Munter 7: Chuang-tzu

Keith and Al opted to leave then with the man and the woman. They were going down to Smithfield; the woman said there was a man there holding a bottle of vodka for her. They tried to get Nobuko to go along with them, but she said she didn’t want to. Keith moved closer to her, his form almost casing her as before, to try and privately convince her to go with them. Munter tried to edge nearer in an effort to hear what he was saying to her, but he didn’t catch a word of it. Nobuko smiled at whatever it was Keith said, but then shook her head and reiterated her unwillingness to leave. The four then hobbled off into the night amidst a clatter of coughing and cursing. Munter and Nobuko sat on the kerb outside the pub to finish the can of beer Keith and Al had left behind and to smoke the remaining cigarettes. There were lots of people on the streets, the majority of them fairly drunk. It was late. About 1:30 maybe. Munter looked at his watch. 1:45. He examined the people walking past for sobriety. He wanted to find the most sober individual of tonight. It was difficult because everyone was smiling and happy in their evening sets. One girl seemed to rise to his decided challenge, and greeted the post of most sober individual of tonight well, but only because she was not smiling and happy in her evening set. She walked slowly behind them with her head hung low, and was swinging her purse feverishly as though she intended to hit somebody for attention.
I wish I didn’t enjoy getting drunk, said Munter.
Down in the dumps, eh? asked Nobuko.
When I was drinking heavily some while ago, I ended up feeling down in the dumps a lot. Whenever the moment of clear-headedness came back.
Some people tend to stay away from that moment of clear-headedness for that reason alone.
You seem really clear-headed now for somebody who has had so much to drink.
Believe me, I’m drunk, said Nobuko. This is just the way I deal with it. I either pass out or I sit around bitching about things.
Did you drink much when you were younger? I mean, in Japan?
Not really. Yeah, I drank occasionally, but not that much. I started to drink more after I met Fallon. He liked to drink in the pubs, you know. So I went in with him a lot.

*

Have you ever lost somebody?
Her question came out of nowhere seemingly, a query from some far-flung corner of her waking thought, shot through the meandering normality of drunken talk.
Of course, answered Munter. We lose things all the time. We lose and gain in equal measure.
All I lose is people, and all I gain is weight, replied Nobuko. And don’t look at me as though I’m just some stupid woman who’s always going on and on about her weight. Fatness is always creeping up behind me. I wish I could lose as much weight as I’ve lost people. I’ve lost many people. Some of them I could have done without anyway, but others…their not being there bothers me.
It’s better just to get on with things, said Munter.
Get on with things? It’s not easy to just get on with things.
It’s not easy, but it has to be done. What else can you do? The people go. They leave you. You can’t talk to them anymore. They’re not there. You meet new people and you talk to them. The others have gone. It’s just you and the new people.
Yeah, but then the new people die too. And you’re back to, what is it, square one.
Yes, and then you do the same thing again. You move on, get on with things, meet more new people, and the same thing happens again, and the same thing happens again.
You can’t just turn off though. Not with some people. There are some people who will always be inside of you, even when there’s nothing left of them but memories.
You’re not doing them any service though. By trying to keep them alive.
What?
I think that the ghosts hang around in limbo because the people they’ve left behind in the living world grieve for them too much; it upsets the natural order of things and although you are closer to them, to their spirits, you are kind of keeping them chained to the world, not letting them get to the next world, to their ultimate rest, you know.
It’s difficult not to grieve a great deal when you’ve lost a husband and a daughter, your whole fucking family, said Nobuko, angrily.
I don’t mean to say that grief is wrong, Munter continued. I just think it should be tempered a little bit. Have you ever heard of Chuang-tzu?
Who? No!
He was a Chinese sage. When his wife died, one of his friends went to see him to offer his condolences and he found Chuang-tzu sitting on the ground singing a song and smoking a cigarette. Actually I don’t think he was smoking a cigarette. I think I made a mistake there. Anyway he was singing a song and his friend was disturbed by this because after all Chuang-tzu’s wife had just died.
I don’t get it.
Chuang-tzu was singing, and his friend came along, and Chuang-tzu’s wife had died. His friend was confused.
No shit, said Nobuko.
The friend asked Chuang-tzu why he was singing. Chuang-tzu said that he was singing because he was happy that the world was turning in its natural way, in cosmic harmony. His wife had come into life and passed out of life in accordance with the world’s ideas for her. To cry about it would be to admit he was either ignorant of the universe, or to dispute nature pointlessly.
Where did you hear that story?
I found this really good book in the bookshop and I read it in there. I wish I’d read more of that book. I only got through the first chapter.

*

Munter watched a series of funerals in his thoughts. They shot through him like episodes of a dark sitcom, a kind of sorrowful canned laughter accompanying each of them. At his sister’s funeral, he recalled taking a moment to laugh to himself about the exceedingly long nasal hairs of one of her ex-boyfriends. Munter had been drunk at the funeral. He and his brother had stayed up all night drinking beer. That grief he kept locked away in a box. It was the box he associated with drinking. His sister’s death had evaded him in a way. Or maybe he had evaded running with it; instead he’d run from it. He hadn’t grieved properly. He’d drunk himself to the point of nearly not remembering, of nearly not caring. The fear of losing anyone of significance in his life underpinned these elevated convictions he was now peppering Nobuko with.

*

It seems to me that you’re a hypocrite, argued Nobuko. You must be the worst perpetrator of it, of dredging up ghosts. How many have there been again?
Eh, six, said Munter. Yeah, I am a hypocrite, you’re right.
I was only joking with you about Mieko’s ghost coming at me like the Hulk. I let Mieko depart long ago. That doesn’t mean she’s escaped me completely. She’s with me all the time. She’s not a bloody wispy phantom. That’s the way you see things when you’ve lost somebody.
Nobuko stopped and closed her eyes tight for a second. Her face was like a pale white mask in the moonlight, pure and emotionless. She stood up and kicked a not-yet-empty can of beer across the road; the last of its beer spilled onto the road merging with lately created streams of piss to establish ginger veins in the gravel.
I’m sorry if I brought up stuff you didn’t want to talk about, said Munter. I’ve upset you, haven’t I?
Nobuko didn’t answer him. She just looked up at the sky. There were no stars in the wedge of evening sky that was open to her, just clouds floating softly by like dust logs.
Yeah, I shouldn’t have started talking about that, Munter continued. I’m just interested, you know. About Mieko and everything. It’s just strange that I should have become aware of her. Even if it’s not her ghost that’s in my home, it’s interesting that I came to know her and to know you.
Nobuko remained silent. She appeared shattered of all thought.
Anyway, said Munter. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.
Nobuko threw him a look of sudden contempt. It lasted for a second or two. Then she turned to face the wall, and wept quietly.
Munter didn’t know what to do.
I’m sorry.
He wanted to hug her, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to embrace her. It had been such a long time since he’d embraced anyone properly, and an especially long time since he’d embraced anyone in the midst of a tense and emotional situation such as this one. He simply sat down and continued smoking his cigarette.
You may as well just sit down here with me and try to calm down, he said. Smoke a cigarette or something.
Fuck you, she exploded, turning suddenly. Fuck you! What the fuck do you know? Who the fuck are you anyway? What am I doing telling you all this shit about my life? Nobody knows anything about me. You don’t know anything about me.
Hey, I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t mean it to turn out like this. Come on, calm down.
You haven’t a fucking clue.
She began to walk off, repeating, You haven’t a fucking clue.
Hey, Nobuko, Munter called after her. Don’t go. I’m sorry, I really am.
Fuck you, Munter! she shouted back. Leave me alone.

*

For a moment, Munter considered following Nobuko to make sure she was okay, but then he decided to just sit back down again, and mumble to himself about how he was in the right and she was in the wrong. He watched Nobuko stumble off into the dark sombre orange glow of the city at night.