"I'll bet you are."

"I have a lot more patience for others than I have for myself, and I'm much better at bringing out the best in others than in myself. That's just the kind of person I am. I'm the scratchy stuff on the side of the matchbox. But that's fine with me. I don't mind at all. Better to be a first-cla.s.s matchbox than a second-cla.s.s match. I got this clear in my own mind, I'd say, after I started teaching the girl. I had taught a few others when I was younger, strictly as a sideline, without seeing this about myself. It was only after I started teaching her that I started thinking of myself that way. Hey-I'm good good at teaching people. That's how well the lessons went. at teaching people. That's how well the lessons went.

"As I said yesterday, the girl was nothing special when it came to technique, and there was no question of her becoming a professional musician, so I could take it easy. Plus she was going to the kind of girls' school where anybody with half-decent grades automatically got into college, which meant she didn't have to kill herself studying, and her mother was all for taking it easy with the lessons, too. So I didn't push her to do anything. I knew the first time I met her that she was the kind of girl you couldn't couldn't push to do anything, that she was the kind of child who would be all sweetness and say, 'Yes, yes,' and push to do anything, that she was the kind of child who would be all sweetness and say, 'Yes, yes,' and absolutely refuse absolutely refuse to do anything she didn't want to do. So the first thing I did was let her play a piece the way she wanted to-one hundred percent her own way. Then I would play the same piece all different ways for her, and the two of us would discuss which way was better or which way she liked better. Then I'd have her play the piece again, and her performance would be ten times better than to do anything she didn't want to do. So the first thing I did was let her play a piece the way she wanted to-one hundred percent her own way. Then I would play the same piece all different ways for her, and the two of us would discuss which way was better or which way she liked better. Then I'd have her play the piece again, and her performance would be ten times better than the first time through. She would see for herself what worked best and bring those features into her own playing." the first time through. She would see for herself what worked best and bring those features into her own playing."

Reiko paused for a moment, looking at the glowing end of her cigarette. I went on eating my grapes without a word.

"I know I have a pretty good sense for music, but she was better than me. I used to think it was such a waste! I thought, 'If only she had started out with a good teacher and gotten the proper training, she'd be so much further along!' But I was wrong about that. She was not the kind of child who could stand proper training. There just happen to be people like that. They're blessed with this marvelous talent, but they can't make the effort to systematize it. They end up squandering it in little bits and pieces. I've seen my share of people like that. At first you think they're amazing. Like, they can sight-read some terrifically difficult piece and do a d.a.m.n good job playing it all the way through. You see them do it, and you're overwhelmed. You think, 'I could never do that in a million years.' But that's as far as they go. They can't take it any further. And why not? Because they won't put in the effort. Because they haven't had the discipline pounded into them. They've been spoiled. They have just enough talent so they've been able to play things well without any effort and they've had people telling them how great they are from the time they're little, so hard work looks stupid to them. They'll take some piece another kid has to work on for three weeks and polish it off in half the time, so the teacher figures they've put enough into it and lets them go to the next thing. And they do that that in half the time and go on to the in half the time and go on to the next next piece. They never find out what it means to be hammered by the teacher; they lose out on a certain element required for character building. It's a tragedy. I myself had tendencies like that, but fortunately I had a very tough teacher, so I kept them in check. piece. They never find out what it means to be hammered by the teacher; they lose out on a certain element required for character building. It's a tragedy. I myself had tendencies like that, but fortunately I had a very tough teacher, so I kept them in check.

"Anyhow, it was a joy to teach her. Like driving down the highway in a high-powered sports car that responds to the slightest touch-maybe responds too quickly, sometimes. The trick to teaching children like that is not to praise them too much. They're so used to praise it doesn't mean anything to them. You've got to dole it out wisely. And you can't force anything on them. You have to let them choose for themselves. And you don't let them rush ahead from one thing to the next: you make them stop and think. But that's about it. If you do those things, you'll get good results."

Reiko dropped her cigarette b.u.t.t on the floor and stamped it out. Then she took a deep breath as if to calm her emotions.

"When her lessons ended, we'd have tea and chat. Sometimes I'd show her certain jazz piano styles-like, this is Bud Powell, or this is Thelonious Monk. But mostly she talked. And what a talker she was! She could draw you right in. As I told you yesterday, I think most of what she said was made up, but it was interesting interesting. She was a keen observer, a precise user of language, sharp-tongued and funny. She could stir your emotions. Yes, really, that's what she was so good at-stirring people's emotions, moving moving you. And she you. And she knew knew she had this power. She tried to use it as skillfully and effectively as possible. She could make you feel whatever she wanted-angry or sad or sympathetic or disappointed or happy. She would manipulate people's emotions for no other reason than to test her own powers. Of course, I only realized this later. At the time, I had no idea what she was doing to me." she had this power. She tried to use it as skillfully and effectively as possible. She could make you feel whatever she wanted-angry or sad or sympathetic or disappointed or happy. She would manipulate people's emotions for no other reason than to test her own powers. Of course, I only realized this later. At the time, I had no idea what she was doing to me."

Reiko shook her head and ate a few grapes.

"It was a sickness," she said. "The girl was sick. She was like the rotten apple that ruins all the other apples. And no one could cure her. She'll have that sickness until the day she dies. In that sense, she was a sad little creature. I would have pitied her, too, if I hadn't been one of her victims. I would have seen her her as a victim." as a victim."

Reiko ate a few more grapes. She seemed to be thinking of how best to go on with her story.

"Well, anyhow, I enjoyed her for a good six months. Sometimes I'd find something she said a little surprising or odd. Or she'd be talking and I'd have this rush of horror to realize that the intensity of her hatred for some person went way beyond reason, or it would occur to me that she was just way too clever, and I'd wonder what she was really thinking. But, after all, everybody has their flaws, right? And finally, what business was it of mine to question her personality or character? I was just her piano teacher. All I had to care about was whether she practiced or not. And besides, the truth of the matter is that I liked her. I liked her a lot.

"Still, I was careful not to tell her anything too personal about myself. I just had this instinctive sense I'd better avoid talking about such things. She asked me hundreds of questions-she was dying to know more about me-but I told her only the most harmless kind of stuff, like things about my girlhood or where I'd gone to school, stuff like that. She said she wanted to know more about me, but I told her there was nothing to tell: I'd had a boring life, I had an ordinary husband, an ordinary child, and a ton of housework. 'But I like you so and a ton of housework. 'But I like you so much,' much,' she'd say, and look me right in the eye in this clingy sort of way. It sent a thrill through me when she did that-a she'd say, and look me right in the eye in this clingy sort of way. It sent a thrill through me when she did that-a nice nice thrill. But even so, I never told her more than I had to. thrill. But even so, I never told her more than I had to.

"And then one day-a day in May, I think it was-in the middle of her lesson, she said she felt sick. I saw she was pale and sweating and asked if she wanted to go home, but she said she thought she'd feel better if she could just lie down a while. So I took her-almost carried her-to the bedroom. We had such a small sofa, the bed was the only place she could could lie down. She apologized for being a bother, but I a.s.sured her it was no bother and asked if she wanted anything to drink. She said no, she just wanted me to stay near her a while, which I said I'd be glad to do. lie down. She apologized for being a bother, but I a.s.sured her it was no bother and asked if she wanted anything to drink. She said no, she just wanted me to stay near her a while, which I said I'd be glad to do.

"A few minutes later she asked me to rub her back. She sounded as if she was really suffering, and she was sweating like crazy, so I started to give her a good ma.s.sage. Then she apologized and asked me if I'd mind taking off her bra, it was hurting her. So, I don't know, I did it. She was wearing a skintight blouse, and I had to unb.u.t.ton that and reach behind and undo the bra hooks. She had big b.r.e.a.s.t.s for a thirteen-year-old. Twice as big as mine. And she wasn't wearing any starter bra but a real adult model, an expensive one. Of course I'm not paying all that much attention at the time, and like an idiot I just keep on rubbing her back. She keeps apologizing in this pitiful voice like she's really sorry, and I keep telling her it's O.K., it's O.K."

Reiko tapped the ashes from her next cigarette to the floor. By then I had stopped eating grapes and was giving all my attention to her story.

"After a while she starts sobbing. 'What's wrong?' I ask her. 'Nothing,' she says. 'It's obviously not nothing,' I say. 'Tell me the truth. What's bothering you?' So she says, 'I just get like this sometimes. I don't know what to do. I'm so lonely and sad, and I can't talk to anybody, and n.o.body cares about me. And it hurts so much, I just get like this. I can't sleep at night, and I don't feel like eating, and coming here for my lesson is the only thing I have to look forward to.' So I say, 'You can talk to me me. Tell me why this happens to you.' Things are not going well at home, she says. She can't love her parents, and they don't love her. Her father is seeing another woman and hardly ever comes home, and that makes her mother half crazy and she takes it out on the girl; she beats her almost every day and she hates to go home. So now the girl is really wailing, and her eyes are full of tears, those beautiful eyes of hers. The sight is enough to make a G.o.d blubber. So I tell her, if it's so terrible to go home, she can come to my place anytime she likes. When she hears that, the girl throws her arms around me and says, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, but if I didn't have you I wouldn't know what to do. Please don't turn your back on me. If you did that, I'd have nowhere to go.' full of tears, those beautiful eyes of hers. The sight is enough to make a G.o.d blubber. So I tell her, if it's so terrible to go home, she can come to my place anytime she likes. When she hears that, the girl throws her arms around me and says, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, but if I didn't have you I wouldn't know what to do. Please don't turn your back on me. If you did that, I'd have nowhere to go.'

"So, I don't know, I hold her head against me and I'm caressing her and saying, 'There there,' and she's got her arms around me and she's stroking my back, and soon I'm starting to feel very strange, my whole body is kind of hot. I mean, here's this picture-perfect beautiful girl and I'm on the bed with her, and we're hugging, and her hands are caressing my back in this incredibly sensual way that my own husband couldn't begin to match, and I feel all the screws coming loose in my body every time she touches me, and before I know it she's got my blouse and bra off and she's stroking my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. So that's when it finally hits me that she's an absolute dyed-in-the-wool lesbian. This had happened to me once before, in high school, one of the uppercla.s.s girls. So then I tell her to stop.

"'Oh, please,' she says, 'just a little more. I'm so lonely. I'm so lonely, please believe me, you're the only one I have, oh please, don't turn your back on me,' and she takes my hand and puts it on her breast-her very nicely shaped breast, and, sure, I'm a woman, but this electric something goes through me when my hand makes contact. I have no idea what to do. I just keep repeating no no no no no like an idiot. I'm like paralyzed, I can't move. I had managed O.K. to push the girl away in high school, but now I can't do a thing. My body won't take orders. She's holding my right hand against her with her left hand, and she's kissing and licking my nipples, and her right hand is caressing my back and side and bottom. So here I am in the bedroom with the curtains closed and a thirteen-year-old girl has me practically naked-she's been taking my clothes off somehow all along-and touching me all over and I'm writhing with the pleasure of it. Looking back on it now, it seems incredible. I mean, it's crazy, don't you think? But at the time it was like she had cast a spell on me."

Reiko paused to take a puff on her cigarette.

"You know, this is the first time I've ever told a man about this," she said, looking at me. "I'm telling it to you because I think I ought to, but I'm finding it awfully embarra.s.sing."

"I'm sorry," I said, because I didn't know what else to say.

"This went on for a while, and then her right hand started to move down, and she touched me through my panties. By then, I was absolutely soaking wet. I'm ashamed to say it, but I've never been so wet before or since. I had always thought of myself as kind of indifferent to s.e.x, so I was astounded to be getting so worked up. So then she puts these slim, soft fingers of hers inside my panties, and ... well, you know, I can't bring myself to put it into words. I mean, it was totally different from when a man puts his clumsy hands on you there. It was amazing. Really. Like feathers or down. I thought all the fuses in my head were going to pop. Still, somewhere in my fogged-over brain, the thought occurred to me that I had to put a stop to this. If I let it happen once, I'd never stop, and if I had to carry around a secret like that inside me, my head was going to get completely messed up again. I thought about my daughter, too. What if she saw me like this? She was supposed to be at my parents' house until three on Sat.u.r.days, but what if something happened and she came home unexpectedly? This helped me to gather my strength and raise myself on the bed. 'Stop it now, please stop!' I shouted.

"But she wouldn't stop. Instead, she yanked my panties down and started using her tongue. I had rarely let even my husband do that, I found it so embarra.s.sing, but now I had a thirteen-year-old girl licking me all over down there. I just gave up. All I could do was cry. And it was absolutely paradise.

"'Stop it!' I yelled one more time, and smacked her on the side of the face. As hard as I could. Finally, she stopped and raised herself up and looked into my eyes. The two of us were stark naked, on our knees, in bed, staring at each other. She was thirteen, I was thirty-one, but, I don't know, looking at that body of hers, I felt totally overwhelmed. The image is still vivid in my mind. I could hardly believe I was looking at the body of a thirteen-year-old girl, and I still can't believe it. By comparison, what I had for a body was enough to make you cry. Believe me."

There was nothing I could say, and so I said nothing.

"'What's wrong?' she says to me. 'You like it this way, don't you? I knew you would the first time I met you. I know you like it. It's way better than doing it with a man-isn't it? Look how wet you got. I can make you feel even better if you'll let me. It's true. I can make you feel like your body's melting away. You want me to do it, don't you?' And she was right. Doing this with her was much better than doing it with my husband. And I did did want her to do it even more! But I couldn't let it happen, 'Let's do this once a week,' she said. 'Just once a week. n.o.body will find out. It'll be our little secret.' want her to do it even more! But I couldn't let it happen, 'Let's do this once a week,' she said. 'Just once a week. n.o.body will find out. It'll be our little secret.'

"But I got out of bed and put on my robe and told her to leave and never come back. She just looked at me. Her eyes were absolutely flat. I had never seen them that way before. It was as if they had been painted on cardboard. They had no depth. After she stared at me for a while, she gathered up her clothing without a word and, as slowly as she could, as if she was making a show of it, she put on each piece, one at a time. Then she went back into the room where the piano was and took a brush from her bag. She brushed her hair and wiped the blood from her lips with a handkerchief, put on her shoes, and went out. As she was leaving, she said, 'You're a lesbian, you know. It's true. You may try to hide it, but you'll be a lesbian until the day you die.'

"Is it true?" I asked.

Reiko curved her lips and thought for a while. "Well, it is and it isn't. I definitely felt better with her than with my husband. That's a fact. I had a time there when I really agonized over the question. Maybe I really was a lesbian and just hadn't noticed until then. But I don't think so anymore. Which is not to say I don't have the tendencies. I probably do have them. But I'm not a lesbian in the proper sense of the term. I never feel desire when I look at a woman. Know what I mean?"

I nodded.

"Certain kinds of girls, though, do respond to me, and I can feel it when that happens. Those are the only times it comes out in me. I can hold Naoko in my arms, though, and feel nothing special. We go around in the apartment practically naked when the weather is hot, and we take baths together, sometimes even sleep in the same bed, but nothing happens. I don't feel a thing. I can see that she has a beautiful body, but that's all. Actually, Naoko and I played a game once. We made believe we were lesbians. Want to hear about it?"

"Sure. Tell me."

"When I told her the story I just told you-we tell each other everything, you know-Naoko tried an experiment. The two of us got undressed and she tried caressing me, but it didn't work at all. It just tickled. I thought I was going to die laughing. Just thinking about it makes me itchy. She was so clumsy! I'll bet you're glad to hear that." that."

"Yes, I am, to tell the truth."

"Well, anyway, that's about it," said Reiko, scratching near an eyebrow with the tip of her little finger. "After the girl left my house, I found a chair and sat there s.p.a.cing out for a while, wondering what to do. I could hear the dull beating of my heart from deep inside my body. My arms and legs seemed to weigh a ton, and my mouth felt as if I had eaten a moth or something, it was so dry. I dragged myself to the bathtub, though, knowing my daughter would be back soon. I wanted to clean those places where the girl had touched and licked me. I scrubbed myself with soap, over and over, but I couldn't seem to get rid of the slimy feeling she had left behind. I knew I was probably imagining it, but that didn't help. That night, I asked my husband to make love to me, kind of as a way to get rid of the defilement. Of course, I didn't tell him anything-I couldn't. All I said to him was that I wanted him to take it slow, to give it more time than usual. And he did. He really concentrated on every little detail, he really took a long, long time, and the way I came that night, oh yes, it was nothing I had ever experienced before, never once in all our marriage. And why do you think that was? Because the touch of that girl's fingers was still there in my body. That's all it was.

"Oh, man, is this embarra.s.sing! Look, I'm sweating! I can't believe I'm saying these things-he 'made love' to me, I 'came'!" Reiko smiled, her lips curved again.

"But even this didn't help. Two days went by, three, and her touch was still there. And her last words seemed to keep echoing and echoing in my head.

"She didn't come to my house the following Sat.u.r.day. My heart was pounding all day long while I waited, wondering what I would do if she showed up. I couldn't concentrate on anything. She never did come, though. Of course. She was a proud young thing, and she had failed with me in the end. She didn't come the next week, either, nor the week after that, and soon a month went by. I figured that I would be able to forget about what had happened when enough time went by, but I couldn't forget. When I was alone in the house, I would feel her presence and my nerves would be on edge. I couldn't play the piano, I couldn't think, I couldn't do anything during that first month. And then one day I realized that something was wrong whenever I left the house. The people in the neighborhood were looking at me in a strange new way. There was a new distance in their eyes. They were as polite as ever with their greetings, but there was something different in their tone of voice and in their behavior toward me. The woman next door, who used to pay me an occasional visit, seemed to be avoiding me. I tried not to let these things bother me, though. Start noticing things like that, and you've got the first signs of illness. distance in their eyes. They were as polite as ever with their greetings, but there was something different in their tone of voice and in their behavior toward me. The woman next door, who used to pay me an occasional visit, seemed to be avoiding me. I tried not to let these things bother me, though. Start noticing things like that, and you've got the first signs of illness.

"Then one day I had a visit from another housewife I was on friendly terms with. We were the same age, and she was the daughter of a friend of my mother's, and her child went to the same kindergarten as mine, so we were fairly close. She just showed up one day and asked me if I knew about a terrible rumor that was going around about me. I said I did not.

"'What kind of rumor?' I asked.

"'I almost can't say it, it's so awful,' she said.

"'Well, you've gone this far, you have to tell me the rest.'

"Still she resisted telling me, but I finally got it all out of her. I mean, her whole purpose in coming to see me was to tell me what she had heard, so of course she was going to spit it out eventually. According to her, people were saying that I was a card-carrying lesbian and had been in and out of mental hospitals for it. They said that I had stripped the clothes off my piano pupil and tried to do things to her and when she had resisted I had smacked her so hard her face swelled up. They had turned the story on its head, of course, which was bad enough, but what really shocked me was that people knew I had been hospitalized.

"My friend said she was telling everyone that she had known me forever and that I was not like that, but the girl's parents believed her her version and were spreading it around the neighborhood. In addition, they had investigated my background and found that I had a history of mental problems. version and were spreading it around the neighborhood. In addition, they had investigated my background and found that I had a history of mental problems.

"The way my friend heard it, the girl had come home from her lesson one day-that day-that day, of course-with her face all bloated, her lip split and b.l.o.o.d.y, b.u.t.tons missing from her blouse, and even her underwear torn. Can you believe it? She had done all this to back up her story, of course, which her mother had to drag out of her. I can just see her doing it-putting blood on her blouse, tearing b.u.t.tons off, ripping the lace on her bra, making herself cry until her eyes were red, messing up her hair, telling her mother a bucket of lies. day, of course-with her face all bloated, her lip split and b.l.o.o.d.y, b.u.t.tons missing from her blouse, and even her underwear torn. Can you believe it? She had done all this to back up her story, of course, which her mother had to drag out of her. I can just see her doing it-putting blood on her blouse, tearing b.u.t.tons off, ripping the lace on her bra, making herself cry until her eyes were red, messing up her hair, telling her mother a bucket of lies.

"Not that I'm blaming people for believing her. I would have believed her, too, this beautiful doll with a devil's tongue. She comes home crying, she refuses to talk because it's too embarra.s.sing, but then she spills it out. Of her, too, this beautiful doll with a devil's tongue. She comes home crying, she refuses to talk because it's too embarra.s.sing, but then she spills it out. Of course course people are going to believe her. And to make matters worse, it's true, I people are going to believe her. And to make matters worse, it's true, I do do have a history of hospitalization for mental problems, I have a history of hospitalization for mental problems, I did did smack her in the face as hard as I could. Who's going to believe smack her in the face as hard as I could. Who's going to believe me? me? Maybe my husband, is all. Maybe my husband, is all.

"A few more days went by while I wrestled with the question of whether to tell him or not, but when I did, he believed me. Of course. I told him everything that had happened that day-the kind of lesbian things she did to me, the way I smacked her in the face. Of course, I didn't tell him what I had felt. There's no way I could have told him that. So anyway, he got furious and insisted that he was going to go straight to the girl's family. He said, 'You're a married woman, after all. You're married to me me. And you're a mother. There's no way you're a lesbian. What a G.o.ddam joke!'

"But I wouldn't let him go. All he could do was make things worse. Really, I knew. I knew she was sick. I had seen hundreds of sick people, so I knew. The girl was rotten inside. Peel off a layer of that beautiful skin, and you'd find nothing but rotten flesh. I know it's a terrible thing to say, but it's true. And I knew that ordinary people could never know the truth about her, that there was no way we could win. She was an expert at manipulating the emotions of the adults around her, and we had nothing to prove our case. First of all, who's going to believe that a thirteen-year-old girl set a h.o.m.os.e.xual trap for a woman in her thirties? No matter what we said, people would believe what they wanted to believe. The more we struggled, the more vulnerable we'd be.

"There was only one thing for us to do, I said: we had to move. If I stayed in that neighborhood any longer, the stress would get to me; my mind would snap again. It was happening already. We had to get out of there, go someplace far away where n.o.body knew me. My husband was not ready to go, though. It hadn't dawned on him yet how critical I was. And the timing was terrible: he was loving his work, and he had finally succeeded in settling us into our own house (we lived in a little prefab), and our daughter was comfortable in her kindergarten. 'Wait a minute,' he said, 'we can't just pick up and move. I can't find a job just like that. We'd have to sell the house, and we'd have to find another kindergarten. It'll take two months, at least.'

"'I can't wait two months,' I told him. 'This is going to finish me off once and for all. I'm not kidding. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about.' The symptoms were starting already: my ears were ringing, and I was hearing things, and I couldn't sleep. So he suggested that I leave first, go somewhere by myself, and he would follow after he had taken care of what needed to be done.

"'No,' I said, 'I don't want to go anywhere alone. I'll fall apart if I don't have you. I need you. Please, don't leave me alone.'

"He held me and pleaded with me to hang on a little longer. Just a month, he said. He would take care of everything-leave his job, sell the house, make arrangements for kindergarten, find a new job. There might be a position he could take in Australia, he said. He just wanted me to wait one month, and everything would be O.K. I couldn't say anything more to that. If I tried to object, it would only isolate me even more."

Reiko sighed and looked at the ceiling light.

"I couldn't hold on for a month, though. One day, it happened again: snap! snap! And this time it was really bad. I took sleeping pills and turned on the gas. I woke up in a hospital bed, and it was all over. It took a few months before I had calmed down enough to think, and then I asked my husband to divorce me. I told him it would be the best thing for him and for our daughter. He said he had no intention of divorcing me. And this time it was really bad. I took sleeping pills and turned on the gas. I woke up in a hospital bed, and it was all over. It took a few months before I had calmed down enough to think, and then I asked my husband to divorce me. I told him it would be the best thing for him and for our daughter. He said he had no intention of divorcing me.

"'We can make a new start,' he said. 'We can go someplace new, just the three of us, and begin all over again.'

"'It's too late,' I told him. 'Everything ended when you asked me to wait a month. If you really wanted to start again, you shouldn't have said that to me. Now, no matter where we go, no matter how far away we move, the same thing will happen all over again. And I'll ask you for the same thing, and make you suffer. I don't want to do that anymore.'

"And so we divorced. Or should I say, I divorced him. He married again two years ago, though. I'm still glad I made him leave me. Really. I knew I'd be like this for the rest of my life, and I didn't want to drag anyone down with me. I didn't want to force anyone to live in constant fear that I might lose my mind at any moment.

"He had been wonderful to me, an ideal husband, faithful, strong, and patient, someone I could put my complete trust in. He had done everything he could to heal me, and I had done everything I could to be be healed, both for his sake and for our daughter's sake. And I had believed in my recovery. I was happy for six years from the time we were married. He got me healed, both for his sake and for our daughter's sake. And I had believed in my recovery. I was happy for six years from the time we were married. He got me ninetynine percent of the way there, but the other one percent went crazy. ninetynine percent of the way there, but the other one percent went crazy. Snap! Snap! Everything we had built up came crashing down. In one split second, everything turned into nothing. And that girl was the one who did it." Everything we had built up came crashing down. In one split second, everything turned into nothing. And that girl was the one who did it."

Reiko collected the cigarette b.u.t.ts she had crushed underfoot and tossed them into the tin can.

"It's a terrible story. We worked so hard, so hard, building our world one brick at a time. And when it fell apart, it happened just like that. Everything was gone before you knew it."

Reiko stood up and thrust her hands in her pants pockets. "Let's go back. It's late."

The sky was darker, the cloud cover thicker than before, the moon invisible. Now, I realized, like Reiko I could smell the rain. And with it mixed the fresh smell of the grapes in the bag I was holding in my hand.

"That's why I can't leave this place," she said. "I'm afraid to leave and get involved with the outside world. I'm afraid to meet new people and feel new feelings."

"I understand," I said. "But I think you can do it. I think you can go outside and make it."

Reiko smiled, but she didn't say a thing.

NAOKO WAS ON THE SOFA with a book. She had her legs crossed, and she pressed her hand against her temple as she read. Her fingers almost seemed to be touching and testing each word that entered her head. Scattered drops of rain were beginning to tap on the roof. The lamplight enveloped Naoko, hovering around her like fine dust. After my long talk with Reiko, Naoko's youthfulness struck me in a whole new way. with a book. She had her legs crossed, and she pressed her hand against her temple as she read. Her fingers almost seemed to be touching and testing each word that entered her head. Scattered drops of rain were beginning to tap on the roof. The lamplight enveloped Naoko, hovering around her like fine dust. After my long talk with Reiko, Naoko's youthfulness struck me in a whole new way.

"Sorry we're so late," said Reiko, patting Naoko's head.

"Enjoy yourselves?" asked Naoko, looking up.

"Of course," said Reiko.

"Doing what?" Naoko asked me "- just the two of you."

"Not at liberty to say, Miss," I answered.

Naoko chuckled and set her book down. Then the three of us ate grapes to the sound of the rain.

"When it's raining like this," said Naoko, "it feels as if we're the only ones in the world. I wish it would just keep raining so the three of us could stay together."

"Oh, sure," said Reiko, "and while the two of you are going at it, I'm supposed to be fanning you or playing background music on my guitar like some dumb slave. No, thanks!" supposed to be fanning you or playing background music on my guitar like some dumb slave. No, thanks!"

"Oh, I'd let you have him once in a while," said Naoko, laughing.

"O.K, then, count me in," said Reiko. "C'mon, rain, pour down!"

THE RAIN DID POUR DOWN, and kept pouring. Thunder shook the place from time to time. When we finished the grapes, Reiko went back to her cigarettes and pulled the guitar out from under her bed and started to play-first, "Desafinado" and "The Girl from Ipanema," then some Bacharach and a few Lennon and McCartney songs. Reiko and I sipped wine again, and when that was gone we shared the brandy that was left in my flask. A warm, close mood took hold as the three of us talked into the night, and I began to wish, with Naoko, that the rain would keep on falling.

"Will you come to see me again?" Naoko asked, looking at me.

"Of course I will," I said.

"And will you write?"

"Every week."

"And will you add a few lines for me?" Reiko asked.

"That I will," I said. "I'd be glad to."

At eleven o'clock, Reiko folded the sofa down and made a bed for me as she had the night before. We said goodnight and turned out the lights and went to bed. Unable to sleep, I took The Magic Mountain The Magic Mountain and a flashlight from my knapsack and read for a while. Just before midnight, the bedroom door edged open and Naoko came and crawled in next to me. Unlike the night before, Naoko was the usual Naoko. Her eyes were in focus, her movements brisk. Bringing her mouth to my ear, she whispered, "I don't know, I can't sleep." and a flashlight from my knapsack and read for a while. Just before midnight, the bedroom door edged open and Naoko came and crawled in next to me. Unlike the night before, Naoko was the usual Naoko. Her eyes were in focus, her movements brisk. Bringing her mouth to my ear, she whispered, "I don't know, I can't sleep."

"I can't either," I said. Setting my book down and turning out the flashlight, I took her in my arms and kissed her. The darkness and the sound of the rain enfolded us.

"How about Reiko?"

"Don't worry, she's sound asleep. And when she sleeps, she sleeps." sleeps." Then Naoko asked, "Will you really come to see me again?" Then Naoko asked, "Will you really come to see me again?"

"I will, for sure."

"Even if I can't do anything for you?"

I nodded in the darkness. I could feel the full shape of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against me. I traced the outline of her body through her gown with the flat of my hand. From shoulder to back to hips, I slid my hand again and again, driving the line and the softness of her body into my brain. After we had been in this gentle embrace for a while, Naoko touched her lips to my forehead and slipped out of bed. I could see her pale blue gown flash in the darkness like a fish. against me. I traced the outline of her body through her gown with the flat of my hand. From shoulder to back to hips, I slid my hand again and again, driving the line and the softness of her body into my brain. After we had been in this gentle embrace for a while, Naoko touched her lips to my forehead and slipped out of bed. I could see her pale blue gown flash in the darkness like a fish.

"Good-bye," she called in a tiny voice.

Listening to the rain, I dropped into a gentle sleep.

IT WAS STILL RAINING the following morning-a fine, almost invisible autumn rain unlike the previous night's downpour. You knew it was raining only because of the ripples on puddles and the sound of dripping from the eaves. I woke to see a milky white mist enclosing the window, but as the sun rose a breeze carried the mist away, and the surrounding woods and hills began to emerge. the following morning-a fine, almost invisible autumn rain unlike the previous night's downpour. You knew it was raining only because of the ripples on puddles and the sound of dripping from the eaves. I woke to see a milky white mist enclosing the window, but as the sun rose a breeze carried the mist away, and the surrounding woods and hills began to emerge.

As we had done the day before, the three of us ate breakfast and headed out to service the birdhouse. Naoko and Reiko wore yellow vinyl rain capes with hoods. I put on a sweater and a waterproof windbreaker. The outside air was damp and chilly. The birds, too, seemed to be avoiding the rain, huddled together at the back of the cage.

"Gets cold here when it rains, doesn't it?" I said to Reiko.

"Now, every time it rains it'll be a little colder, until it turns to snow," she said. "The clouds from the Sea of j.a.pan dump tons of snow when they pa.s.s through here."

"What do you do with the birds in winter?"

"Bring 'em inside, of course. What are we supposed to do-dig them out of the snow in spring all frozen? We defrost 'em and bring 'em back to life and yell, O.K., everybody, come and get it!"

I poked the wire mesh and the parrot flapped its wings and screamed, "s.h.i.thead! Thank you! Crazy!"