Lavender | Wakatoshi Ushijima

42 | Invisible

"Who was Hana to you?"

We're seated on a bench outside the hospital.

I hesitate. I don't know how to describe the surreality of it all.

"She and I first met when we were little kids. She defended me from kids who were pushing me around, making fun of the fact that I'm left-handed. We became friends. Bonding over childish things, knowing we were the only ones who really understood each other. We found a lavender in her backyard, up a little hill overlooking a short meadow before town. One day, it all stopped. I lost my first friend. She stopped talking to me and everything diverged. I got over it. That school year ended and students were not in the same class."

She marinates in her silence.

"Middle school went by, and high school too. I would always spot her in the hall. Walking with a friend, writing something down, reading, observing. I never had the courage to say hello, but I was always intrigued. Then, our English teachers created a poetry competition. In all three years, she won. She would read her poetry at the podium, and lots did not care for it. But I did. I always listened to her, even though I wouldn't understand parts of it. I always wondered how things ended up for her." He looks at the little boy who sat on the sidewalk, talking with a friend.

"What happened then?"

"I was failing in English, barely getting by. If I failed, I couldn't play volleyball. It would ruin my chance at a scholarship. My English teacher, Mrs. Ito, assigned Hana as my tutor. At first, it was rough. She helped me make progress. She stayed. We went out with our friend group to a coffee shop, and I even planned a surprise birthday party for her on the seaside."

"That is lovely."

"She loves the sea. Always wrote about it. She read a poem about it once, and it talked about the endless waves and smooth sand she's always wanted to touch. She'd never been, and she was spending her birthday alone at home. So, she and I went into the city and picked up food for everyone. I told her they were all studying in the city library, and would come out with us to eat. It was an odd meal, barbecue. I led her to the beach. I remember when I covered her eyes and put her hands atop the wooden ledge, overlooking the shore. It looked like her whole life had been changed and flourished in one moment. Like she'd been waiting for it. I feel like she knew, from the humidity and saltiness in the air."

"And there were so many moments of us taking in the other's presence. Letting our souls do the talking, or our eyes. I devoured every look she gave me, something about her made me feel safe. She makes me believe I am a good person, that I'm worth something. We talked on the roof of her house, she cooked me my favorite meal when I was sick. I bought her a necklace with a lavender on it, her favorites," I smile.

"How thoughtful," she says.

"I always had a feeling we were connected. Not just to each other, but to the lavender too. I like to think of it as our flower, because it amazes me how many times fate puts us on the same lane and we stumble across each other. Every time we did, there would always be a lavender somewhere."

"I entered the school play for extra credit. I would get an extra mark for the big test worth a lot of my graduating grade. We practiced my lines. One time, we played classical music and she took up the role of the heroine as we danced around in her backyard. I was stumbling everywhere. When the sun shone at the both of us, we stayed there. The two of us. In the last part of the play, the heroine had to kiss me. I always skipped over it because I didn't want it to be awkward. When the play happened though, the girl and I agreed she would only kiss me on the cheek. I didn't want to waste my first kiss on someone I don't love."

She laughs a little, telling me how sweet all of it is.

"The day of the play came. That was when our work was over. Since then, she's kept her distance. I thought she wasn't interested to be friends anymore, so I gave her space."