murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

worry, I'd take care of both you and the ticket."
"You promised my father that? You said you'd take care of
me?" She looked me straight in the eye with a dead-serious expression
on her face.
"Not like that," I hastened to correct her. "I really didn't know what he
was saying, and - "
"Don't worry, I'm just kidding," she said with a smile. "I love that
about you."
Midori and I finished our coffee and went back to the room. Her father
was still sound asleep. If you leaned close you could hear his steady
breathing. As the afternoon deepened, the light outside the hospital
window changed to the soft, gentle colour of autumn. A flock of birds
rested on the electric wire outside, then flew on. Midori and I sat in a
corner of the room, talking quietly the whole time. She read my palm
and predicted that I would live to 105, marry three times, and die in a
traffic accident. "Not a bad life," I said.
When her father woke just after four o'clock, Midori went to sit by his
pillow, wiped the sweat from his brow, gave him water, and asked
him about the pain in his head. A nurse came and took his
temperature, recorded the number of his urinations, and checked the
intravenous equipment. I went to the TV room and watched a little
football.
At five I told Midori I would be leaving. To her father I explained, "I
have to go to work now. I sell records in Shinjuku from six to 10.30."
He turned his eyes to me and gave a little nod.
"Hey, Watanabe, I don't know how to put this, but I really want to
thank you for today," Midori said to me when she saw me to
reception.
"I didn't do that much," I said. "But if I can be of any help, I'll come
next week, too. I'd like to see your father again."
"Really?"
"Well, there's not that much for me to do in the dorm, and if I come
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