Filling in time till ten o’clock, I started reading a book Titus had given me about themaneki-neko, the lucky cat that had so mysteriously come to me in the form of a postcard from Japan.
“Wabi-sabi,” I said.
Having been distracted by the man who sang in Atlantean, I’d forgotten to find out what it meant. And now I’d turned off my laptop.
The book Titus gave me was by a German writer called Christopher A. Weidner. Since Titus used different names for the self-help volumes he wrote, I wondered at first whether this was a pseudonym, but the back flap offered a biography that was long enough to make me think that this was the author’s real name.
The book consisted of a collection of stories about cats that brought good luck. The basic idea was: “Wave to luck and luck will wave back to you.”
Wanting to find out how you go about waving to luck, I went to the last section of the book, in which Weidner tells you that to make a wish come true you have to meet six requirements:
1.The wish has to be really small.
2.It must be achievable right now or tomorrow at the latest.
3.It has to mark the beginning of something new and it must be something you’re not going to leave half finished.
4.It must be something you can do independently of external factors like time or help from others.
5.It has to be something that can be formulated clearly.
6.It must suggest that change is possible.
While I was trying to think of a wish, I went to warm up some dinner. Mishima followed me into the kitchen, where I tipped a tin of ravioli in tomato sauce onto a plate and put it in the microwave.
As the plate revolved with this slop that was supposed to be my sustenance, I remembered a scene fromSeinfeld. The star of the TV series goes with his friend to the launderette and, contemplating his clean socks and other items spinning round and round in the dryer, he says, “This is the dullest moment I’ve ever experienced.”
I couldn’t say the same, because Gabriela’s message had made me uneasy. I wasn’t worried about her wanting to talk at ten at night, because we chatted every night when she was traveling. What seemed ominous was the fact that she hadn’t got upset about the broken vase—which, she believed, contained her grandmother’s spirit.
Given her impetuous nature, a storm-by-phone was more than probable, but she’d only said not to worry about the vase. Could she be indifferent about the mishap because something major had happened to her?
The phone rang. I’d soon find out.
I ran to answer it. Her quavering voice confirmed that something wasn’t right. After a few botched attempts to form a sentence, she eventually asked, “What were you doing?”
“Reading a book about the maneki-neko,” I told her, trying not to show my concern. “It gives you six rules for summoning up good luck and making a wish come true.”
“And have you made your wish?”
“No. In fact I’ve just realized that my only wish was to talk to you, and now I’m doing that. Right now I don’t need anything else.”
There was silence her end. It was a little too long. “Gabriela? Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you. I was just thinking . . .”
“What were you thinking?”
I could hear her breathing fast and loud at the other end of the line. I didn’t understand what was going on and, while Gabriela was deciding about telling me what was bothering her, I blurted out, “Ah, I almost forgot! The reason I was checking out lucky cats was because I got this anonymous postcard from Japan, but before that I did something very strange. I wrote to a man I don’t know. It seems that he sings in Atlantean. He must be the only one in the world. Isn’t that—”
“Samuel,” she interrupted. “I think we need to take a break.”
This appeared to be an immediately self-fulfilling prophecy, because her words were followed by a long, heavy silence. Now I was the one who couldn’t speak. Cold sweat ran down the back of my neck. The phone was my life raft. I clung to it, waiting for her to finish.
“Don’t imagine I’m with any other man. I’m not in love with anyone else. I know that’s how it usually works, but it’s not the case this time. I’m alone.”
“Me too,” I said, somewhat relieved. “We’re two solitary spirits who found each other in the middle of the storm. Isn’t that what we always say? That’s why we keep our own flats.”
“And it’s been great, Samuel.”
