Breasts and Eggs

by Mieko Kawakami

When they settled, Komi was hugging her knees on the floor. I sat beside her, drinking mugicha. We were in our old house by the harbor, leaning against the discolored wooden post, talking and laughing. Komi your knees are huge! Look who’s talking, Natsuko. You’re right, they’re huge! Cause I look more like you than Mom. Mom’s always saying so, how I was always just like you. Whatever, it’s cool. Hey Komi. Know how everybody has to die sometime? Does that mean you’ll die too? Well yeah, I suppose I will . . . Hey, Natsuko, you crying? Come on, there’s nothing to cry about. That won’t happen for a long time. Cheer up. Everything’s fine. Cause when I die, I’ll give you signs. Really? What kind of signs? Too soon for me to say, but I promise I’ll come visit you. I’ll call your name. That’s how you’ll know. You’ll become a ghost? You could say that. Okay. Just don’t be the scary kind of ghost. And don’t forget to visit. No matter what happens. Okay? Sure. I might come as a bird, or a leaf, or the wind, or electricity, but I’ll make sure you can’t miss me. Okay, just promise that you’ll visit, alright? No matter what. Alright, alright. I promise. Okay, you promised—I’ll be waiting, I’ll be waiting. Forever.