Remote Control Read online

  Aoyagi realized how much he enjoyed sitting here after all these years, listening to his old friend's categorical, if slightly ill-informed, opinions.

  "There was a guy on my route named Inai," he said.

  "Sounds like the first line of a limerick."

  "Maybe," said Aoyagi. "Anyway, this Inai was never ever at home. He was constantly ordering stuff by mail, but he was never there when I showed up to deliver it. The crack in his door was always stuffed with delivery notices."

  "So?"

  "So one day this Inai really did disappear. He left a note on the door saying that his packages should be left with the building manager and that he'd be back 'at some point.' It seemed pretty odd."

  "'At some point'? What was that supposed to mean?"

  "1 realized that most of the stuff I'd delivered there was from sporting goods stores or travel agencies. One of the other drivers told me later that he was probably getting ready to go off on some kind of adventure."

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  Morita grinned. ''Adventure? What was he, a cub scout?"

  "The thing is, ever since Inai took off for parts unknown, Tve been thinking I should do the same," said Aoyagi.

  "You always were pretty suggestible," Morita laughed. "Maybe you just needed something more exciting than driving a delivery truck."

  "Maybe. Tve certainly felt as though Tve been drifting, not qualified for anything."

  "What, in particular?"

  "I don't know. Something, anything." His tone grew more insistent as if to cover his embarrassment. "Anwvay, 1 told the boss 1 didn't want them harassed on my account and 1 quit."

  "The asshole who was calling you was probably one of Rinka's fans," said Morita.

  "Td have thought so, too, if it hadn't been so long since the whole thing happened." There had been some contact with people who were clearly obsessed with her soon afterwards, but most of them had just wanted to thank him for helping "their Rinka." He'd been almost favorably impressed by this brush with the world of fandom.

  "Then maybe it had something to do with the groping thing," said Morita. "You're a good-looking guy, serious, responsible. Then you became a hero overnight. Who wouldn't be happy to see you arrested for groping some woman on the train? What's more fun than watching the golden boy screw up?"

  l or a moment, this scenario almost made sense. Maybe the mystery of the lost license in Matsushima was somehow just another piece of the puzzle. "And is this the forest talking again?"

  "No, this is me." Morita took a deej) breath and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Ready to go?" he said.

  "Where to?" Aoyagi asked, hoping they might finally be getting to the reason .Morita had wanted to see him.

  "Not the west side ol the station. T here was a huge crowd, rocjds blocked off."

  "for Kaneda's j)arade," said Aoyagi.

  "Did you want to go have a look?"

  "No, not really." He'd been imj)ressed by what he'd seen ol Ktinecki on TV, but iKJt enough t(j want to brave the crowd. He hadn't even remembererl to v(jte on election tlay. "Tm just glad I don't drive anymore. It's a pain when

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  they start blocking off streets, and the whole city goes to hell if you can't use Higashi Nibancho."

  "Unfortunately, that's exactly where we're going."

  "Why?"

  "That's where my car's parked. We can talk when we get there." Mystified, Aoyagi followed him down the stairs and out into the street. From behind, he could see that his friend was beginning to go gray.

  h

  Masaharu Aoyagi

  Several months earlier, Masaharu Aoyagi had stopped his truck and glanced over at the list on the passenger seat. He had all the deliveries memorized, but it was always worth double-checking. The guy who had shown him the ropes when he'd first started driving had always said that you were more likely to make a mistake when you were quite sure you wouldn't. His instructor, Iwasaki, wore his hair slicked straight back, and though he was only a year or so older than Aoyagi, he'd been married with a kid by the time he was twenty and was building a house now. Still, he had a teenager's passion for rock-and-roll, and he was always saying how he was going to "rock the world." He really meant it. He also liked to point out that the "iwa" in his name meant "rock" in English. "It's Destiny," he insisted.

  Once the training period was over and Aoyagi got his own route, he didn't see much of Rock Iwasaki. But he did run into him from time to time when the drivers went out drinking together. Iwasaki would invariably bring his guitar along, even for karaoke, and start in on a Beatles riff without being asked. It had always made Aoyagi happy to see someone enjoy himself so much.

  Iwasaki used the word "rock" in response to just about any situation he encountered, good or bad. When he was given a particularly dumb assignment or an unpopular route, he'd mutter "This does not rock"; but if something good happened—a raise for the drivers, for example—you'd hear him practically shout "That rocks!"

  But Rock Iwasaki had also taught him a lot of things during the training

  THE INCIDENT

  period that had stuck with him. Some of them were technical aspects of the job—the right way to carry boxes or use a hand truck—but others had more to do with attitude. "You've always got to show up at the door with a smile on your face," he used to say. "And never let on that a box is too heavy or the weather's too hot. That's why they call it the service sector!" Still other lessons were more like warnings: "Driving your truck when you're dead tired is like playing with a loaded gun. Stay alert, stay alive!" And once Rock had shown him the butterfly knife he kept in his glove compartment—"You never know when one of these will come in handy." The blade didn't look as if it was meant for peeling apples.

  Aoyagi had also seen him stop his truck out of the blue, hop out the door, and tell a guy in a suit walking along the street to watch what he did with his cigarette. "You flick that around," he said, leaning in on the man for emphasis, "and it's going to end up in some kid's eye." He'd said later that his daughter had nearly lost an eye from somebody's discarded cigarette.

  On more than one occasion, Iwasaki had spoken of the dangers of hip-hop music. "It just doesn't rock," he insisted. Aoyagi had found this particular prejudice a bit odd, but he recalled that Morita had once said much the same thing. Aoyagi had just confessed that he had started to like hip-hop. "How can you listen to that crap!" Morita had said. At the time, it had struck him as strangely conservative, but today he felt nostalgia even for his old friend's idiosvncrasies.

  Aoyagi got out of the truck and retrieved a small box from the back. He checked the shipping label—Hasama House, Apt. d()2, 2-8-21 Higashi Kamisugi, Aoba Ward, Sendai—and tucked the box under his arm. "1 bet Inai's not in again today," he murmured, as if humming to himself.

  A man in a yellow uniform was just coming out the door. "How's it going?" he said as he sj)otted Aoyagi. He worked for another delivery company, but his route must have been similar to Aoyagi's since they kept bumi)-ing into each other. The guy was in his late forties, with a tlaughter about to take the higti school entrance exams, Aoyagi remembered.

  "N(jt bad," he said.

  "1 leaded tor Inai's?"

  "N(jt in again, 1 supj)ose."

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  'Tor quite a while, according to the note."

  "What note?"

  "The one on his door. It says to leave his deliveries with the manager."

  "So he's off on a trip?"

  "Better yet, an 'adventure,' according to the note."

  "So Inai's an adventurer?" said Aoyagi, as the other driver headed back to his truck. He went in and took the elevator to the third floor to check the note. It sounded ridiculous, and yet something about reading it made him feel good. When he went to drop off the package, the building manager scowled at him through his beard.

  "I'll take it," he said, "but I don't know what the fuck to do with this stuff, or when this guy's coming back."

  "He didn't say
?" asked Aoyagi.

  "He paid a year's rent in advance, so it may be a while."

  With a murmur of surprise, Aoyagi put the box down in front of the man.

  "You know the fire extinguisher outside Inai's door?" the manager asked abruptly. He still sounded grumpy.

  "I think so," Aoyagi replied, remembering that he'd seen one just a moment ago.

  "Well, he's got a spare key taped to the bottom of it. Go put this in his apartment." He picked up the box Aoyagi had just deposited on his desk.

  "He won't mind?"

  "Who gives a shit? And do me a favor, take this with you," he added, handing him the package the other driver had just left. It was unusually light. "It's darts," he said, pointing at the shipping label. "Says so right here."

  "You mean, like the game?" Aoyagi asked.

  "Do you know, like, some other kind?" Aoyagi didn't mind the sarcasm, but winced when the manager threw an imaginary dart somewhere near his head: "You'd think he could have waited until this shit had arrived."

  "Maybe he decided to go in a hurry. By the way"—the question had been on his mind since the other driver had mentioned Inai's trip—"did you see him when he left?"

  "On his way out the door? Yeah, I saw him. He was carrying this huge backpack."

  "How did he look?" At this, the manager finally eased up a bit.

  THE INCIDENT

  "You know, now that you mention it, he looked like a kid heading off on a field trip, all excited, shining eyes. Like a big kid."

  Aoyagi took the boxes up to Inai's apartment. When he got back to his truck and was starting the engine, he found himself wondering whether things might have been different if he'd been more like Inai, if he'd let himself set out on some adventure. Maybe if he had, she might not have left him.

  h

  Masaharu Aoyagi

  Six years earlier, Aoyagi had finished his route and gone to Haruko Higuchi's apartment instead of going home. He was planning to stay over, since the two of them had a date to see the first showing of a new movie the next day. When he opened the door, she stuck her head out of the kitchen to greet him. He had been coming here since their student days and felt almost as much at home in her apartment as he did in his own. He even had his own space in the shoe cupboard in the front hall.

  "1 ordered pizza," Haruko said as she came and sat down on the rug.

  She'd had problems at work, she told him at some length. "Just because 1 came up with the idea, my boss refuses to support it," she explained.

  "I'm sure it's not because it was your idea."

  "T he costs would be practically nothing, so why does he insist it show a profit immediately?"

  "You're right, that doesn't seem fair," he agreed. The T V was on low; everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as usual.

  "I'll run the bath," Haruko said eventually, getting u|). As she ditl so, Aoyagi noticed a bar (jf chocolate on the little table next to them.

  ".Mind if 1 have some?"

  "HcTj) yourself," Haruko called back from the bathroom. Aoytigi tore off the j)aj)er and carefully broke the foil-wra|)j)ed bar in hall. "T hey were giving tfiem out at the office," sfie said as she came back into the room.

  Aoyagi looked down at the two jiietes of chocolate. He luid tried to iiuike tfie halves even, but the break was jagged. He compared Hr* pii'ces lor a

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  moment and then lield out the one in his left hand to Haruko. Instead of taking it; however, she stopped and her face darkened as she stared down at it.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  She took a few short breaths. "I've been thinking," she said, her tone bright and a bit manic, "that maybe we should break up."

  Aoyagi winced. "Here," he said, as if he hadn't heard, holding out the chocolate again.

  "I've been thinking about it for a while."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I saw you just now. After you broke the bar, you checked to see which half was bigger and you gave that one to me."

  "I guess," he said, nodding. There was no reason to deny it.

  "I've always liked that about you, how careful you are, and thoughtful." From her tone it was somehow clear she didn't think she shared these qualities herself. She took the piece of chocolate from him and quickly broke it again. The resulting halves were even more jagged and unequal, crumbs everywhere. "Take it," she said, holding out half to him. He looked up at her. "Meaning, this is more me. Meaning, Tm fine with a little less careful—a lot less, in fact. I'm not going to get mad if my half is a bit smaller. We've been together a long time, ever since graduation. You don't have to handle me with kid gloves. Don't you see?"

  "Just because we're sleeping together doesn't mean we can't be nice to each other," Aoyagi protested.

  "That's not what I mean!" Exasperation was creeping into her voice.

  "All this over half a bar of chocolate?"

  "Over your insisting on me always getting the bigger half, over your even noticing there is a bigger half."

  "And that hurts your feelings how?"

  "I know it doesn't make sense," she said, frowning now.

  "This isn't about the chocolate, is it?"

  "You know it isn't. Do you remember something you said not long ago about your job, now that you're used to the route? You said that one day is starting to blend into the next, that you can't tell the difference between yesterday and tomorrow anymore."

  "I was tired, I might have felt that way at the time."

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  "But it's the same with us. We're too used to each other. We've been together too long, and we're too comfortable. We're too willing to settle for things the way they are."

  "Now hold on," Aoyagi tried to interrupt.

  "It's as though we're here in the same room but not really together anymore.”

  "Now wait," Aoyagi said, waving his piece of chocolate at her. "Where are you coming up with all this? You're talking, but you're not making any sense."

  "We're like an old married couple—and we're not even married yet." Haruko let out a little laugh. "It's not fun anymore."

  .Aoyagi suddenly thought of the trip they had made to Yokohama just last month. They'd spent a lot of time searching for a restaurant the guidebook had recommended, but when they hnally got there, they were so badly treated they were tempted to walk out. In the end, though, they decided to take their revenge by ordering every item on the menu, lingering endlessly over each course, and monopolizing the table as long as they possibly could. They knew it was a pointless protest, but they had laughed about it later. Had the fun already stopped by then? Exactly when had it stopped?

  "You know I've been playing that game again," she said, glancing over at the aging computer in the corner of the room. She had hauled it out of the closet not long ago and taken to playing a game she had loved in college.

  Aoyagi nodded. "Feeding that creepy hsh." T he peculiar game involved nothing more than looking after a thoroughly unlovable talking hsh.

  "Well, the fish said something that hit the mark."

  "It doesn't even look like a fish."

  "1 know, but it said something after 1 fed it. It said 'Don't settle for too little.'" Aoyagi couldn't tell whether he was expected to laugh or cry. "And it hit me—it was talking about us, about you and me."

  "Tm not sure 1 like having my future decided by a talking fish."

  "Do you remember those stamps they used to j)ut on our homework in elementary school? A gold star with 'F.xcellent!' underneath, or just 'Hood effijrt!' if you hadn't really done so well."

  "I remember."

  "Well, if we go on like this, we're headed lor a life ol '(lootl elloiT.' I'm sure o it."

  "And I'm sure you're out ot your mind," said Aoyagi.

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  They sat facing each other in silence, and he went home before the pizza arrived. At the time, he had felt more bewildered than sad; perhaps most of all he'd been angry that she had made up such a silly ex
cuse for dumping him. And part of him was convinced that she would call before long to say she was sorry, to plead temporary insanity, perhaps.

  There had been no call after a week, but he had managed to stay calm. When they'd quarreled in the past, he had always been the one to offer a truce, even if he wasn't to blame, so he took comfort in the knowledge that he could always call her when he felt ready to patch things up. Besides, he was swamped at work.

  After ten days, he called her, but to his surprise her attitude hadn't changed. She insisted they give the breakup a chance to work. He couldn't see how they'd know whether it was working if they didn't ever get back together, but he realized he was grasping at straws.

  When Haruko pulled out, she left a gaping hole. A huge, invisible hole in his head and heart. Aoyagi had pretended to ignore it, busying himself with checking, stacking, lifting, running, delivering. He knew that the best way to cope was to keep moving, but as he went on his rounds, he kept seeing things he wanted to tell her about. Funny things, like the woman who wrestled with her determined Saint Bernard until she finally gave up and let the leash drag her along like a water-skier. Or a window washer high up above the street exchanging an awkward bow with a woman working in an office on the other side of the pane. When he realized there was no Haruko to listen to these tales, he wanted to curl up in a ball. And finally when he couldn't stand being so miserable, he tried calling Shingo Morita—only to get a recorded message saying that his number was out of service.

  One day as he sat daydreaming on a park bench, a child dropped a crumpled sheet of paper as he walked by. When Aoyagi picked it up and handed it back to him, the little boy smoothed out the sheet and held it out for him to see. It was a crayon drawing, and at the top was a gold star with "Excellent!" stamped underneath.

  Aoyagi forced a smile. "You should be proud," he said. "1 never got better than 'Good effort.'"

  "You never got a gold star?" the boy said, unable to hide his scorn. Aoyagi had never known how much he wanted one until now.

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