murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

I went to a phone box and dialled her number. The woman who
answered was probably her sister. When I gave her my name, she said
"Just a minute", but Midori never came to the phone.
Then the sister, or whoever she was, got back on the line. "Midori
says she's too furious to talk to you. You just moved and never said a
thing to her, right? Just disappeared and never told her where you
were going, right? Well, now you've got her boiling mad. And once
she gets mad, she stays that way. Like some kind of animal."
"Look, could you just put her on the phone? I can explain."
"She says she doesn't want to hear any explanations."
"Can I explain to you, then? I hate to do this to you, but could you just
listen and tell her what I said?"
"Not me! Do it yourself. What kind of man are you? It's your
responsibility, so you do it, and do it right."
It was hopeless. I thanked her and hung up. I really couldn't blame
Midori for being angry. What with all the moving and fixing up and
working for extra cash, I hadn't given her a second thought. Not even
Naoko had crossed my mind the whole time. This was nothing new
for me. Whenever I get involved in something, I shut out everything
else.
But then I began to think how I would have felt if the tables had been
turned and Midori had moved somewhere without telling me where or
getting in touch with me for three weeks. I would have been hurt -
hurt badly, no doubt. No, we weren't lovers, but in a way we had
opened ourselves to each other even more deeply than lovers do. The
thought caused me a good deal of grief. What a terrible thing it is to
wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously.
As soon as I got home from work, I sat at my new desk and wrote to
Midori. I told her how I felt as honestly as I could. I apologized,
without explanations or excuses, for having been so careless and
insensitive. I miss you, I wrote. I want to see you
as soon as possible. I want you to see my new house. Please write to
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