When summer vacation started, I thought I'd get a lot of writing done for "I'm in the Sayori", just like I did for this story. Instead, I got a lot of writer's block and occasional bouts of depression. Then summer ended and I returned to teaching and coming home exhausted, with no energy to write.
This idea popped in my head the other day, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I realized that there was no way to write it as a stand-alone story, or sequel to "I'm in the Monika", so I decided to just bash it out and post it as a vignette to "I'm in the Monika."
Without further ado:
I'm My Wife's Father
My frail, spotted arm struggled to lift the measly foot or so to Natsuki's own. She closed the distance for us and intertwined her fingers with mine weakly. I could feel her wrinkles. Her once-pink hair had long since silvered and laid limp around her face. She smiled as best she could, but I knew this was killing her.
It was a good life. Eighty seven years—well, I guess, technically, seventy-four, if you don't count the 13 years I hadn't spent in this now-failing body of mine . . . or was it a hundred and nineteen? I lived forty-five years before occupying this crumbling shell.
Natsuki mouthed something I couldn't hear as my consciousness slipped away. My vision greyed and then went black and the buzzing in my ears reached a fever pitch before abruptly ceasing.
I was floating in a void. Colors, and strange sounds assaulted me. I looked down and I was no longer the woman I'd been for so long, but a strange, genderless being of light. Sine, cosine, tangent. Reds, greens, and blues mixed in an infinite variety to form an infinity of infinities of color.
Sol-sol-sol . . .
My eyes slowly opened and I felt woozy. I hadn't felt the telltale feeling of drunkenness for more than seventy-years . . . when last I'd died. I groaned, and a masculine grunt escaped my lips. As my blurry vision slowly cleared, a pink frame around a worried face came into focus.
"N-Natchan?" I asked, reaching up with far more ease than I'd grown used to, to cup her cheek. "You . . . you look so . . . so young! I must have gone to heaven . . ."
Natsuki recoiled.
"Daddy?" she asked. "D-did you . . . are you okay?" She cradled my head in her hands and felt around for a bump. When she brought back a hand covered in blood, I was alarmed and so was she. "Daddy! You're bleeding!"
"Call the hospital, Natchan . . ." I said as my vision blurred and soon went black again.
o o o
I woke up in a hospital bed and felt a tightness around my head. Reaching up, I felt a fat bandage and gauze.
From beside me, a tiny Natsuki looked at me with clear trepidation in her eyes.
"Daddy, you—you haven't called me 'Natchan' since mom left . . ." she trailed off and looked down at her lap, like she were bracing for an incoming tirade.
"Natchan . . . who am . . . why do you keep calling me 'Daddy'?"
She looked up so fast, and with such terrified, wide eyes. "How—how do you not know who I am, but you know my name?! Did you hit your head that hard? Are you okay?"
"I feel a lot better, now," I said. "Now that things are starting to make sense . . . and the damned alcohol is out of my system."
"They said they wanna keep you here for a couple days to keep an eye on your recovery . . ." Natsuki explained. "They didn't like that you were out for the whole ambulance ride and a day in here. They didn't think you'd wake up again . . ."
"Well, I'm here now," I said, reaching an arm around her tiny waist and pulling her to me. I reached up with my other hand and petted her hair gently.
Natsuki Eeped in surprised, but melted into the hug. "D-daddy!" her sobs broke like a dam and I could feel my hospital gown growing wet.
"Shh . . . it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Natchan."
o o o
The next day, I was out of bed and walking up and down the hallways just to do anything other than sit in that room. I was restless and going through withdrawal. To think Natsuki's father was already this much of an alcoholic . . .
"You have such beautiful hair, Monika," she said. "It would cost me so much to get mine dyed this color, and the hospital wouldn't let me, anyway—and here you have it naturally!" I overheard as I passed a room about three doors down from mine.
I'll be damned . . .
The coral-brown-haired girl with her back to me laughed nervously as the nurse praised her already-long, beautiful hair.
Are there . . . Are there two of me in this world? I wanted to find out, but . . .
I went back to my room and found Natsuki waiting for me.
"They sat me in here and said you were walking around, Daddy!" she said. "I was gonna go look for you, but the nurse said it'd be better if I just waited for you to get back. I'm glad to see you're looking healthy . . ."
"Hey, there, Natchan," I greeted. "How's daddy's little girl?"
"I'm fine, Daddy," she answered. "The nurse said you'd be ready to go tomorrow."
"Great! I can't wait to get out of here!" I said. "Hey . . . how'd you get here, by the way . . . are you taking a train all the way from Miyazu?"
"I took a train home, yesterday, but when I explained the situation to Mr. Tamura, he and his wife drove your car and theirs up here today. I rode with Mrs. Tamura in our car, and Mr. Tamura picked her up once they parked. She said they had to do some shopping here in Maizuru, anyway . . ."
"Wonderful!" I said, noting sadly that Natsuki still looked like she thought I'd scold her. "That was good thinking, Natchan." Her bright smile at the praise both broke my heart and melted it at the same time.
After my formal discharge and payment, Natsuki and I headed out to the parking garage where she said my car was parked. Just as we reached our level, I could see, at the other end, a coral-brown mop of hair get into a car and my heart almost threatened to beat out of my chest at woman I hadn't seen since my twenties. Baa-chan had died not long after I started my first job in this universe—but she'd lived long enough for Natsuki and I—for Natsuki and Monika to get married.
"Daddy?" Natsuki asked, "Are you okay? You've got like . . . you look like you've seen a ghost . . ."
"It's . . . It's nothing, Natchan . . ." I said. "Let's go get lunch? How does Great General's Dumplings sound?"
"Can I have some spring rolls and two orders of dumplings?" she asked, sounding supremely unsure of herself.
"You can have whatever you want, Natchan!" I answered.
"Really?" she asked. "For reals really really?"
"For reals really really, honey."
She hugged me, suddenly and then ran over to our car. She tossed the keys to me.
o o o
The drive was leisurely and we took the coastal road until I had to turn to get to Great General's.
Once we were inside and seated, I handed Natsuki the menu.
"Don't you want to look, Daddy?" she asked.
"That's okay. You decide what you want, Natchan; I already know what I want," I assured her.
"What are you gonna get?" she asked.
"Szechwan Mapo Tofu!" I grinned with a wink.
We ordered our food and soon enough it was served. Natsuki's plate was piled high with two servings of spring rolls and two servings of Chinese dumplings, called 'gyoza'.
"Are you going to be able to eat all that, Natchan?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
She looked a little guilty, but tentatively began eating.
"'Itadakimasu', Natchan. You can't just start eating without properly saying, 'Itadakimasu'." I tut-tutted gently.
Natsuki had the good graces to look properly chastised—and this time, it didn't look like fear, but like she knew she was supposed to, but hadn't.
"Sorry, Daddy," she said, "Itadakimasu."
Just then a woman I recognized as Baa-chan walked by with Monika. I was shocked at how young she looked, like Natsuki. Was I in that head of hers, too? Monika looked at Natsuki and boggled. She stared for nearly half a minute before Baa-chan gently grabbed her arm and led her over to the table we'd sat at in my distant memories. I tried not to stare but I looked up in time to see the most hate-filled gaze directed at me.
I broke eye contact with her when the waitress placed the steaming bowl of Szechwan Mapo Tofu in front of me. I thanked her and she walked away. I put my hands together and said, "Itadakimasu!"
o o o
"Holy shit, this effing asshole was a slob! How could he stand to live like this?!" I cursed the name of Mr. Urabe, whose body I was currently occupying for the tenth time that day. The amount of work I had to do to clean the house from top to bottom was unbelievable and I couldn't believe that he raised Natsuki in this environment.
Natsuki was out playing, so I didn't worry too much about her hearing me curse her father.
And the beer. Good LORD the beer. There was so much of it. I thought about taking it over to my neighbors and giving it away, but I was so incensed with the stuff that I just took it outside and dumped it down the gutter. I needed something to give me a break from the deep cleaning I was doing, anyway.
"Daddy!?" Natsuki asked when she came home a little earlier than I'd expected. "Daddy, what are you doing?"
"What's it look like, Natchan?" I said, as I upended another bottle into the gutter. "Why don't you come help Daddy dump this poison?"
I'd very rarely seen such a bright, beautiful smile, with tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. "Yes!"
Natsuki ran over and grabbed one of the bottles and struggled with the bottle opener. I deftly chucked the cap off it for her and she practically shook it, upside down, so it sprayed into the gutter.
Gallons of the stuff had to have flowed along what over a hundred years ago in my own mind, we called, "Gaijin Traps".
The hug I received when Natsuki barreled right back outside after going in was worth it. "I love you Daddy! Thank you so much!" She must have noticed the cleaning I did. The house looked almost completely different from the dingy pigsty it had been.
"I love you, too, Natchan," I said, returning the hug. After a bit, I held her out at arms' length and said, Hey, I noticed that your closet looked a little barren," I mentioned. "I was doing laundry and couldn't help but boggle at the small size of your laundry pile . . ."
Natsuki blushed cutely. "Daddy!"
"Anyway, I was thinking of getting you a few more outfits," I continued.
"But . . . aren't we a little poor?" she asked, looking around surreptitiously and lowering her voice on 'poor'.
"Well, money isn't growing on trees for us, but I figured if I took you over to that dressmaker on the east side of town—Kawahara, something or other—I could get you some quality outfits that'll last you for a while and won't be made of cheap materials.
o o o
I could hear Monika calling up to her grandmother, to Baa-chan, from inside the house. Natsuki was standing next to me, and I swallowed nervously. I was starting to have some serious second thoughts.
"Daddy, what's got you so nervous?" Natsuki asked me, looking up. Her hand was in mine and she gave my hand a caring squeeze.
"Sorry, Natchan . . . I'm just . . . It's too hard to explain."
A second, muffled, but loud, "Baa-chan!" came from inside, followed by the stomping of feet up the wooden stairs.
I reached out and pointed my finger at the doorbell. My hand recoiled of its own accord. I just couldn't do it.
Natsuki must have lost patience. She rang the bell a couple of times. "Geez, Daddy! What's gotten into you?"
We could hear the bump-bump-bump of feet racing down the stairs followed by a more sedate set of feet making their way down. Monika slid open the door and backpeddled when she came face to face with Natsuki. Then she looked up at me and barely hid her disgust.
"Who is it?" Baa-chan asked from behind Monika. "Oh, who might you two be?"
"Sorry, Ma'am," I said, wringing my hands nervously. "I heard through the grapevine that you're a seamstress and my Natsuki, here," I placed my hands, with nothing better to do on her shoulders and pushed her forward a tad—more like a shield between me and those balefully angry green eyes. "She's a growing girl and needs a bit of a new wardrobe. We're not . . . well off . . . so I'd rather have someone make some quality clothing that'll last a while—especially if I can buy local—rather than buy something 'cheap' that'll fall apart in the washing machine after a few cycles . . ."
"Oh, now that's good thinking," she said. "Monika, here, was just telling me about how she wanted to get a starter violin—my you should have heard her sound just like an adult—just like you!"
"Monika?" I inquired with feigned ignorance. "You must attend the same school as Natsuki. Why don't the two of you go chat while I hash out the details with Mrs. Kawahara?"
Warily, Monika nodded and took Natsuki's hand. She led Natsuki to the kitchen and Baa-chan invited me in.
"Mr . . ." Baa-chan, began.
"Urabe. Taichi Urabe, Ma'am," I answered.
"Mr. Urabe . . . I have to say . . . I've never seen such . . . a complicated expression in a man your age. Is money really going to be that much of an issue? I can offer you a payment plan—but"
"Sorry, Ma'am," I said, "It's just that you remind me of my own grandmother. I lost her back in my twenties . . . sorry . . . Uh, no, I can . . . I can pay for the clothes."
We worked out a deal for eight outfits. That would give Natsuki seven to wear—one for each day of the week, and one to wear while we laundered them. Baa-chan called Natsuki to go upstairs with her and get measured. I sat on the couch in the living room where Baa-chan had seated me. Monika sat in the loveseat where I remember having Natsuki on my lap as my American grandparents were visiting . . . memories of a future that hadn't happened for this Monika yet.
She was content to give me a death glare. She knew who I was, but she could say she knew. Honestly, I'd have done the same.
I stretched my back and cricked my neck, a tick that never went away from my first life. I did it when I was Monika, and I did it in this body. There was a sewing magazine on the table in front of me, and since Monika hadn't turned on the television, I didn't want to grab the remote.
I began flipping through the magazine, and Monika excused herself in a huff. She went to the kitchen.
I casually—almost absentmindedly began humming "Your Reality". Maybe it was seeing her. I don't know.
Socks-covered feet raced with a bump-bump-bump back into the room and Monika quietly hissed, at me, "How do you know that tune!?"
I sighed. "You're going to live a long, full life, ťŢÅŭŀ ÈŴݼŖ, though not before you have to deal with a real piece of shit for a player. But this time Mr. Urabe is going to be on your side."
"Who . . . who are you?" she asked, her face white as a sheet.
"I'm you . . . Only shittier."
Monika passed out.