Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami

that the time has come for you to find out why you were cut off, or had to be cut off, so abruptly, by those friends of yours.”
    Tsukuru was about to drink the rest of his coffee, but he noticed his cup was empty and laid it back down on the saucer. The cup struck the saucer with an unexpectedly loud clatter. The waiter, in response to the noise, hurried over and refilled their glasses with ice water.
    Tsukuru waited until the waiter left before he spoke.
    “Like I told you, I want to put it all out of my mind. I’ve managed to slowly close up the wound and, somehow, conquer the pain. It took a long time. Now that the wound is closed, why gouge it open again?”
    “I understand, but maybe it only appears, from the outside, that the wound is closed.” Sara gazed into his eyes and spoke quietly. “Maybe inside the wound, under the scab, the blood is still silently flowing. Haven’t you ever thought that?”
    Tsukuru pondered this, but he had no good reply.
    “Can you tell me the full names of those four people? And the name of your high school, the year you graduated, the colleges they attended, and their addresses the last time you were in touch?”
    “What are you planning to do with that information?”
    “I want to find out as much as I can about where they are now, what they’re doing.”
    Tsukuru’s breathing suddenly grew shallow. He picked up his glass and gulped down some water. “What for?”
    “So you can meet them, talk with them. So they can explain to you why they abandoned you.”
    “But what if I say I don’t want to?”
    She turned her hands over on the table, palms up.
    She continued to look at Tsukuru directly. Her eyes never broke their gaze.
    “Can I be totally candid?” Sara asked.
    “Of course.”
    “It’s not easy to say this.”
    “I want to know what you’re thinking, so please, say what’s on your mind.”
    “The last time we met, I told you I didn’t want to go back to your place. You remember that? Do you know why I said it?”
    Tsukuru shook his head.
    “I think you’re a good person, and I really like you. Not just as a friend,” Sara said, and paused. “But I think you have—some kind of unresolved emotional issues.”
    Tsukuru looked at her silently.
    “This part is a little hard to talk about. It’s hard to express, is what I mean. If I put it into words, it sounds oversimplified. I can’t explain it reasonably, or logically. It’s more of an intuitive thing.”
    “I trust your intuition,” Tsukuru said.
    Sara bit her lip lightly and looked off, as if measuring a distance, and then spoke. “When we made love, it felt like you were
somewhere
else. Somewhere apart from the two of us in bed. You were very gentle, and it was wonderful, but still.…”
    Tsukuru lifted the empty coffee cup again, wrapping it in both hands. He replaced it on the saucer, this time without making a sound.
    “I don’t understand,” he said. “The
whole time
I was only thinking of you. I don’t remember being elsewhere. Truthfully, I don’t think there was any way I could have thought of anything but you.”
    “Maybe. Maybe you were just thinking about me. If you say so, I believe you. But there was something else on your mind. At least I sensed a sort of distance between us. Maybe it’s something only a woman canpick up on. Anyway, what I want you to know is that I can’t continue a relationship like that for very long, even if I’m very fond of you. I’m more possessive, more straightforward than I might seem. If we’re going to have a serious relationship, I don’t want whatever it is to come between us. This unidentifiable
something
. Do you know what I’m saying?”
    “That you don’t want to see me anymore?”
    “No, that’s not it,” she said. “I’m fine seeing you and talking like this. I enjoy it a lot. But I don’t want to go back to your place.”
    “You mean you can’t make love with me?”
    “I can’t,” Sara said bluntly.
    “Because I have