Haruki Murakami - Dance Dance Dance

Yumiyoshi held my hand tightly.

«Where's that door?» I said, my voice sounding dry and dead, hardly my voice at all. «Before when I—»

«Me too. I saw a door somewhere.»

We stood there at the turn in the corridor. What hap­pened to the Sheep Man? Was he asleep? Wouldn't he have left the light on? As a beacon? Wasn't that the whole reason he was here? What the hell's going on?

«Let's go back,» Yumiyoshi said. «I don't like the dark­ness. We can try again another time. I don't want to press our luck.»

She had a point. I didn't like the darkness either, and I had the foreboding feeling that something had gone awry. Yet I refused to give up.

«Let's keep going,» I said. «The guy might need us. That's why we're still tied to this world.» I switched the penlight back on. A narrow beam of yellow light pierced the dark­ness. «Hold on to my hand now. I need to know we're together. But there's nothing to be afraid of. We're staying, we're not going away. We'll get back safe and sound.»

Step by step, even more slowly and deliberately, we went forward. The faint scent of Yumiyoshi's hair drifted through the darkness, sweetly pricking my senses. Her hand was small and warm and solid.

And then we saw it. The door to the Sheep Man's room had been left slightly ajar, and through the opening we could feel the old chill, smell the dank odor. I knocked. As before, the knock sounded unnaturally loud. Three times I knocked.

Then we waited. Twenty seconds, thirty seconds. No response. Where is he? What's going on? Don't tell me he died! True, the guy was not looking well the last time we met. He couldn't live forever. He too had to grow old and die. But if he died, who would keep me connected to this

world?

I pushed the door open and pulled Yumiyoshi with me into the room. I shined my penlight around. The room had not changed. Old books and papers piled everywhere, a tiny table, and on it the plate used as a candle stand, with a five-centimeter stub of wax on it. I used my Bic to light it. The Sheep Man was not here.

Had he stepped out for a second?

«Who was this guy?» asked Yumiyoshi.

«The Sheep Man,» I said. «He takes care of this world here. He sees that things are tied together, makes sure con­nections are made. He said he was kind of like a switch­board. He's ages old, and he wears a sheepskin. This is where he's been living. In hiding.»

«In hiding from what?»

«From war, civilization, the law, the system, . . . things that aren't Sheep Man-like.»

«But he's not here. He's gone.»

I nodded. And as I did a huge shadow bowed across the wall. «Yes, he's gone. Even though he's supposed to be

here.»

We were at the edge of the world. That is, what the ancients considered the edge of the world, where everything spilled over into nothingness. We were there, the two of us, alone. And all around us, a cold, vast void. We held each other's hand more tightly.

«Maybe he's dead,» I said.

«How can you say a thing like that in the dark? Think more positively,» said Yumiyoshi. «He could be off shop­ping, right? He probably ran out of candles.»

«Or else he's gone to collect his tax refund.» Even in the candlelit gloom I could see Yumiyoshi smile. We hugged

each other. «You know,» I said, «on our days off, let's drive to lots of places.» «Sure,» she said.

«I'll ship my Subaru up. It's an old car, but it's a good car. It runs just fine. I like it better than a Maserati. I really do.»

«Of course,» she said. «Let's go everywhere and see lots of things together.»

We embraced a little longer. Then Yumiyoshi stooped to pick up a pamphlet from the pile of papers that was lying at her feet. Studies in the Varietal Breeding of Yorkshire Sheep . It was browned with age, covered with dust.

«Everything in this room has to do with sheep,» I explained. «In the old Dolphin Hotel, a whole floor was devoted to sheep research. There was this Sheep Professor, who was the father of the hotel manager. And I guess the Sheep Man inherited all this stuff. It's not good for anything anymore. Nobody's ever going to read this stuff. Still, the Sheep Man looks after it.»

Yumiyoshi took the penlight from me and leafed through the pamphlet. I was casually observing my own shadow, wondering where the Sheep Man was, when I was suddenly struck by a horrifying realization: I'd let go of Yumiyoshi's hand!

My heart leapt into my throat. I was not ever to let go of her hand. I was fevered and swimming in sweat. I rushed to grab Yumiyoshi by the wrist. If we don't let go, we'll be safe . But it was already too late. At the very moment I extended my hand, her body was absorbed into the wall. Just like Kiki had passed through the wall of the death chamber. Just like quicksand. She was gone, she had disappeared, together with the glow of the penlight.

«Yumiyoshi! «I yelled.

No one answered. Silence and cold reigned, the darkness deepened.

«Yumiyoshi!» I yelled again.

«Hey, it's simple,» came Yumiyoshi's voice from beyond the wall. «Really simple. You can pass right through the wall.»

«No!» I screamed. «Don't be tricked. You think it's sim­ple, but you'll never get back. It's different over there. That's the otherworld. It's not like here.»

No answer came from her. Silence filled the room, press­ing down as if I were on the ocean floor.

I was overwhelmed by my helplessness, despairing. Yumiyoshi was gone. After all this, I would never be able to reach her again. She was gone.

There was no time to think. What was there to do? I loved her, I couldn't lose her. I followed her into the wall. I found myself passing through a transparent pocket of air.

It was cool as water. Time wavered, sequentiality twisted, gravity lost its force. Memories, old memories, like vapor, wafted up. The degeneration of my flesh accelerated. I passed through the huge, complex knot of my own DNA. The earth expanded, then chilled and contracted. Sheep were submerged in the cave. The sea was one enormous idea, rain falling silently over its vastness. Faceless people stood on the beachhead gazing out to the deep. An endless spool of time unraveled across the sky. A void enveloped the phantom fig­ures and was encompassed by a yet greater void. Flesh melted to the bone and blew away like dust. Extremely, irre­vocably dead, said someone. Cuck-koo . My body decom­posed, blew apart—and was whole again.

I emerged through this layer of chaos, naked, in bed. It was dark, but not the lacquer-black darkness I feared. Still, I could not see. I reached out my hand. No one was beside me. I was alone, abandoned, at the edge of the world.

«Yumiyoshi!» I screamed at the top of my lungs. But no sound emerged, except for a dry rasping in my throat. I screamed again. And then I heard a tiny click.

The light had been switched on. Yumiyoshi smiled as she sat on the sofa in her blouse and skirt and shoes. Her light blue blazer was draped over the back of the chair. My hands were clutching the sheets. I slowly relaxed my fingers, feeling

the tension drain from my body. I wiped the sweat from my face. I was back on this side. The light filling the room was real light.

«Yumiyoshi,» I said hoarsely.

«Yes?»

«Are you really there?»

«Of course, I'm here.»

«You didn't disappear?»

«No. People don't disappear so easily.»

«It was a dream then.»

«I know. I was here all the time, watching you. You were sleeping and dreaming and calling my name. I watched you in the dark. I could see you, you know.»

I looked at the clock. A little before four, a little before dawn. The hour when thoughts are deepest. I was cold, my body was stiff. Then it was a dream? The Sheep Man gone, Yumiyoshi disappearing, the pain and despair. But I could remember the touch of Yumiyoshi's hand. The touch was still there within me. More real than this reality.