After dark - By Haruki Murakami Page 0,47
of reasons. Tell you the truth, I’m running away from…certain people.”
Korogi takes a sip of her own tea. “You probably don’t know this, but if you’re seriously trying to run away from something, one of the best jobs you can take is helper at a love hotel. You can make a lot more money as a maid in a traditional Japanese inn—get lots of tips—but you have to meet people and talk to them. Working in a love hotel, you don’t have to show your face to guests. You can work in secret, in the dark. They’ll usually give you a place to sleep, too. And they don’t ask you for CVs or guarantors ’n’ stuff. You tell ’em you can’t give ’em your real name, and they say, like, ‘Okay, why don’t we call you Cricket?’ ’Cause they’re always short of help. You got a lot of people with guilty consciences working in this world.”
“Is that why people don’t usually stay in one place for long?”
“That’s it. You hang around in one spot too long and they find you sooner or later. So you keep changing places. There’s love hotels everywhere, from Hokkaido to Okinawa, so you can always find work. I’m real comfortable here, though, and Kaoru’s really nice, so I stayed on.”
“Have you been running away a long time?”
“Hmm…going on three years now, maybe.”
“Always taking jobs like this?”
“Yep. Here ’n’ there.”
“I suppose whoever or whatever you’re running away from is pretty scary?”
“You bet. Really scary. But don’t ask me any more about that. I try not to talk about it.”
The two are quiet for a time. Mari drinks her tea while Korogi stares at the blank TV screen.
“What did you used to do?” Mari asks. “Before you started running, I mean.”
“Back then, I was just another girl with an office job. Graduated from high school, went to work for a big trading company, nine to five, in a uniform. I was your age…around the time of the Kobe earthquake. Seems like a dream now. And then…something…happened. A little something. I didn’t think too much about it at first. But then it dawned on me I was stuck: couldn’t go forward, couldn’t go back. I left everything behind: my job, my parents…”
Mari looks at Korogi, saying nothing.
“Uh, sorry, but what was your name again?” Korogi asks.
“Mari.”
“Let me tell you something, Mari. The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you. And once that happens, you’ve had it: things’ll never be the same. All you can do is go on living alone down there in the darkness.”
Korogi stops to think again about what she has just said and, as if in self-criticism, gently shakes her head.
“Of course, it could be just my own weakness as a human being—that events dragged me along because I was too weak to stop them. I should have realized what was going on at some point and woken up and put my foot down, but I couldn’t. I don’t have the right to be preaching to you…”
“What happens if they find you—I mean the ones that are chasing you?”
“Hmm…what happens, huh?” Korogi says. “Don’t know, really. Rather not think about it too much.”
Mari keeps silent. Korogi plays with the buttons on the TV remote control, but she doesn’t turn the set on.
“When I finish work and get in bed, I always think: let me not wake up. Let me just go on sleeping. ’Cause then I wouldn’t have to think about anything. I do have dreams, though. It’s always the same dream. Somebody’s chasing me. I keep running and running until they finally catch me and take me away. Then they stuff me inside a refrigerator kind of thing and close the lid. That’s when I wake up, and everything I’ve got on is soaked with sweat. They’re chasing me when I’m awake, and they’re chasing me in my dreams when I’m asleep: I can never relax. The only time it lets up a little is here, when I’m enjoying small talk with Kaoru or Komugi over a cup of tea…You know, Mari, I’ve never told this to anyone before—not to Kaoru, not to Komugi.”
“You mean that you’re running away from something?”
“Uh-huh. I think they kinda suspect, though…”
The two fall silent for a while.
“Do you believe what I’m telling you?” Korogi asks.
“Sure, I believe you.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“I could be making it all up. You wouldn’t know: we’ve never met before.”
“You don’t look like the