Serial Accidents
Susumu’s first accident happened when he least expected it.
His day started hurriedly. He was late for work. So he washed his face and brushed his teeth without combing his hair. Then he put on his black suit and blue tie and sprinted out of his apartment without having breakfast.
As he trotted down the sidewalk, he thought about the day that lay ahead.
He’d have to organize spreadsheets just for the sake of organizing spreadsheets. Attend meetings that were about meetings. Work for the only purpose of keeping working.
That wouldn’t be the worst. Susumu would have to endure the reprimands of his senpai, scold his kouhai, drink chuhai after work to drown the stress — and wake up with a terrible headache the next morning. Then repeat. And repeat.
He was crossing the street in front of his company’s building when suddenly everything went black. Or rather, blank.
When Susumu batted open his eyes, he saw white. White walls, white clothes, a white bed.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked, looming over.
Susumu brought his hand to his forehead. “What happened?”
“You were hit by a car and lost consciousness. We took X-rays of your head and found no problems. As for the rest of your body, you have a few injuries but nothing serious.”
He nodded, frowning.
When the doctor left, a middle-aged man in a forest-green sweater rushed into the room. With a forty-five degree bow, he blurted, “I’m deeply sorry for what happened. I’ll take full responsibility for the hospital expenses. And I’ll compensate you monetarily.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Susumu said. “I’m fine. Besides, you didn’t hurt me intentionally.”
“I want to clarify that I didn’t overspeed, drive through a red light, or break any traffic rules.”
“Then how …?”
Susumu’s second accident happened when he least anticipated it.
He was driving to Tokyo Medical University Hospital. For the last few months, he’d noticed a bump on his right thigh. It didn’t hurt. Or itch. But it’d grown from the size of a pimple to that of a ping-pong ball.
Could it be cancer? This question had echoed in his head several times.
It could also be another serious disease — that could make him lose his leg. Then lose his job. Then lose his life as he knew it.
But, say, it was nothing and could be easily cured. Another disease could come. A lethal or crippling one. There was no escaping to the claws of nature.
Susumu must’ve been too absorbed in these thoughts because, in a split second, everything turned white. Then black.
“You were in an accident,” the doctor said.
Susumu massaged his temples, scowling. “Let me guess, I hurt my head. But it’s fine. And I don’t have serious injuries.”
“That’s correct. As for the bump on your leg, it’s just a cyst. It’s not life-threatening. It can be removed with a simple surgery.”
He heaved out a sigh. But there was still a pressing issue. “What happened to me?”
“Your car hit a tree. Luckily for you, it was small enough to be knocked down.” The doctor glanced around. “I know I’m crossing the professional line here, but I feel I should tell you this.” He faced forward again. “Please buckle your seat belt in the future.”
Susumu gaped at him. “But I always do it. Anyway, how do you — ?”
“The police found you lying next to your car.”
Perhaps being upset about the bump on his thigh made him forget to buckle up? That made sense. A disturbance in his mind could disrupt his actions.
Susumu’s third and last accident happened when he least predicted it.
It started with his girlfriend, Suzue, breaking up with him.
“You’re always so careless.” She clutched the rail of his hospital bed. “You never watch where you’re going. Just look, you’ve been in two accidents in a week.” She sighed. “I’ve had enough of this. It’s going to kill me.”
Susumu just nodded. Not because he wanted to part with Suzue but because he wanted the best for her.
That evening, after he was discharged from the hospital, he stepped into a bar in Shinjuku and ordered a bottle of beer.
While nursing it, he thought about Suzue.
He’d never again watch her sleep completely covered under the blanket, only her small feet peeking out.
Never again smell how nice cream smelled on her skin; it was like leaves basking under an autumn sun.
Never again hear her cute sneeze, the first thing that made him fall for her.
Never again taste the back of her earlobe, the most delicious delicacy he knew.
Never again receive her bad blow jobs.
After finishing his beer, he ordered a tequila sunrise and a blue moon. Sake, soju, sidecar. A Bloody Mary, a death in the afternoon, and a Zombie.
When he walked out of the bar, he wasn’t walking but staggering.
The next few minutes were blurry. Susumu only remembered turning left and right. Going east and west. Descending and ascending. Leaning against the front of a car and vomiting at the back of a building.
When his focus returned, he found himself about to cross a street — again, without using the crosswalk.
He shouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Or perhaps he should.
Without the slightest hesitation, he took one, two … four steps. He was on the edge of the sidewalk now. Ready to take the last step when a car approached.
A few minutes later, a Suzuki Alto began to materialize among the darkness. Its headlights resembled the eyes of the Lord the Darkness.
At the count of …
One.
Two.
Three.
Susumu stepped into the street — and crossed to the other side. Intact.
With a sigh, he kept striding forward. He should be more careful about accidents from now on.
