Norwegian Wood Part 18

"My intuition's not as good as yours, so I have to learn systematic thinking to some extent. Like the way a crow collects chunks of gla.s.s in a hollow tree."

"Does it serve some purpose?"

"I wonder. It probably makes it easier to do some kinds of things."

"What kinds of things? Give me an example."

"Metaphysical thought, say. Mastering several languages."

"What good does that do?"

"It depends on the person who does it. It serves a purpose for some, and not for others. But mainly it's training. Whether it serves a purpose or not is another question. Like I said."

"Hmmm," said Midori, seemingly impressed. She led me by the hand down the hill. "You know, Watanabe, you're really good at explaining things to people."

"I wonder," I said.

"It's true. I've asked hundreds of people what good the English subjunctive is, and not one of them gave me a good, clear answer like yours. Not even English teachers. They either got confused or angry or laughed it off. n.o.body gave me a decent answer before. If somebody like you had been around when I asked my question, and given me a proper explanation, even I might have been interested in the subjunctive. d.a.m.n!"

"Hmmm," I said.

"Have you ever read Das Kapital Das Kapital?"

"Yup. Not the whole thing, of course, but parts, like most people."

"Did you understand it?"

"I understood some parts, not others. You have to acquire the necessary intellectual apparatus to read a book like Das Kapital Das Kapital. I think I understand the general idea of Marxism, though."

"Do you think a college freshman who hasn't read books like that can understand Das Kapital Das Kapital just by reading it?" just by reading it?"

"That's pretty nearly impossible, I'd say."

"You know, when I entered the university, I joined a folk music club. I just wanted to sing songs. But the members were a pack of phonies. I get chills just thinking about them. The first thing they tell you when you enter the club is you have to read Marx. 'Prepare page so-and-so to such-and-such for next time.' Somebody lectured on how folk songs have to be deeply involved with society and the radical movement. So, what the h.e.l.l, I went home and tried as hard as I could to read it, but I didn't understand a thing. It was worse than the subjunctive. I gave up after three pages. So I went to the next week's meeting like a good little scout and said I had read it but that I couldn't understand it. From that point on they treated me like an idiot. I had no critical awareness of the cla.s.s struggle, they said, I was a social cripple. I mean, this was serious. And all because I said I couldn't understand a piece of writing. Don't you think they were terrible?" said I couldn't understand a piece of writing. Don't you think they were terrible?"

"Uh-huh," I said.

"And their so-called discussions were terrible, too. Everybody would use big words and pretend they knew what was going on. But I would ask questions whenever I didn't understand something. 'What is this imperialist exploitation stuff you're talking about? Is it connected somehow to the East India Company?' 'Does smashing the educational-industrial complex mean we're not supposed to work for a company after we graduate from college?' And stuff like that. But n.o.body was willing to explain anything to me. Far from it-they got mad mad at me. Can you believe it?" at me. Can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I can," I said.

"One guy yelled at me, 'You stupid b.i.t.c.h, how do you live like that with nothing in your brain?' Well, that did it as far as I was concerned. I wasn't going to put up with it. O.K., so I'm not so smart. I'm working cla.s.s. But it's the working cla.s.s that keeps the world running, and it's the working cla.s.s that gets exploited. What the h.e.l.l kind of revolution have you got just tossing out big words that working-cla.s.s people can't understand? What the h.e.l.l kind of social revolution is that? I mean, I'd I'd like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions. Am I right, or what?" like to make the world a better place, too. If somebody's really being exploited, we've got to put a stop to it. That's what I believe, and that's why I ask questions. Am I right, or what?"

"You're right."

"So that's when it hit me. These guys are a bunch of phonies. All they've got on their minds is impressing the new girls with the big words they're so proud of and sticking their hands up their skirts. And when they're seniors, they cut their hair short and go trooping to work for Mitsubishi or IBM or Fuji Bank. They marry pretty wives who've never read Marx and have kids they give fancy new names to that are enough to make you puke. Smash what what educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh! And the new members were just as bad. They didn't understand a thing either, but they made believe they did and they were laughing at me. After the meeting, they told me, 'Don't be silly! So what if you don't understand? Just agree with everything they say.' Hey, Watanabe, I've got stuff that made me even madder than that. Wanna hear?" educational-industrial complex? Don't make me laugh! And the new members were just as bad. They didn't understand a thing either, but they made believe they did and they were laughing at me. After the meeting, they told me, 'Don't be silly! So what if you don't understand? Just agree with everything they say.' Hey, Watanabe, I've got stuff that made me even madder than that. Wanna hear?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, one time they called a late-night political meeting, and they told the girls to make twenty rice b.a.l.l.s each for midnight snacks. I mean, talk about s.e.x discrimination! I decided to keep quiet for a change, though, and showed up like a good girl with my twenty rice b.a.l.l.s, complete with the girls to make twenty rice b.a.l.l.s each for midnight snacks. I mean, talk about s.e.x discrimination! I decided to keep quiet for a change, though, and showed up like a good girl with my twenty rice b.a.l.l.s, complete with umeboshi umeboshi inside and nori outside. And what do you think I got for my efforts? Afterward people complained because my rice b.a.l.l.s had inside and nori outside. And what do you think I got for my efforts? Afterward people complained because my rice b.a.l.l.s had only umeboshi only umeboshi inside, and I hadn't brought along anything to go with them! The other girls stuffed theirs with cod roe and salmon, and they included nice, thick slices of fried egg. I got so mad I couldn't talk! Where the h.e.l.l do these 'revolution' mongers get off making a fuss over rice b.a.l.l.s? They should be grateful for inside, and I hadn't brought along anything to go with them! The other girls stuffed theirs with cod roe and salmon, and they included nice, thick slices of fried egg. I got so mad I couldn't talk! Where the h.e.l.l do these 'revolution' mongers get off making a fuss over rice b.a.l.l.s? They should be grateful for umeboshi umeboshi and nori. Think about the children starving in India!" and nori. Think about the children starving in India!"

I laughed. "So then what happened with your club?"

"I quit in June, I was so d.a.m.n mad," Midori said. "Most of these university types are total phonies. They're scared to death somebody's gonna find out they don't know something. They all read the same books and they all throw around the same words, and they get off listening to John Coltrane and seeing Pasolini movies. You call that 'revolution'?"

"Hey, don't ask me, I've never actually seen a revolution."

"Well, if that's revolution, you can have it. They'd probably shoot me for putting umeboshi umeboshi in my rice b.a.l.l.s. They'd shoot you, too, for understanding the subjunctive." in my rice b.a.l.l.s. They'd shoot you, too, for understanding the subjunctive."

"It could happen."

"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I'm working cla.s.s. Revolution or no, the working cla.s.s is going to have to keep sc.r.a.ping by in the same old s.h.i.t holes. And what is is a revolution? It sure as h.e.l.l isn't just changing the name on city hall. But those guys don't know that-those guys with their big words. Tell me, Watanabe, have you ever seen a tax man?" a revolution? It sure as h.e.l.l isn't just changing the name on city hall. But those guys don't know that-those guys with their big words. Tell me, Watanabe, have you ever seen a tax man?"

"Never have."

"Well I I have. Lots of times. They come barging in and acting big. 'What's have. Lots of times. They come barging in and acting big. 'What's this this ledger for?' 'Hey, you keep pretty sloppy records.' 'You call this a ledger for?' 'Hey, you keep pretty sloppy records.' 'You call this a business business expense?' 'I want to see all your receipts expense?' 'I want to see all your receipts right now.' right now.' Meanwhile, we're crouching in the corner, and when suppertime comes we've gotta treat them to sushi deluxe-home delivered. Let me tell you, though, my father never once cheated on his taxes. That's just how he is, a real old-fashioned straight arrow. But tell that to the tax man. All he can do is dig and dig and dig and dig. 'Income's a little low here, don'tcha think?' Well, Meanwhile, we're crouching in the corner, and when suppertime comes we've gotta treat them to sushi deluxe-home delivered. Let me tell you, though, my father never once cheated on his taxes. That's just how he is, a real old-fashioned straight arrow. But tell that to the tax man. All he can do is dig and dig and dig and dig. 'Income's a little low here, don'tcha think?' Well, of of course course the income's low when you're not making any money! I wanted to scream! 'Go do this where they've got some money!' Do you think the tax man's att.i.tude would change if there was a revolution?" the income's low when you're not making any money! I wanted to scream! 'Go do this where they've got some money!' Do you think the tax man's att.i.tude would change if there was a revolution?"

"Highly doubtful, highly doubtful."

"That does it for me, then. I'm not going to believe in any d.a.m.ned revolution. Love is all I'm going to believe in."

"Peace," I said.

"Peace," said Midori.

"Say, where are we headed?" I asked.

"The hospital," she said. "My father's there. It's my turn to stay with him all day."

"Your father?! I thought he was in Uruguay!"

"That was a lie," said Midori as if it was nothing at all. "He's been screaming about going to Uruguay forever, but he could never do that. He can hardly get himself out of Tokyo."

"How bad is he?" I asked.

"It's just a matter of time," she said.

We moved several paces ahead without a word.

"I know what I'm talking about. It's the same thing my mother had. A brain tumor. Can you believe it? It's hardly been two years since a brain tumor killed her, and now he's got one."

THE U UNIVERSITY H HOSPITAL CORRIDORS WERE NOISY and crowded with weekend visitors and patients who had less serious symptoms, and everywhere hung that special hospital smell, a cloud of disinfectant and visitors' bouquets and urine and mattresses, through which nurses surged back and forth with a dry clattering of heels. and crowded with weekend visitors and patients who had less serious symptoms, and everywhere hung that special hospital smell, a cloud of disinfectant and visitors' bouquets and urine and mattresses, through which nurses surged back and forth with a dry clattering of heels.

Midori's father was in a semiprivate room, in the bed nearer the door. Stretched out, he looked like some tiny creature with a fatal wound. He lay on his side, limp, the drooping left arm inert, jabbed with an intravenous needle. He was a skinny little man who gave the impression that he would get only skinnier and littler. A white bandage encircled his head, and his pasty white arms were dotted with the wounds left by injections or intravenous feedings. His half-open eyes stared at a fixed point in s.p.a.ce, but the bloodshot spheres twitched in our direction when we entered the room. For some ten seconds they stayed focused on us, then drifted back to that fixed point in s.p.a.ce.

He was going to die soon, you knew when you saw those eyes. There was no sign of life in his flesh, just the barest traces of what had once been a life. His body was like a dilapidated old house from which all furniture and fixtures have been removed and which awaited now only its final demolition. Around the dry lips sprouted clumps of whiskers like so many weeds. So, I thought, even after so much of his life force had been lost, a man's beard continued to grow.

Midori said h.e.l.lo to the ample-fleshed man in the bed by the window. He nodded and smiled, apparently unable to talk. He coughed a few times and, after sipping some water from a gla.s.s by his pillow, he shifted his weight in bed and rolled on his side, turning his gaze out the window. Beyond the window could be seen only a utility pole and some power lines, nothing more, not even a cloud in the sky.

"How are you feeling, Daddy?" said Midori, speaking into her father's ear as if testing a microphone. "How are you today?"

Her father moved his lips. , he said, not so much speaking the words as forming them from dried air at the back of his throat. , he said.

"You have a headache?" Midori asked.

, he said, seemingly incapable of p.r.o.nouncing more than a syllable or two at a time.

"Well, no wonder," she said. "You've just had your head cut open. Of course it hurts. Too bad, but try to stand it a little more. This is my friend Watanabe."

"Glad to meet you," I said. Midori's father opened his lips partway, then closed them again.

Midori gestured toward a vinyl stool near the foot of the bed and suggested that I sit. I did as I was told. Midori gave her father a drink of water and asked if he'd like a piece of fruit or some jelled fruit dessert. , he said, and when Midori insisted that he had to eat something, he said, .

A night table stood near the head of the bed, holding a water bottle, a gla.s.s, a dish, and a small clock. From a large paper bag under the table, Midori took some fresh pajamas, underwear, and other things, straightened them out, and put them into the locker that stood by the door. Food for the patient lay in the bottom of the bag: two grapefruits, fruit jelly, and three cuc.u.mbers.

"Cuc.u.mbers?! What are these these doing in here?" Midori asked. "I can't doing in here?" Midori asked. "I can't imagine what my sister was thinking. I told her on the phone exactly what I wanted her to buy, and I'm sure I never mentioned cuc.u.mbers! She was supposed to bring kiwifruit." imagine what my sister was thinking. I told her on the phone exactly what I wanted her to buy, and I'm sure I never mentioned cuc.u.mbers! She was supposed to bring kiwifruit."

"Maybe she misunderstood you," I suggested.

"Yeah, maybe, but if she had thought about it she would have realized that cuc.u.mbers couldn't be right. I mean, what's a hospital patient supposed to do? Sit in bed chewing on raw cuc.u.mbers? Hey, Daddy, want a cuc.u.mber?"

, said Midori's father.

Midori sat by the head of the bed, telling her father bits and pieces of news from home. The TV picture had gone bad and she'd called the repairman; their aunt from Takaido had said she would come to visit in a few days; the druggist, Mr. Miyawaki, had fallen off his bike: stuff like that. Her father responded with grunts.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

, her father answered.

"How about you, Watanabe? Some grapefruit?"

"No," I answered.

A few minutes later, Midori took me to the TV room and smoked a cigarette on the sofa. Three patients in pajamas were also smoking there and watching some kind of political discussion show.

"Hey," whispered Midori with a twinkle in her eye. "That old guy with the crutches has been looking at my legs ever since we came in here. The one with gla.s.ses in the blue pajamas."

"What do you expect, wearing a skirt like that?"

"It's nice, though. I bet they're all bored. It probably does them good. Maybe the excitement helps them get well faster."

"As long as it doesn't have the opposite effect, I suppose."

Midori stared at the smoke rising straight up from her cigarette.

"You know," she said, "my father's not such a bad guy. I get mad at him sometimes because he says terrible things, but deep down he's honest and he really loved my mother. In his own way, he's lived life with all the intensity he could muster. He's a little weak, maybe, and he has absolutely no no head for business, and people don't like him very much, but he's a h.e.l.l of a lot better than the cheats and liars who go around smoothing things over 'cause they're so slick. I'm as bad as he is about not backing down once I've said something, so we fight a lot, but really, he's not a bad guy." head for business, and people don't like him very much, but he's a h.e.l.l of a lot better than the cheats and liars who go around smoothing things over 'cause they're so slick. I'm as bad as he is about not backing down once I've said something, so we fight a lot, but really, he's not a bad guy."

Midori took my hand, as if she were picking up something someone had dropped in the street, and placed it on her lap. Half my hand lay atop the cloth of her skirt, while the other half was touching her thigh. She looked into my eyes for a while.

"Sorry to bring you to a place like this," she said, "but would you mind staying with me a little longer?"

"I'll stay with you all day if you want," I said. "Until five. I like spending time with you, and I've got nothing else to do."

"How do you usually spend your Sundays?"

"Doing laundry," I said. "And ironing."

"I guess you don't want to tell me too much about her ... your girlfriend?"

"No, I guess not. It's complicated, and I, kind of, don't think I could explain it very well."

"That's O.K. You don't have to explain anything," said Midori. "But do you mind if I tell you what I imagine is going on?"

"No, go ahead. I suspect anything you'd imagine would have to be interesting."

"I think she's a married woman."

"You do?"

"Yeah, she's thirty-two or-three and she's rich and beautiful and she wears fur coats and Charles Jourdan shoes and silk underwear and she's hungry for s.e.x and she likes to do really yucky things. The two of you meet on weekday afternoons and devour each other's bodies. But her husband's home on Sundays, so she can't see you. Am I right?"

"Very, very interesting."

"She has you tie her up and blindfold her and lick every square inch of her body. Then she makes you put weird things inside her and she gets into these incredible positions like a contortionist and you take pictures of her with a Polaroid camera."

"Sounds like fun."

"She's dying for it all the time, so she does everything she can think of. And she thinks about it every day. She's got nothing but free time, so she's always planning: Hmm, next time Watanabe comes, we'll do this, or we'll do that. You get in bed and she goes crazy, trying all these positions and coming three times in every one. And she says to you. 'Don't I have a sensational body? You can't be satisfied with young girls anymore. Young girls won't do this this for you, will they? Or for you, will they? Or this this. Feel good? But don't come yet!'"

"You've been seeing too many p.o.r.no flicks," I said with a laugh.

"You think so? I was kinda worried about that. But I love love p.o.r.no flicks. Take me to one next time, O.K.?" p.o.r.no flicks. Take me to one next time, O.K.?"

"Fine," I said. "Next time you're free."

"Really? I can hardly wait. Let's go to a real S and M one, with whips and, like, they make the girl pee in front of everybody. That's my favorite."

"We'll do it."

"You know what I like best about p.o.r.no theaters?"

"I couldn't begin to guess."

"Whenever a s.e.x scene starts, you can hear this 'Gulp!' sound when everybody swallows all at once," said Midori. "I love love that 'Gulp!' It's so sweet!" that 'Gulp!' It's so sweet!"

BACK IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM, Midori aimed a stream of talk at her father again, and he would either grunt in response or say nothing. Around eleven the wife of the man in the other bed came to change her husband's pajamas and peel fruit for him and such. She had a round face and seemed like a nice person, and she and Midori shared a lot of small talk. A nurse showed up with a new intravenous feeding bottle and talked a little while with Midori and the wife before she left. I let my eyes wander around the room and out the window to the power lines. Sparrows would show up every now and then and perch on the lines. Midori talked to her father and wiped the sweat from his brow and let him spit phlegm into a tissue and chatted with the neighbor's wife and the nurse and sent an occasional remark my way and checked the intravenous contraption.

The doctor came on rounds at eleven-thirty, so Midori and I stepped outside to wait in the corridor. When he came out, Midori asked him how her father was doing.