Haruki Murakami - Dance Dance Dance

«If you're sane, that means you're off your rocker. So don't worry about it,» I replied, then ordered another pina colada from a frighteningly cheerful waitress. She wiggled off, trotted back with the drink, then vanished leaving behind a mile-wide Cheshire grin.

«Okay, so what am I supposed to do?» said Yuki.

«Your mother wants to see more of you,» I said. «I don't know any more than that. She's not my family, and she's as unusual as they come. As I understand her, she wants to get out of the rut of a mother-daughter relationship and become friends with you.»

«Making friends isn't so easy.»

«Agreed,» I said. «Two votes not so easy.»

With both elbows now on the table, Yuki gave me a dubi­ous look.

«And what do you think? About Mama's way of thinking.»

«What I think doesn't matter. The question is, what do you think? You could think it's wishful thinking on her part. Or you could think it's a constructive stance worth consider­ing. It all depends on you. But don't make any rush deci­sions. You should take your time thinking it over.»

Yuki propped her chin up on her hands. There was a loud guffaw from the counter. The pianist launched into «Blue Hawaii.» Heavy breathing to a tinkling of high notes. The night is young and so are we . . .

«We're not doing so well right now,» said Yuki. «Before going to Sapporo was the worst. She was on my case about not going to school. It was real messy. We hardly spoke to each other. I never wanted to see her. That dragged on and on. But then Mama doesn't think like normal people do. She says whatever comes into her head and then she forgets it right after she's said it. She's serious when she says it, but after that she might as well have never said a thing. And then out of nowhere, she wants to play mother again. That's what really pisses me off.»

«But—,» I tried to interrupt.

«But she is interesting. She isn't like anybody else in the world. She may be the pits as a mother and she's really screwed me up, but she is interesting. Not like Papa. I don't really know what to think, though. Now she says she wants to be friends. She's so ... overwhelming, so powerful, and I'm just a kid. Anyone can see that, right? But no-o, not her. Mama says she wants to be friends, but the harder she tries, the more it hurts me. That's how it was in Sapporo. She tried to get close to me, she actually tried. So I started to get closer to her. I tried, honest. But her head's always so full of stuff, she just spaces out. And the next thing I know, she's gone.» Yuki sent her half-nibbled pretzel out over the sand. «Now if that's not loopy, what is? I like Mama. I guess I like her. And I guess I wouldn't mind if we were friends. I just don't want to have everything dumped back on me again like that. I hate that.»

«Everything you say is right,» I said. «Completely under­standable.»

«Not for Mama. She wouldn't understand if you spelled it all out for her.»

«No, I don't think so either.»

The next day dawned with another glorious Hawaiian sunrise. We ate breakfast, then went to the beach in front of the Sheraton. We rented boards and tried to surf. Yuki enjoyed herself so much that afterward we went to a surf shop near the Ala Moana Shopping Center and bought two used boards. The salesclerk asked if we were brother and sis­ter. I said yes. I was glad we didn't look like father and daughter.

At two o'clock we were back on the beach, lazing. Sun­bathing, swimming, napping, listening to the radio and tun­ing out, thumbing through paperbacks, people-watching, listening to the wind in the palms. The sun slowly traveled its prescribed path. When it went down, we returned to our rooms, showered, ate some spaghetti and salad, then we went to see a Spielberg movie. After the movie we took a walk and ended up at the Halekulani poolside bar, where I had a pina colada again and Yuki her usual fruit punch.

A dance band was playing «Frenesi.» An elderly clarinet­ist took a long solo, reminiscent of Artie Shaw, while a dozen retired couples in silks and satins danced around the pool, faces illuminated by the rippling blue light from below. A hallucinatory vision. After how many years, these people had finally made it to Hawaii. They glided gracefully, their steps learned and true. The men moved with their backs straight, chins tucked in, the women with their evening dresses swirling, drawing cheek-to-cheek as the band played «Moon Glow.»

«I'm getting sleepy again,» said Yuki. But this time, she walked back alone. Progress.

Returning to my room, I opened a bottle of wine and watched Clint Eastwood's Hang 'Em High on the tube. By the time I was on my third glass, I was so sleepy I gave up on the whole thing and got ready to knock off. It'd been another perfect Hawaiian day. And it wasn't over yet.

Five minutes after I'd crawled into bed, the doorbell rang. A little before midnight. Terrific. What did Yuki want now? I got myself decent and got to the door as the bell sounded another time. I flung the door open—only to find that it wasn't Yuki at all. It was an attractive young woman. «Hi,» said the attractive young woman. «Hi,» I said back.

«My name is June,» she said with a slight accent. She seemed to be Southeast Asian, maybe Thai or Filipino or Vietnamese. Petite and dark, big eyes. Wearing a sleek dress of some lustrous pink material. Her purse and shoes were pink too. Tied on her left wrist was a large pink ribbon. Gift-wrapped. She placed a hand on the door and smiled. «Hi, June,» I said.

«I come in?» she asked, pointing behind me. «Just a minute. You must have the wrong party. Which

room do you want?»

«Umm, wait second,» she said and pulled a piece of paper from her purse. «Mmm, Mistah . .» She showed me the note.

«That's me.»

«No mistake?»

«No mistake. But not so fast,» I said. «I'm the fellow you want, but I don't know who you are. What's going on?»

«I come in first? Here people listen. People think strange things. Everything relax, no problem. No gun, no holdup.

Okay?»

True, we'd wake Yuki up if we continued talking in the

corridor. I let June in.

I asked her if she wanted something to drink. She'd have what I'd have. I mixed two gin-and-tonics, which I placed on the low table between us. She boldly crossed her legs as she brought the drink to her lips. Beautiful legs.

«Okay, June, why are you here and what do you want?»

«I come make you happy,» she said naturally.

«Who told you to come?»

She shrugged. «Gentleman friend who not want say. He already pay. He pay from Japan. He pay for you. Under­stand?»

Makimura. It had to be Makimura. The way that man's mind worked! What a world! Everyone wanting to buy me women.

«He pay for all night. So we can enjoy. I very good,» June said, lifting her legs to remove her pink high heels. She then lay down on the floor, very provocatively.

«I'm sorry, but I can't go through with this,» I interrupted her.

«Why? You gay?»

«No, I'm not gay. It's a difference of opinion between me and the gentleman who paid for you. I'm afraid I can't accept, June.»

«But I get money. I cannot pay back. He care whether we fuck or not fuck? I don't call overseas and say, 'Yessir, we fuck three times.'«

I sighed.

«Let's do it,» she said simply. «It feel good.»

I didn't know what to think. One foot in dreamland after a long day, then someone you don't know shows up and says «Let's fuck.» Good grief.

«We drink one more gin tonic, okay?»

I agreed somehow. June fixed our drinks, then switched the radio on. « Saiko! » June said, throwing in some Japanese for effect, relaxing as if she were at home. «Great.» Then sipping her drink, she leaned against me. «Don't think too much,» she said, reading my mind. «I very good. I know very much. Don't try do nothing, I do everything. Gentleman in Japan out of picture. Now just you and me.»