The Earthquake Bird (16 page)

I wanted to swim too, but I had played enough games and needed to be alone with the water and night sky. I walked a little
farther along the edge of the sea to where the moon caught the sea in yellow patches. The cold water slapped my ankles. I
left my clothes on the sand and ran in up to my shoulders. The water gripped my whole body and I kicked off, swam away from
the shore beyond battered rocks that jutted out into the sea.

Every stroke and forward push was a fresh shock as the sea gnawed at my flesh like sharp-toothed hungry fish. I kept my head
up and looked at the water before me, the Sea of Japan. I guessed I was swimming northwest of the island. If I floated now,
letting the water carry my frozen body, where would I finish my journey? Following my bad-luck direction, I might come to
Vladivostok or Nakhodka. If I continued northerly from there, I would head to the freezing Sea of Okhotsk. I gasped with cold,
tasted salt. It was exhilarating but the thought of Siberia made the water still colder. I twisted around and took a few strokes
southward, toward South Korea, Shanghai, the warmer waters of the East China Sea.

My limbs were stiffening. The cold water between my legs and under my arms made every breath shorter than the last. I thought
I would die if I kept swimming, and yet I also felt as if I had never been so joyously alive, so awake. The feeling wouldn’t
last—I knew that—but I wanted to remember it, to keep it somewhere inside to find later when I needed it back.

Of course, it didn’t work. It was there and now it’s gone. I need it but I can’t even find the taste of the fresh air on my
tongue. I can picture the water, remember that it was cold, but I’m in a stuffy room in a large building in Tokyo. It’s no
good remembering something if you can’t live it again. It’s not enough to know that I was so happy. I can’t find it anymore.

At the time, though, I thought it was enough. So, after carefully savoring the moment, scanning it into my memory for future
use, I swam back to the shore. Lily and Teiji were side by side on the beach, picking up wet clothes to put on their dripping
bodies. Convulsing with cold, they no longer cared that they were naked.

I hoped Lily would sleep well that night. I hoped that I might shift my futon closer to Teiji’s and that, when Lily’s breathing
became heavy, I would roll over to him and, very quietly, in the warmth of snug white cotton, we would make love. I missed
him.

Who unfolded the futons and laid them on the tatami? Did we each do our own or did one of us do all while the other two brushed
their teeth or undressed? I must have been sleepy for I didn’t notice until we were all tucked up that Lily was lying on the
middle futon. There was no way I could get to Teiji in the night without the possibility of treading on her. I couldn’t blame
Lily because it may not have been her fault. I might have chosen my bed first, absently forgetting my plans, or we might all
have settled down at the same time. I resigned myself to a night without Teiji and accepted that I had the consolation of
sleeping in the spot closest to the window. I reached for the catch and pushed it. The window slid open easily. I lay down
and slept deeply to the rhythm of the waves lapping the shore.

When I awoke in the morning I was rocking gently from side to side in the warmth of yellow daylight.

T
eiji and Lily were still sleeping. I dressed, stepped over their peaceful bodies, and went outside. I would have a quiet walk
before breakfast.

The sea was blue under the morning sun, but had lost none of its nighttime magic. I looked out at the glinting ripples. When
I turned my head back to the beach I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a canoe in the sea that had not been there before.
Still looking only through the outer edge of my left eye, I was surprised but not alarmed to see the long-lost Brian Church
canoeing along the water parallel to my steps. He waved at me. It was a friendly wave as if he were pleased to see me strolling
there. His paddle cut soundlessly through the water with quick movements. Yet he didn’t seem to go any faster, stayed near
me all the time. I didn’t turn and face him directly lest he should disappear. I just walked on, for a mile or so, knowing
that he was there, smiling and waving at Lucy. When I turned to retrace my steps, I permitted myself a quick glance at the
water.

In the minshuku, Lily and Teiji were up and dressed. The landlady was in the room loading breakfast from large trays onto
our low table. Bowls of rice, miso soup, raw eggs, salty fish. The eye of my fish looked up blankly, as if it had something
to tell me but it had forgotten what it was. Lily didn’t like her fish to have its head on and was particularly upset by the
idea of an eye at breakfast time. She covered the eye with a piece of dry seaweed, cut off the head and handed it to me to
throw down the toilet. I did so. When I came to eat my own fish I plucked the soft black eye out of its socket with the end
of one chopstick, and ate it by itself. It tasted fishy.

“Full of nutrients,” I said, and picked a tiny piece of membrane from between my teeth.

“Oh my God,” Lily whispered. “I do not believe you just did that. It’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. You’re warped.”

I might be, but I only ate the fish’s eye because I knew it would horrify Lily. Normally, like anyone else, I would just pick
the flesh from the bones to eat and leave the head intact.

Teiji was amused by Lily’s reaction. “The whole thing is dead.”

“But the eye—”

“You’re a nurse. I didn’t expect you to be squeamish. You must have dealt with gory eyes sometimes.”

“Yes, but I don’t eat them.”

Teiji grinned. He wrapped seaweed around a scoop of rice and nibbled it, still smiling to himself.

Teiji and I ate heartily while Lily picked at the edges of her fish which she ate in small bites between individual grains
from her rice bowl.

“Have some tea.” I poured green tea into the three small cups.

“Thanks. That’s the one part of Japanese breakfast I can cope with.”

“You’ll soon acquire the taste.”

“I’ll have to. Since I’m planning on being here a while.”

“You’re not going to leave, then? That’s good news.” I was suddenly proud of my success.

“Since I’m here I might as well make the most of it, right? Now I’m learning bits of Japanese it seems more hopeful, somehow.
And, more than anything, having friends makes me want to stay because now I feel as if it’s OK to be here, as if I’m supposed
to be here. Do you know what I mean?”

We nodded.

“But that doesn’t mean I want to look at dead fishes’ faces first thing in the morning. Can we get an ice cream later?”

“Why not?” Teiji drank his tea in one gulp that washed down a mouthful of rice.

“Good. What are we going to do today?”

I rattled off the list of possibilities in my guidebook and asked what sort of things they wanted to do. Lily wanted to see
the sights. Teiji was less interested in museums and monuments than in the scenery, but said that he didn’t mind what we did.

“I’m surrounded by water and mountains so I’m happy. I’ll do whatever you want. Being here is enough.”

“There’s a gold mine museum,” I said. “It might be interesting.”

I like going underground. I like a little claustrophobia, some darkness, and a bit of panic before I come into the open again.
It’s important to get good value for money. I wanted to go down there into the mine so that I could imagine being buried alive,
trapped forever in a wormhole with gold-flecked wallpaper.

We planned to ride south toward Aikawa to visit the old gold mines. On the way we would stop and look at some of the cliffs
and small islands. In the afternoon we might visit temples, museums, noh theaters. We would spend the night at an inn in Mano.
There would be one remaining day before returning to Tokyo.

Teiji put a new roll of film in his camera, took a quick shot of Lily and me mounting our mopeds. We rode to Senkaku-wan to
see the famously beautiful stretch of cliffs. And on that journey, something happened to Lucy. An unexpected excitement caught
her and she found herself riding the bike faster and faster. She knew she might lose control of the machine—when was the last
time she’d been on a moped?—but couldn’t tell herself to slow down. The route ahead was clear and my knuckles were white.
I sped along the hard gray road with Lily and Teiji far behind. When we arrived at Senkaku-wan I stopped and nearly went over
the handlebars.

I left the bike, started to walk to the cliffs but was suddenly dizzy. It may have been the journey—I had felt a little giddy
at the time—or the fish’s eye I had for breakfast, or the cartwheels of the previous night. It’s not like Lucy to be sick
so I ignored the feeling for a while and tried to enjoy the view. But my stomach was coming up to my mouth and my knees were
fading away altogether. I knew I couldn’t go any farther.

“Sorry,” I said to Lily and Teiji and fell to the ground. I shut my eyes and disappeared. I was vaguely aware, as I fell,
of two astonished faces watching me wither and drop but I could not open my eyes again. Perhaps it was my dream or perhaps
it was real when Lily put a cool hand on my forehead, pulled me onto my side, and lifted my head to put something soft underneath.

“Just sleep. You’ll feel better,” someone said. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault, you know—do you know that?” It was
a female voice so I took it to be Lily’s but now, when I think about it carefully, I realize it was speaking Japanese. There
were no other people around. Perhaps it was not a woman’s voice but Teiji’s, suddenly unfamiliar.

When I reappeared, I opened my eyes slowly. The world was nothing but dots and lines that hurt my head until they slid into
place. I sat up. Only a few yards away was a steep drop to the sea. The cliffs were sharp and rugged, not very friendly. I
drew breath shakily. It made me feel a little better. I was alone. I looked in each direction but Lily and Teiji were not
there.

I stood and walked over to my moped. The other two bikes had gone. Lily and Teiji had abandoned me. What could I do without
knowing where they had gone? I realized I was carrying the object that had been my pillow. It was Teiji’s T-shirt. I held
it against my face. The warmth in it was all mine, not Teiji’s, and it was a lonely warmth. I burst into tears. He didn’t
want to be with me anymore, ever since he’d decided I was strange, ever since I told him about Brian Church.

“Where am I supposed to go?” I wept to the sea. “Come back.”

I waited and waited, alternately crying and pacing the clifftop in anger. If they’d gone to get help, surely they would have
returned by now. There were campsites and hostels only five minutes away.

When I was tired of waiting I headed to Kinzan, to the mining museum. The journey took me farther along the coast, then uphill
and along a thin winding road into the mountains. The old gold mine was nestled in the woods with a couple of tour buses parked
outside the gates. I rode into the parking lot, got off the moped. Lily and Teiji were coming out of the museum. Teiji was
wearing a new T-shirt that said Sado on the front in big blue and black letters. They were laughing about something and a
few moments passed before they even noticed me.

“You seem to have had a good time.” I stood in their path. They looked as if they’d been caught playing hooky.

“Lucy! We were so worried about you. Are you all right?”

“Absolutely fine. Have your T-shirt back.”

“Thank you.” Teiji took the crumpled shirt sheepishly. He knew he’d done something wrong.

Lily looked from his face to mine. “It’s a good thing we left you that note or you wouldn’t have known where to find us.”
She spoke brightly, so pleased that the whole day had been saved by her genius.

“What note?”

“Oh, we put a note under a stone for you. It said that we were coming here and if you didn’t meet us we’d come back for you.”

“I didn’t see a note.”

“It must have blown away. I’m really sorry.”

“I just came here because there was nowhere else to look for you. I could have been dying. I could have been blown off the
cliff into the sea.”

I tried to make a joke of it but it came out sounding as bitter as it felt. I knew there was no note. Neither of them had
been carrying a pen or paper. Teiji had borrowed them from me on the train to write the kanji for mori and given them back.
Remember? Lucy is not stupid.

“I did check you,” Lily said. “You were just exhausted and you’d been riding too fast. It made you woozy. It was best to let
you sleep it off rather than get on the moped again and make yourself worse. You know, it’s possible you’ve picked up some
kind of virus and it’s making you a bit weak.”

“Whatever you say. You’re a nurse and I’m not. So I’ve missed the gold mine trip.”

“No, you haven’t, silly. You can go in now. It’s very interesting. They’ve got these mechanical puppets showing you what it
was really like at the time. I don’t mind going round again. Do you, Teiji?”

“No, not at all.” He wasn’t looking at me.

“That’s stupid if you two have already seen it.”

“We don’t mind. Come on, let’s go.” Lily turned to go back.

“No. If I go, I’ll go by myself. I expect you two are anxious not to waste any more time so you’d probably better get moving.
There are some very interesting temples in Mano, according to my book.”

“Don’t be daft.” She took another couple of paces. “We’ll all go down the mine together. Come on.”

“And a five-story pagoda. I’m sure you’ll find it quite beautiful.”

Teiji put one hand on my elbow to lead me. “Lucy. We’ll go back in the mining museum together. We’re sorry we left you.”

“No. Forget it. I don’t feel like it now.” I pulled away.

I shouldn’t have snapped at Teiji. Angry words were never meant for him and sulking was not a part of his language. If his
mother or father had ever shouted at him he would have cycled off through the paddy fields and let the anger fall on the ground
behind him. But I’m sure he had never been shouted at. In that moment I destroyed so much of what we had, at least my illusion
of it, made myself sound like half of any old bickering couple. And yet. The sting had gone in deep and its poison was hurting.
How could he say,
We’re sorry
? Since when were Lily and Teiji announcing their apologies as a duet?