The Earthquake Bird (8 page)

“No,” Bob looked through his binoculars, “it’s just too hazy. I think Fuji’s hiding from us today.”

Lily put one hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other. “What’s that?”

I looked. Above the tops of the other mountains was empty space. But higher in the sky, as if suspended in it, was the unmistakable
cone of Fuji’s peak. There seemed to be no mountain below it, just the silhouette of the peak sitting in the sky.

“It’s like a ghost,” I said.

“Can mountains have ghosts?” Natsuko asked.

“I don’t know.”

Richard sat on the ledge, opened his rucksack for lunch. “Why not? It’s a dead volcano. If it can be dead, why can’t it have
a ghost?”

“It’s extinct. That’s not exactly the same as dead. Dead has a personal, individual connotation, worthy of ghosts,” Bob, as
an English teacher, pointed out.

“In Japanese it’s the same. The word for extinct volcano is
shikazan
. It means ‘dead volcano,’ or ‘dead fire mountain.’ I don’t see why it shouldn’t have a ghost of itself.” Natsuko shielded
her eyes from the sun to see better.

“I think you’ll find it’s a trick of the light,” Bob said.

“We know,” said Natsuko. “But we want to think of it as a ghost. Look at it hovering up there. It is spooky, supernatural.
When I move away from my parents’ house and into a place of my own, I want to have a view of Mount Fuji. That’s the most important
thing for me. I’d like to be able to look out and see it every day. That’s all I want. If I had that, I’m sure I’d be happy
forever.”

I smiled at her, turned to the peak in the sky. One by one the others had enough of the view and settled on the ground for
lunch. Lucy could not take her eyes from it and wondered what kind of picture Teiji would take if he were there. It was a
view that could have been designed for Teiji. Lucy could hardly believe that he wasn’t with her. Then she remembered the photographs
in the box and her face burned.

“It’s private,” he had said. “I don’t think about her anymore.”

Sachi. I would think about her forever. Her angry eyes, the face that became whiter and puffier with each photograph. The
parties where she looked drawn and unamused, always away from other people, wearing dirty, crumpled clothes.

Lily passed me a segment of her orange. I ate it but hardly turned my gaze away from the sky. She shuffled around so that
she was sitting next to me.

“It’s beautiful.”

I nodded.

“You really love Japan, don’t you?”

“I suppose so. Yes, I do.”

“Do you think you’ll be here forever?”

“I have no idea.” The image of the ghost volcano seemed to shimmer and I blinked several times and finally turned to face
Lily. “I can’t imagine leaving now, that’s true.”

We ate in silence, sharing rice balls and barley tea.

“Doesn’t Teiji like the mountains?”

I smiled. “I think he does, but he loves Tokyo best.”

I never took Teiji when I went places with friends. I didn’t want to share him. I would meet him later, in the darkest parts
of the night on the street by an empty station, or in one of our apartments. To meet him in an open space, in bright lights,
was to expose him to the world from which I wanted to keep him secret.

Perhaps it was strange to Lily that I spent time without him, for her next question was, “Are you close?”

“We are. Very close.”

“But you don’t do everything together. That’s nice. You’re lucky, Lucy.”

Am I?

The descent was fast. We slipped and slid down the paths, tripping sometimes on rocks and roots. I let my feet go too fast
and caught my ankle on a tree stump. I flew off the path and landed on my side with my ankle folded under my thigh. I tried
to stand but the pain made me dizzy. I sat back down again, bit my lip in some intuitive attempt to move the pain to another
place.

Lily rushed to my side. “OK. Let me check it. Pull your trouser leg up, and your sock down. That’s it.”

She loosened my shoe and took my foot in her hands. She prodded firmly but without hurting me.

“It’s not broken. It’s a nasty sprain, though. Let me get a bandage on it.”

The rest of the group stood around and watched. Bob put one hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

“It’s not that bad. It’ll be fine.”

“I know. I didn’t say it was bad.”

Bob and Natsuko exchanged amused glances. I realized how defensive I’d sounded. Lily gave me a painkiller from a little bag
in her rucksack, and some water. After a few minutes’ rest I was ready to hop slowly. I felt better. The pain was still sharp
but Lily’s comforting treatment had touched something deeper in Lucy. All the way down the mountain she glowed in the warmth
of Lily’s hands on her ankle, of lying on the soil being bandaged and cured. What had touched her most of all was Lily’s voice,
so unusually calm and competent. Where had that voice come from? Lucy had heard it before in another place.

“You’re very good in a crisis, Lily. Did you do Girl Scout training or something?” Bob was also impressed.

“No, no. It’s just because I’m a nurse.”

“A nurse? You never told us that.”

Bob was surprised but I knew, as soon as Lily said it, that it made perfect sense.

“Didn’t I? It wasn’t meant to be a secret. Now I’m working in a bar the topic of nursing doesn’t come up very much.”

“I’m glad you were here,” I said, truthfully. “Not that it’s so bad.”

At the bottom Natsuko guided us along small roads to a main one and then to an onsen, a hot spring. After a stretching hike
there is nothing better than soaking in the rich minerals of the mountains. We separated, men and women. I entered the changing
room with Lily and Natsuko.

Lily was uncomfortable stripping off in front of other women but did it because she was more embarrassed about being different
and making a fuss. I thought her qualms were unnecessary. Lily had a nice body, delicate and slender, while Lucy is built
like a crashed tank. Lucy didn’t mind communal bathing at all. Once she was in the protection of the hot water, she enjoyed
the fact that she could take up more space than the other women. Her body had a greater surface area and therefore she must
be deriving more pleasure from the piping water on her skin.

We sat, three in a row, at the taps for the pre-bathing ritual. We showered while sitting on small wooden stools, and filled
bowls of water to splosh over our skin. Lily watched Natsuko and me, to make sure she did everything the same way. Once we
had washed, I turned the cold tap on full and blasted my ankle for a few moments until it was almost numb.

There were three baths. One was indoors and already full. Women lay stretched out, eyes closed, hair kept off the face by
small yellow towels. We went outside where the two baths were almost empty. Water ran from one into the other. A hill rose
sharply behind and a thin waterfall slipped over the edge, fell into a stream near the baths. From every direction was the
sound of water.

Natsuko went straight for the hottest bath and sat with a small towel over her face. Lily followed but yelped at the heat
and jumped out. Her legs were pink from the knees down.

“Don’t you like it?” Natsuko asked lazily from under her wet towel.

“I like the idea of it.” Lily hovered, not sure what to do. “It’s just a bit hot.”

“I love it. If I ever have a house of my own, I’d want a natural hot spring in the garden. I’d be happy forever then.” Natsuko
sighed.

“Perhaps this one is a better temperature,” I suggested and went into the other. It was, slightly, and Lily entered the bath
with me, carefully and tentatively, limb by limb until just her head stuck out.

The cool air of the late afternoon was as refreshing as the water we bathed in and I closed my eyes to feel it more acutely
and to listen to the different sounds of water. I lifted my injured ankle to rest it on the bath’s edge. Of course, in a couple
of seconds I was thinking of Teiji and how I wished he was in the bath with me, no one else around. Teiji didn’t care about
my appearance. I sometimes wondered if he even knew what I looked like. When he stared at me he seemed to be looking beneath
the surface of my skin, but I didn’t know what he could see. I didn’t mind. As long as I kept his attention in this way, I
felt lucky. Before my fantasy could get farther than Teiji ducking under water to find my legs with his lips, Lily started
talking again.

“I wonder what Andy would make of this.”

“He might like it.”

“Doubt it. He doesn’t much like things he doesn’t know. I’m beginning to think that I only really like things I don’t know.
Funny that. It never occurred to me we were so different. Now it seems obvious. I wish I was like you.”

I was amazed and looked at her, probably suspiciously. Her face was pink under her dyed red hair. She looked uncomfortable
in the heat of the bath.

“No, I do. You’ve got it all together. You’re so brainy too. Do you think you and Teiji will get married?”

“I don’t think so.” And with no warning my eyes filled with tears. I splashed them slightly to give myself a reason to wipe
my face before Lily noticed.

“Why not?”

I massaged my ankle. The pain was beginning to subside.

“It’s not that kind of relationship.”

And immediately I regretted saying it. I didn’t know what kind of relationship it was. I’d never thought about it before.
Now I had given Lily fuel for another round of questioning.

“Anyway, I’m fine.”

“Is it not a long-term thing, then?”

“It might be but I just haven’t thought about it like that. I mean, we don’t discuss it because we already have what we want.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

Perhaps she should. Then I could show Teiji that I had friends, too. I was not so obsessed with him that I had to break into
his apartment when he was out and rifle through his most personal possessions. That was just something that happened, a one-off,
a whim. I told Lily none of this. I had a feeling that simply by lying there in the steam, running the thoughts through my
mind, Lily might understand them. She leaned over and pressed my ankle between her fingers.

“How does it feel?”

“Fine. Just twinging a bit.”

“You want to rest it this evening. Get a compress on it and put your feet up.”

“Sounds good. Did you always want to be a nurse?”

“Yes, always. I never thought of anything else.”

“Now you work in a bar. Do you miss nursing?”

“Strangely, no. But I still am a nurse and I’ll go back to it. I don’t stop feeling like a nurse just because I’m not working
as one. You know, I am a nurse. It’s what I’ll always be.”

“Looking after people, picking up the pieces.”

“Yes.” She smiled and splashed water over her arms. “Don’t you feel that way about translating?”

“The opposite. Even though I work as a translator, I don’t feel like one. I don’t think of myself as a translator. Perhaps
because I don’t feel as if I speak two languages anymore. It’s like one big one with different aspects.”

“The only Japanese I know is what you taught me. Do you speak English or Japanese with Teiji?”

“Both. Either.”

“Are you seeing him tonight?”

“We didn’t talk about it. I’ll be too tired, anyway. I may go to see him at the noodle shop tomorrow, though. Yes, I think
I’ll do that.”

“You told me you’d teach me the words for different kinds of noodles.”

“Did I?”

I knew she was hinting but I hoped she’d take my own hint and give up. She didn’t.

“I’ve hardly eaten any proper Japanese food. I usually go to McDonald’s. It’s not that I don’t want to try Japanese, it’s
just that I don’t know what to ask for, or how to eat it. It would be useful to know.”

I pulled myself out of the water and put my swollen ankle tentatively on the ground. It felt much better.

“All right. If you want to come, I’ll be going at about twelve.”

“Shall I come round to your apartment? If you tell me where it is—”

“There’s no point. It’s at the other side of Tokyo from the noodle place. I’ll meet you at Takadanobaba station.”

Lily stared at me, appalled that a word could be both so foreign and so long.

“I’ll write it down for you,” I said, and went back into the building to find a towel.

I
crack my fingers, one by one. Kameyama is tired of waiting, leans back in his chair with a grunt. I don’t blame him. I can
appreciate the annoyance I am causing. If only I would take some notice of him, he might make some progress in this case.
But I’m not in the mood to talk, not yet. The thing is, I don’t know what happened that night. It’s a blur in my memory. I
have to bring it back, remember a bit at a time, before I can tell him. Mr. Kameyama will have to be patient. Oguchi is now
playing with the other trouser knee, rubbing it softly, picking the edge of the seam. His glance meets mine and he looks away.
I think the horror of the crime that I may have committed is sinking in. I fix my eyes upon his. His face colors and he searches
for a question with which to break the silence, which I will not answer.

Kameyama speaks. “Fine. Let’s try another question.”

Yes, let’s. Which question shall we try? What’s my favorite color? I don’t have one. Do I prefer cats or dogs? Cats, of course;
I’m a Leo. How many brothers and sisters do I have? It depends on how you count, whom you count. Have I ever killed anyone?
Yes, I have. There was Noah. And while we’re talking of death, perhaps this would be a good time to recall the wonderful Mrs.
Yamamoto, and my days with the magical string quartet which was so important when I first came to Tokyo. Mrs. Yamamoto, who
died.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Oguchi colors as he asks me this feeble question. Kameyama expels air through his mouth in something
between a sigh and a hiss.

“No, I don’t.”

And I go back inside my head. But his timing is perfect. It was my search for a hobby that led me to Mrs. Yamamoto’s door.
Since meeting Teiji I’d had no need for hobbies. There was no sense in practicing ikebana when I could be having sex, or watching
him from behind a book as he served noodles. But when I first arrived in Japan, I knew no one. I was glad to meet people through
a shared, civilized interest. It was my participation in Mrs. Yamamoto’s string quartet that welcomed me to Tokyo, left me
certain that this was my home, though it also left me with another corpse on my hands. Clumsy old Lucy.