Inhabitation Read online

  “She’s a nice young lady, isn’t she? She isn’t exactly a knockout, but she shows a certain refinement, and is really adorable,” she said.

  Tetsuyuki kept mentioning marriage; intending to caution him against despair should that prove impossible, she whispered, “Would Yōko’s parents allow their daughter to join a family like ours?” Recalling his mother’s smile, Tetsuyuki puffed on a cigarette. Perhaps because the heat from the gas stove had warmed the upper air, the smoke from his cigarette neither rose nor sank, but drifted in a thick, silent fog in the middle of the room.

  Tetsuyuki again took the claw out of the toolbox and stood before the pillar, ready to pull out the nail and dispose of the dead lizard. The moment he inserted the head of the nail into the cleft of the claw, ready to apply all his strength to pry it out, the lizard’s entire body began to writhe. Quickly removing the claw from the nail, he stared at the still-living creature with a weary feeling, yet at the same time amazed at its vitality. Retrieving the hammer he had tossed onto the futon, he raised his arm and took aim at the reptile’s head. But somehow, a feeling of dread prevented him from going through with it. For the first time, he fixed his eyes on the lizard’s body and studied it in detail.

  Its back was dark brown with a greenish cast, rendered gray by the darkness of the room. Its tail was blue. Along both sides of its body, beginning from its nose, ran a wide black band that was bordered with a narrow stripe of dubious color, neither yellow nor blue. On its back were five yellowish-white bands reaching from one side of its body to the other, three of them extending down toward the middle of its tail. The part of its body around where the nail had penetrated was slightly concave, suggesting that its flesh had already begun to heal up around the metal.

  “Enough! Why don’t you just die?” Tetsuyuki addressed the creature. “Sure, it’d be easy to kill you, but even the thought of it gives me the creeps. I’m the kind who turns and runs when he sees a lizard thirty feet away, and now I’ve got one alive here with me in this tiny room. It gives me goose bumps!” And in fact, as he spoke he got gooseflesh.

  “But it was all my fault. Sorry . . .” With that, he again placed the dish over the reptile, but he no longer felt like sealing it with tape. In any case it was sure to die in two or three days. He turned off the gas range and opened the window to let some fresh air in.

  It was at the appointed time of 5:00 p.m. on the dot that Tetsuyuki arrived at the business office of the large hotel in Umeda. He had intended to go a bit early, but missed the train on the Katamachi Line and again he had to wait a whole half hour until the next one, and almost ended up being late. The head of the Personnel Section, Shimazaki, called a young man whose name badge identified its wearer as BELLBOY CAPTAIN and introduced Tetsuyuki to him.

  “This is Iryō. Starting today, he’ll be working a shift from five until ten.”

  The bellboy captain, Isogai Kōichi, objected, “Unless he stays until twelve, it’ll create a lot of problems.”

  Shimazaki turned his angular face toward Tetsuyuki and asked, “You live far away, don’t you? Let’s see . . . What time did you say the last train leaves?”

  “At three minutes after eleven.”

  Shimazaki nodded several times. “If you finish work at ten, by the time you change your clothes and take the Kanjō Line to Kyōbashi, it’ll be about eleven. This is only a part-time position, so we’ve taken that into account.”

  Isogai—clad in a beige uniform with double gold braid on the shoulders, sleeves, and both sides of the trousers—darted an upward glance at the newcomer and wordlessly motioned with his chin for Tetsuyuki to follow him. An oppressive odor of food filled the narrow, dim passageway, which was strangely sweltering though not near any furnace.

  “Why is it so hot here?” Tetsuyuki asked. Isogai, who was thin and looked a bit older than Tetsuyuki, thumped the walls on both sides. “The grill’s kitchen is on this side, and over here is the laundry room. The air-conditioning doesn’t extend this far, so it gets hot as hell during the summer.”

  At the end of the passageway a heavy steel door opened to the employees’ locker room. Isogai took a uniform out of a large box in the far end of the room and tossed it at Tetsuyuki. “Here!”

  After Tetsuyuki had put on the uniform, Isogai looked him over with deliberation, mumbling curtly that it was a bit small but a part-timer ought to be able to put up with it.

  Isogai opened an empty locker. “You can use this one. Be sure to lock it. There are thieves around here too, you know.”

  The hotel had several branches. Two years previously they had torn down the old building and erected this magnificent twenty-four-story structure, but it seemed somehow dreary and dirty behind its façade. No doubt Tetsuyuki could expect to encounter maliciousness at every turn. He glanced at Isogai, noting his poor complexion and the lack of redness in his lips. But his hair was properly groomed, and he appeared gallant in his uniform with its gold braid. Tetsuyuki stowed his own clothes in the locker and turned the key.

  “I’ll show you around the whole place. Altogether, there are eighty boys.”

  “Huh? That many?” At Tetsuyuki’s surprise, Isogai cracked a smile for the first time.

  “They’re all ‘boys,’ but they have various responsibilities. You and I are page boys. We do things like show guests to their rooms, carry luggage, and arrange for cabs. Ten of us are full-time employees, and three, including you, are part-time. Another thirty take care of banquets. Some are the hotel’s regular servers, and when we’re busy we also have part-timers come. Fifteen people work at the grill, and another fifteen at the coffee shop, where there are also five part-timers. Finally, there are four in the basement bar. The ones I’ve mentioned so far are all men. In addition, there are thirty women, including maids, waitresses in the grill and coffee shop, and servers for banquets.”

  “So then, with men and women combined, it comes to a hundred and twelve. Are you captain over all those employees?”

  Isogai shook his head. “Just over the page boys.” Then he glared at Tetsuyuki intensely. “Part-timers have no sense of responsibility. They go about their tasks with the attitude of ‘It’s just part-time anyway.’ But my expectations are exactly the same for everyone, so keep that in mind.”

  Isogai continued down the dim winding passageway to a door that opened into the office behind the front desk. He led Tetsuyuki to a man whose name badge identified him as FRONT DESK MANAGER. Not even glancing up in response to Tetsuyuki’s greeting, the man said indifferently, “Pleased to meet you,” as he continued to check reservation cards. Tetsuyuki looked at his badge: NAKAOKA MINEO in both Japanese characters and Romanization.

  Next, Isogai showed Tetsuyuki the time clock located in a room to the side of the lobby. Bellboys in the same beige uniforms were lying on the table, leaning back in chairs smoking, or playing cards.

  “This is Iryō Tetsuyuki, who’ll be working part-time starting today. Everyone get acquainted with him.”

  Everyone turned toward Tetsuyuki in unison without saying anything. They struck him as a potentially spiteful bunch, but he resolved not to get into arguments with anyone and just do as he was told.

  Isogai and Tetsuyuki took the elevator to the banquet room on the second floor. It would have been faster to use the emergency stairs, but Isogai took the elevator from floor to floor. The third floor was also a banquet hall, and the fourth consisted of several large conference rooms. All floors from the fifth to the twenty-third were guest rooms, and on the twenty-fourth were a grill and a Chinese restaurant. It was already past six by the time they completed their brief tour, since they had to wait for the elevator each time.

  “Your name badge will be ready in two or three days.” Isogai stood somewhat removed from the front desk. “You should always stand at attention, and never let your posture become sloppy.” Isogai told Tetsuyuki to watch him closely for a while. A guest was filling out a form at the front desk. The clerk took out the room key and called for a bell
boy. With snappy motions Isogai took the key, picked up the guest’s luggage, and said, “Room 2500 on the sixth floor!”

  Isogai beckoned, and Tetsuyuki followed him and the guest, whom Isogai allowed to enter the elevator first, then pressed a button and said again in a firm voice, “Allow me to show you to the sixth floor.” When the elevator stopped, he allowed the guest to exit first and then nimbly took the lead down the long maroon-carpeted hall.

  Opening the door to room 2500, he switched the light on and, again allowing the guest to enter first, placed the luggage on a stand next to the desk. Then, opening the bathroom door and turning on the light, he explained, “This is the bath and commode. For room service, please dial six. For other matters, you may dial one to reach the front desk.”

  As he handed the key to the guest, Isogai said with a bow, “We hope you have a pleasant stay with us.” Then he exited the room.

  “This is how you show guests to their rooms.”

  “How do you know which floor and which room?”

  “You can tell by looking at the key. If it says 6-2500, then that means ‘sixth floor, room 2500.’”

  “So then, if it’s room 1324 on the twenty-second floor, 22-1324 will appear on the key, right?”

  “Right. But there aren’t any room numbers that end below five hundred.”

  Isogai told him to do the next one by himself. As they were waiting for the elevator, he whispered to Tetsuyuki, “Some guests will tip you. As a rule, we’re not supposed to accept tips, but if you’re offered one, just say ‘Thank you’ and take it.” He gave Tetsuyuki a sideways glance and smiled.

  “Some people really tip?”

  “They sure do. It might be three hundred-yen coins, or a five-hundred-yen note . . . You’ll get all kinds. On a good day, your tips might even be more than your wages.”

  That’s great, Tetsuyuki thought. The front desk was at its busiest when they returned to the lobby.

  A voice called out, “Bellboy! Show this guest to his room.” Isogai gave Tetsuyuki a shove on the back. Just as Isogai had done, he strode swiftly to the desk, took the key, and picked up the guest’s Boston bag. The numbers 11-2562 were engraved in the plastic rod attached to the key. He announced in a loud voice, “Room 2562 on the eleventh floor.” He had the guest board the elevator first and as he pressed the button, declared in a voice that sounded strangely loud even to himself, “Allow me to show you to the eleventh floor.”

  The middle-aged man looked at him with some surprise. “You’re in good spirits, aren’t you?” Tetsuyuki maintained a nervous silence. Upon exiting the elevator, he glanced at the directional arrows: rooms 2500–2549 to the right, rooms 2550–2599 to the left. Tetsuyuki turned left and proceeded town the hall, taking care not to overlook any numbers of the rooms on either side.

  After unlocking the room, turning on the light, allowing the guest to enter, and setting the luggage down, he opened the bathroom door and repeated the lines he had hear Isogai use. Then, as he was handing over the key, he said, “For room service . . .” and stopped; he had forgotten which number Isogai had said to dial.

  “Uh, let’s see . . . room service is . . .”

  “It’s six, isn’t it? And the front desk is one. I’ve stayed here several times, so I know that much.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. Today is my first day on the job,” Tetsuyuki said, bowing.

  “Oh, a greenie, huh? So then I know more about this hotel than you do.” The guest pulled several hundred-yen coins out of his pocket and put them in Tetsuyuki’s hand. Tetsuyuki thanked him politely and again bowed.

  “But you’re very good at accepting a tip,” the guest said, laughing. Wishing him a pleasant stay, Tetsuyuki left. Making sure that no one was around, he counted the coins in his hand: 400 yen. That pleased him. He had no idea how many guests he would show to their rooms between five and ten o’clock, but if at least five of those tipped him, that could come to nearly 2,000 yen. In his impecunious state, that was a matchless bounty.

  By ten o’clock he had shown twenty parties of guests to their rooms. Those who had tipped him included the first guest and a young woman accompanied by a man who looked like a gangster. The man was rather drunk, and no sooner had he entered the room than he collapsed on the bed. As Tetsuyuki was explaining to the woman how to dial for room service and the front desk, the man shouted, “We know that without having you tell us. It’s written right next to the phone, isn’t it? That’s enough. Now get out!” He kicked Tetsuyuki in the knee with the tip of his shoe.

  Tetsuyuki left and was walking down the hall when the woman trotted up behind him. “Sorry. That guy can be a real jerk. Take this.” She pressed a 1,000-yen note into his hand. She appeared to be a hostess at some bar, but there was something little-girlish about her facial expression and figure.

  Most of his work that evening was between six and ten o’clock, during which he was allowed to take only one break. Returning to the locker room, his feet ached, his whole body was heavy with exhaustion, and even speaking had become a bother. He had not imagined that having to work so long without sitting would be this hard. After changing his clothes, he remained for a while in a chair in the corner.

  Behind its closed heavy steel door the room was deathly quiet, and Tetsuyuki was overcome by a feeling that he was locked in a jail cell. The pattern of colors on the lizard flitted across his mind. Was it already dead? He stood up, switched off the light, and trudged down the narrow, stiflingly hot passageway.

  He had no desire to return to that room where the lizard was nailed to the pillar. A thought flashed in his mind: perhaps the creature was still alive, pondering how it might free itself. Maybe it’s waiting for me to come home. “Pull this nail out! Please, pull it out!” It seemed as if he could hear the lizard screaming.

  He climbed the concrete stairs, and exited through the employee entrance, next to which a vent spewed out all of the fumes from the grill and the laundry room. Tetsuyuki held his breath. The foul essence of human beings who deck themselves out so gorgeously, the hidden unhappiness of people who pretend to be happy . . . the stench that poured forth with such violence and noise from a gigantic hotel brought such phrases into his mind.

  Jostled by the crowds, he trudged toward Osaka Station. Die, and be quick about it, he mentally shouted to the lizard. I won’t pull the nail out until you’ve died, and I’m not going to kill you either. I’m just going to wait until you die, so just give up and kick the bucket!

  Tetsuyuki dialed a number at a public phone. Having anxiously awaited his call, Yōko answered in her animated voice.

  “Does it look like a job you’re up to doing?”

  “A bellboy’s work is a piece of cake.”

  “You must be tired since it’s your first day.”

  “The first day on any job is tiring.”

  “Take a bath and get a good sleep. Then you’ll feel better.”

  “I think I’ll stay at Nakazawa’s tonight. I don’t have what it takes to ride the Katamachi Line and then walk another half hour along a dark street.”

  Yōko paused for a moment, and then said, “When you get to Nakazawa’s place, call me again, okay?”

  Nakazawa Masami lived right in the middle of the business district of Honmachi. He was a friend of Tetsuyuki’s since high school, whose father managed a real estate rental agency, and who owned the eight-story Nakazawa Second Building. There was also the Nakazawa First Building in Matsuyamachi, where his parents and siblings lived, but Masami occupied a small room on the eighth floor of the Nakazawa Second Building. He was the same age as Tetsuyuki and was attending the same university, but since he had spent two years in cram school, he was only a junior. When Tetsuyuki phoned him, he only got the usual terse response of “I’ll open the back door for you in fifteen minutes.”

  As Tetsuyuki stood waiting on the subway platform, he again heard the lizard’s voice. It was crying, Pull out this nail! Pull out this nail!

  3

  Having pa
ssed through the ticket gate in the subway, with drooping shoulders Iryō Tetsuyuki trudged up the deserted stairs furiously swept by air from aboveground. He then walked south down the late-night Midōsuji Avenue, turning east at the corner of an enormous building housing a foreign investment company, and then proceeding straight ahead. A ramen stall had been set up by a cluster of buildings whose lights had already been extinguished.

  Next to the Nakazawa Second Building was an old three-story concrete structure, the narrow space between the two edifices barely wide enough for one person to pass through. Going through this urine-reeking passageway and turning to the right, one arrived at the back of the Nakazawa Second Building. Since the large shutter was pulled down over the front entrance at nine o’clock, when Tetsuyuki went to see Nakazawa Masami he had to call in advance and have Masami unlock the small private door in the rear.

  Closing the small metal door and relocking it, Tetsuyuki went over to the elevator, whose power had been shut off. He always took the stairs, but that night his legs lacked the strength to climb to the eighth floor. The power switch for the elevator was located in the custodian’s closet next to Nakazawa’s room. Using the house phone on the first floor, Tetsuyuki again phoned Nakazawa.

  “I’m downstairs now. Turn on the elevator.”

  “Use the stairs. You need the exercise.”

  “I don’t have the energy this time.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Never mind about that. Just turn on the damned elevator!”

  Tetsuyuki had become irritable, and was shouting into the phone. Shortly, the lamps on the elevator lit up. Tetsuyuki got off on the eighth floor. Standing there pajama-clad was Nakazawa, who went to the custodian’s closet, switched off the elevator, and then turned his sleepy, listless gaze toward Tetsuyuki.

  “You’re in a pissy mood, aren’t you?”

  “You got something to eat?”

  “Just saké and beer.”

  As soon as Nakazawa opened the door to his room, a modern jazz melody assaulted Tetsuyuki, just like the wind that had come blowing down on him as he climbed the stairs from the subway. A stereo set, several hundred LPs, an antique pendulum clock, hundreds of magazines on recordings and stereo equipment, a large globe, a small television set, a refrigerator, and a bed, next to whose pillow was a copy of the thirteenth-century Buddhist treatise Lamenting the Deviations.