Grotesque (70 page)

“I need to see Zhang, and I was wondering if he was home.”

“Zhang is probably not in. He changed jobs so he’s gone both day and night. I don’t know when he’ll come back.”

“May I wait for him in his room?”

“No. You can’t do that.” Chen-yi shook his head aggressively. “We have others staying here. It won’t do.”

He acted as if he was ashamed of having had sex with me in front of everyone else.

“Well, can I see for myself?”

I started to head up the stairs, but Chen-yi grabbed me roughly and made me stop.

“I’ll go see if he’s in or not. You wait here.”

“If he’s in, tell him that I’ll be waiting for him on the roof.”

Chen-yi regarded me with suspicion as I headed toward the stairs, but I didn’t care. The trash that littered the staircase between the fourth floor and the roof had multiplied, as if it were some kind of living organism.

The entire staircase was now carpeted with garbage: wastepaper, scraps of English-language newspapers, plastic soda bottles, CD covers, torn sheets, and condoms. I kicked the junk aside with the toes of my wet shoes and made my way up the stairs. I passed the door to Zhang’s apartment and headed on up to the roof. The rain-soaked mattress was stretched across the stairs and stuck out onto the roof like a corpse—the mattress the language teacher had left behind. The mattress where Zhang now sat, his head hanging. Dingy T-shirt, blue jeans. His hair over his ears. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. Zhang was no different from the multiplying garbage. I was suddenly reminded of the plants in Mother’s garden, wrecked by the rain. Once the rains stopped, those plants would spring back up.

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“What are you doing sitting up here?”

“Ah, its you?” Zhang looked up at me in surprise. My eye lit on a gold chain glittering around Zhang’s neck.

“That’s Yuriko’s necklace, isn’t it?”

“What, this?” Zhang touched the necklace as if he’d just remembered it was there. “So, her name was Yuriko?”

“Yes, she was an acquaintance of mine. She always dressed exactly like me.”

“She did, didn’t she, now that you mention it.”

Zhang twisted the chain around his fingers. Rainwater dripped off my umbrella and pooled onto a corner of the mattress like a spreading stain.

Zhang didn’t seem to notice.

“You killed Yuriko, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. I killed her because she asked me to. It was the same with my sister. I said my sister fell into the sea and drowned, but that was a lie. I killed her. In the container, on the voyage to Japan, we had sex every night. She was repulsed by the idea of living like a beast and asked me, with tears in her eyes, to kill her. I told her not to worry about our relationship and asked her any number of times to go ahead and live with me like husband and wife, but she wouldn’t do it. So I threw her in the sea. I could see her hands waving from between the swells as she drifted farther and farther from me; it was as if she were bidding me good-bye.

She was smiling. She seemed happy to be waving good-bye to her life with me. We borrowed so much money just to make it to Japan. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. So whenever I meet a woman who says, ‘Kill me,’ I’m only too happy to oblige. If she just can’t deal with her life, I’ll step up to settle things for her. How about you?”

Zhang smiled slightly in the darkness. The wind had grown strong and lashed our faces with rain. I turned aside, trying to avoid the rain, but Zhang just grimaced as he let the rain pelt his face. His forehead glistened with moisture.

“I don’t want to die yet. But I may before too long.”

Zhang grabbed my legs. “You’re so thin! Like a skeleton. I can’t understand why you can’t gain any weight. Do you suppose you’re sick?

My sister and that Yuriko woman were both healthy. Why are you the one who’s sick? It’s sad, isn’t it?”

“You think I’m sick? But I don’t want to die.”

“There are people out there who are already on the road to death, and 4 4 3

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they don’t even know it. And then there are people who are a picture of health but choose to die anyway. Don’t you agree?”

I was suddenly assailed by sorrow. Why was it that when I talked to Zhang I felt so lonely, so sad? I sat down on the filthy, sodden mattress.

Zhang grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me to him. He smelled of sweat and dirt, but I didn’t mind.

“Be good to me. Please.”

I burrowed my face in Zhang’s chest, playing with the chain that glittered at his neck.

“All right. And in return, you be good to me.”

We held each other, murmuring over and over, “Be good; please be good to me.”

. 9 .

JANUARY 30

SHIBUYA: WA (?), ¥10,000

SHIBUYA: FOREIGNER, ¥3,000

Zhang’s a big liar. A piece of shit. And a murderer! I placed my can of beer, packet of dried squid, and bottle of gymnema pills on the counter at the convenience store and thought about him.

“Hey!” Someone poked me in the back. I realized I’d cut in line but I didn’t care, I stood where I was and placed an order for oden stew.

“I want fish cake, radish, and konnyaku—one of each. And fill the bowl up with broth, will you.”

The man behind the counter gave a snort of annoyance, but the female clerk—who was used to seeing me there—went to the cauldron of oden and picked out what I wanted without any expression at all. The two young women standing in line behind me mumbled something—

either an insult or a complaint—so I turned and glared at them. They 4 4 4

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looked intimidated. It amused me. I’d taken to staring people directly in the eye—in the office, at home, wherever. I am a monster. Everyone treats me like I’m special. And if you have a problem with it, just try to be like me!

I went outside and quickly slurped the broth. The smooth warm liquid slipped down my throat. I knew the heat of the liquid would shrink my stomach. It would grow smaller and smaller. A train rumbled passed on the Inokashira Line tracks. I straightened up and watched it pull into Shinsen Station. I wondered if Zhang was in it.

More than half a year had past since Zhang and I clung to each other that rainy night. It was now January. We’d had a mild winter so far, which made things a lot easier for me. Whenever I got to Shinsen Station, I always looked for Zhang. Once, as I peered up through the fence from the road, I thought I saw a man who looked like him standing on the platform. But I hadn’t run into him since that rainy night. That was just as well. He was nothing to me. I put all my energy into my night work.

Zhang will continue to live in this country, forgetting that he’s killed Yuriko.

That night we’d both been desperately sentimental. But still, I had had to burst out laughing when I heard Zhang’s ridiculous little soliloquy.

“I loved that prostitute. The one you said was Yuriko.”

“Oh, give me a break! That’s not really likely, is it? I mean, you had just met her. And Yuriko wasn’t anything more than a shabby whore. Besides, I doubt even she would have believed you. She hated men, you know.”

Zhang grabbed me by the throat as I squirmed in laughter, as if he was going to strangle me.

“Oh, so you think it’s funny? Well, how about I do you the same way?

You stupid bitch.”

The orange light illuminating the entry to the staircase reflected in Zhang’s eyes, making them glitter. He looked possessed, creepy. Frightened, I slapped Zhang’s hands away and stood up. The rain struck my cheeks. I raised my hand to wipe it off and realized it wasn’t water, it was Zhang’s spit. Sperm, spit: a woman receives what men excrete.

“Get lost.” Zhang waved me away, and I rushed down from the roof. I scrambled down the slippery staircase, kicking the wet garbage aside as I went. What was it about Zhang that I wanted to try to escape? Even I wasn’t sure. As I got to the front door of the building, I collided with a 4 4 5

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man who was dashing in from the outside. His body, damp with rain and sweat, emitted a peculiar odor. His black T-shirt was soaked, revealing a slender build. It was Dragon. I adjusted my wig and called out to him.

“Hello!”

Dragon did not reply. Instead he riveted me with his needle-sharp gaze.

“Zhang’s on the roof,” I informed him. “Do you know why he’s hanging out up there? He’s running from something.”

I had planned to tell Dragon that Zhang had murdered Yuriko, and that was why he was on the lam. But before I could, Dragon surprised me with an explanation of his own.

“He’s running from us, the asshole. He’s cheated us out of all our money, and until he pays us back we’ve told him he’s not welcome to come back.”

The night I had slept with Chen-yi and Dragon one after the other, Dragon had been kissing Zhang’s ass. But tonight, Dragon was arrogant.

“Yeah, well, he killed a prostitute, you know. He killed a prostitute in Shinjuku,” I said, smirking at him.

“A prostitute? Let him kill all the prostitutes he wants. They’re easily replaced. But money, that’s different!”

Dragon shook the cheap vinyl umbrella he was carrying, sending raindrops scattering in all directions.

“Well, don’t you agree?”

I nodded, yes. He had a point. Money was definitely more valuable than life. But then, when I died, my money would be meaningless. My mother and younger sister would end up with it. The thought irritated me, but what could I do? I was disgruntled by the fact that I couldn’t figure out something so simple. Dragon looked at me and laughed derisively.

“Do you believe what that asshole tells you? Zhang’s a liar, you know.

No one here trusts a thing he says.”

“Everyone lies.”

“But nothing that loser says is true. Oh, he acts like he’s such a hard worker, talking about how he left his village to seek his fortune in the big cities back home. But the fact of the matter is, he bumped off his grandpa, his older brother, and the man who was supposed to marry his little sister and he had no choice but to skip town. He says he forced his sister into prostitution when he got to Hangzhou and he started run-4 4 6

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ning drugs for a gang. He pretends that he was kept by some politician’s daughter to cover his tracks. He’s an asshole. Hell, the only reason he came to Japan was to escape the police.”

“He told me he killed his sister.”

Dragon looked up in surprise. A look of bemusement flashed across his eyes. “Well, well. I guess the son-of-a-bitch does tell the truth now and then. That seems to be true. I heard it from another guy who made the trip on the same boat with Zhang. He said he pretended to grab for his sisters hand, but it looked to the guy like he’d pushed her overboard. Well, whatever happened, the bastards a criminal. And he really screwed us over.”

Dragon headed for the stairs. I saw the muscles in his back ripple under his wet T-shirt.

“Hey, Dragon?”

He turned back to look at me.

“Do you want to party with me?”

Pure loathing washed over Dragon’s face as he eyed me up and down.

” ‘Fraid not. I’ll keep my money for a woman who’s better than you.

Besides, I like a woman with a little more meat.”

“Motherfucker! You know you enjoyed sleeping with me.”

I picked up the umbrella that Dragon had left by the doorway and hurled it at him, but it landed halfway up the stairs. Dragon burst out laughing and turned to continue up to the roof. Motherfucker! Goddamn motherfucker! I had never used such filthy language before in all my life, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope they all die. Motherfuckers! I remembered their dirty apartment. I’d told myself then that I’d never go back. So why had I propositioned Dragon? It must have just been a moment of weakness brought on by the embrace I had enjoyed earlier on the roof. Or maybe it was as Yuriko predicted. Maybe it was because whores like us expose men. I’d exposed Zhang’s weakness and Dragon’s maliciousness. I was so furious with myself that I intentionally broke the cover to the mailbox slot for unit 404.

I wondered what had become of Zhang. That’s what was on my mind as I trudged off to the Jizo statue, the plastic grocery bag dangling from my hand. I had an appointment to meet Arai there. It had been a long time: four months. Both Yoshizaki and Arai had invited me out to dinner in the 4 4 7

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past. But now they just wanted to meet in hotels. First it was twice a month, then once, and now about once every two months or so. To make up for the infrequency, I was determined to try to get more money from them for each session.

When I reached the alley that ran in front of the Jizo statue, I saw Arai’s rounded back. He was lurking in the shadows in front of the statue, wearing the same shabby gray coat he had worn last year and the year before that, his shoulder weighed down, as always, by the strap of a black vinyl bag. And, as always, a weekly paper poked out over the edge of the bag. The only thing different was that his hair had grown thinner and whiter than it had been two years ago.

“Mr. Arai, have you been waiting long? You’re early, aren’t you?”

Arai frowned when he heard my high-pitched voice, and he brought his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. No one was around. Why did he have to be so nervous? I wondered if he was ashamed to be seen with me in public. Arai said nothing but turned and headed off to our regular love hotel. The ones in Murayama-cho were the cheapest around, ¥3,000 for a short stay. I hummed as I strolled along, making sure to stay a few feet behind Arai. I was in a good mood. I was pleased that Arai had decided to call me. It had been awhile, but I felt things might be returning to the way they had once been, when I felt I owned the Shibuya night. I may have been a lowly street-corner prostitute, but I still didn’t want to die. I wasn’t going to end up like Yuriko.

When we got to the hotel room I turned the hot water on in the tub and scanned the room for anything valuable to take. I decided to help myself to the extra roll of toilet paper that had been put there. I might be able to use the night-robe sash for something. And then of course there were the condoms by the pillow. I noticed that they’d only provided one tonight. Usually they leave two. I called the front desk to complain and had them send up one more. I would leave one there for Arai and pocket the other.