Feeling the need to belong someplace, or not belong at all, just move out of the place that made him unhappy, were the two sides of his balance.
Looking back at life, it was easy to point fingers at him, at his behaviour, at his recklessness, at his nonchalance for rules.
But hey... he did have his reasons, didn't he...?
He had pieced together the puzzle by listening through doors over the years. Because the exact facts were too foggy for him to properly remember, due to his age. And every time he attempted to bring the facts to the table... it inevitably ended up with his elders shifting both their stares and the conversation away.
So he knew better than to ask.
But so far, he had a pretty clear picture.
His father was a normal salaryman, a dreamless guy with a sober, grey, lackluster job. He had no idea how he had wooed his mother, and at that point he refused to delve deeper. Romance was something for girls. Not something he needed to have knowledge about.
His mother... he didn't know how to feel about her.
This was the part that hurt him the most, and made him feel worse about himself. Something had gone wrong when she gave birth to him, to the point that she was almost an invalid.
He had heard once "it wasn't her fault... the child was just too big" and that was the start of a lifelong battle against his self esteem and conflicted emotions towards himself.
Yet his mother never found a fault with him, and she tried hard to be a part of his early years. Despite spending most of her day sitting down, she was never complaining. Despite illness etching on every line of her face, she was always.. always... always smiling... and putting her own son first and foremost.
His questions were met with meek answers.
I am not hungry, maybe later.
I am not sick. Just tired, is all.
When I get better, we will go down to the park and play.
However, it seemed... the more he grew into a tall, handsome, healthy little boy, the more she withered away. Yet she was always smiling kindly at him. As if she knew that. As if she was making this willing sacrifice to see her son thrive.
He had never seen her without a doctor by her side. Other kids took carefully wrapped bento to school, which looked like their mothers had spent the night creating. His... the bento was plentiful, but he knew its contents were purchased by his father. He was made fun of because of this fact, but a couple well placed fistslaps shut the few mouths that ran at it.
The first sign of desperate violence at his peers stemmed from mocking his lunch. He started to resort to it instead of finding the words to reply, because boy, was he bad with them...
He found a rare solace when the weather was clear -especially in the early chills of winter- and the night was cloudless. His mother enjoyed watching the stars from the window, and beckoned him by her side. The universe is immense, she said. All your pains and worries just... vanish in front of it.
"D'you think one day I can travel up there and getcha a star?"
She smiled with that gesture that seemed already out of this world. My boy, I am afraid that's not possible.
"You told me I can do anything, as long as I want it enough!"
I did say that indeed, but...
"Then it's possible!"
My child... the stars you see up there are all long dead.
A pause. Pouty lips and furrowed brows showed his puzzlement.
"They can't be dead if they're shinin'!"
Oh yes, they can. Just like humans. When a human leaves, they continue shining in the people they were close to. That is why... watching the stars is something I like so much.
He didn't catch it at the time. But her eyes looked up in a longing way.
Did his mom... dream of going to space?
That was an exciting dream to have!
Those moments were quiet and cozy, but as the little boy was full of energy and playfullness, they were rapidly followed by him running around the house, somersaulting, until he collapsed, exhausted, on the living room carpet.
If someone asked if he loved his mom, he could say yes without hesitation.
Yet, he hated the pile of lies, all those lies about her health...
Why do you have to lie to me...
Why don't you tell me you are not fine...
Why are you being... a coward...
Why don't you trust me...
And in his first year of school... the answer to all of these came storming down.
When he came back from school, looking forward to his supper, he opened the door and filled his lungs, preparing to yell a cheery "I AM HOME!"
But he soon lost his breath, as he found his father kneeling beside his mother's sofa.
He was pleading to his mother. Darling, keep breathing. Stay with me. Stay with me, don't go, don't leave me, what am I going to do without y-
She smiled, -and the smile was ethereal, transparent, angelic- raising her finger feebly.
He turned. Their son had been taught time and again not to jump on her or run towards her, so he was frozen, his schoolbag slid to the floor like a crumpled little rag. He stood there, looking at his parents, speechless.
His mother was keeping her smile with all her strength, but there were tears brimming in the corners of her eyes and a mist of contained pain in her clear pupils.
No, it wasn't cowardice or weakness that kept her from complaining. Now he knew. His mom was the strongest person in the world. Who knows how much pain she was in, when she put all her will in grinning at him?
His father... that was the complete opposite.
He saw his father, a complete mess of a man, paralyzed by grief, owned by pain, incapable even to have a word of comfort to his own son... and he felt his stomach upturn.
That's a coward for you, he thought bitterly. You can't comfort Mom, and you won't even approach me.
He suddenly felt he wouldn't take another lie.
Not any more lies.
I'll call the doctor, I know the number, he said, in a disembodied voice, feeling every inch the man he wasn't yet, and that his father would never be.
The doctor was called. Several diagnosis called out. She asked to just be laid to rest in her bed, while his distraught husband mounted guard on one side of her bed.
A littany of words passed from husband to wife. Phrases was whispered audibly enough to be heard on the other side of the tatami door.
What pains me the most is how much I will miss of his life.
I will not get to see him grow healthier and stronger.
I will not see him graduate and fulfill his dreams.
I will not take his arm and march him through the aisle.
I will not see his children call me gran.
But you will. Promise me... you will be strong... for him and for me.
His father didn't respond, but the sniffling on the other side of the door spoke volumes for his silence.
The realization it was him she was talking about took him aback so much, he let himself slide down to the floor. Fighting his tears, he held his head with his hands, elbows touching his knees.
His young mind vowed several things in a row.
If I get sick... I won't tell anyone!
If I feel like something is bothering me, I'd rather die than tell!
I have to be strong! No excuses!
If there is no hero, I will be the hero of my own story..!
Even if I have... to lie... like she did...
It's not like I'll hurt anyone by doing that!
And over all...
I will never, ever, be a burden to anyone...!
He hastily, angrily, wiped his eyes and bowed his head to stop the tears from coming out.
It should have been a vivid memory, when his father, voice cut off and feeble, asked him to come to his mother's bedside. But, in the years that followed, everything was foggy and hazy in his mind. He just retained the look in her vivid eyes, -the only part of her that still seemed alive- shining with love at his sight.
And her parting comment remained beating in his ears, as if, instead of a whisper, it had been a bellow:
"Remember, my child... I'll always be watching out for you... from the sky above"
His mind shut. He didn't remember anything after that.
Next he remembered, he was standing at the door, all the way across from his mother's lifeless body, vague disgust in his features as he heard his father dissolve in sobs beside her deathbed. Relatives were pouring in from everywhere. He never remembered seeing that many. Not one of them gave him a second look, they even pushed him aside without any ceremony.
Until two middle-aged couples appeared in the usher at almost the same time.
He knew all four of them.
His grandparents...
And his world, his little shattered universe, spinning around its fragments, suddenly skidded to a halt.
