このたびは This time,

　２５歳になるまで彼は女のことを異性として意識しなかった。幼なじみで育ったということも大きかったし、大学に入学して街に出てからは、そんな遠い田舎のことは忘れていた。

「周りには山と田んぼしか無くて、トラクターが車に混じって普通に道を走っているようなところ。家の数も少なくて、小学校までは歩いて一時間かかった。地区の子どもは五人とか六人とかそれぐらい。だから近所には同学年の子はいなかった」

　自分の故郷のことを訊ねられると、彼はだいたいそういう類の話をした。ほとんどの人はそれを彼の誇張だと思ったようだが、実際のところ嘘はなにひとつなく、それどころかこの地区ではトイレはまだくみ取り式だったし、一キロ離れたところに新興団地ができて少し子どもは増えたという話は聞いても、とりたてて風景が変わることはなかった。

　いつでもそこは山と田んぼと畑だ。

　街に住む彼のところに女が来た時、彼女は地元の野菜と、自分で作ったという「おはぎ」をタッパーに詰めて持ってきた。子どもの握り拳ぐらいの大きさのおはぎは、一つ一つアルミカップに入っており、そういえば女の母親はおはぎ作りが近所で評判だったことを思い出した。

「色々と……これからお世話になると思うからって、おかあさんが。これ、半分私も手伝って作ったよ。おはぎ、たべて」

　女はそう言ったが、その飛び飛びで伝わりにくい話し方は変わっていないな、と思った。

　女は１８歳で高校を卒業して、そこから短大に通った。そこからしばらく地元の会社で働いていたようだったが、途中から会社に行くことができなくなった。「自律神経失調症」という病名がついて、女は仕事を辞めて街に出てきた。

　女の人生と比べると彼の方は順調そうに見えた。県の進学校に通った彼は国立大学入学を機に、都会に出てきた。噂には聞いていたが、この街では本当に自分が通っている大学名を出せば、何かと尊敬されるのだった。学部は関係なく、そこの大学生ならもうこの土地では特別なのだ。そういうわけで文学部の彼もアルバイトでは優遇された。

　大学三年生の時に、たまたまインターネットで調べた雑誌に小説を書いて送ってみたところ、一ヶ月ほどして突然、編集者から連絡が来た。秋の新人賞にこれを送ってみようとおもう、ついては自分と一緒に原稿を直していこう、と。新人賞というものがそんなふうに前もって編集者がついたうえで選ばれるものだとは彼は知らなかったが、言うまでもなくこれは彼にはチャンスだった。

　彼がメール添付で原稿を送ると、原稿はプリントアウトされ、手書きの赤字であれこれと訂正された上で郵送されてきた。それがその編集者のスタイルのようだった。

　１０月、彼の作品は最終候補作には残ったが新人賞は取れなかった。それでも雑誌に自分の名前が出たということは驚きだった。

　皆が就職活動を始める時期、彼は翌年の新人賞に向けて作品を書いていた。吸血鬼の女の子と、二人で一緒に、百貨店に爆弾を仕掛ける話だった。前よりももう少しインパクトが欲しい、という編集者の意見を聞いて考えたストーリーだったが、結局２週間やりとりして「もう一回、新しいのでやり直しましょう」ということになった。

　書いても書いても、なかなか作品は新人賞受賞までにはいかなかった。新人賞は一年に一回しかないので、どうしてもチャンスは限られる。彼は大学院進学という名目で、就職はせずに小説を書いた。定期的なアルバイトは時間が取られてしまうので、彼が見つけたのはセレモニースタッフという名称の葬儀社のアルバイトだった。拘束時間の割に収入はよかった。

　大学院の方では表向きは修士論文を書くと言いながら、その実、小説ばかり書いて過ごした。

　女が彼のところに来たのはその頃だった。

　職業安定所で女子校の事務の仕事を紹介された。給料はそこまで良いわけではないけれども、今の職場は自分にも色々と教えてくれるし、なんとかやっていけそうだ、と女は彼に言った。

　街に出てきたのもほとんど勢いだった。女には誰もこちらに知りあいはいなかった。ただ地元が同じ彼が先に街に来ていたから自分も出ようと思った、とのちに彼と付き合うようになって女は言った。

　付き合っているなら周囲にもそう言えばいいのに、なぜか彼は女のことを親にも友達にも言えなかった。

　なんとなく、二人で歩いていると彼女のことを見られたくないような気になるのだった。　

　おそらく職場では普通に話しているくせに、女は彼の前では方言になった。猫の鳴き声とひとがからかう方言で、二人だけのときに言い合いが生じたときは、彼も同じように「それは違うにー」と方言で喋った。

　女の希望で、水族館や遊園地なども行くには行ったが、むしろそういうところよりも、古本屋や雑貨屋を見て回る方が多かった。雑貨屋でピアスやネックレスなどを見つけると、彼はそれを手に取って、どれが彼女に似合うか見立ててみたりした。

　彼がおすすめの本を女に教えると、女は律儀にそれを購入した。

　たまに感想が来た。読み違いをしてる点もあれば、「わたしには難しすぎて無理だった」とかいう返事も来た。それでも二人は古本屋に行ったし、女は本を買った。

基本的に女は彼の話を聞く役だった。彼があれこれと知識を披露するのを、女はあまり口を挟まずに聞いていた。そういえば、一緒に学校まで通学していた小学生のころも、似たような関係だった気がする。ただその事実はなにか気恥ずかしくて、彼は女には黙っていた。

「わたし何にも知らないからさ」と女は言った。「だからタァが全部教えてくれるの」

付き合って５ヶ月ほど経ったときは彼女の誕生日だったので、彼は女を店に連れて行った。そこは香水を扱うショップだった。最初のうち女は店のなかに入るのを恥ずかしがったが、彼の隣であれこれと香りを試すうちに気持ちも落ち着いてきたようだった。

　最終的に彼女はバラの香りを選んだ。それから彼女はそれをつけるようになった。

確かにきれいになった、と女と歩いているとき、窓ガラスに映った女の姿を見て彼は思った。

　このたびは、ご愁傷さまでした……と口にしながら、彼の方は葬儀場のアルバイトを続けていた。受付の手伝いをする彼の横で、やって来た人々は芳名録に名前を記載し、ホールへと消えて行った。本当なら一時期だけのアルバイトのつもりだったが、いまでは事務所に彼のための制服が用意されているほどだった。

　このたびは……このたびは……

　繰り返しながら彼は女のことを思い出していた。

　もう一回、新人賞に出してみようと思う、と編集者から連絡が来たのが締め切りの三ヶ月前だった。その三ヶ月、彼は大学院の授業もほとんど行かずに部屋にこもった。どれを書いても編集者からは「本当に伝えたいことが見えてこない」という返事だった。　

　一行一行、乾いた雑巾から水を絞るようにして彼はそれでも書いた。もしもこのまま作品が認められたとしても、今後このような書き方で、とてもやっていけるとは思えなかった。その前に多分自分が潰れるだろうと思ったが、それでも睡眠時間を削ってでも書くしかなかった。

　彼が苦難しながら作品と向かい合っているとき、女のほうも問題に直面していた。

　女が処理した生徒の証明書にミスがあった、と大学の方から連絡があったのだった。ややこしいことに、すでに締め切りは過ぎており、結果から言うと、書類を提出したその生徒は、書類不備のせいで、希望していた大学主催の学生向けプロジェクトに参加できなくなった。

　ほんとうのところは女ではなく、それは一緒に仕事をしていたベテランの事務員の男が原因だったのだが、彼はその事実を言わなかった。周囲の話の流れは女のミスになりつつあったし、はたから見ても、新人の女が上司の話を受け取り間違えた、とした方が自然だった。その代わりできるだけ女をカバーしようと、ベテランの事務員は思った。

　運悪くプロジェクトに参加できなかった生徒の方は、学校から事情と謝罪を聞いても、やはり納得がいかなかった。「これは娘の大学推薦にも大きく関わるんです。もう一度大学にかけあってもらえませんか」と保護者からも何度も嘆願の電話がきた。

　女も、ベテランの事務員も特例を願い出たが、大学の方は全く受け入れてくれなかった。　ミスはミスなのだ。条件が揃っていないものを認めるわけにはいかない。

　結局、女が責任を負うことで事態は落ち着いた。居心地悪い思いを内心で抱えながら、もっと書類の処理には注意するように、とベテランの事務員は皆の前で女を叱責した。学校には、事務員を替えろ、と保護者からの手紙が届いた。

　女はこのトラブルを彼に聞いて欲しかった。できれば直接顔を合わせて、彼女の気持ちに共感して、励まして欲しかった。それで何度か彼の部屋に電話したが、彼の方は彼の方で、編集者から「この前見せてくれたものよりも悪くなっている」という評価を受けたばかりだった。

　電話の向こうでは、ときおり戻ったり繰り返したりして、脈絡がないような女の話に対して、彼は口を挟まないようにするので精一杯だった。締め切りまでもう３週間もなかった。今度こそ大賞を取って、その賞金で女を旅行に連れていってあげたかったが、それは女には伝えていなかった。そもそも小説を書いていること自体、なんとなく気恥ずかしいことで、彼は新人賞の候補になったことも、書き続けていることも女に黙っていたのだった。

　電話の向こうで、もつれるような女の話が何回か繰り返されたときに、彼は言った。

「それは俺がいま聞かなければいけない話？」と男は言った。

　女はびっくりした。いままで彼のそういう面をあまり知らなかったから。女の中では彼はいつでも頼れる年上の人間で、いつでも何でも知っている人だった。

「わたし……タァに必要なのかな？」

　それから二時間ばかりの言い合いが始まり、その長い会話の最後に女は言った。

　このたびは……

　ご結婚おめでとうございます。と声がした。顔を上げると親戚中の連中が集まっていて、あれこれと騒がしい。おはぎ作りのうまい女の母ももちろんそこに来ていた。

　女の母は落ち着いた色の着物姿で、

「あの子ポンコツだから、色々と迷惑かけると思うけど、よろしくね」

　と彼に頭を下げると、早足で新婦側の控え室に歩いていった。控え室ではきっと女が白無垢に着替えて、式が始まるのを待っているはずだった。

　どこもかしこも騒がしかった。普段会わない親戚連中が皆そろって、ホールのあちこちで挨拶をしていた。そうして「おめでとうございます」という言葉があちこちで聞こえるのだった。今日の主人公は彼等だった。

　このたびは…

　彼がまた頭を下げると、そこはやはり葬儀場で、彼はひとりホールの入り口に立っているのだった。先ほどの結婚式の光景がまだ続いているように思って彼がぼんやりしていると、上司が「早くこっちに来て。献花の手伝いに来て」と呼んだ。ホールの向こうではいま故人の棺桶に親戚連中が集まって、あれこれと最後の言葉を交わしていた。

　女の方は彼と別れてから半年して、八歳年上の職場の数学の教師に告白された。数学の教師は一度離婚していたが、女はその彼との結婚を受け入れた。

　その話を彼は母親からの電話で聞いた。それからもうあの田舎には帰らないと決めた。

　およそ１０年間、彼は実家に帰らなかった。

　実家に帰って、女の話を聞くことに耐えられなかったこともあるが、書いていた小説が賞を取って忙しくなったこともある。ノートパソコンさえ持っていけば、仕事は実家でもできるに違いないのに、彼はそれもしなかった。

　ただ書いた。一つ書けば、次の作品が待っていた。それはずっと飛び続ける飛行機のようなもので、少しでも力を抜けば落ちてしまいそうな気分だった。でも、彼のことをそれほど知らない人は、彼のことを運がいい、と褒めたし、本が出るとそのときだけ彼の周囲は賑やかになった。様々な人が彼を取り囲んだ。彼はそれに対応せねばならなかった。

「わたしもね、若いころは作家になりたかったんですよ」

　いつだったかの書店でのサイン会で、にこやかに話しかけてきた人がいた。

「それって動物園の虎になるようなもんですけどね」

　相手の表情が明らかに変化したのを見て彼は少し後悔した。あなたに怒っているわけじゃない、ただ自分は少し疲れているだけだ、と彼は弁明したかったが、もう手遅れだった。それでわざわざ頼まれてもいないのに、その相手だけサイン以外に、相手の名前と「親愛を込めて」と言葉を足した。

「あんた、本が出てから変わったわ」とあるとき母親が電話の向こうで言った。「忙しいとは思うけれども、もしも時間がとれたら帰っておいで。お父さんがいくつになったのか、あんた知らんやろ。わたしも、お父さんも、もう歳なんやに」

　十年目に実家に帰ったとき、色々なことが変化していたことを彼は知った。

　玄関に入ると、子どものころ祖父母の家で嗅いだような、湿った空気の匂いがした。そして彼が両親に買っていったお土産は、ここではほとんど意味の無いようなものばかりだった。折りたためる花瓶やら、まめな水やりの不要な観葉植物は、都会では意味があるのかもしれないが、田舎では自分の場所を失っているように見えた。

　それから年に一回は都合を付けて帰るようになった。大学生の頃は、連休と夏休みと正月には絶対に帰省していた彼からすればずいぶんな変わりようだった。

　彼は４３歳になった。１０月は彼の誕生日だった。彼は先月出た自分の新刊を持って帰省した。まだ公表はされていなかったが、その作品は来年ドラマにもなる予定だった。

「いまあの子も来てるんやに」と夜、テレビの画面を眺めながら母が言った。

　最初のうちは誰のことか彼には分からなかった。が、話を聞いてそれが女のことだと分かった。女は離婚して今は一人だった。

「昨日、挨拶に来てな。あんたの本も持ってたよ。明日あんた帰って来るから、また来てくれたら会えるよっていったら、遠慮して帰っていってね」

　歩けばたぶん十分もかからない距離だった。国道に出て坂を下れば、じきに女の家だった。小学校の頃にさんざん通学団で歩いた道だ。彼は朝７時４０分に家を出て、その坂を下って女を連れて学校に向かっていたのだから。

　彼は自分が書いている小説の中に、彼と彼女しか分からないようなメッセージを入れ込んでいた。最初はそんなつもりはなく、ただの偶然だった。でも、いくつかの作品では、誕生日、昔のあだな、ふたりが好きな音楽など、自作の小説に女に関係することをこっそりと差し込んでいた。何となくそれは職権乱用にも思えたが、本当にささやかなもので、たぶん誰もその意図には気付かれないだろう。読んだ本人以外には。

　４３歳だった。

　このまま行けば人生はたぶんまだいくつかの仕事に恵まれ、進んで行くだろう。自分の性格から考えても、周囲の期待に応えるためにできる限り力を惜しまないだろう。

　いくつかの小説でハッピーエンドを書いてきた。結末を希望に満ちた明るいものにするのは、読者の期待に応えることもあったが、実際には現実があまりにも寂しいから、どうしても明るい方面にしたくなるのだった。

　でも、いつかどこかで、作家としての自分が必要とされないときが来る。あとには彼の書いた本だけが残って、それで彼の人生は終わるのだ。若いころあれほど欲しかったものは、手に入れてしまうと、もう特別な輝きをうしなっていた。

　たとえそれが真理だとしても、いま自分の生活のそばに誰かがいてくれたら、少しだけこの生活は変わるかもしれない。誰かが必要だった。そう、今度こそ必要だと言えた。そして、運が良ければ、向こうもまた残りの人生を一緒に過ごせる相手を必要としてくれているといいと思った。

　長い時間が経って、また彼女がこの田舎にいるのなら、それはそれで大きな流れのようなものだと思った。それならその流れに従ってみてもよい気もする。そう考えて、なにか言い訳を自分にしているようで苦笑いが出た。

　話のきっかけに自分の本を持っていこうとして、それは違うと彼は思い直した。

　そういうわけではなく、作家になる以前の自分として会いに行くべきだった。彼は長いこと会わなかった彼女のイメージを思い浮かべた。たぶん歳を取っているだろう、お互いに。それは同時に、お互いに落ち着いた生活を送ろうとしている自分たちの未来への想像につながった。経験と時間が自分達を変えているだろう。もしかすると、自分たちは前よりももう少しうまくやれるかもしれない。

　外に出るときには彼は一冊の本を手に取った。それは実家の本棚に置いたままだった分厚い単行本だった。それは51年9ヶ月４日、女を待ち続けた男の話で、もうずっと前に彼女に紹介したことがあった翻訳本だった。

　結末はどうだったろうか、まったく彼は覚えていなかった。どのような結末なのかは手の中の本にあった。彼女には子どもはいるのだろうか。どのような物語がこの長い期間の間、彼女にもたらされたのだろうか。彼にはわからなかった。分からなかったが、いまは自分には彼女が必要だと思った。結末は未明だからこそ魅力的でもあり、それは恐しくもありつつ、可能性もあるものだった。それこそひとの人生のように。

He didn't think of women as the opposite sex until he was 25. The fact that he grew up with his childhood friend played a large role, and after he entered university and moved to the city, he forgot about that faraway countryside.

"There were only mountains and rice fields around, and tractors were just driving along the roads with cars. There were not many houses, and it took an hour to walk to the elementary school. There were only about five or six children in the neighborhood, so there were no children in the same grade in the neighborhood."

When asked about his hometown, he told stories of this nature. Most people seemed to think he was exaggerating, but in fact there was no lie at all. In fact, the toilets in this area were still flush toilets, and although they heard that a new housing complex had opened about a kilometer away and the number of children had increased slightly, the scenery had not changed much.

There were always only mountains, rice fields, and farms.

When she came to visit him in the city, she brought a Tupperware container full of local vegetables and "ohagi" (rice dumplings) that she had made herself. The rice balls, each the size of a child's fist, were individually placed in an aluminum cup, and the woman's mother remembered that her rice ball making was well-known in the neighborhood.

"Mom said she'd be relying on you for a lot of things. I helped make this with part of my help. Have some rice balls."

She said this, but her disjointed, hard-to-understand way of speaking hadn't changed at all.

She graduated from high school at the age of 18 and went to junior college. She worked at a local company for a while after that, but at some point she was no longer able to go to work. She was diagnosed with "autonomic nervous system disorder," and she quit her job and came to the city.

Compared to her life, his seemed to be going well. He went to a prefectural high school and came to the city when he entered a national university. He had heard rumors about him, but in this town, if you mention the name of the university he attended, you are respected in some way. It doesn't matter what department you're in, as long as you're a university student there, you're already special in this area. That's why he, who is in the literature department, was given preferential treatment at his part-time job. When he was a third-year university student, he happened to find a magazine on the Internet and wrote a novel and sent it to it. About a month later, he suddenly received a call from the editor. The editor said, "I'm thinking of sending this to the magazine for its new writer's award in the fall, and I'd like to work with him to revise the manuscript." He had no idea that a new writer's award was something that was selected with an editor involved in advance, but needless to say, this was his chance.

When he sent the manuscript as an email attachment, it was printed out, handwritten in red and corrected in various ways before being sent off to the editor. That seemed to be the editor's style.

In October, his work was shortlisted for the new writer's award, but it didn't win. Still, it was a surprise to see his name in a magazine.

At a time when everyone was starting to look for jobs, he was writing a story for the new writer's award the following year. It was a story about a girl vampire and the two of them setting off a bomb in a department store. He had thought up the story after hearing the editor's opinion that he wanted it to have a little more impact than before, but after two weeks of back and forth, they decided to "try again with a new one."

However much he wrote, his work never won a new writer's award. The new writer's award is only awarded once a year, so the chances are limited. He wrote novels without getting a job, under the pretext of going on to graduate school. Regular part-time work would take up too much time, so he found a part-time job at a funeral parlor, called a ceremony staff member. The pay was good considering the hours required.

At graduate school, he said he was writing his master's thesis, but in reality, he spent all his time writing novels.

It was around that time that she came to see him. She was introduced to a clerical job at a girls' school by the employment office. The salary wasn't that good, but she told him that her current workplace would teach her a lot of things and she thought she could manage.

It was mostly just impulse that she came to town. She didn't know anyone here. However, since he was from the same hometown and had come to town before her, she said later, when she started dating him.

If he was dating her, he should have told the people around him, but for some reason, he couldn't tell his parents or friends about her.

Somehow, when they were walking together, he felt like he didn't want to be seen with her.

Although she probably spoke normally at work, she would speak in her dialect in front of him. It was the sound of a cat mewing and the dialect people use to tease each other, and when they argued alone, he would also speak in his dialect and say, "That's not right."

At her request, they went to aquariums and amusement parks, but rather than those places, they spent more time looking around second-hand bookstores and general stores. When he found earrings or necklaces in general stores, he would pick them up and try to see which ones would look good on her.

When he told her about books he recommended, she dutifully bought them. Sometimes she would give him her feedback. Sometimes he would misread something, and sometimes he would say, "It was too difficult for me." But still, the two of them went to the second-hand bookstore and the woman bought a book.

Basically, she was the one who listened to him. She listened to him show off his knowledge without interrupting much. Come to think of it, they had a similar relationship when they were elementary school students walking to school together. However, he felt embarrassed about the fact, so he kept quiet about it.

"Because I don't know anything," she said. "That's why you tell me everything."

About five months into their relationship, it was her birthday, so he took her to a store. It was a perfume shop. At first, she was embarrassed to go inside the store, but as she tried out different scents next to him, she seemed to calm down.

In the end, she chose the rose scent. From then on, she started wearing it.

As he walked with her, he saw her reflection in the window and thought, "She's certainly become prettier."

"I'm sorry for your loss..." he said as he continued working part-time at the funeral home. As he helped out at the reception desk, people who came in wrote their names in the guest book and disappeared into the hall. He had only intended for it to be a temporary part-time job, but now the office had even prepared a uniform for him.

This time...this time...

As he kept repeating this, he remembered her.

It was three months before the deadline when the editor contacted him to say that he would try submitting his work to the new writer's award again. During those three months, he stayed in his room, hardly attending graduate school classes. Whatever he wrote, the editor replied, "I can't see what you really want to say."

He continued to write, line by line, as if squeezing water out of a dry rag. Even if his work was accepted, he didn't think he could continue writing like this. He thought he would probably collapse before that happened, but he had no choice but to write even if it meant cutting down on his sleep.

While he was struggling with his work, she was also facing a problem.

The university had contacted her to say that there had been a mistake in the certificates she had processed for the students. To make things more complicated, the deadline had already passed, and in the end, the student who had submitted the documents was unable to participate in the student project that the university had hoped to participate in due to the incomplete documents.

In reality, it was not her fault, but the veteran office worker she worked with, but the office worker did not mention that fact. The way the conversation was going around was that it was her mistake, and from an outsider's perspective, it would have been more natural to say that the new female employee had misunderstood what her boss had said. Instead, the veteran office worker wanted to help her as much as possible.

The student who was unlucky enough to not be able to participate in the project was still not satisfied, even after hearing the school's explanation and apology. The student's parents called repeatedly, pleading, "This has a big impact on my daughter's university recommendation. Could you please contact the university again?"

Both she and the veteran office worker requested an exception, but the university would not accept it at all. A mistake is a mistake. You can't accept something that doesn't meet all the conditions.

In the end, the situation settled with her taking responsibility. While feeling uneasy inside, the veteran office worker scolded her in front of everyone, telling her to be more careful with her paperwork. A letter from the parents arrived at the school, saying that the office worker should be replaced.

She wanted him to listen to her troubles. If possible, she wanted him to meet her face to face, sympathize with her feelings, and encourage her. So she called his room several times, but he had just received an evaluation from his editor that "it's worse than the last time you showed me."

On the other end of the phone, he did his best not to interrupt her as she spoke, occasionally going back and forth between stories that seemed to have no connection. There were only three weeks left until the deadline. He wanted to win the grand prize this time and take her on a trip with the prize money, but he hadn't told her that yet. In the first place, the fact that he was writing a novel was somehow embarrassing, so he had kept quiet from the woman that he had been nominated for the new writer's award and that he was continuing to write.

He said as she repeated her tangled story several times on the other end of the phone.

"Is that something I need to hear now?" the man said.

She was surprised. She hadn't really known that side of him until then. To her, he was an older person she could always rely on, someone who always knew everything.

"Am I... what do you need?"

They argued for about two hours, and at the end of that long conversation, she said.

This time...This time...

A voice said, "Congratulations on your marriage." When he looked up, all the relatives were gathered, and there was a lot of noise. Her mother, who is good at making ohagi, was also there, of course.

Her mother, wearing a kimono in a calm color, bowed to him and said, "She's a clumsy girl, so I'm sure she'll cause you a lot of trouble, but please take care of her."

She walked quickly to the bride's waiting room. There, she was surely changing into her white wedding kimono and waiting for the ceremony to begin.

It was noisy everywhere. All the relatives he didn't usually see were gathered together, and they were greeting each other here and there in the hall. And the word "congratulations" could be heard everywhere. They were the main characters today.

This time...

He bowed again, and found himself standing alone at the entrance to the hall at the funeral hall. While he was daydreaming, thinking that the scene of the wedding ceremony from earlier was still continuing, his boss called out, "Come over here quickly. Come help with the floral tribute." Across the hall, the relatives were gathered around the coffin of the deceased, exchanging final words.

Six months after she broke up with him, she was confessed to by a math teacher at her workplace who was eight years older than her. The math teacher had been divorced once, but she accepted the marriage.

He heard about it on the phone from his mother. After that, he decided not to go back to that countryside.

For about ten years, he did not go back to his parents' house. There were times when he could not bear to go back and listen to her talk, but there were also times when the novel he was writing won an award and he became busy. If he had just brought his laptop, he would have been able to work at his parents' house, but he did not do that.

He just wrote. Once he wrote one piece, the next one was waiting. It was like an airplane that kept flying, and he felt like he would fall if he let up even a little. But people who didn't know him that well praised him and said he was lucky, and when his book came out, the place around him got lively. All kinds of people surrounded him. He had to deal with that.

"When I was young, I wanted to be a writer, too."

One day, at a book signing event at a bookstore, someone approached me with a smile.

"That would be like being a tiger at the zoo."

He felt a little regretful when he saw the expression on the person in front of him clearly change. He wanted to explain that he wasn't angry at her, that he was just a little tired, but it was too late. So, even though no one had asked him to, he added the name of the person and the words "With love" to the autograph of the book.

"You've changed since your book came out," his mother said to him on the phone one day. "I know you're busy, but if you have time, please come back. You don't know how old your father is, do you? We're both old."

When he returned to his parents' house for the tenth time, he realized that many things had changed.

When he entered the entrance, he was hit with the smell of damp air that reminded him of the smell he had when he was a child at his grandparents' house. And the souvenirs he had bought for his parents were almost meaningless here. Collapsible vases and potted plants that don't need frequent watering may have meaning in the city, but they seemed to have lost their place in the countryside.

After that, he made arrangements to go back once a year. It was quite a change from when he was a university student and always went back home for long weekends, summer vacation, and New Year's.

He turned 43. October was his birthday. He returned home with his new book, which had come out last month. It hadn't been made public yet, but the work was scheduled to be made into a TV drama next year. "She's here now," his mother said, watching the TV screen at night.

At first, he didn't know who she was talking about. But as he listened to her story, he realized it was her. She was divorced and alone now.

"She came to say hello yesterday. She had your book with her. I told her that she would come back tomorrow and we could meet, and she politely went home."

It was probably less than ten minutes' walk. Once he got onto the national highway and walked down the hill, he soon arrived at her house. It was the same road he had walked many times with his school group in elementary school. He had left home at 7:40 in the morning and walked down that hill to school with his girlfriend.

In the novels he was writing, he had slipped in messages that only he and she would understand. At first, it wasn't his intention, it was just a coincidence. But in some of his novels, he had secretly slipped in things related to her, like birthdays, old nicknames, the music they both liked. It seemed like an abuse of power, but it was really just something small, and probably no one would notice his intentions. Except for the person who read it.

He was 43 years old.

If he carried on like this, he would probably be blessed with a few more jobs in life and move forward. Considering his personality, he would spare no effort in any way he could to meet the expectations of those around him.

He had written happy endings in several of his novels. Making the ending bright and hopeful sometimes met readers' expectations, but in reality, the reality was so sad that he couldn't help but want to make it on the bright side.

However, there would come a time when he was no longer needed as a writer. All that would remain were the books he had written, and that would be the end of his life. The things he had wanted so much when he was young, once he had obtained them, lost their special luster.

Even if that was the truth, if he had someone nearby in his life now, his life might change just a little. He needed someone. Yes, he could say that he really did need someone this time. And he hoped that, with any luck, she would also need someone to spend the rest of her life with.

If after a long time she was in the countryside again, he thought, that was a big trend in itself. In that case, he might as well go with the flow. Thinking this, he smirked, as if he was making excuses to himself.

He was about to bring his book to start a conversation, but then he realized that wasn't right.

It wasn't like that, he should have gone to meet her as the person he was before he became a writer. He pictured her after not seeing her for a long time. Perhaps they had grown older. At the same time, he imagined their future, where they were trying to live a settled life together. Experience and time would change them. Perhaps they could do better than before.

As he went outside, he picked up a book. It was a thick volume that had been left on the bookshelf at his parents' house. It was the story of a man who had been waiting for a woman for 51 years, nine months, and four days, and it was a translated version that he had introduced to her a long time ago.

He had no idea how it ended. The ending was in the book in his hands. Would she have children? What kind of story had been brought to her during this long period? He didn't know. He didn't know, but he thought that he needed her now. The ending was attractive precisely because it was still unknown, and it was both frightening and possible. Just like a person's life.