South of the Border, West of the Sun Page 0,55

over a hundred or two hundred yen that didn’t balance. That’s the kind of family I was raised in. You said you can only come up with eight million yen. Yukiko, we’re talking about real money here, not Monopoly money. Most people ride to work every day, smashed together in packed trains, put in overtime, knock themselves out, and still couldn’t come near making that much in a year. I lived that kind of life for eight years, so I know. And there was no way I could make eight million yen. But you probably can’t picture that kind of life.”

Yukiko was silent. She bit her lip and stared hard at her plate. Realizing that I’d begun to raise my voice, I lowered it.

“You can blithely say that in half a month the money we invest will double. Eight million yen will turn into sixteen million. But something’s very wrong with that kind of thinking. I’ve found myself sucked into that mind-set and it makes me feel empty.”

Yukiko looked at me from across the table. As I resumed eating, I could feel something inside me shaking. Was it irritation or anger? I couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, I was helpless before it.

“I’m sorry. I should have minded my own business,” Yukiko said quietly, after a long silence.

“It’s okay. I’m not blaming you. I’m not blaming anybody.”

“I’ll call right now and have them sell every single share. Just stop being angry with me.”

“I’m not angry.”

Silent, I continued to eat.

“Isn’t there something you want to tell me?” Yukiko asked, looking straight at me. “If something is bothering you, tell me. Even if it’s something that’s hard to talk about. If there’s anything I can do, just name it. I’m only an ordinary person, and I know I’m completely naive about everything—including running a business. But I can’t stand to see you unhappy. I don’t want to see that pained look on your face. What is it you hate about our life? Tell me.”

I shook my head. “I have no complaints. I like my job, and I love you. All I’m saying is that sometimes I can’t keep up with your father’s way of doing things. Don’t get me wrong, I like him. I know he’s trying to help us out and I appreciate it. So I’m not angry. I just can’t understand who I am anymore. I can’t tell right from wrong. So I’m confused. But not angry.”

“You certainly look angry.”

I sighed.

“And you sigh all the time,” she said. “Anyhow, something’s definitely bothering you. Your mind’s a million miles away.”

“I don’t know.”

Yukiko kept her eyes on me. “There’s something on your mind,” she said. “But I have no idea what that is. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

I was struck by a violent desire to confess everything. What a relief that would be! No more hiding, no more need to playact or to lie. Yukiko, see, there’s another woman I love, someone I just can’t forget. I’ve held back, trying to keep our world from crumbling, but I can’t hold back anymore. The next time she shows up, I don’t care what happens: I’m going to make love to her. I’ve thought of her while I’ve masturbated. I’ve thought of her while I’ve made love to you, Yukiko… But I didn’t say anything. Confession would serve no purpose. It would only make us miserable.

After lunch, I returned to my office to continue work. But my mind, indeed, was a million miles away. I felt lousy, preaching to Yukiko like that What I said was all right. But the person who said it was all wrong. I’d lied to Yukiko, sneaking around behind her back. I was the last person who should take the moral high ground. Yukiko was trying very hard to think about me. That was quite clear, and consistent with the kind of person she was. But what about my life? Was there any consistency, any conviction to speak of? I felt deflated, utterly lacking the will to move.

I put my feet up on my desk and, pencil in hand, gazed listlessly out the window. From my office you could see a park. The weather was nice, and there were a number of parents with their children. The children played in the sandbox or slid down the slides, while their mothers kept an eye on them and chatted with other mothers. Seeing these little children at play reminded me of my own daughters. I wanted to