hree days after Gotanda plowed the Maserati into the sea I called Yuki. To be honest, I didn't want to speak to anyone, but her of all people I had to talk to. She was vulnerable and lonely. A child. And I may have been the only person in the world who would hear her out. Then again, more importantly, Yuki was alive. And I had a duty to keep her that way. At least, that's what I felt.

Yuki wasn't in Hakone. A groggy Ame answered the phone and said that Yuki had left two days earlier to return to the Akasaka condo.

I called Akasaka. Yuki snatched up the receiver immediately. She must have been right beside the phone.

"It's okay for you to be away from Hakone?" I asked.

"I don't know. But I needed to be alone. Mama's an adult, right? She ought to be all right on her own. I wanted to think about myself. Things like what to do from here on. I think it's time I start to get serious about my life."

"Well, maybe so."

"I saw the papers. That friend of yours, he died, huh?"

"Yes, the Curse of the Maserati. As you warned me."

Yuki did not answer. The silence seeped through the wires. I switched the receiver from the right ear to the left. "How about a meal?" I asked. "I know you've only been eating junk, right? I haven't been eating too well myself. Let's get ourselves a better class of grub."

"I've got to meet somebody at two, but before that I'm okay."

I looked at the clock. A little past eleven.

"Fine. I'll get ready now. See you in about thirty minutes," I said.

I changed clothes, took a swig of orange juice, pocketed my wallet and keys. I'm off, I thought. Or no? Had I forgotten something? Right, I'm always off. I'd forgotten to shave. I ran over my beard with a razor, then sized myself up in the mirror. Could I still pass for a guy in his twenties? Maybe. Maybe not. But did anybody care? I brushed my teeth again.

Outside it was sunny. Summer coming on. If only the rainy season could be put on hold. Sunglasses on, I drove to Yuki's condo. I rang the bell at the entrance to her building and Yuki came right down. She was wearing a short-sleeve dress and sandals, and carried a shoulder bag.

"You're looking very chic today," I said.

"I told you I had to see someone at two, didn't I?" she replied.

"It suits you, your dress. Very becoming, very adult."

She smiled but said nothing.

It was a bit before twelve, so we had the restaurant to ourselves. We filled up on soup and pasta and sea bass and salad. By the time the tide of salarymen washed in, we were out of there.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Nowhere. Just drive around," she said.

"Antisocial. Waste of gasoline," I said, but Yuki let it drop, pretending not to hear.

Instead she turned on the stereo. Talking Heads, Fear of Music. When did I ever put that tape in the deck?

"I decided to get a tutor," she said. "That's who I'm meet- ing today. I told Papa I wanted to study, and he found her for me. She seems like a real good person. Strange, but seeing that movie made me want to learn." "What movie? Unrequited Love?"

"That's right. Sounds crazy, I know. Even sounds crazy to me. Maybe your friend playing the teacher made me feel like studying. At first, I thought, gimme a break, but I must have gotten hooked. Maybe he did have talent."

"Yeah, he had talent. He could act. If it was fiction. Not reality, if you get what I mean." "I think so."

"You should have seen him as a dentist. He told me that was acting?Anyway, wanting to do something is a good sign. You can't really go on living without it. I think Gotanda would be pleased to hear it." "Did you see him?"

"I did," I said. "I saw him and we talked. We talked a long time. A very honest talk. And then he died, just like that. He was talking with me, then he gunned the Maserati into the Bay."

"Because of me?"

"No, not because of you." I shook my head slowly. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. People have their own reasons for dying. It might look simple, but it never is. It's just like a root. What's above ground is only a small part of it. But if you start pulling, it keeps coming and coming. The human mind dwells deep in darkness. Only the person himself knows the real reason, and maybe not even then."

He'd been waiting for an excuse. He'd already had his hand on the doorknob.

No, it was nobody's fault after all. "Still, I know you hate me for it," said Yuki. "I don't hate you."

"You may not hate me now, but you will later." "Not now, not later. I don't hate like that." "Well, maybe not hate, but something's going to go away," she murmured, half to herself. "I just know it." I glanced over at her. "Strange. Gotanda said the same thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He said he had the feeling things were disappearing on him. I don't know what kind of things he meant. But whatever they are, sometime they're going to go. We shift around, so things can't help but go when that happens. They disappear when it's time for them to disappear. And they don't disappear until it's time for them to disappear. Like that dress you got on. In a couple of years, it won't fit you, and you might even think the Talking Heads are moldy oldies. You might not even want to go on drives with me anymore. Can't be helped. As they say, just go with the flow. Don't fight it."

"I'll always like you. That has nothing to do with time."

"Makes me happy to hear that, because I want to think so too," I said. "But to be fair, Yuki, you still don't know much about time. It's better not to go deciding too many things now. People go through changes like you'd never believe."

She was silent. The tape auto-reversed to side B.

Summer. Wherever you looked, the town looked like summer. Cops and high school kids and bus drivers were all in short sleeves. There were even women in no sleeves. And to think not so long ago it had been snowing.

"And you really don't hate me?"

"Of course not," I said. "In this uncertain world, that's about the only thing I'm sure of."

"Absolutely?"

"Absolutely 2,500 percent."

She smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear." Then she asked, "You liked Gotanda, didn't you?"

"I liked him, sure," I said. Suddenly my voice caught. Tears welled up. I barely managed to fight them back and took a deep breath. "Each time we met I liked him more. That doesn't happen very much, especially not at my age." "Did he kill the woman?"

I scanned the early summer cityscape for a moment. "Who knows? Maybe he did and maybe he didn't."

He'd been waiting for an excuse.

Yuki leaned on her window and looked out, listening to her Talking Heads. She seemed a little more grown-up than when we first met, only two and a half months before.

"What are you going to do now?" asked Yuki.

"Yes, what am I going to do," I said. "I haven't decided. I think I've got to go back to Sapporo. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Lots of loose ends up there."

Yumiyoshi. The Sheep Man. The Dolphin Hotel. A place that I was a part of. Where someone was crying for me. I had to go back to close the circle.

I offered to drive Yuki wherever she had to go. "Heaven knows, I'm free today."

She smiled. "Thanks, but it's okay. It's pretty far; the train'll be faster."

"Did I hear you say thanks?" I said, removing my sunglasses.

"Got any problems with that?"

"Nope."

We were at Yoyogi-Hachiman Station, where she was going to catch the Odakyu Line. Yuki looked at me for ten or fifteen seconds. No identifiable expression on her face, only a gradual change in the gleam of her eyes, the shape of her mouth. Ever so slightly, her lips grew taut, her stare sharp and sassy. Like a slice of summer sunlight refracting in water.

She slammed the door shut and trotted off, not looking back. I watched her receding figure disappear into the crowd. And when she was out of sight, I felt lonely, as if a love affair had just broken up.

I drove back up Omotesando to Aoyama to go shopping at Kinokuniya, but the parking lot was full. Hey, come to think of it, wasn't I going to Sapporo tomorrow or the day after? So I cruised around a bit more, then went home. To my empty apartment. Where I plopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

They've got a name for this, I thought. Loss. Bereavement. Not nice words.

Cuck-koo.

It echoed through the empty space of my home.