Something smells fishy

Eleventh-hour (part 1)

Forever is a long time, mom, but you know, right now felt way longer than that.

Miyu's eyes ablaze as she faced me kept telling me a million things a minute. I took even, long breathes that expanded my chest just enough to accommodate them all within my heart while the gape caught in between my lips helped carry oxygen to my impaired brain.

All I could distinguish was confusion. Within her. Within me. I was sure of my attachment for her, but everything else was in a haze. The me who has never thought of her this way, the romantic way, was too affected by Miyu. She has made me miss her, want to be with her, want to protect her. Her words brought me onto this path that could only lead to her. The only thing left was to decide who was going to confront her, the friend Amy or the sexually confused Amy.

I knew I loved her, but whether that meant I cared for her as for a partner, I was not sure. I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Every equation has an answer, it's what you told me. But mom, I have no answer to give her and it hurts to not know my own heart.

I flinched at the loud thud the door made somewhere in the distance. When I opened my eyes, Miyu was no longer in the classroom. She was everywhere. In the air, in my heart, in my thoughts. And yet she wasn't anymore.

I reached for my backpack, still uncomfortably heavy with the thermos of coffee I had not yet had a chance to drink. I lifted it up but let go of it the next moment. It fell onto the wooden floor, taking me along for company. The backpack felt lonely. It needed a friend. More than anything it needed a hug and I let my thin arms wrap around it as I plummeted onto the cold boards.

How long it was I don't know, but the next thing I knew, the room was riveting with voices once again. I hurried to pick up my stuff and myself in the process and left the class.

The next three lessons went on in a daze, me and Miyu back to back, working as if nothing happened. This has become a habit of hers, to ignore obvious things and act as if everything was normal, when it obviously wasn't. By the end of the third lesson I came to the conclusion that ignoring was a cultural thing.

Not once in the past four months have I had the chance to witness Japanese people face their thorniness. Nobody laughed out loud here. Nobody sobbed when sad. Nobody yelled, not when excited, not when irritated, not ever. Everything was steady like the thin line of a stopped heart on a monitor in the emergency room. Japan was a country that suck out the very essence of life — the freedom to be yourself.

I wanted to shout. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do many things, yet I didn't. I was a sorrow, mute, deaf, gutless version of myself.

I was getting japanized. Duty came before everything else. The pressure of raising to this invisible bar pushed me throughout the morning, until I was finally free to leave for the sports field. Baseball practice was to start at two P.M and for the first time since I've started working with the team, it wasn't  them who needed me, but the other way around.

***

'Aito, buddy, come on, one more lap,' I yelled towards the fallen behind round faced boy. He looked defeated as he sat down onto the grass.

Aito was different from the other boys on the baseball team. He was short and on the small side. He had little power in his arms, terrible aim and frankly looked a little bit like dumbo, as the clean shaved head style that was required of everybody on the team made his red ears stand out even more.

I picked up my pace and in no time joined him on the cool grass bed.

'Sensei, mou ii,' he addressed me and pulled back to a safe distance.

I couldn't understand what he said, but I recognised it. The quivering in his voice, his sunken shape and aimless hands — he was discouraged. Like me. Teacher and student facing the wrath of the Gods. What a sight.

'Aito listen to me please,' I approached him and gingerly placed my hand onto his boney back which made him raise his head high enough for me to see he was teary eyed.

'Life is long. So long,' I continued, stretching my arms as wide as I could. 'Today you might feel like you have lost, like you cannot stand up, like you cannot breathe, but today is only a leaf in your life journey. Twenty years from now you won't remember today. What you will remember is the fight you put up. Every tear, every drop of sweat, every minute you work on becoming better, will amount to you becoming the person you want to be. I believe in you, so please, Aito, stand up and finish this lap.'

I patted him on the shoulder and pretended not to see the few stingy tears that ran towards his sweaty shirt. He wiped his face with the back of it and sprinted back up.

I don't know if he understood a word from what I told him, but he smiled, showing me his crooked white teeth, 'arigatou sensei, ittekimasu.'

And with that he took off.

'Itterashai,' I answered warmly, sending him on his way. An incredible feeling of pride overflowed me as I watched him pick up his pace and finish his last lap in utter solitude. The boy was frail, but he wasn't weak. And I wasn't either.

After practice, I rushed home to change. I didn't have time to think. I had no idea what I would say or do when I got to my destination but it was my turn to stand up and finish my lap. I emptied my backpack, throwing the items that filled it all over the place and instead shoved a few clothes and a toothbrush.

I hailed a taxi and showed the driver the address to Miyu's family bakery. I got a nod in response and the car slowly took off. It took us an hour to get to the bakery-cafe, too little time to decide what I was going to say but enough to unnerve me.

The door of the taxi opened, inviting me outside into the cool breeze of an autumn evening. The moment it wrapped around me, it felt like somebody had poured a bucket of ice water over me. I was standing in front of huge windows, two tickets in my hand and an obsessive idea to run.

Before I had a chance to change my mind, Michiko, Miyu's mother, exited the one tiered building, opening the door to a few exiting customers. She bowed thanking them for their purchase and waived them good bye. Her eyes met mine and smiled at my sorrow attempt to guard from the wind.

'Amy sensei, konbanwa,' she chided.

'Good evening to you too, Michiko san,' I managed to say through my clenched teeth.

'Douzo,' she opened the door for me and welcomed me inside.

'Doumo arigatou gozaimsu,' I thanked her and rushed through the big, glass-framed door.

The place was comfortably warm and it would have relaxed me if not for my nerves that still kept my jaws securely clenched.

'Miyu chan imasu ka,' I asked Michiko, looking around for her daughter.

She wasn't in the main hall. She might have been in the kitchen with Shiro, or at home altogether.

I was never good at reading faces but the moment I mentioned Miyu's name, I was sure a shadow ran over Michiko's plump face. It disappeared as soon as it came to be and was quickly replaced by a plastic looking smile.

'Miyu, kitchen,' she answered pointing to the door leading to the back of the cafe.

I straightened my back, gently tugging at my jacket to erase any creases. I carefully pushed my hair behind my ears, took a deep breath and made a step towards the door. I caught a glimpse of Michiko studying me from aside, her hands gracefully folded in front of her flowery apron. I nodded my head and even managed a smile before disappearing behind the metal door.

It was dark in the little hallway that connected the kitchen to the main hall. I stopped in my tracks, listening to the voices coming from behind the door. One of the voices belonged to Miyu. The other was Shiro's.

(to be continued)

So yeah, it took me a long time to publish this chapter. Several reasons for that. One of them is I wasn't sure where I want to take my Shiro character. In the meantime what do you think Amy will do? Has she made any decisions? What is her plan? How do you like this complex triangle so far? I appreciate every comment and input so feel free to criticise to your heart's content. xoxo