Sputnik Sweetheart

9

After their conversation at the harbour cafe about cats, Miu and Sumire went grocery shopping and returned to the cottage. As usual, they relaxed until dinner. Sumire was in her room, writing on her laptop. Miu lay on the sofa in the living room, hands folded behind her head, eyes closed, listening to Julius Katchen’s recording of Brahms’s ballads. It was an old LP, but the performance was graceful, emotional, and utterly memorable. Not a bit presumptuous, but fully expressive.

“Does the music bother you?” Miu asked once, looking in at the door to Sumire’s room. The door was wide open.

“Brahms never bothers me,” Sumire said, turning around. This was the first time Miu had seen Sumire writing so intently. Her mouth was tight, like a prowling animal’s, her eyes deeper than usual.

“What are you writing?” Miu asked. “A new Sputnik novel?”

The tenseness around Sumire’s mouth softened a little.

“Nothing much. Just things that came to mind that might be of use someday.”

Miu returned to her sofa and sank back down in the miniature world the music traced in the afternoon sunlight; how wonderful it would be, she mused, to play Brahms so beautifully. In the past I always had trouble with Brahms’s minor works, especially the ballads, she thought. I never could give myself up to that world of capricious, fleeting nuances and sighs. Now, though, I should be able to play Brahms more beautifully than before. But Miu knew very well: I can’t play anything. Ever again.

At 6.30 the two of them prepared dinner in the kitchen and ate out on the veranda. A soup of sea bream and fragrant herbs, salad, and bread. They had some white wine and, later, hot coffee. They watched as a fishing boat appeared in the lee of the island and inscribed a short white arc as it sailed into the harbour. No doubt a hot meal was awaiting the fishermen in their homes.

“By the way, when will we be leaving here?” asked Sumire as she washed the dishes in the sink.

“I’d like to stay one more week, but that’s about as long as I can manage,” Miu replied, looking at the calendar on the wall.

“If I had my way, I’d stay here for ever.”

“If I had my way, me too,” Sumire said, beaming. “But what can you do? Wonderful things always come to an end.”

Following their usual routine, they each went to their rooms before ten. Miu changed into long-sleeve, white cotton pyjamas and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But soon she woke up, as if shaken by the beating of her own heart. She glanced over at the travel alarm clock next to her; it was past 12.30. The room was pitch black, enveloped by total silence. She sensed someone nearby, hiding with bated breath. Miu pulled the covers up to her neck and pricked up her ears. Her heart thumped loudly, drowning out everything else. It wasn’t just a bad dream spilling over into wakefulness—someone was definitely in the room with her. Careful not to make a sound, she reached out and pulled aside the window curtain an inch or two. Pale, watery moonlight stole into the room. Keeping perfectly still, she swept the room with her eyes.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could distinguish an outline of something gradually forming in a corner of the room. In the shadow of the wardrobe beside the door, where the darkness was deepest. Whatever it was, it was low, rolled into a thick ball like some large, long-forgotten postbag. An animal?

A large dog? But the front door was locked, the door to her room shut. A dog wouldn’t be able to get in.

Miu continued to breathe quietly and stared fixedly. Her mouth was dry, and she could catch a faint whiff of the brandy she’d had before going to bed. She reached out and drew the curtain back a little to let more moonlight in. Slowly, like unravelling a tangled thread, she could make out the outline of the black lump on the floor. It looked like a person’s body: hair hanging down in front, two thin legs bent at an acute angle. Someone was sitting on the floor, rolled up, head between legs, scrunched up as if to protect herself from something falling from the sky.

It was Sumire. Wearing her usual blue pyjamas, she crouched like an insect between the door and the wardrobe. Not moving. Not even breathing, as far as Miu could tell.

Miu gave a sigh of relief. But what in the world was Sumire doing here? Miu sat up quietly in bed and switched on the lamp. Yellow light lit up the entire room, but Sumire didn’t budge an inch. She didn’t even seem to realize the light was on.

“What’s the matter?” Miu called out. First in a small voice, then more loudly.

There was no response. Miu’s voice didn’t appear to reach Sumire. Miu got out of bed and walked over to her. The feel of the carpet was rougher than ever against her bare feet.

“Are you sick?” Miu asked, crouching beside Sumire.

Still no answer.

Miu noticed that Sumire was holding something in her mouth. A pink facecloth that was always hanging in the bathroom. Miu tried to pull it out, but Sumire’s mouth was clamped down hard. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. Miu gave up and rested a hand on her shoulder. Sumire’s pyjamas were soaking wet.

“You’d better take your pyjamas off,” Miu said. “You’re sweating so much you’ll catch cold.”

Sumire looked stupefied, not hearing anything, not seeing anything. Miu decided to get Sumire’s pyjamas off; otherwise her body would freeze. It was August, but sometimes nights on the island were chilly. The two of them swam nude every day and were used to seeing each other’s bodies, so Miu thought Sumire wouldn’t mind if she undressed her.

Supporting Sumire’s body, she unbuttoned the pyjamas and, after a time, was able to get the top off. Then the bottoms. Sumire’s body was rigid, but gradually relaxed and ended up limp. Miu took the facecloth out of her mouth. It was soaked from her saliva. There was a perfect set of teethmarks on it. Sumire had no panties on under the pyjamas. Miu grabbed a towel nearby and wiped the sweat from her body. First her back, then under her arms, then her chest. She wiped her belly, then very quickly the area from her waist to her thighs. Sumire was subdued, unresisting. She appeared unconscious, though looking into her eyes Miu could make out a glint of comprehension.

Miu had never touched Sumire’s naked body before. Her skin was taut, smooth like a young child’s. Lifting her up, Miu found that Sumire’s body was heavier than she had imagined, and smelled of sweat. Wiping the sweat from her, Miu felt again her own heart thumping in her chest. Saliva gathered in her mouth, and she had to swallow again and again.

Bathed in moonlight, Sumire’s body glistened like some ancient ceramic. Her breasts were small, but shapely, with wellformed nipples. Her black pubic hair was wet with sweat and glittered like grass in the morning dew. Her limp, naked body was completely different from the one Miu had seen under the blazing sun at the beach. Her body was a mix of still-girlish elements and a budding maturity blindly wrenched open by the painful flow of time.

Miu felt like she was peering into someone’s else’s secrets, something forbidden she shouldn’t be seeing. She avoided looking at her naked skin as she continued to wipe away the sweat from Sumire’s body, all the while replaying in her mind a Bach piece she’d memorized as a child. She wiped Sumire’s sweaty fringe, which was plastered to her forehead. Even the inside of Sumire’s tiny ears were sweaty.

Miu felt Sumire’s arm silently go around her own body. Sumire’s breath grazed her neck.

“All you all right?” she asked.

Sumire didn’t reply. But her arm held on a bit more tightly.

Half carrying her, Miu helped her into her own bed. She lay her down and pulled the covers over her. Sumire lay there, unmoving, and closed her eyes.

Miu watched her for a while, but Sumire didn’t move a muscle. She seemed to have fallen asleep. Miu went to the kitchen and gulped down several glasses of mineral water. She took a few deep breaths and managed to calm down. Her heart had stopped pounding, though her chest ached with the tension of the last few moments. Everything was cloaked in a choking silence. No voices, not even a dog barking. No waves, no sound of the wind. Why, Miu wondered, is everything so deadly still?

Miu went into the bathroom and took Sumire’s sweaty pyjamas, the towel she’d used to wipe her down, and the facecloth with the teethmarks and tossed them into the laundry basket. She washed her face and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Since coming to the island she hadn’t dyed her hair, which was now pure white, like newly fallen snow.

When Miu went back into the room Sumire’s eyes were open. A thin, translucent veil seemed to cover them, but a glimmer of consciousness had returned. She lay there, the covers up to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said huskily. “Sometimes I get this way.”

Miu sat down on a corner of the bed, smiled, and reached out to touch Sumire’s still-damp hair. “You should take a good, long shower. You were really sweating.”

“Thanks,” said Sumire. “I just want to lie here.”

Miu nodded and handed Sumire a fresh bath towel, took out a pair of her own clean pyjamas from the chest of drawers and laid them beside Sumire. “You can use these. I don’t imagine you have another pair, do you?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” asked Sumire.

“All right. Just go to sleep. I’ll sleep in your bed.”

“My bed must be soaked,” Sumire said. “The covers, everything. And I don’t want to be alone. Don’t leave me here. Would you sleep beside me? Just for tonight? I don’t want to have any more nightmares.”

Miu thought about it, then nodded. “But first put on a pair of pyjamas. I don’t think I’d like having somebody naked lying right next to me—especially in such a small bed.”

Sumire got up slowly and pushed back the covers. She stood up, still naked, and tugged on Miu’s pyjamas. She leaned forward and slipped on the bottoms, then the top. It took some time to get the buttons all fastened. Her fingers wouldn’t work right. Miu didn’t help, she just sat there watching. Sumire buttoned up the pyjamas in such a deliberate way it struck Miu as an almost religious ceremony. The moonlight lent a strange hardness to her nipples.

She might be a virgin, Miu suddenly thought.

After putting on the silk pyjamas, Sumire lay down again in bed, on the far side. Miu got into bed, where the scent of sweat remained strong.

“Can I,” Sumire began, “just hold you for a while?”

“Hold me?”

“Yes.”

While Miu wondered how to respond, Sumire reached out and clasped her hand. Her palm was still sweaty, warm and soft. She reached both hands behind Miu. Sumire’s breasts pushed against Miu, just above her stomach. Sumire pressed her cheek between Miu’s breasts. They remained that way for a long time. Sumire seemed to be shaking, ever so slightly. She must be crying, Miu thought. But it was as if she couldn’t let it all out. Miu reached around Sumire’s shoulder and drew her closer. She’s still a child, Miu thought. Lonely and frightened, she wants someone’s warmth. Like that kitten clinging to a pine branch.

Sumire shifted her body upwards a bit. The tip of her nose brushed Miu’s neck. Their breasts pressed together. Miu gulped. Sumire’s hand wandered over her back.

“I really like you,” Sumire said in a small voice.

“I like you, too,” Miu said. She didn’t know what else to say. And it was the truth.

Sumire’s fingers started to unbutton the front of Miu’s pyjamas. Miu tried to stop her. But Sumire wouldn’t stop. “Just a little,” she said. “Just a little—please.”

Miu lay there unresisting. Sumire’s fingers gently traced the contours of Miu’s breasts. Her nose flickered back and forth at Miu’s throat. She touched Miu’s nipple, stroked it gently, and held it between two fingers. Hesitantly at first, then more boldly.

Miu stopped speaking. She looked up, searchingly, at me. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“There’s something I need to explain to you. A long time ago I had a very unusual experience, and my hair turned pure white. Overnight, completely. Since then I’ve dyed my hair. Sumire knew I dyed it, and since it was too much trouble after we came to this island, I gave up. Nobody knows me here, so it didn’t matter. But knowing you’d be coming, I dyed it again. I didn’t want to give you a strange first impression.”

Time flowed past in the ensuing silence.

“I’ve never had a homosexual experience, and never considered I had those tendencies. But if that’s what Sumire really wanted, I thought I could oblige. At least I didn’t find it disgusting. As long as it was with Sumire, that is. So I didn’t resist when she started feeling me all over, or when she stuck her tongue inside my mouth. It felt strange, but I tried to get used to it. I let her do what she wanted. I like Sumire, and if it made her happy, I didn’t mind what she did.

“But my body and my mind are two different things. A part of me was happy that Sumire was caressing me so lovingly. But no matter how happy my mind was, my body resisted. It wouldn’t yield to her. My heart and my head were aroused, but the rest of me was like a hard, dry stone. It’s sad, but I couldn’t help it. Of course Sumire picked up on that. Her body was flushed and gently damp, but I couldn’t respond.

“I told her how I felt. ‘I’m not rejecting you,’ I said, ‘but I just can’t do that kind of thing. Ever since that happened to me, 14

years ago, I haven’t been able to give myself to anyone in this world. It’s something that’s out of my hands, decided somewhere else.’ I told her that if there was anything I could do, you know, with my fingers, or mouth, I would. But that isn’t what she wanted. I knew that already.”

”She kissed me on the forehead and said she was sorry. ‘It’s just that I like you,’ she said. ‘I’ve worried about it for so long, and I had to try.’ ‘I like you, too,’ I told her. ‘So don’t worry about it. I still want you to be with me.’

“As if a dam had burst, Sumire sobbed into her pillow for the longest time. As she cried, I rubbed her bare back from the top of her shoulder to her waist, feeling all her bones. I wanted to cry along with her, but I couldn’t.

“And it came to me then. That we were wonderful travelling companions, but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal on their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they’re nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we’d be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.”

“After crying her heart out, Sumire got up, picked up the pyjamas that had fallen to the floor and slipped them on,” said Miu. “She said she wanted to be alone and was going back to her room. ‘Don’t think too deeply about things,’ I told her.

‘Tomorrow’s a new day, things will work out just like before. You’ll see.’ ‘I guess so,’ Sumire said. She leaned over and held her cheek against mine. Her cheek was wet and warm. She whispered something in my ear, I think. But in such a small voice I couldn’t make it out. I was about to ask her what she said, but she’d already turned away.”

”Sumire wiped her tears away with the bath towel and left the room. The door closed, and I snuggled back under the covers and closed my eyes. After an experience like that, I thought it would be hard to sleep, but strangely enough I soon fell fast asleep.

“When I woke up at seven the next morning, Sumire was nowhere in the house. Perhaps she woke up early—or maybe never got back to sleep—and went to the beach by herself. She said she wanted to be alone for a while. It was odd that she didn’t even leave a note, but considering the night before, I guessed she was still pretty upset and confused.

“I did the washing, hung out her bedding to dry, and sat on the veranda, reading, waiting for her to come back. The whole morning passed, and no Sumire. I was worried, so I looked through her room, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I was afraid maybe she’d left the island. But her bags were still open, her passport was still in her handbag, her swimsuit and socks drying in a corner of her room. Coins, notepaper, and a bunch of keys lay scattered on her desk. One of the keys was for the front door of the cottage.

“It all felt weird to me. What I mean is whenever we went to the beach we always wore heavy trainers and T-shirts over our swimsuits as we walked over the mountains. With a canvas bag with our towels and mineral water. But she’d left it all behind—the bag, shoes, and swimsuit. The only things missing were the pair of cheap flip-flops she’d bought at a local shop and the pair of thin silk pyjamas I’d lent her. Even if you only meant to take a walk around the neighbourhood, you wouldn’t stay out long dressed like that, would you?

“In the afternoon I went out to scour the area for her. I made a couple of circuits nearby, went to the beach, then walked back and forth down the streets of the town, and finally returned home. But Sumire was nowhere to be found. The sun was setting, and night came on. The wind had picked up. All night long I could hear the sound of the waves. Any little sound woke me up. I left the front door unlocked. Dawn came, and still no Sumire. Her bed was just as I’d left it. So I went down to the local police station near the harbour.”

“I explained everything to one of the policemen, one who spoke English. ‘The girl who was travelling with me has disappeared,’ I told him, ‘and hasn’t been back for two nights.’ He didn’t take me seriously. ‘Your friend will be back,’ he said. ‘It happens all the time. Everyone lets their hair down here. It’s summer, they’re young, what do you expect?’ I went again the next day, and this time they paid a bit more attention. Not that they were going to do anything about it. I phoned the Japanese embassy in Athens and explained the situation. Thankfully, the person there was quite kind. He said something in no uncertain terms in Greek to the police chief, and the police finally started getting an investigation up and running.

“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.