Dinner and a Show: Part 1
It had been a few days since Kimiko and I had first discussed meeting Sachi. On my next appointment, she let me know that Sachi had given her permission to invite me to her voice recital that Friday. I said I would be there, as long as I got to treat them both to dinner afterward. Kimiko laughed and readily agreed to my conditions, promising to pick me up at 6:30 sharp, but I surprised her by offering to pick her and Sachi up instead.
"Scott, you don't know where we live," she protested, "and you don't even drive!"
"Well, the first half of that dilemma is easily remedied," I countered, smiling. "And I may not able to drive, but I am not without resources!"
It took a few more minutes of convincing, but Kimiko eventually gave me her address, still shaking her head at my vague reference to "resources". So, on Friday evening, after several phone calls and a good chunk of my VA pension check spent, I rolled up to the address she had given me in a rented limousine, dressed in my Class-A uniform with a bouquet of flowers under my arm.
I couldn't help but stare for a moment as the chauffeur assisted mother and daughter into the limo. Kimiko was wearing a conservative but well-fitted skirt suit, while Sachi was dressed in a light purple one-piece dress with flowing, kimono-style sleeves, looking even more beautiful in person than she had in the photo Kimiko had shown me.
As soon as we were all seated comfortably, I handed Sachi the bouquet with a slight bow, trying not to wince as the pain lanced up my back. "You must be Sachi," I said, smiling. "I hear you're the star of tonight's show!"
The girl simply sat there, staring owl-eyed at me. For a moment, I was afraid I had broken her, until Kimiko nudged her arm and motioned toward me with her head.
"T-thank you, Cooper-San," she said finally, her soft voice barely above a whisper, taking the flowers and laying them gently in her lap.
"Your mother has told me a lot about you," I continued after a moment. "I'm very glad to finally meet you in person."
She smiled faintly, still not quite making eye contact, and I noticed a flush beginning to rise in her face. She didn't say anything the rest of the short drive to her school, though Kimiko and I continued making small talk until we pulled up to the school building. After holding the door for the girls again, the chauffeur brought my wheelchair around and assisted me into it. Kimiko insisted on helping, claiming that it was still her responsibility as my therapist.
We went our separate ways in the main lobby, Sachi heading off backstage, leaving the flowers with Kimiko as we made our way to the school's auditorium.
"Are you trying to impress me?" Kimiko asked coyly, once we were settled in our seats.
"Is it working?" I smiled back.
She flushed, dropping her eyes to the flowers she was holding, fiddling with them absently as she pondered my question.
"You're not like other men," she said after a moment of silence. "You genuinely care about us, both of us. That's-that's something few other people have done.
"Sachi means the world to me", she said, looking at me with tears glistening in her eyes. "I know it's hard to tell, because she's so shy, but you just made my little girl's day. Thank you, Scott."
I smiled in return. "Don't thank me yet, the night is still young, and I still owe you two dinner!"
"Well, thank you anyway", she said, slipping her hand into mine, as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. "And I look forward to whatever other surprises you have in store for us tonight."
A single spotlight illuminated the stage as the MC thanked everyone for attending and proceeded to introduce Sachi and her song, Tegami: Greetings to a 15 Year Old, a semi-traditional number, originally written and performed by Angela Aki.
After a moment, Sachi stepped into the light. The light purple dress she wore seemed to glow with a light of its own as the spotlight beam fell on her. For a moment, I wasn't entirely sure that I was seeing a human being at all. Perhaps this shy girl in a light purple dress was actually an angel of some sort.
I could practically feel Kimiko bursting with maternal pride when fingers tighten around mine as her daughter began to sing. Her clear, sweet voice carried throughout the auditorium, telling the story of a woman writing a letter to her 15-year-old self, urging her to believe in herself and make the most of every moment, especially when sorrow and hard times come. Sachi's performance seemed to be speaking directly to me that night: never give up on yourself or your dreams, and make the most of your life, come what may.
