"Leaves" Chapter 6

What could he tell her about death? She was a nurse, after all. With her own hands, she'd delivered over a hundred babies. Only a few times had something been wrong, and from those few times, it would seem, she knew more about death than Paul could know.

But the thing I haven't told you about Paul is that everywhere he lived, girls died. The sadness seemed to follow him as if it were a shadow watching from behind a tree. And he'd always gotten away from it.
Continued...
The girl in the old village. She'd been there just an instant, in the corner of his eye. And there was the girl from the south. The one that had been pushed out of the car on the highway. They collared a teacher for that one. He'd been suffering from depression, they said. The girl had been abused by her father and was living at a home for troubled children. And she was meeting guys she got to know through her mobile phone. Not for the money, but for the companionship, the warmth. That's how she'd supposedly met the teacher. And then there was the girl in the north they'd found in the woods. But nobody'd confessed to that one yet.

There is a word from the greek. Translated, it comes out roughly as "shattered mind", but it's not as frightening as it seems. It simply means the ability to compartmentalize. To remember when useful. To forget when necessary. Imagine a shattered mirror. No, that's too frightening. Broken glass is dangerous. But still, it's a useful metaphor, each shard still in place, held by the mosaic of other broken pieces in the mirror's frame, each piece reflecting a slightly different angle on what stands before it. A useful metaphor, but still a disturbing image. Think rather of the leaves back in the old town, before they'd been crushed into fine bits under foot. All the leaves patterned, colors slightly varied, fitted together, again like a mosaic. An impressionist's portrait. That's how the leaves in the water had looked, Paul thought. At least, that's how they'd been until he looked closer.

He moved away. He tried to forget.

---

It was fall again. Shizuka had big plans for Paul's birthday. She'd been thinking about it for weeks, all the things she wanted to do. A nice birthday cake she would bake for him. One of the nice restaurants, perhaps that French one she'd read about in the city. She would take him there. She thought about what sort of present to give him. Spending the night at his apartment. The photographs she wanted to take of them together -- at the restaurant, blowing out the candles, opening the present.

So you can imagine how she felt when they were standing on the bridge in the village and he told her he would be going off hiking and camping alone for his birthday, how he did that every year.

"Why don't you want to spend your birthday with me?" she'd asked, very hurt.

"It's not that I don't want to spend it with you. It's just that I always go off alone this time of year."

She was shaking her head.

"I know it's strange," Paul added.

"Don't you like me?" she asked.

"Of course I like you! I like you just fine."

"So spend the weekend with me."

"Can't we celebrate my birthday next week?"

Shizuka lowered her head and shook it slowly. After some minutes, she looked up again and said, "I don't want to see you any more."

Why was she so attached to the sentimentality of the day, Paul thought. It's just like any other day. Really, it is.

This was as bad as the time she'd bought the new mobile phone and become so upset when the store clerks called the number to check it. She'd insisted they reset the phone's memory because she wanted the first call to be one from Paul.

Well, this wasn't as bad as that time, he thought.

But she didn't want to see him anymore? To whom did his birthday belong, he wondered. Was it a day for him? (To go off hiding in the woods -- not to die alone, but to grow a little older alone.) Or was it a day for her and the people around him? Was he being selfish? Was she?

He wasn't sure. But he already knew about the vindictive streak that ran through him. She didn't want to see him anymore? Fine.

"I see," he said, and looked at her, but she didn't look up at him. Then he turned slowly and began walking away. He turned once to look back and she was watching him.

Back at his apartment, he felt empty. But he also felt a strange form of liberation. The vindictiveness always hurt him in the long run, but he never seemed able (or willing) to stop it when it came.

He tried to concentrate on packing. He went to the bookshelf and took out the little brown notebook where he'd written the list years ago. In a way, it was a compendium of all the mistakes he'd ever made, all the things he'd forgotten when he'd gone into the woods.

But just the act of opening it... There she was. Shizuka. His conversation with her intruding, sweeping into the mind. He pushed it away. That never works.

pack
flashlight
extra batteries

"Why don't you want to spend your birthday with me?" He pushed it away.

water filter - This one he'd learned the hard way, hiking down the mountain just for water and then back up. All that, when there were cold, clear brooks here and there along the hike. Of course, the locals simply drank directly from the stream.

sleep bag
tent
knife
bamboo hatchet

The phone rang. He knew it was Shizuka. No one else ever called. Should he answer? Just as he never seemed able to stop that sweet vindictive instant, he didn't stop his hand, moving to the phone, lifting the receiver.

"Hello?"

He heard a sniffle.

"Can I come over?" It was Shizuka.

He sighed.

"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore."

He could hear her crying now.

"No," she said. "I want to come over."

He breathed out again, trying to keep his mouth away from the receiver.

"I think if you got that mad at me today." He paused. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. "Maybe we should stay apart for a while."

She sniffled again.

"OK?" he asked.

"I'm coming over," she said after a moment.

"Look, Shizuka. You said you didn't want to see me anymore."

"No."

"I just wanna break for a while," he said.

"No. I..." she was crying again.

"We can talk when I get back."

"I'm coming over."

It was exasperating. "Well, I won't be here," he said.

She hung up. He didn't know where he'd go, but he didn't want to deal with it all just now. He got his cap and wallet and coat and he left the apartment. He walked up the hill and went past the farm houses. He didn't know how long he would stay away. He didn't know what he was doing.

The path led up through the grove to a point on a road where he could look out over the valley and see the lights in houses there in the evening. He watched the lights through the mist.

Was she really coming over? Couldn't she understand it would be better to take a break for a while? With the lights down in the valley flickering in the evening air, he wanted to stand there all night. It wouldn't be fatigue, or cold, or even boredom that would take him away. He wanted to stay there, to be tranquil, without worrying. But he didn't even try to keep it away now. It was useless.

After perhaps an hour, he started back. The road led back down the hill and approached the apartment from the back. Someone was at the back sliding glass door.

"Shizuka?" he called softly.

"No!" She wailed.

"Shh!" he called, rushing over to her. She collapsed in his arms, crying. "No!" she said over and over, much too loudly. The neighbors would hear. She was huddled on the concrete, shaking and he had his arms around her.

"No! No!" was all she could say.

He had to get her inside. She wouldn't budge.

"Wait a moment," he whispered, trying to make it sound as gentle as possible. He ran around to the front door, unlocked it and came to the back door and slid it open. He stepped outside and tried to lift her. She only stood grudgingly, still crying, and she came inside. He shut the door.

"Shhh," he said softly. He stroked her hair.

"No." she said again, a little more softly, a little more like a young girl. She was shaking her head again.

"But you said you didn't want to see me anymore." He was holding her.

"No," she said again.