and she’d easily pass for late twenties. But she didn’t make the effort. Miu let age naturally rise to the surface, accepted it for what it was, and made her peace with it.
*
Miu popped an olive into her mouth, grasped the pit with her fingers and, like a poet getting the punctuation just right, gracefully discarded it in an ashtray.
“I’m sorry to call you up like that in the middle of the night,”
she said. “I wish I could have explained things better then, but I was too upset and didn’t know where to begin. I’m still not totally calm, but my initial confusion has settled a bit.”
“What in the world happened?” I asked.
Miu brought her hands together on the table, separated them, brought them together again. “Sumire has disappeared.”
“Like smoke,” Miu said. She took a sip of wine.
She continued. “It’s a long story, so I think I’d better start at the beginning and tell it in the right order. Otherwise some of the nuances might not come through. The story itself is quite subtle. But let’s eat first. It’s not like each second counts right now, and it’s hard to think straight if you’re hungry. Also, it’s a bit too noisy to talk here.”
The restaurant was filled with Greeks gesturing and talking boisterously. So that we didn’t have to shout at each other, Miu and I leaned forward across the table, our heads close together as we talked. Presently the waiter brought over a heaping plate of Greek salad and a large grilled whitefish. Miu sprinkled some salt on the fish, squeezed out half a lemon, and dripped some olive oil onto her portion. I did the same. We concentrated on eating for a while. As she said, first things first. We needed to assuage our hunger.
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How long could I stay here? she asked. “The new term begins in a week,” I replied, “so I have to be back by then. Otherwise things will be a bit sticky.” Miu gave a matter-of-fact nod. She pursed her lips and seemed to be working out something. She didn’t say anything predictable, like “Don’t worry, you’ll be back by then,” or “I wonder if things’ll be all settled by then.” She came to her own private conclusion, which she tucked away in a drawer, and silently went back to her meal.
After dinner, as we were having coffee, she broached the subject of the air fare. Would you mind taking the amount in dollar traveller’s cheques? she asked. Or else I could have the money transferred to your account in yen after you return to Tokyo. Which do you prefer? I’m not strapped for funds, I answered, I can pay it myself. But Miu insisted on paying. I’m the one who asked you to come, she said.
I shook my head. “It’s not like I’m being polite or anything. A little bit later on, and I probably would have come here of my own accord. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
Miu gave it some thought and nodded. “I am very grateful to you. For coming here. I can’t tell you how much.”
*
When we left the restaurant, the sky was a brilliant splash of colours. The kind of air that felt like if you breathed it in, your lungs would be dyed the same shade of blue. Tiny stars began to twinkle. Barely able to wait for the long summer day to be over, the locals were out for an after-dinner stroll around the harbour. Families, couples, groups of friends. The gentle scent of the tide at the end of the day enveloped the streets. Miu and I walked through the town. The right side of the street was lined with shops, small hotels, and restaurants with tables set
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up on the pavement. Cosy yellow lights shone at small, wooden-shuttered windows, and Greek music filtered down from a radio. On the left side the sea spread out, dark waves placidly breaking on the wharves.
“In a while the road goes uphill,” Miu said. “We can either take some steep stairs or a gentle slope. The stairs are faster. Do you mind?”
“No, I don’t,” I answered.
Narrow stone stairs paralleled the slope of the hill. They were long and steep, but Miu’s trainer-clad feet showed no signs of tiring, and she never slackened her pace. The hem of her skirt just in front of me swished pleasantly from side to side, her tanned, shapely calves shone in the light of the almost full moon. I got winded first and had to stop to take some deep breaths. As we made our way up, the lights of the harbour became smaller and further away. All the activities of the people who’d been right beside me were absorbed into that anonymous line of lights. It was an impressive sight, something I wanted to cut out with scissors and pin to the wall of my memory.
