Tuvalu (40 page)

Tapping the key on my hip I wondered if I should have taken my shoes off at the front door, but it hardly mattered. No one was around and the corridor was all smooth, green concrete. Whatever this place was, it was not strictly traditional. Concessions had been made. There was a stark cafeteria with colourful plastic chairs, wood-veneer tables and a service counter, as well as a narrow, humming vending machine full of overpriced beer.

There was no noise coming from my room when I finally found it, no indication anyone was inside. But I persisted in telling myself Mami had collected her key and was quietly waiting for me. I had booked for two. Surely they would have put two keys out. I slotted the small, oddly shaped key into the door and fought back disappointment when I found the room empty and untouched, two futons at the rear folded up and waiting. As a room it seemed unwelcoming and depressing. There were no chairs or tables, only an in-built bench and small beige TV. I took off my shoes and stepped onto the tatami matting. The room smelt stale, so I opened its only window.

There was a small, laminated notice written in English sitting beside the television. It told me to make myself at home, fold out my bed when I felt tired and share the bathroom with others. Beneath it was a map indicating the way to this bathroom, which was seemingly back down on the first floor near the cafeteria. I turned on the TV to fill the room with noise, and at that moment a passenger jet, no doubt on its final approach, passed overhead with a thunderous, rolling
shhh
. It set every wall rattling.

Feeling cold, I shut the window.

I sat on the tatami and stared up at the room's only light—one globe with a cheap oriental frame. I could look into it without difficulty and still read the clock. In four hours it would be my birthday. It was an awful place to have a birthday, an awful time for a birthday. To celebrate I paid too much for a beer from the cafeteria vending machine, taking it back to my room and sipping at it. I thought about the money and went so far as to take out my wallet, putting it on the TV. I did not bother to count it. Not caring what happened to it I left it there and, folding out a futon, tried to sleep. There was always a chance Mami was delayed.

Plan B

W
hen I woke the following morning, it was to the sound of the TV. I stared into it, into an ugly, fluorescent studio full of Japanese celebrities. Then, body aching, I stood, turned it off and noticed I was shivering. No doubt it was close to zero outside and I groped for the bar heater, clicking it on. Nothing seemed to happen.

For an hour or two I lay on the futon listening to the rain. Then, still cold, I dressed without bothering to shower and wandered outside. The rich smell of soil and bark, stirred up by the rain, only strengthened as I wandered away from the hotel towards far-off rice paddies. Above me the sky was fogged over and hung low. The trees I passed were all leafless and skeletal, a few with tiny birds on the topmost branches, their wings hugging knot-like bodies. Cars passed, leaving a short trail of white exhaust, though there was little else in the way of people about. For a moment, wholly miserable, I wanted to wrap myself in people. It did not matter who. I wanted to drink, joke and celebrate my birthday with others. In the past it had been my habit to avoid friends on my birthday, to slink off like a cat preparing to die without giving a thought to those who might want to celebrate with me. But this year I wanted to be the centre of an enormous party.

At some point, fed up with walking, I turned and started back towards the hotel. I thought glumly about the future now lying in wait for me. The obvious thing to do was return home, live with my father and enrol in something suitably obscure. Staying in Japan would be foolish. Where would I live? I could not return to Niigata without giving Phillip his share of the cash and I had no intention of doing that. There was always Europe or South America or a hundred other destinations, but to travel alone now seemed a gloomy proposition. The excitement had gone out of loneliness.

Finally the hotel fell into view and something— a movement—caught my eye. I watched as a hefty rat scampered along the top of the front sliding door and slipped in behind a dented airconditioning unit. I wanted to catch it and stomp its skull flat.

To Tuvalu

S
lotting the key into my door I did not expect to find Mami sitting on my windowsill in a red tweed coat with white stockings, strands of hair dancing in the cold, wet, midafternoon breeze. She smiled and tossed aside the TV remote.

‘So where are we going?' she asked, jumping up and draping herself from my shoulders. Her hair smelt of shampoo and her skin was soft against my face when she kissed me, first on the cheek and then on the lips.

‘How long do we have to stay in here for?' she asked, making it clear she did not approve.

‘Shit. You're here.'

‘I am. Let's get out of Japan as soon as we can.'

‘You're serious? You're planning to skip bail?'

I was by now desperately trying to fight off a growing, very physical excitement. This apparition—which was no apparition at all—ran the instep of one soft, stockinged foot up my calf.

‘Bail? There is no bail. Not anymore. That was a misunderstanding. My father fixed it. Anyhow, you're the one who suggested I flee.'

‘I know, but—' ‘You're not backing out are you?'

‘No.'

She pointed to my wallet, still atop the TV. ‘I didn't peek but it felt heavy. Are you rich now?'

‘A little rich.'

She laughed. ‘Do we have air tickets?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then let's go.'

‘The flight's tomorrow.'

‘Going where?'

‘Tuvalu.'

‘Tuvalu? Is there such a place?'

‘I believe there is.'

Mami laughed. ‘Pure madness. What's it like?'

‘It's an island. Warm, beautiful.'

She took off the coat, revealing a figure-hugging short black dress with chiffon layers and a lace ruffle, the tweed belt hanging from her hips. Then she unzipped my pants and playfully tugged at them. ‘Sounds ideal,' she said.

I had not wanted her to do what she proceeded to do, had not requested it. I had not showered, and I told her to stop, but she would not listen. She told me to shut up and did as she pleased until I climaxed and dropped backwards onto the futon, clutching at my crotch. Unable to speak, her mouth clamped shut in a grin, Mami pointed frantically towards the communal bathroom map and finally shot out the door trying not to laugh.

When she returned she put the tweed coat back on and we went for a walk, leaving my wallet on the TV without fear of theft and heading towards the same sunken, concrete-boarded paddies I had visited earlier in the day. All was white. It had started to snow and we stood at the edge of one of the larger paddies, staring across it.

‘My mother grew up in the country, up in Nagano. In the winter, farmers would fill these rice paddies with water and let them freeze over. Then everyone skated on them.'

‘I thought she was Korean.'

Mami hesitated. ‘Born in Korea.'

‘And what, now she lives in Nagoya with your father?'

‘No.'

‘Where does she live?'

‘My stepmother, the Ice Queen, lives with my father in Nagoya. My mother's been dead for years. She died in a plane crash, since you must know. She only ever had me. My sister, the newly married Kaketa, now a Hashimoto, she belongs to the Ice Queen. Thank God I never have to see my family again. I've cut up all my credit cards. There's nothing tying me to any of them.'

‘I'm sorry about your mother,' I said, trying to suppress a suspicion I was being lied to. Perhaps Mami read my mind because she suddenly took off her shoes and stepped into the snow-covered rice paddy. Her warm feet melted the ice and dirt became mud, smearing the soles of her white stockings. She took them off, one leg at time, balled them up and walked awkwardly out towards the middle, bare skin bright between the red coat and snow.

‘My family will be worried,' she called, turning and frowning slightly. ‘But my sister has her husband to look after her and my father … To hell with him. To hell with him for locking me up with the Ice Queen in Nagoya like that, like some sort of wild, dangerous animal, everyone watching, making sure I'm not going to kill myself. Hakodate was no better. The papers all said I'd run away, but I was abducted more like it. I didn't get a chance to run, not until now.'

‘I met your father,' I yelled to her.

‘I know.'

‘He wasn't very nice.'

‘No.'

‘What about your stepmother?'

‘What about her?'

‘Why do you hate her?'

‘I don't hate her.'

‘You called her the “Ice Queen”.'

Mami shrugged, a far-off little movement, like a play of light.

‘She's from another planet,' she yelled, ‘and since they'll be back for her soon, I've never made much effort. Never seemed worth it.'

‘Very funny.'

‘I thought it was.'

Mami lit a cigarette and the snowy breeze carried the smell of tobacco to me. She stared about her and then started to walk. In an ambling fashion, she made her way back to the footpath, where we waited for her feet to dry, the mud peeling.

‘Why did you take your shoes off?' I asked. ‘You should have left them on.'

‘No. Without's best.'

Later the same afternoon, framed in the light from the window, Mami was beautiful in her black dress. I kept glancing over at her and smiling. Even when she noticed and told me to quit it I did not. She was intent on smoking as much as possible and thinking about things I could not begin to guess at. She pulled one knee to her neck, rested her head on it and waggled her big toe with her free hand, watching it as if it belonged to someone else. Now and then she sighed and stretched, but mostly she seemed to want to be left alone in the windowframe, as if waiting for something.

‘What time do we take off?' she asked, shortly after nightfall.

‘Early afternoon. I'll check the tickets.'

‘No, don't bother now. We'll check later.' She jumped down. ‘I have something for you.'

She reached deep into her bag and tossed my crumpled denim jacket onto the floor.

‘You can keep it,' I said. ‘Remember, I said you could.'

‘No, I don't want it. I was only ever trying it on.'

That night, probably stupidly, I tried to sleep with her, but she told me she felt ashamed and opted just to lie naked.

‘Ashamed?' I asked, frustrated.

‘I wrote so many of those letters,' she said. ‘It's amazing how many I wrote.'

‘What letters?'

‘Like the one I sent you.'

‘You really sent more than one?'

‘I had a lot to be ashamed of. For a while, after I was caught stealing, I decided to be perfectly serious about being ashamed. Like most of my feelings it came and went, but not before I posted all those letters. I don't know why I'm ashamed again now, though.'

I removed my hand from her bare hip and flopped onto my back, staring up into the single, dim bulb. When I looked out the window it was snowing heavily and there was a layer of white on the outside ledge.

‘You really wrote a lot of letters?'

‘Yes,' she said with a laugh. ‘I'm embarrassed now that I sent them. I sent them to people I haven't seen since elementary school. Dear so and so, sorry for pulling your hair and breaking your arm. That sort of thing.'

I had to smile. ‘Look on the bright side, at least you'll arrive in the South Pacific with a clear conscience.'

At the mention of Tuvalu, Mami's eyes sparkled. She adroitly rolled on top of me. ‘I want to save it for then,' she said.

‘What?'

‘Sex.'

‘Okay.'

‘We'll save it for this mystery island you won't tell me a thing about.'