"My wife gets home from shopping and the two commence their women-talk. But I'm still thinking about the lederhosen. The three of us eat an early dinner and have a few drinks. I keep turning the story over in my mind.
'So, you don't hate your mother anymore?' I ask when my wife leaves the room.
'No, not really. We're not close at all, but I don't hold anything against her.'
'Because she told you about the lederhosen.'
'I think so. After she explained things to me, I couldn't go on hating her. I can't say why it makes any difference. I certainly don't know how to explain it. But it may have something to do with us being women.'
'Still, if you leave the lederhosen out of it, supposing it was just a woman taking a trip and finding herself, would you have been able to forgive her?'
'Of course not,' she says, without hesitation. 'The whole point is the lederhosen, right?'"
From Murakami, Haruki. "Lederhosen", published in Harper's, February 1993. Translated by Alfred Birnbaum. Also, listen to it here.
'So, you don't hate your mother anymore?' I ask when my wife leaves the room.
'No, not really. We're not close at all, but I don't hold anything against her.'
'Because she told you about the lederhosen.'
'I think so. After she explained things to me, I couldn't go on hating her. I can't say why it makes any difference. I certainly don't know how to explain it. But it may have something to do with us being women.'
'Still, if you leave the lederhosen out of it, supposing it was just a woman taking a trip and finding herself, would you have been able to forgive her?'
'Of course not,' she says, without hesitation. 'The whole point is the lederhosen, right?'"
From Murakami, Haruki. "Lederhosen", published in Harper's, February 1993. Translated by Alfred Birnbaum. Also, listen to it here.