When all this is over
I'm taking you home to meet my parents.
They'll smile, call you kinpatsu
And reach out to stroke your feather-light hair.
As they speak, I'll be wishing I'd taught you more of their language
But as we laugh and joke in your quick, deft English,
Perhaps they'll remember how I used to struggle at school, and forgive me a little for all I've done.
It will be me teaching you the obvious things.
Take off your trainers. Leave them by the door. We do things differently here.
Come in. Be warm. Belong.
They'll see a beautiful boy. Half man, half child.
100% Real American, glossy and magazine-friendly.
I'll see you glancing at the doors for the quickest escape route. A caged wildcat obliging an ally.
I know the scars beneath that battered t-shirt.
How could I ever introduce you to them?
Explain what we've been through?
"This is Ash, my friend. I'm sorry I was away for so long."
The words ring out, tinny and not my own, in my mother's kitchen that used to be mine.
Because the real me is watching things happen again and again.
Shorter, mad, coming towards me. Gun in hand.
Jumping into the river together. The cold, rushing through my clothes. Thinking, "I hope I don't lose my shoes!"
Your eyes, when you told me about what they used to do to boys like you.
Your back, rising and falling in sleep.
When all this is over
You'll be standing in my room.
There's a pile of old Shounen Sundays that I haven't dealt with yet. Man-high.
You'll joke that I was always the younger one.
My school uniform still hanging in the wardrobe. My purikura photos, taken with the athletics club.
Everything I have loved will be a source of merriment to you. I will smile, and endure your teasing.
My mother, standing in the doorway, suddenly awkward with this man, her son
Would remind me of where we keep the spare futons
(As if I could forget, just because I walked through Hell with you).
And you would look at me, curious, already catching half of her meaning.
Of course, we are expected to sleep separately.
How are they to know?
You, already out of your element, would oblige far too easily. Leaving me alone in the bed, wondering.
We'll have time to work all this out.
When all this is over
I'm taking you home to meet my parents.
Seven inches taller than my father.
More beautiful than my mother could ever hope to be.
My sister will love you immediately, without ever noticing that you're a person.
(She isn't ugly, not really, and I can imagine you raising one eyebrow archly in a joke that only I understand. Flirting with her, just to rebuke me.)
I want.
You, sleeping soundly, without a weapon under your pillow.
Me, the watchful one in the night.
You, the next morning, disarming my parents with your quick-taught bow, your chopsticks, your easy politeness.
Me, laughing to myself as I explain that actually, you do know what natto is, and you have tried it before. Yes, you can buy natto in America.
When all this is over
I'm taking you home to meet my parents.
Holding your hand.
It's very warm, considering how pale you've become.
The machines beep, and I can only assume that's a good thing.
I trace the lines of your evil past, over your skin and to your closed eyes.
I can't understand the nurse's accent. You were making it easy for me to understand, weren't you?
Family? I smile at her, wearily gather up my best English. "I am a family member. We are brothers. Adoptive. My name is Eiji Callenreese."
The lies come so easy. It turns out that I would say anything to protect you.
She doesn't look convinced, but she wouldn't dare ask a frightened relative to produce his papers.
The nurse sighs, leaves and abandons me with my thoughts.
When all this is over
I'm taking you home to meet my parents.
So please just wake up, okay?