody kidnapped her. For all we know she could be murdered and buried somewhere. A young girl wandering at night in pyjamas—anything could happen. At any rate, we’ve got to come up with a plan. But let’s sleep on it. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Do you think maybe… Sumire… killed herself?” Miu asked.

“We can’t rule that out. But she would have left a note. She wouldn’t have left everything scattered like this for you to pick up the pieces. She liked you, and I know she would consider your feelings.”

Arms folded, Miu looked at me for a while. “You really think so?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. That’s the way she is.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to hear most.”

Miu led me to Sumire’s room. Devoid of decorations, the boxy room reminded me of a big cube. There was a small wooden bed, a writing desk, a wardrobe, and a small dresser. At the foot of the desk was an average-size red suitcase. The front window was open to the hills beyond. On top of the desk was a brand new Macintosh PowerBook.

“I’ve straightened up her things so you can sleep here.”

Left alone, I grew suddenly sleepy. It was nearly midnight. I undressed and got under the covers, but I couldn’t sleep. Until just a while ago, I thought, Sumire was sleeping in this bed. The excitement of the long trip reverberated in my body. I was struck by the illusion that I was on a journey without end. In bed I reviewed everything Miu had told me, making a mental list of the important points. But my mind wouldn’t work. Systematic thought was beyond me. Leave it for tomorrow, I concluded. Out of the blue, the image came to me of Sumire’s tongue inside Miu’s mouth. Forget about it, I willed my brain. Leave that for tomorrow as well. But the chances of tomorrow being an improvement on today were, unfortunately, slim. Gloomy thoughts weren’t going to get me anywhere, I decided, and closed my eyes. I soon fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, Miu was setting the table for breakfast out on the veranda. It was 8.30, and a brand-new sun was flooding the world with sunlight. Miu and I sat down on the veranda and had breakfast, gazing at the bright sea as we ate. We had toast and eggs and coffee. Two white birds glided down the slope towards the coast. A radio was playing nearby, an announcer’s voice, speaking quickly, reading the news in Greek.

A strange jet-lag numbness filled my head. I couldn’t separate the boundary between what was real and what only seemed real. Here I was on a small Greek island, sharing a meal with a beautiful older woman I’d met only the day before. This woman loved Sumire, but couldn’t feel any sexual desire for her. Sumire loved this woman and desired her. I loved Sumire and felt sexual desire for her. Sumire liked me, but didn’t love me, and didn’t feel any desire for me. I felt sexual desire for a woman who will remain anonymous. But I didn’t love her. It was all so complicated, like something out of an existential play. Everything hit a dead end there, no alternatives left. And Sumire had exited stage right.

Miu refilled my empty coffee cup. I thanked her.

“You like Sumire, don’t you?” Miu asked me. “As a woman, I mean.”

I gave a slight nod as I buttered my toast. The butter was cold and hard, and it took some time to spread it on the bread. I looked up and added, “Of course that’s not something you necessarily can choose. It just happens.”

We continued eating breakfast in silence. The news ended, and the radio started to play Greek music. The wind swelled up and shook the bougainvilleas. If you looked closely, you could make out whitecaps appearing.

“I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I think I should go to Athens right away,” Miu said, peeling some fruit. “I’d probably get nowhere over the phone, so it’d be better if I went straight to the embassy and talked with them face to face. Maybe someone from the embassy will be willing to come back with me, or I might wait for Sumire’s parents to arrive in Athens and come back with them. At any rate, I’d like you to stay here as long as you can. The police might get in touch, and there’s always the possibility that Sumire will come back. Would you do that for me?”

Of course, I replied.

“I’m going to go to the police station again to check on the investigation, then charter a boat to take me to Rhodes. A return trip to Athens takes time, so most likely I’ll get a hotel room and stay a couple of days.”

I nodded.

Miu finished peeling the orange and wiped it carefully with a napkin. “Have you ever met Sumire’s parents?”

I never have, I said.

Miu gave a sigh like the wind at the edge of the world. “I wonder how I’m going to explain it to them.”

I could understand her confusion. How can you explain the inexplicable?

Miu and I walked down to the harbour. She had a small bag with a change of clothes, wore leather high-heeled shoes, and carried a Mila Sch[umlaut]on shoulder bag. We stopped by the police station. We told them I was a relative of Miu’s who happened to be travelling nearby. They still didn’t have a single clue. “But it’s all right,” they said cheerily. “Not to worry. Look around you. This is a peaceful island. We have some crime, of course—lovers’ quarrels, drunks, political fights. We’re dealing with people, after all, and everywhere you go it’s the same. But those are domestic squabbles. In the last 15 years there’s never once been a foreigner who’s been the victim of a crime on this island.”

That might very well be true. But when it came to explaining Sumire’s disappearance, they had nothing to say.