look like a gigolo,” I said.
My hands and shoes were covered in all different colors of paint. I threw down my bags in a rough sort of way, like a sailor who had just come into port.
“And the lady who’s keeping me is a construction worker,” Nakajima said. “I can’t imagine any woman coming back from the club she works at, all covered in paint and suntanned, with muscles like the ones you’re getting.”
“That’s true.” I laughed. “I guess I don’t look much like a hostess.”
I had on jeans and a sweatshirt; my hair was tied back; too much sunscreen had left my face blotchy; and I had paint all over, including on my socks and next to my nose.
“It always seems like such a waste preparing a meal for one,” Nakajima said. “A waste of food and a waste of time. But I don’t feel that way at all when I’m cooking for two.”
I stepped up from the apartment’s entryway and peeked into the kitchen.
“Thanks for cooking,” I said. “Wow, look how neatly you cut the tofu!”
The tofu in the pot was divided so precisely it looked as if he had used a ruler.
We washed our hands and sat down across from each other to eat.
My mother had always been at the club at dinnertime, and Nakajima seemed to have grown up in a rather unusual household himself, so it felt as though we were imitating some sort of lifestyle we didn’t really know anything about, playing at being a happy family. Neither of us took these moments for granted, and they made us truly content. We literally ate it up.
“It’s great, isn’t it, just eating tofu together like this,” I said.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nakajima said. “After I graduate, I’ve decided I’d like to get a scholarship and go to the Pasteur Institute as soon as possible. Just a little while ago I didn’t think I could, but now I do—in part because Chii assured me I’d be able to do it and in part because I’m with you now, and somehow that makes me feel like I can. It looks like I’ll be able to get my degree, so I’ve decided to go ahead and apply. Of course, I’ve got to ask for letters of recommendation and send in a sample article and an outline of my research and so on, and there’s an exam I’ll have to pass, but I looked into it and it seems they’re affiliated with an institute in Japan, and there’s this program now that should make it relatively easy for me to go. If I don’t make it this year I can try again next year. And if I’m accepted, I’m thinking I’d like to go for at least six months.”
At first it didn’t even occur to me to feel lonely; I was simply glad. Nakajima could only do things he was really enthusiastic about, so it was good that he felt this way.
“What would you do, then, Chihiro?”
“What do you mean?” I said. “I’m not interested in Pasteur. All I know about him is that he did something with silkworms and invented the vaccine for rabies. And maybe that his grave is under that institute you mentioned or something? Is that right?”
“That’s a pretty impressive array of useless trivia.”
“I learned it all on TV. A documentary on public television.”
“Ah, that explains it. It’s funny, though—don’t these things interest you at all, like what school I go to, and what department I’m in, and what I work on?”
“Not really. Even if you told me, I wouldn’t remember. It’s all DNA and human genomes and that stuff, right? And you’re in med school but you aren’t going to be a doctor? And you do research, I know that, but it’s not like you’re working on Ajinomoto or brewer’s yeast or anything else I’d know about, right? Rice bran and stuff?”
“No, nothing like that, it’s true. Listening to you talk, Chihiro, I really get a sense of how lopsided ordinary people’s knowledge of science is.”
“You think?”
“You really aren’t interested, huh?”
“I do remember that you wanted to do research on blue-green algae. That’s why you went into a
My hands and shoes were covered in all different colors of paint. I threw down my bags in a rough sort of way, like a sailor who had just come into port.
“And the lady who’s keeping me is a construction worker,” Nakajima said. “I can’t imagine any woman coming back from the club she works at, all covered in paint and suntanned, with muscles like the ones you’re getting.”
“That’s true.” I laughed. “I guess I don’t look much like a hostess.”
I had on jeans and a sweatshirt; my hair was tied back; too much sunscreen had left my face blotchy; and I had paint all over, including on my socks and next to my nose.
“It always seems like such a waste preparing a meal for one,” Nakajima said. “A waste of food and a waste of time. But I don’t feel that way at all when I’m cooking for two.”
I stepped up from the apartment’s entryway and peeked into the kitchen.
“Thanks for cooking,” I said. “Wow, look how neatly you cut the tofu!”
The tofu in the pot was divided so precisely it looked as if he had used a ruler.
We washed our hands and sat down across from each other to eat.
My mother had always been at the club at dinnertime, and Nakajima seemed to have grown up in a rather unusual household himself, so it felt as though we were imitating some sort of lifestyle we didn’t really know anything about, playing at being a happy family. Neither of us took these moments for granted, and they made us truly content. We literally ate it up.
“It’s great, isn’t it, just eating tofu together like this,” I said.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nakajima said. “After I graduate, I’ve decided I’d like to get a scholarship and go to the Pasteur Institute as soon as possible. Just a little while ago I didn’t think I could, but now I do—in part because Chii assured me I’d be able to do it and in part because I’m with you now, and somehow that makes me feel like I can. It looks like I’ll be able to get my degree, so I’ve decided to go ahead and apply. Of course, I’ve got to ask for letters of recommendation and send in a sample article and an outline of my research and so on, and there’s an exam I’ll have to pass, but I looked into it and it seems they’re affiliated with an institute in Japan, and there’s this program now that should make it relatively easy for me to go. If I don’t make it this year I can try again next year. And if I’m accepted, I’m thinking I’d like to go for at least six months.”
At first it didn’t even occur to me to feel lonely; I was simply glad. Nakajima could only do things he was really enthusiastic about, so it was good that he felt this way.
“What would you do, then, Chihiro?”
“What do you mean?” I said. “I’m not interested in Pasteur. All I know about him is that he did something with silkworms and invented the vaccine for rabies. And maybe that his grave is under that institute you mentioned or something? Is that right?”
“That’s a pretty impressive array of useless trivia.”
“I learned it all on TV. A documentary on public television.”
“Ah, that explains it. It’s funny, though—don’t these things interest you at all, like what school I go to, and what department I’m in, and what I work on?”
“Not really. Even if you told me, I wouldn’t remember. It’s all DNA and human genomes and that stuff, right? And you’re in med school but you aren’t going to be a doctor? And you do research, I know that, but it’s not like you’re working on Ajinomoto or brewer’s yeast or anything else I’d know about, right? Rice bran and stuff?”
“No, nothing like that, it’s true. Listening to you talk, Chihiro, I really get a sense of how lopsided ordinary people’s knowledge of science is.”
“You think?”
“You really aren’t interested, huh?”
“I do remember that you wanted to do research on blue-green algae. That’s why you went into a
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