everything
. You wouldn’t believe it. It was like a porno movie. You and I played
lesbians. And then—”
Aomame rushed to cut her off. “Never mind all that. I just want to know if I was
using condoms. That’s what worries me. I can’t remember.”
“Of course you were. I’m very strict about that. I made absolutely sure, so don’t
worry. I mean, when I’m not writing tickets I go around to high schools in the ward,
holding assemblies for the girls and teaching them, like, the right way to put on
condoms. I give very detailed instructions.”
“The right way to put on condoms?” Aomame was shocked. “What is a
policewoman doing teaching stuff like that to high school kids?”
“Well, the original idea was for me to give information to prevent sex crimes, like
the danger of date rape or what to do about gropers on the subway, but I figure as long
as I’m at it, I can add my own personal message about condoms. A certain amount of
student sex is unavoidable, so I tell them to make sure they avoid pregnancy and
venereal disease. I can’t say it quite that directly, of course, with their teachers in the
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room. Anyhow, it’s like professional instinct with me. No matter how much I’ve been
drinking, I never forget. So you don’t have to worry. You’re clean. ‘No condom, no
penetration.’ That’s my motto.”
“Thank you,” Aomame said. “That’s a huge relief.”
“Hey, want to hear about all the stuff we did?”
“Maybe later,” Aomame said, expelling the congealed air that had been sitting in
her lungs. “I’ll let you tell me the juicy details some other time. If you did it now, my
head would split in two.”
“Okay, I get it. Next time I see you, then,” Ayumi said brightly. “You know, ever
since I woke up I’ve been thinking what a great team we can make. Mind if I call you
again? When I get in the mood for another night like last night, I mean.”
“Sure,” Aomame said.
“Oh, great.”
“Thanks for the call.”
“Take care of yourself,” Ayumi said, and hung up.
Her brain was much clearer by two o’clock, thanks to the black coffee and a nap. Her
headache was gone, too, thankfully. All that was left of her hangover was a slight
heavy feeling in her muscles. She left the apartment carrying her gym bag—without
the special ice pick, of course, just a change of clothes and a towel. Tamaru met her at
the front door as usual.
He showed her to a long, narrow sunroom. A large open window faced the garden,
but it was covered by a lace curtain for privacy. A row of potted plants stood on the
windowsill. Tranquil baroque music played from a small ceiling speaker—a sonata
for recorder and harpsichord. In the middle of the room stood a massage table. The
dowager was already lying facedown on top of it, wearing a white robe.
When Tamaru left the room, Aomame changed into looser clothing. The dowager
turned her head to watch Aomame change from her perch on the massage table.
Aomame was not concerned about being seen naked by a member of the same sex. It
was an everyday occurrence for team athletes, and the dowager herself was nearly
naked during a massage, which made checking the condition of her muscles that
much easier. Aomame took off her cotton pants and blouse, putting on a matching
jersey top and bottom. She folded her street clothing and set them down in a corner.
“You’re so firm and well toned,” the dowager said. Sitting up, she took off her
robe, leaving only thin silk on top and bottom.
“Thank you,” Aomame said.
“I used to be built like you.”
“I can tell that,” Aomame said. Even now, in her seventies, the dowager retained
physical traces of youth. Her body shape had not disintegrated, and even her breasts
had a degree of firmness. Moderate eating and daily exercise had preserved her
natural beauty. Aomame guessed that this had been supplemented with a touch of
plastic surgery—some periodic wrinkle removal, and some lifting around the eyes and
mouth.
“Your body is still quite lovely,” Aomame said.
The dowager’s lips curled slightly. “Thank you, but it’s nothing like it used to be.”
146
Aomame did not reply to this.
“I gained great pleasure from my body back then. I
gave
great pleasure with it, too,
if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Aomame said.
“And are you enjoying yours?”
“Now and then,” Aomame said.
“Now and then may not be enough,” the dowager said, lying facedown again.
“You have to enjoy it while you’re still young. Enjoy it to the fullest. You can use the
memories of what you did to warm your body after you get old and can’t do it
anymore.”
Aomame recalled the night before. Her anus still retained a slight feeling of having
been penetrated. Would memories of this actually warm her body in old age?
Aomame placed her hands on the dowager’s body and concentrated on stretching
one set of muscles after another. Now the earlier remaining dullness in her own body
was gone. Once she had changed her clothes and touched the dowager’s flesh, her
nerves had sharpened into clarity.
Aomame’s fingers traced the dowager’s muscles as though following roads on a
map. She remembered in detail the degree of each muscle’s tension and stiffness and
resistance the way a pianist memorizes a long score. In matters concerning the body,
Aomame possessed minute powers of memory. And if she should forget, her fingers
remembered. If a muscle felt the slightest bit different than usual, she would stimulate
it from various angles using varying degrees of strength, checking to see what kind of
response she got from it, whether pain or pleasure or numbness. She would not simply
loosen the knots in a pulled muscle but direct the dowager to move it using her own
strength. Of course there were parts of the body that could not be relieved merely by
her own strength, and for those parts, Aomame concentrated on stretching. What
muscles most appreciated and welcomed, however, was daily self-help efforts.
“Does this hurt?” Aomame asked. The dowager’s groin muscles were far stiffer
than usual—nastily so. Placing her hand in the hollow of the dowager’s pelvis,
Aomame very slightly bent her thigh at a special angle.
“A
lot
,” the dowager said, grimacing.
“Good,” Aomame said. “It’s good that you feel pain. If it stopped hurting, you’d
have something seriously wrong with you. This is going to hurt a little more. Can you
stand it?”
“Yes, of course,” the dowager said. There was no need to ask her each time. She
could tolerate a great deal of pain. Most of the time, she bore it in silence. She might
grimace but she would never cry out. Aomame had often made big, strong men cry
out in pain from her massages. She had to admire the dowager’s strength of will.
Setting her right elbow against the dowager like a fulcrum, Aomame bent her thigh
still farther. The joint moved with a dull snap. The dowager gasped, but she made no
sound with her voice.
“That should do it for you,” Aomame said. “You’ll feel a lot better.”
The dowager released a great sigh. Sweat glistened on her forehead. “Thank you,”
she murmured.
Aomame spent a full hour unknotting muscles all over the dowager’s body,
stimulating them, stretching them, and loosening joints. The process involved a good
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deal of pain, but without such pain nothing would be resolved. Both Aomame and the
dowager knew this perfectly well, and so they spent the hour almost wordlessly. The
recorder sonata ended at some point, and the CD player fell silent. All that could be
heard was the calls of birds in the garden.
“My whole body feels so light now!” the dowager said after some time had passed.
She was slumped facedown on the massage table, the large towel spread beneath her
dark with sweat.
“I’m glad,” Aomame said.
“It’s such a help to have you with me! I’d hate for you to leave.”
“Don’t worry, I have no plans to go anywhere just yet.”
The dowager seemed to hesitate for a moment, and only after a brief silence she
asked, “I don’t mean to get too personal, but do you have someone you’re in love
with?”
“I do,” Aomame said.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Unfortunately, though, he’s not in love with me.”
“This may be an odd thing to ask, but why do you think he doesn’t love you?
Objectively speaking, I think you are a fascinating young woman.”
“He doesn’t even know I exist.”
The dowager took a few minutes to think about what Aomame had said.
“Don’t you have any desire to convey to him the fact that you
do
exist?”
“Not at this point,” Aomame said.
“Is there something standing in the way—something preventing you from taking
the initiative?”
“There are a few things, most of which have to do with my own feelings.”
The dowager looked at Aomame with apparent admiration. “I’ve met lots of odd
people in my lifetime, but you may be one of the oddest.”
Aomame relaxed the muscles around her mouth somewhat. “There’s nothing odd
about me. I’m just honest about my own feelings.”
“You mean that once you’ve decided on a rule, you follow it?”
“That’s it.”
“So you’re a little stubborn, and you tend to be short-tempered.”
“That may be true.”
“But last night you went kind of wild.”
Aomame blushed. “How do you know that?”
“Looking at your skin. And I can smell it. Your body still has traces of it. Getting
old teaches you a lot.”
Aomame frowned momentarily. “I need that kind of thing. Now and then. I know
it’s nothing to brag about.”
The dowager reached out and gently placed her hand on Aomame’s.
“Of course you need that kind of thing once in a while. Don’t worry, I’m not
blaming you. It’s just that I feel you ought to have a more
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