Strawberry Fields
I need to say something before I start the story. This is a new story, but it's not. Actually, it's the continuation of the plot of my other story, In My Life. But, it's a new story because I'm taking things more from the viewpoint of everyone in Mineral Town, including the previous owner of the farm. I guess what I want to say in this speech is I am in no way intending to alienate the readers of In My Life. Without you guys, I wouldn't have gone this far. I truly am thankful to everyone who's offered insight so far. But the thing is, if I could write it over, I would. I'm not abandoning it, though. Actually, I want to set this in the direction I want things to go in, and then go back and fill in the blanks.
I don't want to do it over. I want to move forward. So, I present to you- the next part of the story.
xXxX
Two men sat across from each other at the kitchen table that night with silence in the air. One of them, a bald man with a white beard, watched the other man while he cracked his knuckles in anticipation. He knew the other man had something to tell him, but the other man wouldn't speak. He instead stared intensely at nothing, eyes down.
The bald man let out a polite smile, idly pushing his empty tea cup out of his way. Then he caught sight of the other man's cold, stagnant pool of tea. Normally, the acute man never held out on speaking. His self-confidence usually shined through his sharp eyes and his good posture, but it suffered that day along with his eloquence. Finally, he looked up at the bald man with eyes reflecting his trepidation.
"Barley?" he asked.
"Yeah, Joe?"
A pained sigh rose up from Joe's end.
"I'm dying," Joe finally said as he idly gripped the sides of the straw hat sitting on his lap. Barley's hands slipped off of his tea cup, his focus nailed to his friend. Joe couldn't even bring himself to watch Barley stare with his mouth agape. He forced his focus somewhere else while Barley choked on his words.
Joe looked back up at him and solemnly nodded, and then idly ran a hand to push back his gray hair. He felt seconds drag as slowly as the beads of sweat dribbled down his tree trunk neck.
"I just feel it," he added. "I just feel myself getting weak." His hands trembled as he spoke, so he hid them under the table.
"I never thought it'd be you telling me this, Joe," Barley said. Joe's face fell into a frown, and Barley asked: "Jojo?"
"It's because I pushed myself so much when I was younger," Joe spat. "Now it's catching up to me." He looked across the table. "Now my time's short."
Barley nodded, letting out a sigh.
"I guess we all have to go sometime."
"I guess," Joe sighed. "I need to figure out what to do with everything. I'm getting too tired to take care of my livestock, so I want you to have all of them."
Barley nodded.
"Likewise, I'll leave Rick and Lillia with my chickens," he continued. Barley watched him, ready to speak. And just as Joe trailed, Barley knew he had to ask.
"What about the farm?"
Joe looked up at him with a lopsided smile.
"I know exactly who I want to have it," he said. Barley arched his eyebrows and wore a slightly puzzled expression. "My penpal."
"Your penpal?" Barley echoed, puzzled. He waited for Joe's nod.
"Yup," Joe replied. "He's not a farmer or anything, but he's young and fit for the job. Sixteen now." He scratched his square chin as he pondered. "Quiet and really shy in person, but he's taken to writing a lot to me ever since he was seven." Barley nodded.
"You mean that boy who visited your farm?" he asked. Joe nodded. "Yeah," Barley continued. "I remember him." He let out a smile. "And how shy he was." But his baffled reaction snuck back under his brow. He cocked his head at Joe and asked: "But is he going to be alright over there?"
Joe nodded as an inkling of his confidence poked through his eyes.
"He'll have the whole town to help him. I'd want you guys to get him started, help him settle in. I think it'd be a good thing for him to live here. He'd definitely come out of his shell, learn a great deal more of responsibility…" His eyes wandered as he trailed. "Lots of stuff, I guess."
Barley's face fell at Joe's response. When Joe arched an eyebrow at him, Barley shook his head with a "sorry".
"No biggie," Joe replied. "But man, he'd turn out to be a great farmer after a while. He really works hard, you know." He kept talking while Barley watched intently.
xXxX
Mayor Thomas Moore strutted with confidence through the town square despite standing at four feet tall. In his usual bright hues of his suits and an equally bright top hat to cover his bald head, he made sure he had distinction. People did not tend to notice him from his height, but from the suits he wore and the thick moustache he always carefully trimmed.
He approached Mineral Town's only police officer, his son, and took the megaphone presented to him. As he twirled his moustache around his finger and watched two men attempt to affix a banner between two posts, he held up the megaphone.
"Alright!" he said, commanding the men's attention. "Basil, I need you to lift your end more, and… what's your name again?"
"Kano," the other man sighed. When the Mayor gave him a baffled look, he replied with: "I've been taking pictures here for fifteen years?" He noticed the same look from the Mayor. "I'm renting the extra room in your house because you wanted someone to patrol the closets for monsters since your son never wanted to do it?" he asked, irked.
"Whatever," the Mayor replied, halfway muttering it under his moustache. "Just keep our banner steady."
Kano shrugged and watched the shorter Basil fiddle with his end of the banner. Basil couldn't seem to make up his mind, but after a few attempts, set it straight.
"Lower!" the Mayor said. Resigned, Basil did what the Mayor wanted.
The police officer, Harris, glanced up from adjusting his well-polished badge with a grunt before turning back down to fix his badge again. It was a common practice of his to make sure the words "Constable Harris Moore" could always be read, even if Mineral Town had a small enough population for everyone to know everyone else's full names. Upon a second inspection of the banner, he furrowed his brow.
"Dad," he said in his nasal voice. "It's not straight anymore."
"Sure it is, son," the Mayor replied, looking up with a grin. He patted Harris on the arm. "Now why don't you go patrol or something?" Harris's face went sour; he wrinkled his long nose as he pulled on the brim of his cap on his way out With that, the Mayor returned to aiding Basil and Kano with messing up the banners even more.
The Mayor fixated his focus, muttering "Almost… almost…" under his breath. As if his finger could set the banner straight, he moved it up and down as Basil adjusted his end.
"Almost…" the Mayor said in a more audible voice. "Almost…"
"YOU GUYS!"
Basil took a jerky step backwards and kissed cobblestone before he could realize what happened, while Kano almost did the same. When the startled photographer looked down, he saw a dark haired woman flailing her hands. The Mayor grew irate while the woman stuttered, and finally shouted: "What, Manna! What is it?"
"T-THERE'S A STRANGER WANDERING AROUND THE OLD MAN'S FARM!" she finally sputtered. The Mayor gasped, and before Basil could pull himself to his feet, he darted for the farm as quickly as his stubby legs could propel him. He barely excused himself as he swung around the hips of villagers making their way down the road. All that seemed to matter to him was keeping his hat on his head, aside from reaching the farm.
He hooked on the corner of Starr Road, finding himself slowing down with exhaustion at the final stretch of road. Sure enough, a lanky stranger stood staring hopelessly around the weed-strangled fields, his body looking tired and his clothes and hair dirty.
The Mayor stood staring, not knowing what to say. The stranger seemed oblivious, but something had to catch his attention. All the Mayor could do for a while was stand and clench his fists and molars. He sucked in a quick breath.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!" he finally shouted as he found himself running wildly up to the stranger. He stopped at his feet, waiting for the stranger's reaction and having time to wait. The stranger turned his face, and it looked as if his eyes stared short of the Mayor. The eyes hid everything and kept the stranger at a distance.
Shaking his head and breathing heavily, the Mayor spoke again.
"You can't trespass here," he said. "This land belongs to somebody." He saw villagers gathering along the south road in silence out of the corner of his eye. When he set his focus back on the stranger, he added firmly: "Leave right now."
As more villagers gathered around the fence, clamor arose from the crowd.
"Is he lost?" someone piped up.
"Maybe he came from the Valley, or Hackettsburg."
"Or the city."
"Did Gotz see him up in Mother's Hill?"
They watched as the stranger held an unfolded note to the Mayor's face and allowed the man to take it. His expression drooped as he read further down the page. Once he finished, he looked at the stranger, silent as if not sure what to say next.
"So you knew the old man?" he finally asked. The stranger nodded in reply, leaving the Mayor too choked up to keep his eyes on him. "He died a while back, you know," he told the stranger.
He looked over at the stranger to catch his sad eyes. Once again, he looked distant, ghastly, and troubled. With a sigh, the Mayor moved his focus from the stranger to the fields.
"This was, at one point, his prosperous farm," the Mayor told the stranger. He revealed his pained expression to the farmer, and worry choked his voice as he spoke. "Now I don't know what it'll come to. He left it to a lad in his will," he paused. "…a lad named Sergeant Makoto Ogawa. But what if he never shows up?"
The Mayor caught the stranger's eyes again, but just as quickly as he lost them.
"I'm him," the stranger uttered. The Mayor stood, his mouth hung open and his tongue once again wrestled to the bottom of his mouth. The stranger didn't hear him begin to stammer.
"You're him?" he finally blurted.
The clamor grew into a mild commotion from the crowd as the Mayor turned from the stranger. He clutched his head as if trying to split his skull open, as he muttered something. After looking like whatever the stranger said floored him, he let out a few breaths before turning back to him. Some parting words escaped his lips, enlisting a nod from the stranger. Finally, the Mayor turned to make his way to the gate, sure to stop motion to the boy. Before walking again, he turned to Harris and made a series of gesticulations.
"Meeting… Inn…" Harris muttered to himself, waiting for his father to remember the next signal. "Hour… without the transient… got it." With that, he turned and waved the people away. "You heard the Mayor," he announced, although no one knew what he was talking about. He sighed. "Meeting at the Inn in an hour."
xXxX
"Okay," a heavy man with streaked dark hair said, standing up and obstructing the view of the Mayor standing on his soapbox. "So run this by me again. That scruffy kid is the same Makoto Ogawataka Jojo mentioned in his will."
"Ogawa. And yes, that's what he said, Duke," the Mayor replied, speaking amongst chatter from another table. He leaned towards the mike mounted on his podium while Duke groaned.
"My ass! First of all, he doesn't even look Chinese!" Duke retorted.
"His name's not a Chinese name!" someone told him. Duke rolled his eyes.
"Maybe he's half something else," the Mayor said with a shrug. "Because yes, I agree, he looks nothing like those kids on public access."
"What if he's an intruder!" Duke piped up, his face boiling into a shade of crimson. The Mayor let out his own groan, about to say something
"What if you stop coming up with such hock for once?" a girl named Karen said firmly to rival Duke's voice. Clamor from all corners ceased, but not for long.
"I've got a strange feeling about him," someone said. More people threw their opinions into the clamor until the Mayor blatantly cleared his throat.
"Okay now," the Mayor began as soon as everyone fell silent. "We need to come to an agreement here."
Another man with neat, red hair and a trimmed moustache, Doug, stood up.
"I don't think this guy's a fraud. Besides, we shouldn't be judging this kid so negatively if we don't know him yet." He narrowed his eyes at his subject. "Duke."
Duke let out another groan, and dug his fingers into his forehead to massage his temple. When he finished, he sucked in a deep breath.
"But it's the old man's farm!" he explained. "That was his life! It's been in his family for centuries, like my vineyard! I know I wouldn't want some hack getting my vineyard when I kick the bucket." Manna, the woman who wore his ring, stared at him from her seat. "And Jojo wouldn't want that to happen either. His farm won't be ruined by some stranger!"
"We don't have a choice!" Doug proclaimed, speaking more to everyone else. "Think about it. A stranger would get the farm anyway if we don't give it to this kid. Things change, and we have to move on." He paused. "Joe doesn't have kids or relatives. If he picked Makoto, and this guy shows up and says he's Makoto." He paused again, watching the faces of the crowd. "This guy didn't even know Joe died. It doesn't make sense if he's a fraud. Besides, who knows what's in Joe's will aside from all of us? It's not like anyone's told people from outside our town."
The Mayor's face fell along with the noise. He bit his lip nervously as his stomach did flips during the silence.
"Y-yeah," he finally said, pointing at Doug. "Darn straight, Doug." With that, Duke let out another groan from his post.
"Fine!" he exclaimed. "But is this guy up for the challenge?" He waited for the Mayor to reply, initially only receiving a shrug.
"I guess we'll have to see," the Mayor said. The questions rose again.
"Has anyone ever asked him why he came here?"
"Well," the Mayor began. "He's Jojo's penpal from way back. He gave me a letter dated Summer 30th that he replied to. But…" He sighed. "And as you all know, Jojo died eleven days later, and when Makoto realized he didn't get another letter, he came here."
Murmurs rose up around the room, until Duke stood again.
"So Jojo left his farm to some kid who probably knows nothing about farming," he said. "Military school kid, right?" The Mayor nodded. "Then I say we put him on trial," Duke proposed. For once, a few people chimed in agreement.
"Sounds fair enough," Doug said. "We should give him a few years to fix the farm up."
"Five!"
"Too long!" Duke protested.
"Two!"
"Good!" Duke said.
"Too short," Doug told him.
xXxX
Almost a year passed since the stranger arrived at Mineral Town. He ended up receiving the farm under the terms he restored it to its original glory in three years. But he also had to be liked by the villagers, something that initially didn't happen with his attitude. He knew they didn't like him, but never got out on the town enough to listen to the conversations about him. Instead, he took to working on his farm, viewing it solely as a task he could just finish before moving on with his life.
Another side of Makoto lived masked by his complacency. More than a few arguments broke out over him, and in the face of the insults, he seemed unwilling to defend himself. But underneath the person hiding from the ghosts of his tumultuous life, untapped strength festered.
The pale morning light washed into the Mayor's home as he made his way to his work desk. He climbed his chair to situate himself on his pile of phonebooks. Once he found himself comfortable, he took his red Sharpie and marked 'Winter 30th, 2004' off his desk calendar.
"New Years Eve!" he announced to himself. His attention turned to his pencil cup that read "Number 1 Dad", but it was really the red crayon that roused his interest that day. He snagged it with his stubby fingers as he pulled some paper out of the lone printer on a nearby file cabinet. With no computer in sight, he set the paper in front of him and began jotting down an itinerary.
"New Year's festival," he said to himself. "All the decorations are done." He stared down at his paper, squeezing his crayon and arching his eyebrows. But a bright yellow bucket called his attention, and he couldn't shake the image from the corner of his eyes. His focus wandered from the itinerary to the Legos sitting on the adjacent set of drawers.
But the front door flew open and slammed into the wall as someone scraped his way inside.
"DAD!"
The Mayor lunged forward to clutch his desk, close to tumbling from his pile of phonebooks. He breathed heavily for a few seconds as he shifted himself to settle back onto his stack. Finally he looked up at his son, who looked equally shaken, and snapped: "WHAT?"
"I need handcuffs!" Harris spat. "Quick!"
"You should be carrying handcuffs!" the Mayor scolded.
"But you know I don't really need them around here!" Harris yelled at him. He paused. "Well, except for today."
With a sigh, the Mayor pulled his desk drawer open. Once he sifted through the pile of coloring books, he found the cuffs.
"Here, son," he said, throwing the cuffs to Harris. And it seemed as soon as he caught them, he left. With that, the Mayor turned to his bucket of Legos, muttering: "Finally."
Meanwhile, Harris darted down Julia Street, brushing past a sullen-looking boy with a trucker hat and a bespectacled, short girl in a white jacket and a navy skirt. As he passed the Vineyard, Duke gave him a thumbs-up from the yard and called:
"Get that pyro, Harris!"
The huge wooden sign reading "Strawberry Fields" came into view, high over the rest of the farm. Harris passed Makoto's small house, turned the corner at the silo, and caught sight of the tall, lanky figure standing by the section of the fields set ablaze.
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, BUCKO!" Harris shouted. The figure turned to see him with widened eyes as he clomped through the melting snow. Once he reached him, he jerked his arm and clamped the cuffs around his wrists. "Makoto, you're under arrest!"
Makoto arched an eyebrow until it ventured under his unruly mop of light brown hair. He looked down at Harris, either wondering how he grew taller than the cop or what the commotion was about.
"Why?" he finally asked in his deadpan voice.
"Because! According to the Mineral Town law book…" Harris began, glaring at him, "Section 4F- it is illegal have open fires on any property within the town limit, public or private." He nodded firmly.
"Isn't there a bonfire tomorrow?" Makoto asked.
"You can't have a fire without permission from my dad…" He cleared his throat. "I mean, Mayor Thomas."
"Okay," Makoto said. "Could I ask Mayor Thomas if I could burn stuff?" When Harris said nothing, Makoto continued:arris "It's a farming technique," he explained. "I read about it in the old man's diary."
"But he never did that," Harris replied.
"Yeah, I hear it's illegal," Makoto capped. Harris nodded, but then shook his head.
"That's what I'm telling you!" Harris told him. "It's a crime punishable by law! So get this into your head. According to the law book, you must be stoned!"
"No, I don't do pot," Makoto told him. Harris shook his head, letting something of a growl loose.
"No, you will be crushed by stones," he explained. "It'll be the feature of this year's New Year's Eve festival."
"Then I guess I'll stay home and watch the Honeymooners marathon," Makoto said. "Besides. That's a little dated a punishment. And gratuitous." He caught a glimpse at Harris's reaction, complete with another noise between a growl and a groan.
"Just come with me to jail," Harris told him. "We'll have to kick down the door of the Seaside Lounge, though."
Makoto nodded.
"Okay," he said. He motioned with his head to a hose rolled up on the side of the barn. "But can you get that hose first?"
With a look at the hose, Harris gave Makoto a nod.
"Sure thing," he told him, and as he walked off, he muttered: "Wacko."
xXxX
With the fire hastily extinguished and the felon left sitting in the Seaside Lounge, Harris made his way to the bar for an afternoon drink. He took his cap off and set it beside him on the polished wooden countertop. Finally, Doug came up to him with a cup of whiskey and ice.
"Thanks, Doug," Harris said, handing him a few gold coins as tip. He tossed the liquid down his throat, and said once he finished: "Needed that today."
"Rough day?" Doug asked as he cleaned glasses with a kitchen rag. Harris nodded.
"Makoto was burning his farm."
The few people in the Inn turned their attention to the cop as they muttered things to themselves or cried out in surprise. Doug stared with an arched eyebrow as he let a whistle escape his lips.
"That's a doozie," he finally replied, sure to keep his eyes on Harris's glass. "'Nother hit?"
"Sure, whatever," Harris replied as he leaned his face on his elbow and held up his glass with a lopsided smile. "It's New Years, after all."
xXxX
Makoto stood alone in the Seaside Lounge and ran his gray eyes along the pictures adorning the wall. People he recognized, and many he didn't, all stared back at him as he moved to look at all of them. Finally, one picture in front of him caught his eye. He looked at the image of the man, and then read the golden plate screwed onto the wooden frame.
'In Memory of Joseph "Jojo" Jogolovich
You are loved by all and will be dearly missed.'
He looked up at the face of the older man, eased by the warm eyes as they looked back at him. Joe's smile seemed reserved, his face lit from the sun, his complexion unnaturally tanned, and his build big and powerful. Makoto felt like the old man could step out of the frame and tower over the town once again with his usual smile settled on his face. But as Makoto kept staring, running his focus from the corners of Joe's eyes, he discerned a glint of sadness in the pools of blue. He looked like the loneliest man in Mineral Town, or at least as Makoto thought.
But distraction came with the scraping of someone's shoes at the doorway.