Текст книги "1q84"

Автор книги: Haruki Murakami

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Текущая страница: 80 (всего у книги 81 страниц)

“So, we’re in a different world now?” Tengo managed to say.

“Most likely,” Aomame said.

“Maybe we should make sure.”

There was only one way to make sure, and they didn’t need to put it into words. Silently, Aomame raised her face and looked up at the sky. At nearly the same instant, Tengo did so too. They were searching for the moon. Considering the angle, the moon should be somewhere above the Esso billboard. But they couldn’t find it. It seemed to be hidden behind the clouds. The clouds were flowing toward the south, sedately moving along in the wind. The two of them waited—no need to rush. They had plenty of time. Enough time to recover the time they had lost. The time they shared. No need to panic. A pump in one hand, a knowing smile on his face, the Esso tiger, in profile, watched over the two of them holding hands.

Aomame was struck by a sudden thought. Something was different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She narrowed her eyes and focused. And then it hit her. The left side of the Esso tiger’s face was toward them. But in her memory it was his right side that had faced the world. The tiger had been reversed. Her face instinctively grimaced, her heart skipped a beat or two. It felt like something inside her had changed course. But could she really say for sure? Is my memory really that accurate? Aomame wasn’t certain. She just had a feeling about it. Sometimes our memory betrays us.

Aomame kept her doubts to herself. She shut her eyes for a moment to let her breathing and heart rate get back to normal, and waited for the clouds to pass.

People continued to stare at the two of them through the car windows. What are these two looking at? And why are they clutching each other’s hand so tightly? A number of them craned their heads, trying to see what the couple was staring at, but all that was visible were white clouds and an Esso billboard. Put a Tiger in Your Tank, the billboard tiger’s profile said, facing to the left, urging those driving by to consume even more gasoline, his orange-striped tail jauntily raised to the sky.

.    .    .

The clouds finally broke and the moon came into view.

There was just one moon. That familiar, yellow, solitary moon. The same moon that silently floated over fields of pampas grass, the moon that rose—a gleaming, round saucer—over the calm surface of lakes, that tranquilly beamed down on the rooftops of fast-asleep houses. The same moon that brought the high tide to shore, that softly shone on the fur of animals and enveloped and protected travelers at night. The moon that, as a crescent, shaved slivers from the soul—or, as a new moon, silently bathed the earth in its own loneliness. That moon. The moon was fixed in the sky right above the Esso billboard, and there was no smaller, misshapen greenish moon beside it. It was hanging there, taciturn, beholden to no one. Simultaneously, the two of them looked at the same scene. Wordlessly Aomame clutched Tengo’s hand. The feeling of an internal backflow had vanished.

We’re back in 1984, Aomame told herself. This isn’t 1Q84 anymore. This is the world of 1984, the world I came from.

But is it? Could the world really go back so easily to what it was? Hadn’t Leader, just before he died, asserted that there was no pathway back to the old world?

Could this be another, altogether different place? Did we move from one world to yet another, third world? Where the Esso tiger shows us the left side of his face, not his right? Where new riddles and new rules await us?

It might well be, Aomame thought. At least at this point I can’t swear that it isn’t. But there is one thing I can say for sure. No matter how you look at it, this isn’t that world, with its two moons in the sky. And I am holding Tengo’s hand. The two of us entered a dangerous place, where logic had no purpose, and we managed to survive some terrible ordeals, found each other, and slipped away. Whether this place we’ve arrived in is the world we started out from or a whole new world, what do I have to be afraid of? If there are new trials ahead for us, we just have to overcome them, like we’ve done before. That’s all. But at least we’re no longer alone.

Believing in what she needed to believe, she relaxed, leaning back against Tengo’s large body. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, and gave herself up to his arms. Just like a pea in a pod.

“Where should we go now?” Tengo asked Aomame after some time had passed. They couldn’t stay here forever. That much was clear. But there was no shoulder on the Metropolitan Expressway. The Ikejiri exit was relatively close, but even in a traffic jam like this it was too dangerous for a pedestrian to walk through the backup of cars. They were certain, too, that holding out their thumbs to hitchhike wasn’t likely to get them any rides. They could use the emergency phone to call for help from the Japan Highway Public Corporation, but then they would have to come up with a reasonable explanation for why they were stranded. Even if they were able to make it on foot to the Ikejiri exit, the toll collector would be sure to question them. Going back down the same stairs they had climbed up was out of the question.

“I don’t know,” Aomame said.

She really had no idea what they should do, or where they should go. Once they had climbed the emergency stairway, her role was over. She was too drained to think, or make a judgment call. There wasn’t a drop left in her tank. She could only let some other power take over.

O Lord in Heaven, may Thy name be praised in utmost purity for ever and ever, and may Thy kingdom come to us. Please forgive our many sins, and bestow Thy blessings upon our humble pathways. Amen.

The prayer flowed out from her like a conditioned reflex. She didn’t have to think about it. Each individual word had no meaning. The phrases were nothing more than sounds to her now, a list of signs and nothing more. Still, as she mechanically recited the prayer, a strange feeling came over her, something you might even call reverence. Something deep inside her struck a chord in her heart. Despite all that happened, I never lost myself, she thought. Thank goodness I can be here, as me. Wherever here is.

May Thy kingdom come, Aomame intoned once more, like she had done in elementary school before lunch, so many years ago. Whatever that might mean, she wished it. May Thy kingdom come.

Tengo stroked her hair, as if combing it.

Ten minutes later Tengo was able to flag down a passing taxi. At first they couldn’t believe their eyes. A single taxi, absent of any passengers, was slowly making its way along the traffic jam on the expressway. Tengo raised a skeptical hand, the back door swung open right away, and they climbed aboard, quickly, hurriedly, afraid that this phantom would vanish. The young driver, wearing glasses, turned to face them.

“Because of the traffic jam I would like to get off at the Ikejiri exit coming up, if that’s all right with you?” the driver asked. He had a rather high-pitched voice for a man, but it wasn’t irritating.

“That would be fine,” Aomame replied.

“It’s actually against the law to pick up passengers on the expressway.”

“Which law would that be?” Aomame asked. Her face, reflected in the rearview mirror, wore a slight frown.

The driver couldn’t come up with the name of the law that prohibits picking up passengers on highways. Plus, Aomame’s face in the rearview mirror was starting to frighten him a little.

“Well, whatever,” the driver said, abandoning the topic. “Anyway, where would you like to go?”

“You can let us off near Shibuya Station,” Aomame said.

“I haven’t set the meter,” the driver said. “I’ll just charge you for the distance after we get off the expressway.”

“Why were you on the expressway with no passenger?” Tengo asked him.

“It’s sort of a long story,” the driver said, his voice etched with fatigue. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I would,” Aomame said. Long and boring was fine by her. She wanted to hear people’s stories in this new world. There might be new secrets there, new hints.

“I picked up a fare, a middle-aged man, near Kinuta Park, and he asked me to take him near Aoyama Gakuin University. He wanted me to take the expressway since there would be too much traffic around Shibuya. At this point, there wasn’t any bulletin about a traffic jam on the expressway. Traffic was supposed to be moving along just fine. So I did what he asked and got on the expressway at Yoga. But then there was an accident around Tani, apparently, and you can see the result. Once we were stuck, we couldn’t even get to the Ikejiri exit to get off. Meanwhile, the passenger spied a friend of his. Around Komazawa, when we weren’t moving an inch, there was a silver Mercedes coupe next to us that just happened to be driven by a woman who was a friend of his. They rolled down the windows and chatted and she wound up inviting him to ride with her. The man apologized and asked if he could pay up and go over to her car. Letting a passenger out in the middle of a highway is unheard of, but since we actually weren’t moving, I couldn’t say no. So the man got into the Mercedes. He felt bad about it, so he added a little extra to what he paid to sweeten the deal. But still it was annoying. I mean, I couldn’t move at all. Anyway, bit by bit I made my way here, nearly to the Ikejiri exit. And then I saw you raising your hand. Pretty hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I can believe it,” Aomame said concisely.

That night the two of them stayed in a high-rise hotel in Akasaka. They turned the lights out, undressed, got into bed, and held each other. There was a lot they needed to talk about, but that could wait till morning. They had other priorities. Without a word passing between them, they leisurely explored each other’s bodies in the dark. With their fingers and palms, one by one, they checked where everything was, what they were shaped like. They felt excited, like little children on a treasure hunt in a secret room. Once they found each part, they kissed it with a seal of approval.

After they had leisurely finished this process, Aomame held Tengo’s hard penis in her hand—just like years before, when she had held his hand in the classroom after school. It felt harder than anything she had ever known, miraculously hard. Aomame spread her legs, moved close, and slowly inserted him inside of her. Straight in, deep inside. She closed her eyes in the darkness and gulped a deep and dark intake of breath. Then, ever so slowly, she exhaled. Tengo felt her hot breath on his chest.

“I’ve always imagined being held by you like this,” Aomame said, whispering in his ear as she stopped moving.

“Having sex with me?”

“Yes.”

“Since you were ten you’ve been imagining this?” Tengo asked.

Aomame laughed. “No, that came when I was a little older.”

“I’ve been imagining the same thing.”

“Being inside me?”

“That’s right,” Tengo said.

“Is it like you imagined?”

“I still can’t believe it’s real,” Tengo admitted. “I feel like I’m imagining things.”

“But this is real.”

“It feels too good to be real.”

In the darkness Aomame smiled. And she kissed him. They explored each other’s tongues.

“My breasts are kind of small, don’t you think?” Aomame said.

“They’re just right,” Tengo said, cupping them.

“You really think so?”

“Of course,” he said. “If they were any bigger then it wouldn’t be you.”

“Thank you,” Aomame said. “They’re not just small,” she added, “but the right and left are also different sizes.”

“They’re fine the way they are,” Tengo said. “The right one’s the right one, the left one’s the left. No need to change a thing.”

Aomame pressed an ear against his chest. “I’ve been lonely for so long. And I’ve been hurt so deeply. If only I could have met you again a long time ago, then I wouldn’t have had to take all these detours to get here.”

Tengo shook his head. “I don’t think so. This way is just fine. This is exactly the right time. For both of us.”

Aomame started to cry. The tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Large teardrops fell audibly onto the sheets like rain. With Tengo buried deep inside her, she trembled slightly as she went on crying. Tengo put his arms around her and held her. He would be holding her close from now on, a thought that made him happier than he could imagine.

“We needed that much time,” Tengo said, “to understand how lonely we really were.”

“Start moving,” Aomame breathed in his ear. “Take your time, and do it slowly.”

Tengo did as he was told. He began pumping slowly. Breathing quietly, listening to his heartbeat. Aomame clung to him like she was drowning. She gave up crying, gave up thinking, distanced herself from the past, from the future, and became one with his movements.

Near dawn they slipped on hotel bathrobes, stood next to the large window, and sipped the red wine they had ordered from room service. Aomame took just a token sip. They didn’t need to sleep yet. From their room on the seventeenth floor they could enjoy watching the moon to their hearts’ content. The clouds had drifted away, and nothing impeded their view. The dawn moon had moved quite a distance, though it still hovered just above the city skyline. The moon was an ashy white, and looked about ready to fall to earth, its job complete.

At the front desk Aomame had asked for a room high up with a view of the moon, even if it cost more. “That’s the most important thing—having a nice view of the moon,” she said.

The clerk was kind to this young couple who had shown up without a reservation. It also helped that the hotel wasn’t busy. She felt kindly toward the couple from the moment she set eyes on them. She had the bellboy go up to look at the room to make sure it had the view they wanted, and only then handed Aomame the key to the junior suite. She gave them a special discount, too.

“Is it a full moon or something tonight?” the woman clerk asked Aomame, her interest aroused. Over the years she had heard every kind of demand, hope, and desire from guests you could imagine. But this was a first, having guests who were looking for a room with a good view of the moon.

“No,” Aomame replied. “The moon’s past full. It’s about two-thirds full. But that doesn’t matter. As long as we can see it.”

“You enjoy watching the moon, then?”

“It’s important to us,” Aomame smiled. “More important than you can know.”

Even as dawn approached, the number of moons didn’t increase. It was just the same old familiar moon. The one and only satellite that has faithfully circled the earth, at the same speed, from before human memory. As she stared at the moon, Aomame softly touched her abdomen, checking one more time that the little one was there, inside her. She could swear her belly had grown from the night before.

I still don’t know what sort of world this is, she thought. But whatever world we’re in now, I’m sure this is where I will stay. Where we will stay. This world must have its own threats, its own dangers, must be filled with its own type of riddles and contradictions. We may have to travel down many dark paths, leading who knows where. But that’s okay. It’s not a problem. I’ll just have to accept it. I’m not going anywhere. Come what may, this is where we’ll remain, in this world with one moon. The three of us—Tengo and me, and the little one.

Put a tiger in your tank, the Esso tiger said, his left profile toward them. But either side was fine. That big grin of his facing Aomame was natural and warm. I’m going to believe in that smile, she told herself. That’s what’s important here. She did her own version of the tiger’s smile. Very naturally, very gently.

She quietly stretched out a hand, and Tengo took it. The two of them stood there, side by side, as one, wordlessly watching the moon over the buildings. Until the newly risen sun shone upon it, robbing it of its nighttime brilliance. Until it was nothing more than a gray paper moon, hanging in the sky.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Murakami, Haruki, [date]

[1Q84. English]

1Q84 / Haruki Murakami; translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin and

Philip Gabriel. – 1st ed.

p. cm.

eISBN: 978-0-307-95702-3

I. Rubin, Jay, [date] II. Gabriel, Philip, [date] III. Title.

PL856.U673A61213 2011

895.6’35—dc22

2011014274

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material:

Oneworld Classics Ltd: Excerpts from Sakhalin Island by Anton Chekhov, translated by Brian Reeve, copyright © 2007 by Brian Reeve. Reprinted by permission of Oneworld Classics Ltd.

Random House, Inc. and The Estate of Isak Dinesen c/o Gyldendal Group Agency: Excerpts from Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen, copyright © 1937 by Random House, Inc. and copyright renewed 1965 by Rungstedlundfonden. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. and The Estate of Isak Dinesen c/o Gyldendal Group Agency.

SA Music LLC, Hal Leonard Corporation: Excerpt from “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” music by Harold Arlen, lyrics by Billy Rose and E. Y. “Yip” Harburg, copyright © 1933 (renewed) by SA Music LLC/ASCAP, Chappell & Co., and Glocca Morra Music. All rights for Glocca Morra Music administered by Next Decade Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of SA Music LLC, Hal Leonard Corporation.

Photographs by Roméo Enriquez

v3.1

A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Haruki Murakami was born in Kyoto in 1949 and now lives near Tokyo. His work has been translated into more than forty languages, and the most recent of his many international honors is the Jerusalem Prize, whose previous recipients include J. M. Coetzee, Milan Kundera, and V. S. Naipaul.

READER’S GUIDE

1Q84

by Haruki Murakami

The introduction, discussion questions, and suggested further reading that follow are designed to enhance your group’s discussion of 1Q84, the magnum opus of critically acclaimed and best-selling novelist, Haruki Murakami, author of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Norwegian Wood, and Kafka On the Shore.

Introduction

Set in 1984, Haruki Murakami’s expansive new novel tells the story of the deeply intertwined fates of its two remarkable protagonists, Tengo and Aomame.

Tengo and Aomame were grade school classmates who experienced a moment of mystical union when Aomame, a girl shunned for belonging to a fringe religious group, suddenly seized Tengo’s hand and looked deeply into his eyes. Their paths diverged shortly after Aomame’s impulsive and ambiguous gesture, but each was left profoundly changed by it. For the next 20 years, they are held in the gravitational pull of this brief moment of connection.

Now they are nearly thirty. Tengo is a math teacher and unpublished novelist, drifting rather aimlessly through his life, with no clear sense of purpose or ambition. Aomame is a fitness instructor, bodyworker and, most importantly, an assassin of men who have violently abused their wives.

When Komatsu, an unscrupulous and cynical editor, asks Tengo to rewrite a story by 17-year-old Fuka-Eri so that it can be considered for a major literary prize, Tengo realizes he’s entering into a devil’s bargain. But he’s so taken with the story that he is unable to resist Komatsu’s offer. Accepting the task opens up a Pandora’s box of perils that far surpass even Tengo’s and Komatsu’s worst fears. The novel, Air Chrysalis, becomes an immediate best seller, attracting widespread media attention that threatens to uncover Komatsu’s and Tengo’s scam. More ominously, the novel has aroused the ire of the “little people,” a malevolent group of other-worldly miniature spirits.

Aomame meanwhile has her own secrets. Employed by an elderly dowager, she stealthily and expertly murders men who have abused their wives but remain unprosecuted. When she accepts the assignment to kill the heavily protected leader of Sakigake, the very religious cult that Fuka-Eri had fled and written about in Air Chrysalis, she too enters a world of danger she never could have imagined. She has literally entered another world, one that is nearly identical to the ordinary world of 1984 except that it has two moons in the sky. And in this new world, the flow of time—and rules of reality—have been subtly altered.

Blurring the line between possible and impossible, linear and non-linear time, fiction and reality, fate and free will, 1Q84 is both a metaphysical mind-teaser and a fast-paced thriller where the stakes for Tengo and Aomame couldn’t be any higher. Murakami’s most ambitious novel to date, 1Q84 is also an extraordinary love story, a story about the power of a single moment of deep connection to transcend time and space—and justify even the greatest of risks.