KAZUO ISHIGURO

Never Let Me Go - fragments
 

Out loud, I said, to no one in particular: “Tommy’s got his shirt on. His favourite polo shirt.”

I don’t think anyone heard me, because they were all laughing at Laura—the big clown in our group—mimicking one after the other the expressions that appeared on Tommy’s face as he ran, waved, called, tackled. The other boys were all moving around the field in that deliberately languorous way they have when they’re warming up, but Tommy, in his excitement, seemed already to be going full pelt. I said, louder this time: “He’s going to be so sick if he ruins that shirt.” This time Ruth heard me, but she must have thought I’d meant it as some kind of joke, because she laughed half-heartedly, then made some quip of her own.

Then the boys had stopped kicking the ball about, and were standing in a pack in the mud, their chests gently rising and falling as they waited for the team picking to start. The two captains who emerged were from Senior 3, though everyone knew Tommy was a better player than any of that year. They tossed for first pick, then the one who’d won stared at the group.

“Look at him,” someone behind me said. “He’s completely convinced he’s going to be first pick. Just look at him!”

There was something comical about Tommy at that moment, something that made you think, well, yes, if he’s going to be that daft, he deserves what’s coming. The other boys were all pretending to ignore the picking process, pretending they didn’t care where they came in the order. Some were talking quietly to each other, some re-tying their laces, others just staring down at their feet as they trammelled the mud. But Tommy was looking eagerly at the Senior 3 boy, as though his name had already been called.

Laura kept up her performance all through the team-picking, doing all the different expressions that went across Tommy’s face: the bright eager one at the start; the puzzled concern when four picks had gone by and he still hadn’t been chosen; the hurt and panic as it began to dawn on him what was really going on. I didn’t keep glancing round at Laura, though, because I was watching Tommy; I only knew what she was doing because the others kept laughing and egging her on. Then when Tommy was left standing alone, and the boys all began sniggering, I heard Ruth say:
“It’s coming. Hold it. Seven seconds. Seven, six, five…”

She never got there. Tommy burst into thunderous bellowing, and the boys, now laughing openly, started to run off towards the South Playing Field. Tommy took a few strides after them—it was hard to say whether his instinct was to give angry chase or if he was panicked at being left behind. In any case he soon stopped and stood there, glaring after them, his face scarlet. Then he began to scream and shout, a nonsensical jumble of swear words and insults.

We’d all seen plenty of Tommy’s tantrums by then, so we came down off our stools and spread ourselves around the room. We tried to start up a conversation about something else, but there was Tommy going on and on in the background, and although at first we just rolled our eyes and tried to ignore it, in the end—probably a full ten minutes after we’d first moved away—we were back up at the windows again.

The other boys were now completely out of view, and Tommy was no longer trying to direct his comments in any particular direction. He was just raving, flinging his limbs about, at the sky, at the wind, at the nearest fence post. Laura said he was maybe “rehearsing his Shakespeare.” Someone else pointed out how each time he screamed something he’d raise one foot off the ground, pointing it outwards, “like a dog doing a pee.” Actually, I’d noticed the same foot movement myself, but what had struck me was that each time he stamped the foot back down again, flecks of mud flew up around his shins. I thought again about his precious shirt, but he was too far away for me to see if he’d got much mud on it.

Alina Bucurel

Kazuo Ishiguro
 

Fara sa ma adresez cuiva anume, am spus cu voce tare: “Tommy are camasa pe el. Camasa lui de polo preferata.”

Nu cred ca auzise cineva pentru ca toti radeau de Laura, clovnul grupei noastre, care mima pe rand expresiile ce apareau pe fata lui Tommy in timp ce alerga, facea cu mana, striga, bloca. Ceilalti baieti de pe teren se miscau in felul acela voit lent ca atunci cand isi fac incalzirea, insa Tommy, nerabdator, parea ca e deja la viteza maxima. De data asta am spus mai tare: “O sa fie foarte suparat daca isi va murdari camasa aia”. De data asta Ruth ma auzise, dar probabil s-a gandit ca am spus-o oarecum in gluma, pentru ca a ras asa cu jumatate de gura si apoi a facut o remarca sarcastica tipica ei.

Apoi, baietii s-au oprit din aruncat mingea de la unul la altul si stateau gramada in noroi, piepturile lor ridicandu-se si coborand usor in asteptarea alegerilor pentru echipa. Cei doi capitani care au fost alesi erau Seniori din anul 3, desi toti stiau ca Tommy era cel mai bun jucator din anul acela. Au dat cu banul pentru prima alegere, apoi cel care a castigat incepuse sa aleaga din grup.

“Priviti-l!” a spus cineva din spatele meu. “E complet convins ca o sa fie primul ales. Doar uitati-va la el!”

In acel moment Tommy avea ceva caraghios, ceva ce te facea sa crezi ca, intr-adevar, daca el va fi atat de prostanac, atunci merita ce urma sa i se intample. Ceilalti baieti pareau ca ignora procesul de alegere, ca nu ii interesa in ce ordine urmau. Vorbeau in soapta unii cu altii, isi legau din nou sireturile, sau priveau staruitor cum prindeau noroi intre picioare. Dar Tommy privea nerabdator catre baiatul din anul 3, de parca numele lui a fost strigat deja.

Laura a continuat cu interpretarea ei pe tot parcursul alegerilor pentru echipa, imitand diferitele expresii ce apareau pe fata lui Tommmy: expresia fetei luminata de nerabdare la inceput; nedumerire-ingrijorare cand deja se alesesera patru si el nu era printer ei; durere si panica atunci cand a inceput sa inteleaga ce se intampla defapt. Cu toate astea, nu mai priveam spre Laura, pentru ca eram atenta la Tommy; stiam ce face doar pentru ca ceilalti radeau in continuare si o incurajau. Apoi, cand Tommy a ramas de unul singur, si toti baietii au inceput sa rada pe infundate, am auzit-o pe Ruth spunand:
“Urmeaza. Fiţi atenti. Sapte secunde. Sapte, sase, cinci,…”

N-a mai ajuns pana la sfarsit. Tommy a izbucnit intr-un urlet furtunos, si baietii, acum razand fara sa se mai ascunda, au luat-o la fuga spre partea de sud a terenului. Tommy a facut cativa pasi dupa ei – era dificil sa iti dai seama daca instinctul lui era sa ii alerge infuriat sau daca era doar panicat ca a fost lasat in urma. In orice caz, curand s-a oprit si a ramas acolo, privindu-i incruntat, fata lui de-un rosu aprins. Apoi a inceput sa zbiere si sa strige o amestacatura de injuraturi si insulte fara sens.

Vazusem destule astfel de crize de-ale lui Tommy pana atunci, asa ca am coborat de pe scaune si ne-am imprastiat prin incapere. Cu toti incercam sa vorbim despre altceva, dar Tommy countinua intr-una auzindu-se in fundal, si cu toate ca la inceput ne roteam ochii si incercam sa il ignoram, in final – probabil dupa zece minute bune dupa ce ne-am indepartat – eram din nou urcati la ferestre.

Nu-i mai vedeam pe ceilalţi baieţi acum, şi Tommy nu işi mai adresa vorbele către vreo persoană anume. Doar vorbea aiurea, fluturându-şi braţele în aer, către cer, către vânt, către cel mai apropiat stâlp de gard. Laura spunea că poate “repeta Shakespeare”. Altcineva remercase cum de fiecare dată cand urla ceva obişnuia să îşi ridice piciorul de pe sol, îndreptându-l spre exterior, “ca un câine care face pipi”. De fapt, şi eu am observat mişcarea aceea, dar ce m-a frapat/impresionat era că de fiecare dată când lovea din nou cu piciorul in pământ, se stropea cu noroi pe picioare. M-am gândit din nou la camaşa lui preferată, dar era prea departe ca să pot vedea dacă s-a stropit.