Fiction moment. Like a blackboard wiped with a damp cloth, he Scheherazade came to see Habara twice a week.

Her
Scheherazade was erased of worries, of unpleasant memories. Who days were not fixed, but she never came on weekends.
By Haruki Murakami
could ask for more? At this point in his life, that kind of No doubt she spent that time with her family. She always
forgetting was what Habara desired more than anything phoned an hour before arriving. She bought groceries at
Each time they had sex, she told Habara a strange and
else. the local supermarket and brought them to him in her
gripping story afterward. Like Queen Scheherazade in
car, a small blue Mazda hatchback. An older model, it
“A Thousand and One Nights.” Though, of course,
Scheherazade was thirty-five, four years older than had a dent in its rear bumper and its wheels were black
Habara, unlike the king, had no plan to chop off her
Habara, and a full-time housewife with two children in with grime. Parking it in the reserved space assigned to
head the next morning. (She never stayed with him till
elementary school (though she was also a registered the house, she would carry the bags to the front door
morning, anyway.) She told Habara the stories because
nurse and was apparently called in for the occasional and ring the bell. After checking the peephole, Habara
she wanted to, because, he guessed, she enjoyed
job). Her husband was a typical company man. Their would release the lock, unhook the chain, and let her in.
curling up in bed and talking to a man during those
home was a twenty-minute drive away from Habara’s. In the kitchen, she’d sort the groceries and arrange them
languid, intimate moments after making love. And also,
This was all (or almost all) the personal information she in the refrigerator. Then she’d make a list of things to
probably, because she wished to comfort Habara, who
had volunteered. Habara had no way of verifying any of buy for her next visit. She performed these tasks
had to spend every day cooped up indoors.
it, but he could think of no particular reason to doubt her. skillfully, with a minimum of wasted motion, and saying
She had never revealed her name. “There’s no need for little throughout.
Because of this, Habara had dubbed the woman
you to know, is there?” Scheherazade had asked. Nor
Scheherazade. He never used the name to her face, but
had she ever called Habara by his name, though of Once she’d finished, the two of them would move
it was how he referred to her in the small diary he kept.
course she knew what it was. She judiciously steered wordlessly to the bedroom, as if borne there by an
“Scheherazade came today,” he’d note in ballpoint pen.
clear of the name, as if it would somehow be unlucky or invisible current. Scheherazade quickly removed her
Then he’d record the gist of that day’s story in simple,
inappropriate to have it pass her lips. clothes and, still silent, joined Habara in bed. She barely
cryptic terms that were sure to baffle anyone who might
spoke during their lovemaking, either, performing each
read the diary later.
On the surface, at least, this Scheherazade had nothing act as if completing an assignment. When she was
in common with the beautiful queen of “A Thousand and menstruating, she used her hand to accomplish the
Habara didn’t know whether her stories were true, same end. Her deft, rather businesslike manner
One Nights_._” She was on the road to middle age and
invented, or partly true and partly invented. He had no reminded Habara that she was a licensed nurse.
already running to flab, with jowls and lines webbing the
way of telling. Reality and supposition, observation and
corners of her eyes. Her hair style, her makeup, and her
pure fancy seemed jumbled together in her narratives.
manner of dress weren’t exactly slapdash, but neither After sex, they lay in bed and talked. More accurately,
Habara therefore enjoyed them as a child might, without
were they likely to receive any compliments. Her she talked and he listened, adding an appropriate word
questioning too much. What possible difference could it
features were not unattractive, but her face lacked here, asking the occasional question there. When the
make to him, after all, if they were lies or truth, or a
focus, so that the impression she left was somehow clock said four-thirty, she would break off her story (for
complicated patchwork of the two?
blurry. As a consequence, those who walked by her on some reason, it always seemed to have just reached a
the street, or shared the same elevator, probably took climax), jump out of bed, gather up her clothes, and get
Whatever the case, Scheherazade had a gift for telling little notice of her. Ten years earlier, she might well have ready to leave. She had to go home, she said, to
stories that touched the heart. No matter what sort of been a lively and attractive young woman, perhaps even prepare dinner.
story it was, she made it special. Her voice, her timing, turned a few heads. At some point, however, the curtain
her pacing were all flawless. She captured her listener’s had fallen on that part of her life and it seemed unlikely Habara would see her to the door, replace the chain,
attention, tantalized him, drove him to ponder and to rise again. and watch through the curtains as the grimy little blue
speculate, and then, in the end, gave him precisely what
car drove away. At six o’ clock, he made a simple dinner
he’d been seeking. Enthralled, Habara was able to
and ate it by himself. He had once worked as a cook, so
forget the reality that surrounded him, if only for a
putting a meal together was no great hardship. He drank “Huh? Eels have jaws?” could actually remember—being fastened to a rock,
Perrier with his dinner (he never touched alcohol) and swaying invisibly among the weeds, eying the fat trout
followed it with a cup of coffee, which he sipped while “Haven’t you ever taken a good look at one?” she said, swimming by above me.”
watching a DVD or reading. He liked long books, surprised.
especially those he had to read several times to “Can you remember eating them?”
understand. There wasn’t much else to do. He had no “I do eat eel now and then, but I’ve never had an
one to talk to. No one to phone. With no computer, he opportunity to see if they have jaws.” “No, I can’t.”
had no way of accessing the Internet. No newspaper
was delivered, and he never watched television. (There
“Well, you should check it out sometime. Go to an “That’s a relief,” Habara said. “But is that all you recall
was a good reason for that.) It went without saying that
aquarium or someplace like that. Regular eels have jaws from your life as a lamprey—swaying to and fro at the
he couldn’t go outside. Should Scheherazade’s visits
with teeth. But lampreys have only suckers, which they bottom of a river?”
come to a halt for some reason, he would be left all
use to attach themselves to rocks at the bottom of a
alone.
river or lake. Then they just kind of float there, waving
“A former life can’t be called up just like that,” she said.
back and forth, like weeds.”
Habara was not overly concerned about this prospect. If “If you’re lucky, you get a flash of what it was like. It’s
that happens, he thought, it will be hard, but I’ll scrape like catching a glimpse through a tiny hole in a wall. Can
Habara imagined a bunch of lampreys swaying like
by one way or another. I’m not stranded on a desert you recall any of your former lives?”
weeds at the bottom of a lake. The scene seemed
island. No, he thought, I am a desert island. He had
somehow divorced from reality, although reality, he
always been comfortable being by himself. What did
knew, could at times be terribly unreal. “No, not one,” Habara said. Truth be told, he had never
bother him, though, was the thought of not being able to
felt the urge to revisit a former life. He had his hands full
talk in bed with Scheherazade. Or, more precisely,
“Lampreys live like that, hidden among the weeds. Lying with the present one.
missing the next installment of her story.
in wait. Then, when a trout passes overhead, they dart
up and fasten on to it with their suckers. Inside their
“Still, it felt pretty neat at the bottom of the lake. Upside
“I was a lamprey eel in a former life,” Scheherazade said suckers are these tonguelike things with teeth, which rub
down with my mouth fastened to a rock, watching the
once, as they lay in bed together. It was a simple, back and forth against the trout’s belly until a hole opens
fish pass overhead. I saw a really big snapping turtle
straightforward comment, as offhand as if she had up and they can start eating the flesh, bit by bit.”
announced that the North Pole was in the far north. once, too, a humongous black shape drifting past, like

Habara hadn’t a clue what sort of creature a lamprey “I wouldn’t like to be a trout,” Habara said. the evil spaceship in ‘Star Wars.’ And big white birds
was, much less what one looked like. So he had no with long, sharp beaks; from below, they looked like
particular opinion on the subject. “Back in Roman times, they raised lampreys in ponds. white clouds floating across the sky.”
Uppity slaves got chucked in and the lampreys ate them
“Do you know how a lamprey eats a trout?” she asked. alive.” “And you can see all these things now?”

He didn’t. In fact, it was the first time he’d heard that Habara thought that he wouldn’t have enjoyed being a “As clear as day,” Scheherazade said. “The light, the pull
lampreys ate trout. Roman slave, either.
of the current, everything. Sometimes I can even go
back there in my mind.”
“Lampreys have no jaws. That’s what sets them apart “The first time I saw a lamprey was back in elementary
from other eels.” school, on a class trip to the aquarium,” Scheherazade
“To what you were thinking then?”
said. “The moment I read the description of how they
lived, I knew that I’d been one in a former life. I mean, I
“Yeah.” hard time accepting her criteria for selection on this their thirties usually wore—though this was pure
front. conjecture, since he had no experience with housewives
“What do lampreys think about?” of that age. Some days, however, she turned up in
A week after he arrived, as if it were a self-evident next colorful, frilly silk panties instead. Why she switched
“Lampreys think very lamprey-like thoughts. About step, Scheherazade had taken him to bed. There had between the two he hadn’t a clue.
lamprey-like topics in a context that’s very lamprey-like. been condoms on the bedside table when he arrived.
There are no words for those thoughts. They belong to Habara guessed that sex was one of her assigned The other thing that puzzled him was the fact that their
the world of water. It’s like when we were in the womb. duties—or perhaps “support activities” was the term they lovemaking and her storytelling were so closely linked,
We were thinking things in there, but we can’t express used. Whatever the term, and whatever her motivation, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other
those thoughts in the language we use out here. Right?” he’d gone with the flow and accepted her proposal began. He had never experienced anything like this
without hesitation. before: although he didn’t love her, and the sex was
“Hold on a second! You can remember what it was like so-so, he was tightly bound to her physically. It was all
in the womb?” Their sex was not exactly obligatory, but neither could it rather confusing.
be said that their hearts were entirely in it. She seemed
“Sure,” Scheherazade said, lifting her head to see over to be on guard, lest they grow too enthusiastic—just as
“Iwas a teen-ager when I started breaking into empty
his chest. “Can’t you?” a driving instructor might not want his students to get too
houses,” she said one day as they lay in bed.
excited about their driving. Yet, while the lovemaking
No, he said. He couldn’t. was not what you’d call passionate, it wasn’t entirely
Habara—as was often the case when she told
businesslike, either. It may have begun as one of her
stories—found himself at a loss for words.
“Then I’ll tell you sometime. About life in the womb.” duties (or, at least, as something that was strongly
encouraged), but at a certain point she seemed—if only
“Have you ever broken into somebody’s house?” she
“Scheherazade, Lamprey, Former Lives” was what in a small way—to have found a kind of pleasure in it.
asked.
Habara recorded in his diary that day. He doubted that Habara could tell this from certain subtle ways in which
anyone who came across it would guess what the words her body responded, a response that delighted him as
“I don’t think so,” he answered in a dry voice.
meant. well. After all, he was not a wild animal penned up in a
cage but a human being equipped with his own range of
“Do it once and you get addicted.”
emotions, and sex for the sole purpose of physical
Habara had met Scheherazade for the first time four
release was hardly fulfilling. Yet to what extent did
months earlier. He had been transported to this house, “But it’s illegal.”
Scheherazade see their sexual relationship as one of
in a provincial city north of Tokyo, and she had been
her duties, and how much did it belong to the sphere of
assigned to him as his “support liaison.” Since he “You betcha. It’s dangerous, but you still get hooked.”
her personal life? He couldn’t tell.
couldn’t go outside, her role was to buy food and other
items he required and bring them to the house. She also Habara waited quietly for her to continue.
This was true of other things, too. Habara often found
tracked down whatever books and magazines he wished
Scheherazade’s feelings and intentions hard to read.
to read, and any CDs he wanted to listen to. In addition, “The coolest thing about being in someone else’s
For example, she wore plain cotton panties most of the
she chose an assortment of DVDs—though he had a house when there’s no one there,” Scheherazade
time. The kind of panties he imagined housewives in
said, “is how silent it is. Not a sound. It’s like the quietest
place in the world. That’s how it felt to me, anyway. school in a neighboring town. His father, who had Scheherazade lowered herself into the desk chair and
When I sat on the floor and kept absolutely still, my life worked at a cement company, had been killed in a car sat there for a while. This is where he studies every
as a lamprey came back to me. I told you about my accident some years earlier. His sister was a night, she thought, her heart pounding. One by one, she
being a lamprey in a former life, right?” junior-high-school student. This meant that the house picked up the implements on the desk, rolled them
should be empty during the day. between her fingers, smelled them, held them to her
“Yes, you did.” lips. His pencils, his scissors, his ruler, his stapler—the
Not surprisingly, the front door was locked. most mundane objects became somehow radiant
“It was just like that. My suckers stuck to a rock Scheherazade checked under the mat for a key. Sure because they were his.
underwater and my body waving back and forth enough, there was one there. Quiet residential
overhead, like the weeds around me. Everything so communities in provincial cities like theirs had little She opened his desk drawers and carefully checked
quiet. Though that may have been because I had no crime, and a spare key was often left under a mat or a their contents. The uppermost drawer was divided into
ears. On sunny days, light shot down from the surface potted plant. compartments, each of which contained a small tray with
like an arrow. Fish of all colors and shapes drifted by a scattering of objects and souvenirs. The second
above. And my mind was empty of thoughts. Other than To be safe, Scheherazade rang the bell, waited to make drawer was largely occupied by notebooks for the
lamprey thoughts, that is. Those were cloudy but very sure there was no answer, scanned the street in case classes he was taking at the moment, while the one on
pure. It was a wonderful place to be.” she was being observed, opened the door, and entered. the bottom (the deepest drawer) was filled with an
She locked the door again from the inside. Taking off her assortment of old papers, notebooks, and exams.
shoes, she put them in a plastic bag and stuck it in the Almost everything was connected either to school or to
The first time Scheherazade broke into someone’s
knapsack on her back. Then she tiptoed up the stairs to soccer. She’d hoped to come across something
house, she explained, she was a high-school junior and
the second floor. personal—a diary, perhaps, or letters—but the desk held
had a serious crush on a boy in her class. Though he
nothing of that sort. Not even a photograph. That struck
wasn’t what you would call handsome, he was tall and
His bedroom was there, as she had imagined. His bed Scheherazade as a bit unnatural. Did he have no life
clean-cut, a good student who played on the soccer
was neatly made. On the bookshelf was a small stereo, outside of school and soccer? Or had he carefully
team, and she was powerfully attracted to him. But he
with a few CDs. On the wall, there was a calendar with a hidden everything of a private nature, where no one
apparently liked another girl in their class and took no
photo of the Barcelona soccer team and, next to it, what would come across it?
notice of Scheherazade. In fact, it was possible that he
looked like a team banner, but nothing else. No posters,
was unaware she existed. Nevertheless, she couldn’t
no pictures. Just a cream-colored wall. A white curtain Still, just sitting at his desk and running her eyes over
get him out of her mind. Just seeing him made her
hung over the window. The room was tidy, everything in his handwriting moved Scheherazade beyond words. To
breathless; sometimes she felt as if she were going to
its place. No books strewn about, no clothes on the floor. calm herself, she got out of the chair and sat on the
throw up. If she didn’t do something about it, she
The room testified to the meticulous personality of its floor. She looked up at the ceiling. The quiet around her
thought, she might go crazy. But confessing her love
inhabitant. Or else to a mother who kept a perfect was absolute. In this way, she returned to the lampreys’
was out of the question.
house. Or both. It made Scheherazade nervous. Had world.
the room been sloppier, no one would have noticed
One day, Scheherazade skipped school and went to the
whatever little messes she might make. Yet, at the same
boy’s house. It was about a fifteen-minute walk from “So all you did,” Habara asked, “was enter his room, go
time, the very cleanliness and simplicity of the room, its
where she lived. She had researched his family situation through his stuff, and sit on the floor?”
perfect order, made her happy. It was so like him.
beforehand. His mother taught Japanese language at a
“No,” Scheherazade said. “There was more. I wanted “I was there in his home for only fifteen minutes or so. I with a lot of use left in it and carefully placed it in her
something of his to take home. Something that he couldn’t stay any longer than that: it was my first pencil case. Then she gingerly lay down on his bed, her
handled every day or that had been close to his body. experience of sneaking into a house, and I was scared hands clasped on her chest, and looked up at the
But it couldn’t be anything important that he would miss. that someone would turn up while I was there. I checked ceiling. This was the bed where he slept every night.
So I stole one of his pencils.” the street to make sure that the coast was clear, slipped The thought made her heart beat faster, and she found it
out the door, locked it, and replaced the key under the difficult to breathe normally. Her lungs weren’t filling with
“A single pencil?” mat. Then I went to school. Carrying his precious air and her throat was as dry as a bone, making each
pencil.” breath painful.
“Yes. One that he’d been using. But stealing wasn’t
enough. That would make it a straightforward case of Scheherazade fell silent. From the look of it, she had Scheherazade got off the bed, straightened the covers,
burglary. The fact that I had done it would be lost. I was gone back in time and was picturing the various things and sat down on the floor, as she had on her first visit.
the Love Thief, after all.” that had happened next, one by one. She looked back up at the ceiling. I’m not quite ready for
his bed, she told herself. That’s still too much to handle.
The Love Thief? It sounded to Habara like the title of a “That week was the happiest of my life,” she said after a
silent film. long pause. “I scribbled random things in my notebook This time, Scheherazade spent half an hour in the
with his pencil. I sniffed it, kissed it, rubbed my cheek house. She pulled his notebooks from the drawer and
“So I decided to leave something behind in its place, a with it, rolled it between my fingers. Sometimes I even glanced through them. She found a book report and
token of some sort. As proof that I had been there. A stuck it in my mouth and sucked on it. Of course, it read it. It was on “Kokoro,” a novel by Soseki Natsume,
declaration that this was an exchange, not a simple pained me that the more I wrote the shorter it got, but I that summer’s reading assignment. His handwriting was
theft. But what should it be? Nothing popped into my couldn’t help myself. If it got too short, I thought, I could beautiful, as one would expect from a straight-A student,
head. I searched my knapsack and my pockets, but I always go back and get another. There was a whole not an error or an omission anywhere. The grade on it
couldn’t find anything appropriate. I kicked myself for not bunch of used pencils in the pencil holder on his desk. was Excellent. What else could it be? Any teacher
having thought to bring something suitable. Finally, I He wouldn’t have a clue that one was missing. And he confronted with penmanship that perfect would
decided to leave a tampon behind. An unused one, of probably still hadn’t found the tampon tucked away in his automatically give it an Excellent, whether he bothered
course, still in its plastic wrapper. My period was getting drawer. That idea excited me no end—it gave me a to read a single line or not.
close, so I was carrying it around just to be safe. I hid it strange ticklish sensation down below. It didn’t bother
at the very back of the bottom drawer, where it would be me anymore that in the real world he never looked at me Scheherazade moved on to the chest of drawers,
difficult to find. That really turned me on. The fact that a or showed that he was even aware of my existence. examining its contents in order. His underwear and
tampon of mine was stashed away in his desk drawer. Because I secretly possessed something of his—a part socks. Shirts and pants. His soccer uniform. They were
Maybe it was because I was so turned on that my period of him, as it were.” all neatly folded. Nothing stained or frayed. Had he done
started almost immediately after that.” the folding? Or, more likely, had his mother done it for
him? She felt a pang of jealousy toward the mother, who
Ten days later, Scheherazade skipped school again and
A tampon for a pencil, Habara thought. Perhaps that could do these things for him each and every day.
paid a second visit to the boy’s house. It was eleven
was what he should write in his diary that day: “Love
o’clock in the morning. As before, she fished the key
Thief, Pencil, Tampon.” He’d like to see what they’d Scheherazade leaned over and sniffed the clothes in the
from under the mat and opened the door. Again, his
make of that! drawers. They all smelled freshly laundered and
room was in flawless order. First, she selected a pencil
redolent of the sun. She took out a plain gray T-shirt, No one would know whose they were without a DNA Scheherazade’s next visit to the house was three days
unfolded it, and pressed it to her face. Might not a whiff test, though they were clearly a girl’s. later, after the weekend had passed. As always, she
of his sweat remain under the arms? But there was came bearing large paper bags stuffed with provisions.
She went through the food in the fridge, replacing
nothing. Nevertheless, she held it there for some time, She left his house and went straight to school, arriving in
everything that was past its expiration date, examined
inhaling through her nose. She wanted to keep the shirt time for her first afternoon class. Once again, she was
the canned and bottled goods in the cupboard, checked
for herself. But that would be too risky. His clothes were content for about ten days. She felt that he had become
the supply of condiments and spices to see what was
so meticulously arranged and maintained. He (or his that much more hers. But, as you might expect, this running low, and wrote up a shopping list. She put some
mother) probably knew the exact number of T-shirts in chain of events would not end without incident. For, as bottles of Perrier in the fridge to chill. Finally, she
the drawer. If one went missing, all hell might break Scheherazade had said, sneaking into other people’s stacked the new books and DVDs she had brought with
loose.Scheherazade carefully refolded the T-shirt and homes is highly addictive. her on the table.
returned it to its proper place. In its stead, she took a
small badge, shaped like a soccer ball, that she found in “Is there something more you need or want?”
At this point in the story Scheherazade glanced at the
one of the desk drawers. It seemed to date back to a
bedside clock and saw that it was 4:32 P.M. “Got to get “Can’t think of anything,” Habara replied.
team from his grade-school years. She doubted that he
going,” she said, as if to herself. She hopped out of bed
would miss it. At the very least, it would be some time
and put on her plain white panties, hooked her bra, Then, as always, the two went to bed and had sex. After
before he noticed that it was gone. While she was at it,
slipped into her jeans, and pulled her dark-blue Nike an appropriate amount of foreplay, he slipped on his
she checked the bottom drawer of the desk for the
sweatshirt over her head. Then she scrubbed her hands condom, entered her, and, after an appropriate amount
tampon. It was still there.
in the bathroom, ran a brush through her hair, and drove of time, ejaculated. After casting a professional eye on
the contents of his condom, Scheherazade began the
away in her blue Mazda.
Advertisement latest installment of her story.
Scheherazade tried to imagine what would happen if his
mother discovered the tampon. What would she think? Left alone with nothing in particular to do, Habara lay in
Would she demand that he explain what on earth a bed and ruminated on the story she had just told him, As before, she felt happy and fulfilled for ten days after

tampon was doing in his desk? Or would she keep her savoring it bit by bit, like a cow chewing its cud. Where her second break-in. She tucked the soccer badge away
in her pencil case and from time to time fingered it
discovery a secret, turning her dark suspicions over and was it headed? he wondered. As with all her stories, he
during class. She nibbled on the pencil she had taken
over in her mind? Scheherazade had no idea. But she hadn’t a clue. He found it difficult to picture
and licked the lead. All the time she was thinking of his
decided to leave the tampon where it was. After all, it Scheherazade as a high-school student. Was she
room. She thought of his desk, the bed where he slept,
was her very first token. slender then, free of the flab she carried today? School the chest of drawers packed with his clothes, his pristine
uniform, white socks, her hair in braids? white boxer shorts, and the tampon and three strands of
To commemorate her second visit, Scheherazade left hair she had hidden in his drawer.
behind three strands of her hair. The night before, she He wasn’t hungry yet, so he put off preparing his dinner
had plucked them out, wrapped them in plastic, and and went back to the book he had been reading, only to She had lost all interest in schoolwork. In class, she
find that he couldn’t concentrate. The image of either fiddled with the badge and the pencil or gave in to
sealed them in a tiny envelope. Now she took this
Scheherazade sneaking into her classmate’s room and daydreams. When she went home, she was in no state
envelope from her knapsack and slipped it into one of
burying her face in his shirt was too fresh in his mind. He of mind to tackle her homework. Scheherazade’s grades
the old math notebooks in his drawer. The three hairs
was impatient to hear what had happened next. had never been a problem. She wasn’t a top student,
were straight and black, neither too long nor too short. but she was a serious girl who always did her
assignments. So when her teacher called on her in class
and she was unable to give a proper answer, he was sighing. The phone rang while I was there. The ringing body. Her nipples were stiffening as well. Could her
more puzzled than angry. Eventually, he summoned her was so loud and harsh that I thought my heart would period be on the way? No, it was much too early. Was
to the staff room during the lunch break. “What’s the stop. I was covered with sweat. No one picked up, of this sexual desire? If so, then what could she do about
problem?” he asked her. “Is anything bothering you?” course, and it stopped after about ten rings. The house it? She had no idea. One thing was for sure,
She could only mumble something vague about not felt even quieter then.” though—there was nothing to be done under these
feeling well. Her secret was too weighty and dark to circumstances. Not here in his room, on his bed.
reveal to anyone—she had to bear it alone.
Scheherazade spent a long time stretched out on his
In the end, Scheherazade decided to take the shirt
bed that day. This time her heart did not pound so wildly,
home with her. It was risky, for sure. His mother was
“Ihad to keep breaking into his house,” Scheherazade and she was able to breathe normally. She could
likely to figure out that a shirt was missing. Even if she
said. “I was compelled to. As you can imagine, it was a imagine him sleeping peacefully beside her, even feel as
didn’t realize that it had been stolen, she would still
very risky business. Even I could see that. Sooner or if she were watching over him as he slept. She felt that,
wonder where it had gone. Any woman who kept her
later, someone would find me there, and the police if she reached out, she could touch his muscular arm.
house so spotless was bound to be a neat freak of the
would be called. The idea scared me to death. But, once He wasn’t there next to her, of course. She was just lost
first order. When something went missing, she would
the ball was rolling, there was no way I could stop it. Ten in a haze of daydreams.
search the house from top to bottom, like a police dog,
days after my second ‘visit,’ I went there again. I had no
until she found it. Undoubtedly, she would uncover the
choice. I felt that if I didn’t I would go off the deep end. She felt an overpowering urge to smell him. Rising from traces of Scheherazade in her precious son’s room. But,
Looking back, I think I really was a little crazy.” the bed, she walked over to his chest of drawers, even as Scheherazade understood this, she didn’t want
opened one, and examined the shirts inside. All had to part with the shirt. Her brain was powerless to
“Didn’t it cause problems for you at school, skipping been washed and neatly folded. They were pristine, and persuade her heart.
class so often?” Habara asked. free of odor, just like before.

Instead, she began thinking about what to leave behind.

“My parents had their own business, so they were too Then an idea struck her. She raced down the stairs to Her panties seemed like the best choice. They were of
busy to pay much attention to me. I’d never caused any the first floor. There, in the room beside the bath, she an ordinary sort, simple, relatively new, and fresh that
problems up to then, never challenged their authority. So found the laundry hamper and removed the lid. Mixed morning. She could hide them at the very back of his
they figured a hands-off approach was best. Forging together were the soiled clothes of the three family closet. Could there be anything more appropriate to
notes for school was a piece of cake. I explained to my members—mother, daughter, and son. A day’s worth, leave in exchange? But, when she took them off, the
homeroom teacher that I had a medical problem that from the looks of it. Scheherazade extracted a piece of crotch was damp. I guess this comes from desire, too,
required me to spend half a day at the hospital from time male clothing. A white crew-neck T-shirt. She took a she thought. It would hardly do to leave something
to time. Since the teachers were racking their brains whiff. The unmistakable scent of a young man. A tainted by her lust in his room. She would only be
over what to do about the kids who hadn’t come to mustiness she had smelled before, when her male degrading herself. She slipped them back on and began
school in ages, they weren’t too concerned about me classmates were close by. Not a scintillating odor, to be to think about what else to leave.
taking half a day off every now and then.” sure. But the fact that this smell was his brought
Scheherazade unbounded joy. When she put her nose
Scheherazade shot a quick glance at the clock next to next to the armpits and inhaled, she felt as though she Scheherazade broke off her story. For a long time, she
the bed before continuing. were in his embrace, his arms wrapped firmly about her. didn’t say a word. She lay there breathing quietly with
her eyes closed. Beside her, Habara followed suit,

“I got the key from under the mat and entered the house T-shirt in hand, Scheherazade climbed the stairs to the waiting for her to resume.

for a third time. It was as quiet as before—no, even second floor and lay on his bed once more. She buried
quieter for some reason. It rattled me when the her face in his shirt and greedily breathed in. Now she
refrigerator turned on—it sounded like a huge beast could feel a languid sensation in the lower part of her
At last, she opened her eyes and spoke. “Hey, Mr. She did not reply immediately. Scheherazade inhaled the aroma of his T-shirt each
Habara,” she said. It was the first time she had night before she went to bed. She slept with it next to
addressed him by name. “Nothing,” she said at last. “Nothing I had brought along her. She would wrap it in paper and hide it before she
could come close to that shirt with his odor. So I just left for school in the morning. Then, after dinner, she
Habara looked at her.
took it and sneaked out. That was when I became a would pull it out to caress and sniff. She worried that the
burglar, pure and simple.” odor might fade as the days went by, but that didn’t
“Do you think we could do it one more time?”
happen. The smell of his sweat had permeated the shirt
for good.
“I think I could manage that,” he said. When, twelve days later, Scheherazade went back to
the boy’s house for the fourth time, there was a new lock
Now that further break-ins were out of the question,
So they made love again. This time, though, was very on the front door. Its gold color gleamed in the midday
Scheherazade’s state of mind slowly began to return to
different from the time before. Violent, passionate, and sun, as if to boast of its great sturdiness. And there was
drawn out. Her climax at the end was unmistakable. A normal. She daydreamed less in class, and her
no key hidden under the mat. Clearly, his mother’s
series of powerful spasms that left her trembling. Even teacher’s words began to register. Nevertheless, her
suspicions had been aroused by the missing shirt. She
her face was transformed. For Habara, it was like chief focus was not on her teacher’s voice but on her
must have searched high and low, coming across other
catching a brief glimpse of Scheherazade in her youth: classmate’s behavior. She kept her eye discreetly
the woman in his arms was now a troubled signs that told of something strange going on in her
trained on him, trying to detect a change, any indication
seventeen-year-old girl who had somehow become house. Her instincts had been unerring, her reaction
at all that he might be nervous about something. But he
trapped in the body of a thirty-five-year-old housewife. swift.
acted exactly the same as always. He threw his head
Habara could feel her in there, her eyes closed, her
back and laughed as unaffectedly as ever, and
body quivering, innocently inhaling the aroma of a boy’s Scheherazade was, of course, disappointed by this
sweaty T-shirt. answered promptly when called upon. He shouted as
development, but at the same time she felt relieved. It
loudly in soccer practice and got just as sweaty. She
was as if someone had stepped behind her and
This time, Scheherazade did not tell him a story after could see no trace of anything out of the ordinary—just
removed a great weight from her shoulders. This means
sex. Nor did she check the contents of his condom. an upright young man, leading a seemingly unclouded
I don’t have to go on breaking into his house, she
They lay there quietly next to each other. Her eyes were existence.
wide open, and she was staring at the ceiling. Like a thought. There was no doubt that, had the lock not been
lamprey gazing up at the bright surface of the water. changed, her invasions would have gone on indefinitely.
Still, Scheherazade knew of one shadow that was
How wonderful it would be, Habara thought, if he, too, Nor was there any doubt that her actions would have
hanging over him. Or something close to that. No one
could inhabit another time or space—leave this single, escalated with each visit. Eventually, a member of the
else knew, in all likelihood. Just her (and, come to think
clearly defined human being named Nobutaka Habara family would have shown up while she was on the
behind and become a nameless lamprey. He pictured of it, possibly his mother). On her third break-in, she had
second floor. There would have been no avenue of
himself and Scheherazade side by side, their suckers come across a number of pornographic magazines
escape. No way to talk herself out of her predicament.
fastened to a rock, their bodies waving in the current, cleverly concealed in the farthest recesses of his closet.
This was the future that had been waiting for her, sooner
eying the surface as they waited for a fat trout to swim They were full of pictures of naked women, spreading
smugly by. or later, and the outcome would have been devastating.
their legs and offering generous views of their genitals.
Now she had dodged it. Perhaps she should thank his
Some pictures portrayed the act of sex: men inserted
“So what did you leave in exchange for the shirt?” mother—though she had never met the woman—for
rod like penises into female bodies in the most unnatural
Habara broke the silence. having eyes like a hawk.
of positions. Scheherazade had never laid eyes on
photographs like these before. She sat at his desk and changes a bit, and all of a sudden you’re shocked at “No, nothing I can think of,” he answered. What he really
flipped slowly through the magazines, studying each how its glow has faded. What was I looking at? you wanted, he thought, was for her to tell him the rest of her
photo with great interest. She guessed that he wonder. So that’s the story of my ‘breaking-and-entering’ story, but he didn’t put that into words. Doing so might
masturbated while viewing them. But the idea did not period.” jeopardize his chances of ever hearing it.
strike her as especially repulsive. She accepted
masturbation as a perfectly normal activity. All those She made it sound like Picasso’s Blue Period, Habara Habara went to bed early that night and thought about
sperm had to go somewhere, just as girls had to have thought. But he understood what she was trying to Scheherazade. Perhaps he would never see her again.
periods. In other words, he was a typical teen-ager. convey. That worried him. The possibility was just too real.
Neither hero nor saint. She found that knowledge Nothing of a personal nature—no vow, no implicit
something of a relief. She glanced at the clock next to the bed. It was almost understanding—held them together. Theirs was a
time for her to leave. chance relationship created by someone else, and might
be terminated on that person’s whim. In other words,
“When my break-ins stopped, my passion for him began
“To tell the truth,” she said finally, “the story doesn’t end they were attached by a slender thread. It was
to cool. It was gradual, like the tide ebbing from a long,
there. A few years later, when I was in my second year likely—no, certain—that that thread would eventually be
sloping beach. Somehow or other, I found myself
of nursing school, a strange stroke of fate brought us broken and all the strange and unfamiliar tales she
smelling his shirt less often and spending less time
together again. His mother played a big role in it; in fact, might have told would be lost to him. The only question
caressing his pencil and badge. The fever was passing.
there was something spooky about the whole thing—it was when.
What I had contracted was not something like sickness
was like one of those old ghost stories. Events took a
but the real thing. As long as it lasted, I couldn’t think
rather unbelievable course. Would you like to hear about It was also possible that he would, at some point, be
straight. Maybe everybody goes through a crazy period
it?” deprived of his freedom entirely, in which case not only
like that at one time or another. Or maybe it was
Scheherazade but all women would disappear from his
something that happened only to me. How about you?
“I’d love to,” Habara said. life. Never again would he be able to enter the warm
Did you ever have an experience like that?”
moistness of their bodies. Never again would he feel
“It had better wait till my next visit,” Scheherazade said. them quiver in response. Perhaps an even more
Habara tried to remember, but drew a blank. “No,
“It’s getting late. I’ve got to head home and fix dinner.” distressing prospect for Habara than the cessation of
nothing that extreme, I don’t think,” he said.
sexual activity, however, was the loss of the moments of
She got out of bed and put on her clothes—panties, shared intimacy. What his time spent with women
Scheherazade looked somewhat disappointed by his
stockings, camisole, and, finally, her skirt and blouse. offered was the opportunity to be embraced by reality,
answer.
Habara casually watched her movements from the bed. on the one hand, while negating it entirely on the other.
It struck him that the way women put on their clothes That was something Scheherazade had provided in
“Anyway, I forgot all about him once I graduated. So
could be even more interesting than the way they took abundance—indeed, her gift was inexhaustible. The
quickly and easily, it was weird. What was it about him
them off. prospect of losing that made him saddest of all.
that had made the seventeen-year-old me fall so hard?
Try as I might, I couldn’t remember. Life is strange, isn’t
“Any books in particular you’d like me to pick up?” she Habara closed his eyes and stopped thinking of
it? You can be totally entranced by something one
asked, on her way out the door. Scheherazade. Instead, he thought of lampreys. Of
minute, be willing to sacrifice everything to make it
jawless lampreys fastened to rocks, hiding among the
yours, but then a little time passes, or your perspective
waterweeds, swaying back and forth in the current. He
imagined that he was one of them, waiting for a trout to
appear. But no trout passed by, no matter how long he
waited. Not a fat one, not a skinny one, no trout at all.
Eventually the sun went down, and his world was
enfolded in darkness.