Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai

3

It's probably true. There definitely is something wrong with me. I have become petty. I am no good at all. I am pathetic. Out of the blue I nearly cried out at the top of my lungs. Pshaw... as if a loud holler was going to cover my gutlessness. I have to do something more. Maybe I am in love. I lay back on the green meadow.

"Father," I tried calling out. Father. Father, the sunset afterglow is beautiful. And the evening haze is pink. See how the rays from the setting sun melt and blur into the haze, which is why it takes on such a soft pink glow. The pink haze drifts and sways amongst the grove of trees, trailing above the road and caressing the meadow, before gently enveloping my body. It infuses every last strand of my hair with its soft pink light and then lightly embraces me. But this sky is even more beautiful. For the first time in my life, I want to bow my head to the heavens. Now I believe in G-d. The color of this sky, what would you call it? Rose? Flame? Iridescent? The color of angel's wings? Or a huge temple? No, it is none of these things. It is much more sublime.

"I want to love everyone," I thought, almost tearfully. If you stare at the sky, it changes little by little. Gradually it turns bluish. Then, with nothing more than a sigh, I felt the urge to be naked. I had never seen anything as beautiful as the translucent leaves and grass. Gently, I reached out to touch the grass.

I want to live beautifully.

When I arrived home, Mother was already there with houseguests. Not surprisingly, she was laughing cheerily at something. When it was just the two of us, no matter how hard she laughed, Mother never made a sound. On the contrary, when she entertained guests her face didn't smile at all, instead high-pitched laughter rang out. I greeted them, quickly went around to the back and washed my hands at the well, then I took off my socks. As I was washing my feet, the fishmonger showed up, calling out, Here you go! One large fish, thanks for your business! He set the fish on the well. I didn't know what kind of fish it was but something about its fine scales made me think it came from the northern sea. I put the fish on a plate and washed my hands again, and I caught a scent of summer in Hokkaido. It reminded me of the time I went to visit my older sister in Hokkaido during summer vacation two years ago. Perhaps because her home in Tomakomai was near the shore, you could always catch the scent of fish. I could clearly picture Sis, alone in that big empty kitchen at eveningtime, her white womanly hands deftly preparing fish for dinner. I remembered how, for some reason, I had wanted to be coddled by my sister, I couldn't help but crave her attention, but she had already given birth to little Toshi, and Sis was no longer my own. The fact that I couldn't simply fling my arms around her narrow shoulders had dawned on me like a chill draft. I stood in a corner of that dim kitchen with a feeling of intense loneliness and, stunned, kept my gaze fixed on her pale, graceful fingertips as they worked. I yearned for everything long gone. It was so curious, the way I felt about my family. With anyone else, if we were far apart, they would eventually grow fainter in my mind until I forgot about them, but with family, their memory seemed only to grow fonder and all I remembered were the beautiful things about them.

The oleaster berries by the well had barely started to turn red. They would probably be ready to eat in another two weeks. It was funny last year. One evening I had come out by myself to pick and eat the berries, and Jappy had watched me silently until I felt bad for him and gave him a berry. He ate it right up, so I gave him two more, which he gobbled too. Rather amused, I shook the tree, and as the berries trickled down, Jappy eagerly devoured them. Stupid dog. I had never seen a dog who ate oleander berries before. I reached out, picking more berries and eating them myself. Jappy was eating them off the ground. It was funny. Thinking about this made me miss Jappy, so I called out his name.

Jappy strutted over from the direction of the front door. I was suddenly seized with a furious surge of love for Jappy, and as I caught hold of his tail roughly, he gently bit my hand. I felt like bursting into tears, and I swatted him on the head. Unperturbed, he drank water loudly from the well.

When I went into the house, the lights were already on. It was quiet. Father was gone. I felt his absence within the house like a gaping void that made me shiver with agony. I changed into Japanese clothes, giving a little kiss to the roses on my discarded underthings, and when a burst of laughter rose from the parlor as I sat down in front of the dressing mirror, I suddenly felt angry for some reason. Everything was fine when it was just the two of us, Mother and me, but whenever anyone else was around, she seemed strangely distant-cold and formal-and those were the times when I missed Father the most, when I felt the saddest.