and left no margin for error. He stepped on the brake once, and saw his two relatives framed in the yellow glow of the headlights.
He didn't feel like going straight home, and he certainly wasn't in the mood for a drink at Roman. As he rounded a curve in the woods, a vista unexpectedly opened up before him, and he saw the sky, dim above the apartments.
"Ah! I'm so happy you've come!" the redhead said in her shrill voice when he entered the coffee shop. Empty beer bottles and dirty glasses littered the tables of the four booths. A layer of cigarette smoke floated just below the ceiling. Behind the counter, the woman splashed water on some glasses.
"Sorry about the mess. They just finished building the meeting hall over at the apartments, and the workers came in to whoop it up. What a loud group! Your friend stopped by, but the noise drove him off. I know, the place looks like a dump. I'll get it clean in a minute. You probably don't feel like drinking with all this crap lying around."
Mitsuo took a metal tray from the counter and cleared the tables. The ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts, and more butts lay crushed on the floor. The woman wiped the sweat from her forehead with a light touch of her rolled-up sleeve and thanked Mitsuo for his help. He saw her flush through her heavy makeup. He grabbed a rag and wiped the tables. He considered sweeping the floor, where he noticed a piece of tomato had fallen, but let it pass so she wouldn't think he was trying to make points.
She opened a beer and set it on the counter. "It's on the house. Enjoy," she said. With a wet hand she poured the beer into a glass. Mitsuo's stool was uncomfortable, and he moved to the next one, but it was no better. She washed the glasses in sudless water and rubbed them indifferently with a sponge. Her thin gold necklace swam in the sweat glistening just below her neck. She stood the empty bottles on the floor, then rested her hand on her cheek. A smile creased her face, and she said, "Well, I'm ready for another drink."
"I'll buy a bottle of whiskey for you to keep here for me."
"Wow, I've been raking in the money today!" She brought out a bottle of Suntory Old and handed it to Mitsuo along with a felt pen. He wrote "Tomato Man" on the bottle, and added a drawing of a tomato, but it came out looking more like a pumpkin. The woman assured him it looked just like a tomato, and she set out a small dish of peanuts.
Mitsuo recalled the sight of his father and grandmother bathed in the headlights and realized that only two people lived in his house now. That's how it is: humans come and go.
"I served all the tomatoes you gave me to the construction workers. All I had to do was slice them and sprinkle a little salt on top."
"Sounds like easy money."
"Yeah, about ten thousand yen."
"You can have all you want. How about going to pick some right now?"
She had her back to Mitsuo and was frying some sausages. He could see the strap of her bra through the transparent purple fabric of her blouse. Her hair was silhouetted against the light and appeared on fire.
Mitsuo popped a sausage into his mouth but, scalding hot, it danced upon his tongue. He hurriedly quenched the fire by downing some whiskey. The woman dropped some ice into her glass, and Mitsuo poured whiskey into it. He also started to add water, but she waved it off. She tipped the glass and took a long drink. She was clearly drunk, and her eyes glazed over. Mitsuo kept pace with her, and soon felt his nerves tingling and wiggling like worms. He wondered if the child who had likened the tomatoes to red lights belonged to her.
"You have two kids?"
"One. The other one with me today is my friend's. We're both divorced, so we help each other out. We're better off this way, but sometimes it's pretty tough."
"There are all kinds of folks in the apartments. You know, it used to be a paddy. No people, just frogs."
"You're kinda unique, aren't you? I've never met anyone like you."
"I'm a normal guy. I've lived here all my life. Maybe that's why I seem different to you."
"That hothouse of yours is sure neat."
"So's your whiskey. Feels like I'm drinking something really special."
The woman laughed flirtatiously, not bothering to cover her mouth with a hand. She slid out from behind the counter and sat next to Mitsuo, pressing her hip against his. Her scent, a combination of cosmetics and sweat, came as an assault. She intertwined pinkies with him, and Mitsuo had to restrain himself from pulling his hand away
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty-three."
"How old do you think I am?"
"Twenty-five," Mitsuo replied, thinking she was probably thirty.
She laughed happily. Her finger felt damp and cold to Mitsuo. She'd neglected drying her hands after washing the glasses.
"I envy you. You can do anything you like. I bet you feel you can use your power and energy to get whatever you want in life. A man in the prime of his life."
"You're wrong there. I can't do nothin', and there ain't nothin' to do."
"I'm in the mood for a tomato. A fresh-picked one, I mean. Go and get one for me, will you?" She gripped his finger firmly.
"You bet." He eased off the stool. He turned toward the door, but the woman latched on to the back of his shirt, which hung outside his trousers.
"I'll go with you." She wobbled to her feet. Mitsuo placed his hand on her waist to support her, but she brushed it away.
The apartments were completely dark. Sprinkled stars dotted the clean night sky, their brilliance piercing as needles. The playground, so recently covered in water, was now littered with silt, plastic objects, and vegetable remains. The woman overtook Mitsuo. He felt that the light from a street lamp was contaminated by the scent rising from her body.
She stopped and waved her hand. Mitsuo reached the door of the hothouse and unlocked it. When he stepped inside, it was like dipping into a lukewarm bath. The tomatoes and leaves shone in the moonlight. A silvery light played over the vinyl. He felt as though he were in an aluminum capsule. The woman skipped along a ridge, her skin covered in powdery silver light. She looked like a statue carved out of the moonlight and was, at last, beautiful. The tomatoes were just as the kid had said, red light bulbs, and now they illuminated the red-haired woman.
She continued to skip along, looking the tomatoes over curiously. Mitsuo hid behind some plants, the leaves of which were coated with moonlight. He sprang at her, and, as though she had been waiting for just that, she immediately took him into her arms. Their lips met. Her tongue thrust against Mitsuo's as though it were an independent creature. She rammed her chest and stomach against him and asked in her nasal tone whether there was a place they could lie down. While she looked on, Mitsuo broke down some cardboard fertilizer boxes and spread straw over them. The woman stood there, naked but for her thin necklace. Her body shimmered in the moonlight. She spread her arms and said, "Ooh, this feels wonderful," and began skipping about again. Her buttocks and the triangle of her pubic hair danced before Mitsuo's eyes. It was odd to see sandals on her feet.
Mitsuo woke to the sound of a washing machine. He found the outside temperature perfectly suited to his body's, and felt superb. He grasped
