Manazuru. Hiromi Kawakami

filled out the shipping labels to send a package of dried shiitake to four people, her one, my three. I was writing an address when another thing came. This one was a woman, clearly. Not faint at all, even though we were in a store.

      “I’ll be back, I’m going to the restroom.” Quickly completing the address and handing the labels to Mother, I hurried to the restroom in its out-of-the-way location—invisible, dead space. The blurry reflection of a woman in the mirror was all it was. Watching it out of the corner of my eye, I stepped into a stall. I was sick to my stomach. I vomited, just a little.

      Soon I felt better, and I rinsed my mouth at the sink. I tipped my head back and gargled. The woman stayed. Perhaps she wanted to tell me something. This had never happened before. I had never thrown up before, either. Though I didn’t know if she was to blame.

      Mother was standing, waiting, when I returned.

      “What should we do about lunch, Kei?”

      “One of the restaurants upstairs?”

      “I feel like having chirashi-zushi.”

      The woman wavered. The air around her bent into darkness for a second, then brightened again, like the flickering of a candle flame. I didn’t feel sick again after that. The unpleasantness had already left me, through my mouth. We ascended to the restaurant floor, the woman trailing. Mother ordered eel; I had the chirashi-zushi. The restaurants in department stores have such high ceilings. Voices resound. We ate everything, leaving nothing. When we left the store, just like that, the woman was gone.

      Sometime later, the same woman came and followed me two days straight, so I decided to go again to Manazuru. I had a feeling this woman had been involved, somehow, with Rei.

      “I want to go to the beach,” Momo said.

      So I asked her, “Do you want to go with me?”

      And she nodded.

      Dress warmly, it’s still cool. Okay. The train may rock, you know. Sure.

      Momo suffers from motion sickness. It’s okay, I’ve gotten over it now. I have to take the train to school, after all. When Momo announced that she wanted to attend a private school, I worried less about the entrance exam and the tuition than about the daily commute. You’re so out of date, Mom, Momo teased.

      “Is it for work?” Momo asked.

      “No.”

      “Then why?”

      “No particular reason.” It’s the wrong season for a holiday.

      “I wonder if Grandma will come, too?” Momo says happily.

      “Grandma says she won’t come.”

      “Why?”

      I don’t want to go anywhere too strong. That’s what Mother had said. Strong places wear me out. You two go on, by yourselves. She was saying no, and yet she spoke the words as though she were singing. Mother is close, I thought. This is how it is, three female bodies, singing, laughing, something unknown that comes and follows, here in this house.

      Manazuru, I’ve never been there before. Momo smiles. It was my first time, too, the other day. We smile together. For a second, I recall how, when the sky suddenly opened out at the tip of the cape and I gazed down at the ocean below, the wind had teased my cheeks, my ears.