murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"I couldn't get wet," she said in a tiny voice. "I never opened to him.
So it always hurt. I was just too dry, it hurt too much. We tried
everything we could think of - creams and things - but still it hurt me.
So I used my fingers, or my lips. I would always do it for him that
way. You know what I mean."
I nodded in silence.
Naoko cast her gaze through the window at the moon, which looked
bigger and brighter now than it had before. "I never wanted to talk
about any of this," she said. "I wanted to shut it up in my heart. I wish
I still could. But I have to talk about it. I don't know the answer. I
mean, I was plenty wet the time I slept with you, wasn't I?"
"Uh-huh," I said.
"I was wet from the minute you walked into my flat the night of my
twentieth birthday. I wanted you to hold me. I wanted you to take off
my clothes, to touch me all over and enter me. I had never felt like
that before. Why is that? Why do things happen like that? I mean, I
really loved him."
"And not me," I said. "You want to know why you felt that way about
me, even though you didn't love me?"
"I'm sorry," said Naoko. "I don't mean to hurt you, but this much you
have to understand: Kizuki and I had a truly special relationship. We
had been together from the time we were three. It's how we grew up:
always together, always talking, understanding each other perfectly.
The first time we kissed it was in the first year of junior school - was
just wonderful. The first time I had my period, I ran to him and cried
like a baby. We were that close. So after he died, I didn't know how to
relate to other people. I didn't know what it meant to love another
person."
She reached for her wineglass on the table but only managed to knock
it over, spilling wine on the carpet. I crouched down and retrieved the
glass, setting it on the table. Did she want to drink some more? I
asked. Naoko remained silent for a while, then suddenly burst into
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