Харуки Мураками - Killing Commendatore

I responded. “I was married for six years, but we didn’t have any children.”

“You didn’t want any?”

“I was fine either way. But my wife didn’t want any,” I said. I didn’t, though, get into the reason she gave. Even now I’m not sure that it reflected her true feelings.

Menshiki seemed hesitant, but forged ahead. “This might sound rude, but have you ever considered that there might be another woman somewhere, other than your wife, who secretly had a child of yours?”

I looked him full in the face again. What a strange question. I rummaged around, pro forma, through a few drawers of memory, but came up empty-handed. I hadn’t had sex with all that many women until then, and even if something like that had taken place, I think I would have heard about it.

“I guess it’s possible, in theory. But realistically—commonsensically, you might say—it’s not.”

“I see,” Menshiki said. He quietly sipped his coffee, thinking deeply.

“Why do you ask?” I ventured.

He looked out the window, silent for a time. The moon was visible, not as weirdly bright as two days ago, but still plenty bright. Scattered clouds slowly wended their way from the sea toward the mountains.

Menshiki finally spoke up. “As I mentioned before, I’ve never been married. I’ve always been a bachelor. Work kept me busy all the time, that’s one reason, but it’s also because living with someone else didn’t fit my personality and lifestyle. I’m sure this sounds pretty stuck-up, but I’m the type who can only live alone. I have almost no interest in lineage or relatives. I’ve never thought I’d like to have children. There’s a personal reason for that, mostly because of my home environment when I was growing up.”

He paused, took a breath, then went on.

“But a few years ago I began to think that I might actually have a child. Or I should say, I was compelled to think that way.”

No comment from me.

“I find it strange myself that I’m opening up to you, about this kind of personal matter. I mean, we just met.” The faintest of smiles rose to Menshiki’s lips.

“I’m okay with it, as long as you are.”

Ever since I was little, for some reason people have tended to open up to me about the most unexpected topics. Maybe I have an innate ability to draw out secrets from strangers. Or maybe I just seem like a good listener, I don’t know. Either way, I don’t remember it ever working to my advantage. After people tell me their secrets, they always regret it.

“This is the first time I’ve ever told anybody this,” Menshiki said.

I nodded and waited for more. Everyone says the same thing.

Menshiki began his story. “This happened fifteen years ago, when I was going out with a woman. I was in my late thirties then, she was in her late twenties. She was a beautiful, attractive woman, extremely bright. I was serious about our relationship, though I’d made it clear to her there was no chance of us getting married. I don’t plan to ever marry anyone, I told her. I didn’t want her to have any false hopes. If she ever found someone else she wanted to marry, I would step aside without a word. She understood exactly how I felt. While we went out—for about two and half years—we got along really well. We never argued, even once. We traveled together to lots of places, and she’d often stay over at my place. She even kept a set of clothes there.”

He seemed to be contemplating something, then continued his story.

“If I were a normal person, or closer to being normal, I wouldn’t have hesitated to marry her. But—” He paused here and let out a small breath. “But the upshot was I chose the kind of life I have now, a quiet life all by myself, and she chose a healthier life for herself. In other words, she got married to another man who was closer to being normal than me.”

Until the very end, however, she didn’t disclose to him the fact that she was getting married. The last time he saw her was a week after her twenty-ninth birthday (the two of them had dined out at a restaurant in Ginza on her birthday, and later on he recalled how unusually quiet she’d been). He was working in an office in Akasaka then and she’d called him saying she wanted to see him and talk, and asked if she could see him right away. Of course, he replied. She’d never visited his workplace even once, but he hadn’t thought it odd. His office was a small place, just him and a middle-aged woman secretary. So he didn’t need to worry about anyone else if she stopped by. There had been a time when he’d managed a large company with lots of employees, but at this point he was developing a new network by himself. His usual approach was to work quietly by himself to develop a new business strategy; then, when he began implementing the plan, he would aggressively employ a broad range of talent.

It was just before five p.m. when his girlfriend showed up. They sat down together on his office sofa to talk. He’d had the secretary in the next room go home. It was his normal routine to continue working alone in the office after his secretary left for the day. Often he’d be so engrossed in his work that he’d stay all night. His idea was for the two of them to go to a nearby restaurant and have dinner, but she turned that down. I don’t have time today, she said, I have to meet somebody in Ginza.

“You said you had something you wanted to talk about,” he said.

“No, I don’t have anything to really talk about,” she said. “I just wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, smiling. It had been some time since she’d spoken so openly to him. She generally spoke in a more indirect, roundabout way. He had no idea what this portended.

She moved over on the sofa and sat down in his lap. She put her arms around him and kissed him. A serious, deep kiss, tongues entwined. She reached out and undid Menshiki’s belt. She took out his already erect penis, holding it in her grasp for a time. Then she leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around it. She slowly ran the tip of her long tongue around it. Her tongue was smooth and hot.

This all came out of nowhere. She was usually more passive when it came to sex—especially oral sex—and when it came to doing it, or having things done to her, he’d always felt a slight resistance on her part. But now here she was taking the lead. What’s come over her? he wondered.

She suddenly stood up, tossed aside her expensive black pumps, briskly lowered her stockings and panties, again sat down on his lap, and now guided his penis inside her. Her vagina was wet, and moved smoothly, naturally, like some living being. The whole sequence had happened so quickly (and was so unlike her, since she was always so calm and deliberate). Before he realized it, he was deep inside her, that smooth wall completely enveloping his penis, squeezing him silently yet insistently.

This was unlike any sex he’d ever had with her. It was at once hot and cold, hard and soft. It was a strange, contradictory sensation, as if he were being simultaneously accepted and rejected. He had no idea what that meant. She straddled him, and like a person on a small boat being tossed around by the waves, moved violently up and down. Her black hair tossed about, supple as a willow branch in a strong wind. She lost control, her gasps growing ever louder. Menshiki wasn’t sure if he had locked the office door or not. He felt he had, but also that he’d forgotten to. But this wasn’t the time to go check.

“Shouldn’t we use a condom or something?” he managed to ask. She was always careful about contraception.

“It’s okay—today,” she gasped in his ear. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

Everything about her was different from usual, as if a totally different personality dormant inside her had awoken and hijacked her body and soul. Menshiki imagined that today must be some sort of special day for her. There was so much that men can’t fathom about women’s bodies.