French Cup: A Neighborhood Story

Chapter 95: -Kazuya- My Dear Friend

The wind stirred the tree limbs as I walked under them. A suddenly cold, lonely wind. The further I walked away, the more I drew my coat around myself. Wanting to feel him again, my face showing my sadness, but not hiding it anymore.

He'd called me last night, desperate. Somehow calm, but the disturbance in his voice. I'd come as fast as I could, for him. Not for them. 

Seeing them there. That woman, beaten and bloody. It was hard not to feel anything for her. I did sympathize, trying my best to make her feel beautiful. It's what Gyeong-Wan had asked me to do. Explaining what she'd been through, and the boys. Yet, somehow there was only numbness. Her face, though crying and maybe innocent. But, still somehow she'd fostered that hate in those boys. By her actions. She'd claimed that she had no part in it, that she loved us. Wanted to teach them love. But, she hadn't yet. That part I could not trust.

How had she not taught them love? 

But, this numbness had other uses. A yearning, someone more important. Seeing that family off today, a feeling that it was over. Holding Gyeong-Wan, seeing the relief on his face. Smiling at him, to assure him that it had helped me, too. It had not. I wanted him to feel better. This small lie between us. Maybe it was okay. If it helped him, was it okay?

Rolling my train case toward French Cup. I wouldn't go inside. Passing it wouldn't cause me to feel better. There was no resolution. This strange unfeelingness. Seeing those boys again. Knowing what they did. Them going away, back home. These conclusions I'd come to yesterday, sitting uncomfortably inside. 

The parents were at fault. Making up that woman, choosing the best colors for her. Trying to help Gyeong-Wan. She hadn't taught her boys love. There was no "somehow" in their crimes. She'd promised to teach them love "from now on". That's what I'd gathered from what she'd said. It wasn't good enough. They'd already hurt so many people. That woman with the burns, would she recover? Would anyone? 

Most of all...

I stayed across the street. Going past the park and observing the bench and the bare trees. Avoiding looking at French Cup. Trying to think of anything else. Circling the block, going with purpose.

This numbness had other uses. I knew where I was going.

There was a small incline at the end of the block. My train case was heavy, dragging on it. It was worth it to go this way. I couldn't go past the hotel again, backtracking my steps. Gyeong-Wan might still be there, and I didn't want him to see me going here. It was obvious he'd felt better after we'd helped that family. From what I'd heard and then seen in their room, it had been horrific. Those boys and that woman had been through a lot, but so had we. That didn't negate their crimes.

As I rounded the corner, I was now on my way. This exact path. A third more and I'd be in front of Charlotte's theater. Then, halfway I'd be next to Ayane's shop. A bit further, and there...

My wheels were going slow on my train case. Acting as if I were being careful. But, there wasn't a reason to be careful. I'd be throwing away any makeup I'd used on that woman. I didn't want these reminders. So much of it had been brand new and expensive. Only the best for my face, but now it would be gone. 

I just wanted Gyeong-Wan's assurance. His arms again. Trying to get me to believe that there'd been a resolution. Someone was going to jail, but did that mean anything? Strangely, having tried to find the culprit with Nikki and everyone... That determination to find them. As I went along up the street, I found it didn't matter to me that we knew. That someone was sitting in jail. We were still left with what had happened. It wasn't fixed by that person being in jail. 

As I stopped in front of this most familiar place, the numbness descended like lace all over my body. Seeing out of that lace as if blocked a little, an unseeing face. Half knowing what I'd find, this dread that had already been there, but some strange hope.