“Really? Can that be true? I don’t know much about your situation, but you sure don’t look it. To me, you look like somebody who’s been used to coming to places like this since you were little.”

This Aomame owed entirely to the guidance of Tamaki Otsuka. How to behave in an elegant restaurant, how to choose your food without making a fool of yourself, how to order wine, how to request dessert, how to deal with your waiter, how to use your cutlery properly: Tamaki knew about all these things, and she taught them all in great detail to Aomame. She also taught Aomame how to choose her clothing, how to wear accessories, and how to use makeup. These were all new discoveries for Aomame. Tamaki grew up in an affluent Yamanote household. A socialite, her mother was exceedingly particular about manners and clothing, as a result of which Tamaki had internalized all that knowledge as early as her high school days. She could socialize comfortably with grown-ups. Aomame absorbed this knowledge voraciously; she would have been a far different person if she had never met an excellent teacher like Tamaki. She often felt that Tamaki was still alive and lurking inside of her.

Ayumi seemed a little anxious at first, but each sip of wine relaxed her.

“Uh, I want to ask you something,” Ayumi said. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I just feel like asking. You won’t get mad, will you?”

“No, I won’t get mad.”

“It’s kind of a strange question, but I don’t have any ulterior motive in asking it. I want you to understand that. I’m just a curious person. But some people get really angry about these things.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t get angry.”

“Are you sure? That’s what everybody says, and then they blow up.”

“I’m special, so don’t worry.”

“Did you ever have the experience of having a man do funny things to you when you were little?”

Aomame shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just wanted to ask. If it never happened to you, fine,” Ayumi said. Then she changed the subject. “Tell me, have you ever had a lover? I mean, someone you were seriously involved with?”

“Never.”

“Not even once?”

“Not even once,” Aomame said. Then, after some hesitation, she added, “To tell you the truth, I was a virgin until I turned twenty-six.”

Ayumi was at a loss for words. She put down her knife and fork, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, and stared at Aomame with narrowed eyes.

“A beautiful woman like you? I can’t believe it.”

“I just wasn’t interested.”

“Not interested in men?”

“I did have one person I fell in love with,” Aomame said. “It happened when I was ten. I held his hand.”

“You fell in love with a boy when you were ten? That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Ayumi picked up her knife and fork and seemed deep in thought as she sliced one of her shrimp. “So, where is the boy now? What’s he doing?”

Aomame shook her head. “I don’t know. We were in the same third- and fourth-grade classes in Ichikawa in Chiba, but I moved to a school in Tokyo in the fifth grade, and I never saw him again, never heard anything about him. All I know is that, if he’s still alive, he should be twenty-nine years old now. He’ll probably turn thirty this fall.”

“Are you telling me you never thought about trying to find out where he is or what he’s doing? It wouldn’t be that hard, you know.”

Aomame gave another firm shake of her head. “I never felt like taking the initiative to find out.”

“That’s so strange. If it were me, I’d do everything I could to locate him. If you love him that much, you should track him down and tell him so to his face.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Aomame said. “What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.”

“Destiny. A chance encounter.”

“More or less,” Aomame said, taking a sip of wine. “That’s when I’ll open up to him. ‘The only one I’ve ever loved in this life is you.’ ”

“How romantic!” Ayumi said, astonished. “But the odds of a meeting like that are pretty low, I’d say. And besides, you haven’t seen him for twenty years. He might look completely different. You could pass him on the street and never know.”

Aomame shook her head. “I’d know. His face might have changed, but I’d know him at a glance. I couldn’t miss him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So you go on waiting, believing that this chance encounter is bound to happen.”

“Which is why I always pay attention when I walk down the street.”

“Incredible,” Ayumi said. “But as much as you love him, you don’t mind having sex with other men—at least after you turned twenty-six.”

Aomame thought about this for a moment. Then she said, “That’s all just in passing. It doesn’t last.”

A short silence ensued, during which both women concentrated on their food. Then Ayumi said, “Sorry if this is getting too personal, but did something happen to you when you were twenty-six?”

Aomame nodded. “Something did happen. And it changed me completely. But I can’t talk about it here and now. Sorry.”

“That’s perfectly okay,” Ayumi said. “Did I put you in a bad mood asking all these questions?”

“Not in the least,” Aomame said.

The waiter brought the starters, and they ate for a while in silence. Their conversation picked up again after they had put their spoons down and the waiter cleared their bowls from the table.

“Aren’t you afraid, though?” Ayumi asked Aomame.

“Afraid of what?”

“Don’t you see? You and he might never cross paths again. Of course, a chance meeting could occur, and I hope it happens. I really do, for your sake. But realistically speaking, you have to see there’s a huge possibility you’ll never be able to meet him again. And even if you do meet, he might already be married to somebody else. He might have two kids. Isn’t that so? And in that case, you may have to live the rest of your life alone, never being joined with the one person you love in all the world. Don’t you find that scary?”

Aomame stared at the red wine in her glass. “Maybe I do,” she said. “But at least I have someone I love.”

“Even if he never loved you?”

“If you can love someone with your whole heart, even one person, then there’s salvation in life. Even if you can’t get together with that person.”

Ayumi thought this over for a while. The waiter approached and refilled their wineglasses. Taking a sip, Aomame thought, Ayumi is right. Who could possibly object to a wine like this?

“You’re amazing,” Ayumi said, “the way you can put this in such a philosophical perspective.”

“I’m not being philosophical. I’m just telling you what I honestly think.”

“I was in love with somebody once,” Ayumi said with a confidential air. “Right after I graduated from high school. The boy I first had sex with. He was three years older than me. But he dumped me for somebody else right away. I went kind of wild after that. It was really hard on me. I got over him, but I still haven’t recovered from the wild part. He was a real two-timing bastard, a smooth talker. But I really loved him.”

Aomame nodded, and Ayumi picked up her wineglass and took a drink.

“He still calls me once in a while, says he wants to get together. All he wants is my body, of course. I know that. So I don’t see him. I know it would just be another mess if I did. Or should I say my brain knows it, but my body always reacts. It wants him so badly! When these things build up, I let myself go crazy again. I wonder if you know what I mean.”

“I certainly do,” Aomame said.

“He’s really an awful guy, pretty nasty, and he’s not that good in bed, either. But at least he’s not scared of me, and while I’m with him he treats me well.”

“Feelings like that don’t give you any choice, do they?” Aomame said. “They come at you whenever they want to. It’s not like choosing food from a menu.”