At the Airport （空港にてー村上龍）

I tried calling Saito, but hung up as soon as I reached his answering machine. A group of people carrying ski boards entered, walking past me. The big glass door opened and then closed again. It was bright in the airport. But it was even brighter where the skiers were standing across from the sliding door. All I could see at first were their silhouettes. There was a man near middle-aged sitting in front of me, reading a weekly magazine. Featured on the cover was the face of an actress. She was a face that I occasionally saw on TV, but her name slipped my mind. An actress with the Chinese character, “Sakura”, in her last name. I didn’t have the air ticket with me. I was waiting for Saito in front of the ANA check-in counter. He was supposed to bring the tickets with him.

The man with the magazine sitting opposite me had looked at me twice from just now. He was probably in his late thirties. He wore a cream coloured trench coat over his grey suit. “Wait for me before the ANA counter. There’re a few seats there,” Saito said on the phone two days ago. Saito and I met four months earlier. The seats at the counter were completely filled up. The number of seats paled in comparison to the crowd of people in the airport. I didn’t know for sure the size of the crowd. There were many people making a mad dash for the departure gates after checking in so perhaps there was no need for that many chairs. But you could see that there clearly weren’t enough chairs for people who wanted to sit. There was a crowd eyeing for people to leave. I knew they were waiting even though they didn’t show it blatantly. I couldn’t feel anything but their strong desire to sit.

Incidentally, my eyes met with the man reading the magazine. His eyes travelled quickly from my eyes to my shoulders and then my body, down to the bottom of my legs before returning to his magazine. I was wearing a beige woollen coat over a black dress, paired with a branded scarf. I bought it a long time ago. My handbag was also branded, but it didn’t cost that much. Not knowing how cold it was in Kumamoto, I came dressed in the clothes that I wore for winter in Tokyo. I had wanted to watch the weather report for the temperature in Kumamoto before leaving my child with mum. But we ended up leaving the apartment before the report was on because he was getting a little restless.

A big electronic board providing information of departures was displayed diagonally above. ANA flight number 645 departing for Kumamoto at 11:25 was already opened to passengers for boarding. Information for many other countless flights was also shown, displaying departures until 15:15. The next flight for Kumamoto was leaving at 13:40. There were many flights bound for Fukuoka and Sapporo, but not many for Kumamoto. I glanced at my watch. I wondered how much time is left before the check-in counter for my flight closes. The announcement came on for passengers flying to Fukuoka. Hearing this, the man with the magazine stood up. He looked at me once again just before standing up. Perhaps I possessed a look that labelled me as that kind of woman.

My marriage ended two years ago and I had a boy who was turning four. From the start, I didn’t get along with my husband’s mother. Eventually that led to our separation. My husband had managed a factory for machinery parts left by his father. But it closed down after our divorce. I heard his major clients had gone out of business. He was an honest and caring man. He was affectionate to me, but even more to his mother. She had undergone numerous treatments for her poor back and shoulders. Chiropractic, qigong, acupuncture and other sorts of unorthodox treatment. Her treatments cost a bomb. All she had to do was, really, just to move that body of hers a little. But she was practically on her back most days and the different therapists came in and out of the house for her treatments.

A young elderly couple came along after that man left his seat. The elderly man sat down directly across from me. You could tell from their dressing that they were on their way back to their hometown. Their faces and arms were brown from the sun. The man was in a wrinkled white shirt and red tie. He wore a dark brown suit with sleeves that were too short. His thin hair was plastered tightly to the back of his head with wax. He was carrying a big shoulder bag with great care. The woman was small. Her bending back made her look even smaller. Her make-up was too white. She wore a thick, orange cardigan knitted in wool over a white blouse, and an impassive look on her face.

Even with a total stranger, you could tell certain things from a person’s looks, make-up, clothes, and manner. You would know if that person was from the city, suburb, or the backwoods that could only be reached by plane. You could guess the financial status from the things he had on him. The colour of his face and posture would give away his health. As for his age, you could gauge at a single glance. I looked around my hands. A Cartier watch rested on my right wrist. It was the only thing I bought for myself since I started working in the sex industry. I wondered if people would know from looking at my watch that I was a sex worker.

After the divorce, I worked part-time as a sales clerk at a gas station, while my little boy was at day care. I worked together with a girl called Akami, but was soon laid off. Akami was only twenty-two then. I was thirty-four. The gas station’s business was going downhill owing to the price slashing war with its rivals. Maybe that was why they kept the younger staff that was cheaper to retain. After the divorce, for a short while, my child and I stayed in one of the apartments that made up the factory workers’ dormitory. But we were forced to leave after the factory was shut down. It seemed that the apartment was used as a mortgage to pay the debts.

At the same time, my husband had to provide me with alimony and child support. He was in tears when apologising to me, but I didn’t blame him. My parents lived in Fukushima and they urged me to go back. But my brother and his wife were already living with them, so it wasn’t possible to move back with them. So I had to rent a place and did a short stint at a hostess club in Osaki. But I wasn’t good at drinking or chatting with strangers. Not long after my stomach began to suffer and I quit.

As usual, this translation isn't completed. I wish I have more time to finish translating a whole novel, but I always have something new to read every week and can't afford to focus my time on just one. Besides, my very difficult job hunting is taking up too much of my time! :(