department of agriculture, right?”
“I didn’t want to study blue-green algae, I was interested in doing an experiment that used them. I’d cultivate the algae and then investigate the conditions that make it possible to inject certain genes into them. And I didn’t graduate from a department of agriculture—well, I guess maybe it used to be called that, but the actual name was the Department of Biological Resources, and I was in the Biotechnology Program. It’s totally different, right? And now I’m in medical school, in the Graduate School of Medicine.”
“I’ll never remember those things, you know—I mean, as soon as I hear blue-green algae I immediately assume it’s got to be the department of agriculture, that’s just the image I have. Besides, it’s not like you’re interested in the program I graduated from, are you?”
“The Program of Scenography, Display, and Fashion Design in the Junior College of the N. University of Arts, right? And you majored in the scenography thing, not design?”
“I can’t believe you remember. Even I’d forgotten.”
“I don’t usually forget things like that. I only have to hear them once.”
“So anyway, what was the question? What I’d do if you left?”
“I’m sure there must be tons of art schools in Paris,” Nakajima said.
“Yeah, there are.”
“Some half-year programs, some yearlong programs.”
“I’d imagine so.”
“Well, go to one! Let’s go together!” Nakajima said. “I’ve decided I’m going to live with you like this for the rest of my life.”
“What do you mean you’ve decided . Are you proposing to me?” I said, feeling suddenly heavy, not at all pleased.
“No,” Nakajima said crisply, shaking his head.
“Then what do you mean?” I asked.
And Nakajima answered. “That’s just how it has to be. Because I can live with you, even though I can’t live with anyone else. And I’m tired of always being by myself. I’m tired of sleeping alone, with that wire rack under my arm. Now that I know what it’s like not to be on my own, I can’t go back to living the way I was before.”
“Somehow it’s not much fun when you lay it all out like that,” I said. “Paris, huh? I would like to go sometime, only right now I’m really enjoying my work a lot, you know?”
“You don’t have another job scheduled yet, do you?” Nakajima asked.
“No. There are a few possibilities, but none of them seem to be in a rush.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Nakajima said. “Do you really need to be in Japan now, at this moment in your life, at this exact moment in your life?”
He had a point. I wasn’t particularly interested in Paris, but I did like the idea of being able to spend several days going through the Louvre from start to finish, since I’d only been there for about an hour once with my mom. I hadn’t seen Versailles yet, either.
And now that my mom was gone, there was nothing to keep me in Japan.
A flood of loneliness hit me the second I realized that.
I wanted my mom to be alive, tying me down. To be showing her disapproval, telling me, I don’t know, going abroad?—it’s so far, and we won’t be able to see each other . I yearned to hear those words, to hear her saying them. But I never would again.
“That’s true, I guess.”
“This idea that you have to stay—that’s how people think when they have a family, and it’s located in some fixed place, whereas you and I …”
Having said this much of something huge, Nakajima fell silent.
The way he broke off suggested he had said as much as he could, as much as he wanted to. I was used to this by now. I didn’t know where it came from, but I had grasped the outlines.
After a long pause, he continued. “I think it’d be great if we could share an apartment, and meals. Since this is my idea, we don’t even have to go halvsies. I’ll cover what you can’t.”
“Halvsies. I haven’t heard that word in a while,” I said, changing
“I didn’t want to study blue-green algae, I was interested in doing an experiment that used them. I’d cultivate the algae and then investigate the conditions that make it possible to inject certain genes into them. And I didn’t graduate from a department of agriculture—well, I guess maybe it used to be called that, but the actual name was the Department of Biological Resources, and I was in the Biotechnology Program. It’s totally different, right? And now I’m in medical school, in the Graduate School of Medicine.”
“I’ll never remember those things, you know—I mean, as soon as I hear blue-green algae I immediately assume it’s got to be the department of agriculture, that’s just the image I have. Besides, it’s not like you’re interested in the program I graduated from, are you?”
“The Program of Scenography, Display, and Fashion Design in the Junior College of the N. University of Arts, right? And you majored in the scenography thing, not design?”
“I can’t believe you remember. Even I’d forgotten.”
“I don’t usually forget things like that. I only have to hear them once.”
“So anyway, what was the question? What I’d do if you left?”
“I’m sure there must be tons of art schools in Paris,” Nakajima said.
“Yeah, there are.”
“Some half-year programs, some yearlong programs.”
“I’d imagine so.”
“Well, go to one! Let’s go together!” Nakajima said. “I’ve decided I’m going to live with you like this for the rest of my life.”
“What do you mean you’ve decided . Are you proposing to me?” I said, feeling suddenly heavy, not at all pleased.
“No,” Nakajima said crisply, shaking his head.
“Then what do you mean?” I asked.
And Nakajima answered. “That’s just how it has to be. Because I can live with you, even though I can’t live with anyone else. And I’m tired of always being by myself. I’m tired of sleeping alone, with that wire rack under my arm. Now that I know what it’s like not to be on my own, I can’t go back to living the way I was before.”
“Somehow it’s not much fun when you lay it all out like that,” I said. “Paris, huh? I would like to go sometime, only right now I’m really enjoying my work a lot, you know?”
“You don’t have another job scheduled yet, do you?” Nakajima asked.
“No. There are a few possibilities, but none of them seem to be in a rush.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Nakajima said. “Do you really need to be in Japan now, at this moment in your life, at this exact moment in your life?”
He had a point. I wasn’t particularly interested in Paris, but I did like the idea of being able to spend several days going through the Louvre from start to finish, since I’d only been there for about an hour once with my mom. I hadn’t seen Versailles yet, either.
And now that my mom was gone, there was nothing to keep me in Japan.
A flood of loneliness hit me the second I realized that.
I wanted my mom to be alive, tying me down. To be showing her disapproval, telling me, I don’t know, going abroad?—it’s so far, and we won’t be able to see each other . I yearned to hear those words, to hear her saying them. But I never would again.
“That’s true, I guess.”
“This idea that you have to stay—that’s how people think when they have a family, and it’s located in some fixed place, whereas you and I …”
Having said this much of something huge, Nakajima fell silent.
The way he broke off suggested he had said as much as he could, as much as he wanted to. I was used to this by now. I didn’t know where it came from, but I had grasped the outlines.
After a long pause, he continued. “I think it’d be great if we could share an apartment, and meals. Since this is my idea, we don’t even have to go halvsies. I’ll cover what you can’t.”
“Halvsies. I haven’t heard that word in a while,” I said, changing
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