“Now he’ll bring fresh vegetables and three kinds of meat so we can cook them as we like,” Mizuki explained before returning to our conversation. “So . . . you’ve come here expressly to learn about the art of imperfection?”
“That’s my excuse. I don’t want to feel I’m wasting my time here. I’d like to think I’m doing something.”
“You’re always doing something,” she said, gazing into my eyes. “Now you’re having a barbecue with me.”
Instead of coming out with the riposte that was on the tip of my tongue—I mean doing something useful—the result of my addled, jet-lagged state and the weird situation of being in this place with a beautiful stranger, I took on a confidential tone.
“The truth is I had to get away from Barcelona for a while. The woman I’ve been with for eight years has left me, and now I’m trying to find my place in the world. You know what I mean?”
“Absolutely.” Her soft, cold hand covered mine. “I’m in the same situation but in reverse. I’ve just left the love of my life in San Francisco—now I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”
“It’s better to be in your situation than mine. You can always go back to him. I’m sure he’s still in love with you.”
Mizuki stroked her ear, then said, “I’m still in love with him too, but it’s impossible to go back. Things happened and they can’t be undone. That’s why I want to disappear. Forever.”
An expert at dealing with students falling apart because of their difficulties with German, I patted her hand a couple of times.
“Things always happen. The only time things stop happening is when you’re dead.”
Mizuki mouthed something inaudibly in Japanese before she switched to English. “There are some things that should never have happened. That’s why I left America and have been living with my uncle for the last three months. He’s the person I love most in the world, and I wanted to say goodbye to him.”
“Say goodbye?”
“Yes, before putting an end to it all.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not as great a mountain climber as I’ve led him to believe. I’ve never done a solo climb of any mountain over a thousand feet. I’ve decided to go to the mountains in Hokkaido because a lot of the land there is uninhabited. I’ve planned it carefully.”
“What have you planned?” I was alarmed.
The cook had placed beside us a tray with different types of meat and a bowl with mushrooms, onion and halved corn cobs. Without looking up from the circle of glowing coal, which lit up the chalk-white skin of her face, Mizuki continued, “Before my final excursion I’ll destroy all my documents and anything that might identify me. Then I’ll climb up to the highest peak I can find, sing a song and then jump into the abyss. The End.”
“Don’t be silly. Let’s eat,” I said, picking up some bits of meat and vegetables and placing them over the embers.
Mizuki clutched my free hand to make me understand that she was serious. Her tense expression showed suffering and determination.
“My uncle will never know I’ve died. I’ll just be one of those mountain climbers who disappear without trace and nobody ever hears from them again. He will think I have decided to stay on the mountain to live in a little hut, or that I have met a man and run away with him without a word to anyone. That would be very much in character.”
“They’re all possibilities.” I turned the bits of meat over so they wouldn’t burn. “But it would be very stupid to kill yourself on your thirtieth birthday. It’s in a week’s time, right?”
“Yes—it seems a good time to get out of here. What’s stupid about that?”
I tried to think while I shifted vegetables around the grill to stop them from charring. “You can get out whenever you want, but you have to put your affairs in order first. When people love you, you can’t just go leaving them in the lurch.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your uncle said he’s making good progress with his English thanks to you. Learning the language has been keeping him going since he lost his wife,” I said. “If you jump off the mountain before you finish your classes, you won’t be showing much consideration for your pupil.”
That said, I used my chopsticks to pick up a cluster of tiny mushrooms and dip them into soy sauce. When I put them in my mouth they were crisp and tender.
Mizuki bit her bottom lip, apparently deep in thought. You didn’t have to be a genius to realize that, however good-looking she was, she was quite unstable.
“OK. I’ll give him a few more classes,” she said. “But on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“You have to promise not to leave until I come back from Hokkaido.”
I raised my arm to ask for another beer. I’d fallen into my own trap. She was about to scupper my plan—see a couple of temples and then go home. Then I came to my senses.
“I can’t hang around here for ten days waiting for you to come back, Mizuki.”
