She leaned back and looked upward, seemingly still enjoying herself. The point of my question wasn’t to hear about some faintly remembered stories of her childhood. I wanted to know how a person ended up like her. As people grow up, we influence and are influenced by the people around us. What was the process that created my exact opposite?
As for why I wanted to know, I was simply fascinated. What kind of gap had existed between our life experiences to make us the kind of people we were? That question led to another, more troubling one: If I had taken one wrong step along the way, could I have ended up like her?
“Let’s see… When I was a kid,” she said. “I could never settle down.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can easily imagine that.”
“I know, right? You know how in grade school, the girls are taller than the boys? Well, I was the tallest in my class, and I’d get in fights with the boys. I’d break things, too. I was a problem child.”
Maybe the size of a person’s body affected the kind of person they became. I had always been small and physically weak, which could have been why I became introverted.
She asked, “Is that good enough?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s do another.”
After that, the gods did seem to favor the righteous, and I won the next five draws in a row. The cocky girl from the beginning of the game was gone now, and each time she lost, the girl and her pancreas forsaken by the gods drank and got more sullen—although, to be more precise, her mood didn’t worsen when she lost as much as when I asked another question. By the time we had two rounds left, her face was deep red, her lips tightly puckered, and she seemed about to slide off the couch.
For the record, these were the five questions I asked, which prompted her to say, “What is this, an interview?”
Which hobby have you had the longest?
If I had to pick one, I guess I’ve always loved watching movies.
Which famous person do you most look up to, and why?
Sugihara Chiune! You know, the guy who gave visas to the Jews during World War II? I just think it’s really cool that he persisted in doing what he thought was right.
What do you see as your strengths and weaknesses?
My strength is that I can get along with everyone. I have too many weaknesses, but I guess I’ll say that I get distracted too easily.
What’s made you the happiest in your life so far?
[laughs] Meeting you, I guess! [giggles]
Aside from your illness, what’s been the hardest part of your life?
I think it was when my dog died when I was in junior high… What is this, an interview?
Managing a perfectly innocent expression, I said, “No, this is a game.”
With tearful eyes, she howled, “Ask me something more fun!” Then she downed another glass and said, “Come on, drink.”
She glared at me with enough danger in her eyes that I decided not to rankle her further, and I drank, too. The liquor had definitely gone to my head, but I was better at keeping a poker face.
“Two more rounds,” I said, picking out a card and flipping it. “Jack of clubs.”
“What?” she said, grumbling in a mix of profound sadness, frustration, and irritation. “How can you have that much luck? Come on.”
She flipped a card. I was confident I’d have the high card again, but when I saw her draw, a bead of sweat ran down my spine.
The king of spades.
“I… I did it!” She leaped to her feet with a cry of triumph, cut short when her legs didn’t hold, and she toppled back down to the couch. Mood completely reversed, she chortled, amused by her own drunken state.
“Hey,” she said. “Can I just give you the question and the command at the same time, and you can take your pick?”
“You’ve revealed yourself at last. It’s gone from a dare to a command, has it?”
“Oh, right, right. Truth or dare, got it.”
I said, “I suppose that’s not against the rules.”
“All right—truth or dare. Truth, say three things about me that you find charming. Dare, carry me to bed.”
As quickly as she’d finished speaking, I started moving; it didn’t take any thought. Even if I picked truth now, I’d still end up having to move her eventually. There was no reason to hesitate before choosing to get the job over with now. Besides, that question was heinous.
When I stood, my body felt lighter than it really was. I approached her on the couch. She giggled merrily. She was drunk, all right. I held my hand out in front of her to help her stand. She stopped laughing.
She asked, “What’s that for?”
“I’m giving you my hand. Come on, stand up.”
“I can’t. My legs are jelly.” Slowly, the corners of her mouth turned up. “Didn’t you hear me? I said carry me.”
I looked down at her.
“Should you carry me piggyback, maybe? Or sweep me up in your arms like—eek!”
Before she could embarrass me further, I put one arm behind her back and the other under her legs, then lifted her. I wasn’t strong, but I had enough strength to carry her several steps, at least. I didn’t allow myself to hesitate. This was going to be okay. I was drunk, and a minor indignity would be forgotten overnight.
Before she could manage any sort of reaction, I dumped the girl in my arms onto the bed. I could feel her warmth leaving my skin. Her expression was frozen in surprise. Between the alcohol and the exertion, I was a little winded, and I watched her as I caught my breath. Before long, her expression melted into a grin, and she began to giggle like a chirping bat.
“Now that was a surprise!” she said. “Thanks.”
She sluggishly rolled over to the left side of the bed and faced the ceiling. For a moment, I hoped she might fall asleep like that, but then she began gleefully swatting at the bed with both arms while laughing some more. She didn’t look at all ready to abandon the game.
I found my resolve and said, “All right, last round. I’ll do you a favor and turn over your card for you. Tell me where you want me to draw from.”
“Let’s see. I want one from near my cup.”
She settled down and let her arms flop casually to the bed.
Still standing, I turned over a card that was touching her nearly empty glass.
Seven of clubs.
“Seven,” I said.
“Rishky,” she said.
“Can I assume you mean risky?”
“Yeah, rishky.”
She seemed to like the sound of her new word, as she kept repeating it out loud. I didn’t let her distract me as I looked down at the ring of cards. Among them was my last. In a situation like this, some people would take their time to think and carefully make their choice, but they would be wrong. The cards were random; luck was the only element. It was better to act without pause. That way, there was less time to build up expectations—and disappointment.
Casually, I took a card from the pile. Trying not to let any thoughts break my concentration, I turned the card over.
Luck was everything.
It didn’t matter how bravely I’d made my decision, that couldn’t change a number.
My card was—
“Come on, what’d you get?” she asked.
“Six.”
I was too honest and too clumsy a speaker to lie. Life might have been easier if I was the type of person who would flip over the board during a shogi match that wasn’t going my way, but I didn’t want to become that type of person, nor could I.
“Right on,” she said. “Let’s see, what should I go with?”
She went quiet. Feeling like a convict awaiting his execution, I stood and waited for her question.
A stillness, long absent, returned to the dimly lit room. This high up, almost no city noise filtered in from the outside, and no sounds spilled over from the adjacent rooms. An expensive hotel room could buy a lot of quiet. In my inebriated state, my breathing and heartbeat sounded loud in my ears. I could hear her steady breathing quite clearly, too. I wondered if she had fallen asleep, but when I looked, her eyes were open, staring at the dark ceiling.
Unable to bear standing in place any longer, I looked outside through a gap in the curtains. The bustling downtown was aglow with colorful, man-made light and showed no signs of sleeping.
“Truth or dare?” she said.
The silence broke without warning. I prayed that whatever she’d decided upon wouldn’t be too harrowing. Without turning from the window, I answered, “Truth.”
She took in a single deep breath and then asked that night’s last question.
“If I…”
Her voice was soft, and her words caught. I waited.
“If I told you I was actually terrified of dying, what would you do?”
I turned to her.
Her voice had been so faint, I nearly got the chills. To avoid facing that feeling, I faced her instead. I needed to see if she was still alive.
I was sure she could feel my eyes on her, but her gaze remained fixated on the ceiling. Her lips were closed tight. She had no more to say.
Was that how she truly felt? I couldn’t grasp her intention. I could have believed she was speaking the truth, but I also could have believed she was joking. If it was the truth, what was the right response? Even if it was a joke, what was the right response?
I didn’t know.
The monster inside my chest started breathing again, and it laughed at my feeble lack of insight and perception.
As I stood there in fearful hesitation, my mouth opened, and the word came out of its own accord.
“Dare.”
She said nothing at first. She didn’t say if she approved or disapproved of my choice. Instead, still staring at the ceiling, she gave me her command.
“Sleep in bed with me. No arguing. No debate.”
She began to sing, “Rishky, rishky.”
I wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do. But in the end, I couldn’t flip over the shogi board.
I turned off the lights, got onto the other side of the bed with my back to her, and waited for sleep to take me away. Every now and then, she would change position, and I could feel the bed shift. We shared the bed, together but also separate, just as we were two people with our own thoughts and feelings; affecting each other, but still alone.
The bed was large enough for both of us to sleep on our backs with enough space in between.
We were innocent.
We were innocent and pure of heart.
I made the excuses, but no one forgave me.