Audition Read Online Free PDF Page B

his eight-year-old son see him cry. Eventually even the deepest wounds can heal, and new possibilities can manifest all around you. It was an obvious truth, perhaps, but it struck him now as something profound and liberating. After checking in, he and Shige would play three sets of singles, take turns soaking in the big cypress bathtub, go out to the Chinese restaurant overlooking the lake, where the shark-fin soup and abalone were outstanding, then come back to watch Hamburger Hill or Platoon or Rambo . . . It was all very simple and healthy and gratifying.
        ‘Not that I know that much about the Viet Cong,’ Shige was saying. ‘But were they really that strong?’
        ‘In the jungle?’ Aoyama said. ‘Unbeatable.’
        ‘Not even the Green Berets were any match for them, right? How about Spetsnaz?’
        ‘Spetsnaz never fought the Viet Cong.’
        ‘But I mean, if they did fight, Spetsnaz would probably lose too?’
        ‘I don’t think anybody could’ve defeated the Cong in their own jungle.’
        ‘Incredible booby traps and things, right?’
        ‘Mm. Shallow pits with sharpened bamboo poles planted under a layer of leaves. Smaller holes to shred your leg. Boards with spikes sticking out that would fly up and stab you in the chest.’
        ‘And I heard they’d smear the spikes with poison, or with human poop.’
        ‘Shit is free, after all, unlike bullets and helicopters.’
        ‘Pretty scary. I bet they used the filthiest poop they could find, too. Get everyone to present a sample, and choose the one with the most bacteria and stuff.’
        They were listening to middle-period Beatles as they drove. This was the result of a compromise: Aoyama would have preferred classical but Shige had lobbied for early Komuro Tetsuya. ‘All You Need Is Love’ had just ended. Aoyama looked at his watch, then turned off the CD player and tuned the radio to FM 1. A soft female voice purred out of the speakers, and Shige said, ‘What’s this? Why are we listening to the radio?’
        Tomorrow’s heroine. Where is she right now? Dreams really do come true, you know. All it takes is a little courage  . . .
        The first processing of the résumés would begin soon after they returned from Lake Yamanaka. Two thousand women , thought Aoyama  . . .

3
    That night, in the hotel room, they watched a triple bill of Rambo films. Midway through First Blood , Shige declared it a great movie, and he even shed a few tears at the ending. But with the second and third instalments he grew gradually disgruntled, and by the time they got to the final scene of Rambo III he was downright indignant.
        ‘What the hell is this? It’s ridiculous! How’s a guy on horseback gonna take down an attack helicopter with a bow and arrow? They must think we’re all morons watching this crap. What’s he supposed to be, Genghis Khan?’
        It was past two a.m. when the third film ended. Shige said he was going to get online and wanted the room to himself, because he couldn’t relax with a computer illiterate looking over his shoulder.
        ‘Go have a drink somewhere, why don’t you?’ he told his father.
        Aoyama obediently left the room with a glass and a bottle of cognac. The hotel was utterly quiet, but lights were on in the lounge next to the lobby, a cozy space with comfortable sofas and reading lamps. He sat in the soft light, thinking about the audition and about Ryoko and enjoying the liquid heat of the cognac sliding down his throat. Ryoko’s death, as he’d reflected many times before, had been a turning point for him. It certainly wasn’t anything he’d hoped for, and he wasn’t in any sense glad it had happened. But sometimes things happen that no one hopes for. Events that cause everything you’ve worked towards, the life you’ve carefully constructed piece by piece, to come tumbling down all around you. No one is to blame, but you’re left with a wound