Over the next few minutes, the detective greeted the pizza guy and placed two cardboard boxes on the coffee table. She cut up several slices, and offered me some; which, given my stomach cramps, was much appreciated.
She then proceeded to gobble down several pieces of pizza without even bothering with the grease stains on the furniture, which made me think that she wasn't very careful with her belongings.
As for me, I had finally been able to satisfy my hunger, and had emptied several times the glass of milk that had been offered to me. So, taking advantage of this break in our more than serious discussion, I could finally put my thoughts in order.
"So no matter what is done to you, you won't die, right?" I asked as I took the glass of milk that she had since refilled twice in a row.
She nodded in response; her mouth too full of food to articulate properly.
"But I don't see how running over you could have sent your head so far from your body..." I thought aloud.
She started coughing - having swallowed wrong - and quickly emptied a can of soda in one gulp to wash it down.
"About that..." She said with embarrassment; "my head was already sewn back on before our encounter, and the stitches must not have been strong enough anymore..."
I was both relieved and petrified to learn this. As for the real reason that had deprived her of her head, long before our meeting, it was not today, nor in the next few weeks that I would learn about it, but much later.
For the time being, I remained intrigued, wondering what situations - dangerous enough to inflict more or less mortal wounds on her - she could have experienced before our meeting. Thus, I started to stare at the long scar around her neck, fully exposed thanks to the loose T-shirt she was wearing.
"Does it hurt?" I surprised myself by asking her.
From the dazed expression she now had on her face, I understood that she wasn't expecting this kind of question at all.
She then put her drink on the coffee table, and after wiping her mouth with a paper napkin, closed the pizza boxes that were now empty.
"Let's just say I feel the pain momentarily, but then nothing," she said nonchalantly as she got up from the couch. "It's fleeting, at most... As if my nerves momentarily remember their function?"
Why was she saying this as if it wasn't important? If it hurt her to get injured or to die, she should avoid putting herself in risky situations...
"But I thank you for asking that, Nijima-kun."
She went straight to throw the two pizza boxes into one of the already full garbage bags, and left for the kitchen to put the kettle on to heat up. She came back a few minutes later with two cups of tea; one for herself, and one that she handed to me. In the meantime, she had also taken out her cell phone to turn it off, and had retrieved the strange notebook I had already seen her use in the inn.
Looking at her smartphone with the completely black screen sitting on the coffee table, I understood that she was surely not working alone, and must have had someone helping her from a distance... But who?
"Well, let's exchange assessments already!" She said with a delighted look.
"Now?" I was surprised.
"You came so that we could formalize this agreement, right?" She asked me as she sat down in a chair in front of me. "Getting to know each other is the best way to start."
I nodded.
"I'll start, if you don't mind." She declared before looking for a particular page in her notebook. "Nijima Iwao... let's see..."
Finally finding the page she was interested in, she settled down comfortably, resting her back against the back of the old green chair and relaxing her shoulders. Then, while looking at me, she began to recite part of her notes.
"You are someone who doesn't naturally reach out to others since you are socially inept. You don't know how to act around others because you don't understand how they feel, or know how to respond to them," she said as if she were reading information revealed on a news broadcast. "However, as soon as it involves your emotional problem, you become very active. You also don't mind helping others, perhaps because you've developed a habit of always going along with the people around you, so as not to offend them. I also noticed that in addition to your ability to read people's faces and feelings, you pay attention to the people around you and are quick-witted. However, people are quick to judge you as weird or strange because of your behavior."
She had really nailed it, in the portrait she had painted of me. It was strange, that someone I barely knew, had more knowledge about me than co-workers I had already been around for a few years and saw every day.
Moreover, she'd been one of those people who considered me 'weird', at the very beginning. However, her way of presenting it had been rather unusual; to say that I was 'pleasantly strange'. It was by this type of wording, that I understood that she was not hurtful like others in her way of thinking. She had said this without malice or prejudice, but rather with curiosity and amusement; revealing that she was interested in me as a person, and was not in her eyes an undesirable element to be kept away from.
This reassured me, but also reinforced my choice: if anyone was well placed to help me solve my problem, it was her.
She was the first one to make my heart beat in this way. The first to see beyond appearances. Or at least to bother to do so.
And now, this person I knew was the one for me, was patiently waiting for me to speak up.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands on my knees, and with my sullen gaze highlighted by large dark circles, began to recite the portrait I had painted of her.
"You're someone who doesn't talk about herself much, and is suspicious of everyone, but you're also bursting with boastfulness. You love being the center of attention, and showing off how much more you know than everyone else," I said while watching her wince more and more with each new word I said. "You're pretty smart, but on the flip side you're disorganized at home..."
She looked at me for a moment without saying anything, and seeing that I didn't add anything more, she took a disappointed look.
"Is that all?" She asked, frowning.
That was pretty good... Especially for someone like me who was stingy with his words.
However, as I glanced toward the coffee table, I knew right away what my next words would be.
"I know you're suspicious, but you're not telling me everything," I said, shaking my head. "I still don't know who you really are, or who you talk to almost all the time on the phone... So if we're going to make a deal, the least we can do is be honest about everything."
I had hit the nail on the head with my statement, because right after that, she smiled with all her teeth. That kind of confident, toothy smile she'd served me with many times before. And while leaning towards me, she said:
"Well, Well... It seems we're on the same page... So, how about you tell me about this other problem you're having, Nijima-kun?"