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murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

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trying to go on, but had come up against nothing. Something was gone<br />

now, and I was probably the one who had destroyed it. My words<br />

might have finally reached her, taken their time to be understood, and<br />

obliterated whatever energy it was that had kept her talking so long.<br />

Lips slightly parted, she turned her half focused eyes on mine. She<br />

looked like some kind of machine that had been humming along until<br />

someone pulled the plug. Her eyes appeared clouded, as if covered by<br />

some thin, translucent membrane.<br />

"Sorry to interrupt," I said, "but it's getting late, and ..."<br />

One big tear spilled from her eye, ran down her cheek and splattered<br />

onto a record jacket. Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed<br />

in an unbroken stream. Naoko bent forwards on all fours on the floor<br />

and, pressing her palms to the mat, began to cry with the force of a<br />

person vomiting. Never in my life had I seen anyone cry with such<br />

intensity. I reached out and placed a hand on her trembling shoulder.<br />

Then, all but instinctively, I took her in my arms. Pressed against me,<br />

her whole body trembling, she continued to cry without a sound. My<br />

shirt became damp - then soaked - with her tears and hot breath. Soon<br />

her fingers began to move across my back as if in search of<br />

something, some important thing that had always been there.<br />

Supporting her weight with my left arm, I used my right hand to<br />

caress her soft, straight hair. And I waited. In that position, I waited<br />

for Naoko to stop crying. And I went on waiting. But Naoko's crying<br />

never stopped.<br />

I slept with Naoko that night. Was it the right thing to do? I can't tell.<br />

Even now, almost 20 years later, I can't be sure. I suppose I'll never<br />

know. But at the time, it was all I could do. She was in a heightened<br />

state of tension and confusion, and she made it clear she wanted me to<br />

give her release. I turned the lights down and began, one piece at a<br />

time, with the gentlest touch I could manage, to remove her clothes.<br />

Then I undressed. It was warm enough, that rainy April night, for us to<br />

cling to each other's nakedness without a sense of chill. We explored<br />

48

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