murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"I can leave," I said.
"No," said Hatsumi. "Please stay. It's better with you here."
"At least have dessert," said Nagasawa.
"I don't mind, really."
The three of us went on eating in silence for a time. I finished my fish.
Hatsumi left half of hers. Nagasawa had polished off his duck long
before and was now concentrating on his whisky.
"That was excellent sea bass," I offered, but no one took me up on it. I
might as well have thrown a rock down a deep well.
The waiters took away our plates and brought lemon sherbet and
espresso. Nagasawa barely touched his dessert and coffee, moving
directly to a cigarette. Hatsumi ignored her sherbet. "Oh boy," I
thought to myself as I finished my sherbet and coffee. Hatsumi stared
at her hands on the table. Like everything she wore, her hands looked
chic and elegant and expensive. I thought about Naoko and Reiko.
What would they be doing now? I wondered. Naoko could be lying on
the sofa reading a book, and Reiko might be playing "Norwegian
Wood" on her guitar. I felt an intense desire to go back to that little
room of theirs. What the hell was I doing in this place?
"Where Watanabe and I are alike is, we don't give a shit if nobody
understands us," Nagasawa said. "That's what makes us different from
everybody else. They're all worried about whether the people around
them understand them. But not me, and not Watanabe. We just don't
give a shit. Self and others are separate."
"Is this true?" Hatsumi asked me.
"No," I said. "I'm not that strong. I don't feel it's OK if nobody
understands me. I've got people I want to understand and be
understood by. But aside from those few, well, I feel it's kind of
hopeless. I don't agree with Nagasawa. I do care if people understand
me."
"That's practically the same thing as what I'm saying," said Nagasawa,
picking up his coffee spoon. "It is the same! It's the difference
250