Part 3

Now, I was talking about going into the village that shameful morning. I held the box under one arm. It was heavy, but the least I could do was suffer its burden. I did not even set it down while I waited for old Sato to stop dithering. I realize I could have caught the bus, which would have made the carriage of my parcel far more convenient. But convenience was the last thing on my mind. As I made my way down the hill, it felt as though I could barely sense the road beneath my feet. You know how I usually complain about the holes, and how I sometimes twist my ankle or stub my toe. It’s true that I don’t always watch where I’m going – you are always telling me as much – but if the roads were properly repaired, no one would need to look where they were stepping.

Remember the night I scuffed my chin? That was because of a hole I fell into on the way home. It was so dark, and I was distracted by something. The next thing I knew I was falling forward with barely enough time to avoid cracking my head open on a neighbour’s fence. I scuffed my chin badly – enough to draw blood. True, I was larking about, and singing and such, and, yes, I was a little tipsy, that’s also true. I shall not deny it. Although, that was before, when I used to drink. And, to be fair, dearest, my being drunk does not justify the state of the roads.

Excuse me, I seem to have strayed from the subject, such is my shame and embarrassment. I was not aware of any encumbrance from the road’s poor surface, that is my point. As I walked down the hill, and contemplated going into the village, I felt numb. I heard the birds singing, and it meant nothing to me. A fat old raccoon wandered out of a clump of roadside monkeyweed, directly into my path. It didn’t look up at me at all, but shuffled slowly to the other side, ignoring me like I was a ghost, pushing through the bushes and off into the woods. I’d have kicked out at the vermin if I was not mindfully holding on to this precious box.

I was vaguely aware of the scent of roses in the cherry blossoms as I walked, and of the almond and vanilla that lingered in their wake. It meant little to me. I shut it out, refusing to accept that this world could still have any life in it without you. I held my head high and quickened my pace. No matter how light-headed I felt, my task was to deliver the box safely, and nothing else mattered.

I tried vainly to push all thoughts of you aside too, Yasuko. Keep my mind on my duty. Yet by the time I marched into the village, I was more out of it than I have ever been while drunk.

Remember where the old Post Bank used to stand? There is a recycle shop there now, opposite the market where you used to buy fish. Nothing was open, not at that time in the morning. So I put the box gently down by the door. I thought if the recycle shop doesn’t take it, they’ll know someone who’ll know someone. Or maybe someone from the market will know someone who sells vintage stuff. Anyway, I didn’t want to wait to explain. Too many questions, too many gossips. So I placed it down and walked over to the ATM, the one by the konbini. The lazy bastards hadn’t even swept up from the day before – there were upturned vegetable baskets, and paper wrappings everywhere. What are people like these days?

There is a recycle shop? I remember a pawn shop being at that very spot.

Oh no, certainly not, you must be misremembering. I certainly never had any intention of selling your dolls. I was just desperate for sleep, for things to return to normal.