After
By, Esmee
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After all has been said or done
After the race has been run
After the names have been called
And the tears have been cried
After hope has died
I'll be waiting
"That's it?"
"Yes."
"You left?"
"Yes."
"Just like that?"
"Yes."
"What were you thinking?" Jyou groaned and looked at me, seemingly amazed at what he considers my extreme stupidity. He's right in a way; I should've slammed the door harder when I left.
"I don't know."
"Go back and apologize Yamato. You shouldn't let it end like this."
"No." I said unreasonably. "It was her fault and she can come and apologize to me."
I was sprawled in one of the large, over-stuffed armchairs in the Kido residence living room. It was rather late, okay very late, but I had needed to talk to someone desperately, and Jyou, being my very best buddy, was elected the lucky confessional unto whom I would pour out my woes. It was only by some grace of God that Jyou's parents had chosen tonight to spend some quality time together; I don't think they would have been too happy with an angst ridden teenage boy coming to their house at some ungodly hour, and demanding to speak with their youngest son. As it was, Jyou wasn't too pleased either; he'd mumbled something about "Studying." "Test." "Morning." and "Sleep." when he let me in. In fact now that I think about it, I bet he just let me in to keep me form waking up the neighbors. And he's supposed to be my friend. Bah!
After pouring out my tale of woe upon what I had assumed would be a pair of sympathetic ears, he proceeded to tell me, in no soft terms, what a complete and utter fool I was and that I should go back on bended knee and apologize to that woman. "Over my dead body," I muttered under my breath at the thought.
I had thought I hadn't said that loud enough for him to hear, but he gave a long suffering sigh and said, "she's proud too Yamato. I think if you don't try to talk it out now . . . it might be over."
"Good." I said, feeling a perverse pleasure at the thought, when I would have normally been racing out the door in near hysterics to prevent that from happening. Man, I was really pissed. "Fine."
A moment of silence fell over the two of us, each thinking separate thoughts, but probable along the same lines and about the same person. Mine were . . . less than pleasant, while Jyou's were probable along the line of how to get me to get out of his house and back to her to apologize. Not bloody likely. "It was all her fault," I muttered, suddenly feeling a need to justify myself. Oh bloody hell; I was actually starting to feel guilty!
"Well, what were you and Mimi fighting about anyway?" Jyou asked reasonably, after a pause in which I was suppose to elaborate and didn't.
What were we fighting about? Something important, obviously. "You know Jyou, it's strange, but I don't really remember now."
Jyou just shook his head despairingly.
After blood has been shed
And the world painted red
After you tire of this earth
I'll be waiting
"You really should call her, Oniisan."
"I don't want too."
"Liar."
I decided to refrain from answering that comment because I did want to call her. Slightly. Microscopically.
"You haven't talked to her in two weeks! Enough is enough." My no-longer-so-little brother exploded, finally reaching the end of he seemingly never ending tolerance with my obviously deliberate lack of cooperation.
Actually, it had been fifteen days, nine hours, forty-two minutes, and nineteen seconds since I last had any form of contact with her. I am not counting, I'm just board okay? "Look Takeru, if she wants to talk then she can call me. I happen to know that she does have my phone number." I said tiredly, plopping myself down in front of the television with a cold can of coke and the remote. I cracked open the coke and took a long chug. Ah, the miracle that is caffeine. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept me alive and sane.
Takeru looked bewildered. "Why are you being so damned stubborn? I know you miss her, I know she misses you - thought why she would miss a jerk like you is beyond me - so why don't you just take the first step and call her?"
"Because it was her fault!" I snapped. Somewhere deep down I knew he was right, but I have my pride, and I wouldn't go crawling back on my stomach to anyone. And I was right dammit! I don't remember what we where fighting about, but I know I was right. "And why are you so bloody insistent that I call her now? You weren't after me this badly before." I added as I turned on the TV.
"Well-" Takeru started, but fell quiet as the news came on. I looked at him surprised, then at the television to see what had caught his attention so easily.
The newscaster with her condescending I-feel-your-pain smile plastered on her perfectly painted face surrounded by hair so full of hair spray that not even a hurricane could cause it to fall out of place, proceeded to tell the world at large about the tour of Asia the young up-and-coming singer/composer Mimi Tachikawa was taking. Starting today nonetheless. Oh and what's this? It also seemed that she was leaving in an hour. The newscaster also added cheerfully that the tour would be a yearlong.
"That's why," Takeru said softly, meekly even.
"How long have you known about this?" It was curious how detached I sounded, even to me.
"About a week. Maybe less."
What was this strange wrenching I was feeling in my chest? "Did everyone else know?"
"Yes."
I stared at the television blankly for a moment. What was this queer hollowness in the pit of my stomach? And this tight pain in my throat? "Like I said before: if she wants to talk, she can call." I said clearly, though I did have to force the words around the strange lump of pain that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat.
"Oniisan . . ."
I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his, then my gaze slid over to the phone just behind him. My eyes hardened. I turned back to the television and changed the channel. "She has my number."
"But-"
"I think you need to be somewhere else Takeru. I think you need to be somewhere else right now."
I waited until the door closed, and then I turned off the T.V. There was nothing on it I wanted to watch anymore. As I sat there, staring at the blank screen, making a phone call seemed awfully tempting.
I got up, somehow made it past that god-awful, tempting phone without diving for it and speed dialing her number, and went to take a long shower.
I stood in the shower stall for a long time, just letting warm wetness slide down my cheeks and soak my face.
Then I turned on the water.
After you learn to live
After you learn to cry
And you learn to live a lie
After you learn to die
I'll be waiting
. . . ddrrring . . .
"I'LL GET IT!" I holler to the household at large, as I scramble through the obstacle course that is the Ishida residence living room.
. . . ddrrring . . .
"Don't hang up, don't hang up!" I muttered franticly, diving for the receiver.
. . . ddrr-
I grab the receiver in the middle of its last ring, and banged my shin on the coffee table in the process. "Shi-" I hissed sharply.
"Nice to hear from you too." A familiar voice said sarcastically in my ear. Opps must've said that into the receiver.
"Sorry."
" 'S okay man."
"So . . . why're you calling?"
"Me an' some of the gang are renting some movies tonight and we thought you might want to came and see 'em with us."
Now that the adrenaline kick has worn off, disappointment was setting in. For just a single minute, I had thought . . . I had hoped . . . that . . . maybe . . . "Sounds great-" I started to say truthfully.
"Cool, come at six and-"
"-But I'm doing something else tonight." I said, interrupting Taichi before he could finish and rope me into going.
Taichi gave a disgusted groan. "Look man, you've been 'Doing something else.' for the past month, and, frankly, I'm sick and tired of it. Get your act together! Just call her and get it over with."
I stiffened and snarled into the phone, "this has nothing to do with that. I just have other things I have to do, not that it's any of your business. I do have a life you know."
"Could 've fooled me."
"Like I said before: it's none of your business. And even if it were, it was her fault and when she calls me, then we'll talk."
"Come on Ishida, you don't even remember what you were fighting about, what's is it sooo important that you've gotta be right about it? If I where in your place, I'd be worshiping at her feet. A girl like her only comes along once in a very long while."
"I've gotta go," I said abruptly and quickly hung up on him. That last bit had just struck a wee bit to close to home. But damnit, I wasn't going to be the one to make the call.
Later that evening I almost wished I had taken Yagami up on his offer. Urg, why do I feel so dirty for admitting that?
I went for a walk, and came back almost immeaditly. There was nowhere to go. I tried to watch some T.V. but there never seemed to be anything good on and I couldn't sit still long enough to watch anything anyway. I felt restless; at lose ends. There was nothing for me to do but sit and think, and doing that particular pastime was not very desirable to me at the moment.
I paced the living room, then the kitchen, and then finally my bedroom. I was bored. Bored with a capital 'B'. I have no real hobbies besides music, and I, being the genius that I am, had left my guitar at band session, there was nothing I could . . .
On a sudden torrent of inspiration, I dove into my closet, digging through the piles of odds and ends that had accumulated over the years. Then, with a very triumphant "AHA!" I withdrew from my closets dark recesses clutching in my hand the Holy Grail of my youth, my most prized possession at the tender age of twelve. My silver and cherry wood Harmonica that my Grandmother had given me.
I gently ran my fingers over its smooth surfaces. Long ago (or so it seemed to me), I had exchanged harmonica for guitar and in doing so, given away something else, but I had not know what it was at the time, even now I'm still not sure what it was.
"Let's see if I can still play you, hmm?" I murmured lovingly to its shiny casings as I raised it to my lips. The first sound that came out of it was horrendous, and I grinned sheepishly at the tiny instrument.
"Sorry I haven't been practicing like I should," I told it and tried again. After that, everything came back to me. Just like riding a bicycle; once you learn it you never forget. I made a silent promise to myself to not forget about my harmonica again.
I lay on my bed, wedged up against the headboard, as I played. I idle ran through the notes, fiddling with different harmonics until I found one I liked. I held the note and added a descending crescendo to it, then I droped the first note and-
Abruptly I jerked up right, breaking the melody off midway through. I had thought the melody had been familiar when I started playing it and no wonder! It was one that she had written one rainy afternoon with me while we were waiting for our food in a wonderful little place overlooking the river. She had shown it to me, and between us we had hashed out the harmonics to our satisfaction.
I flopped back down on the bed and gave a muffled moan into my pillow. Everywhere I turned there was something to remind me of her; a picture, a place, and it really didn't help that her songs where quickly becoming the most popular on the radio. I couldn't get away from her and I wasn't all that sure I wanted to. No matter what I said, I missed her with an aching intensity was almost physical.
Maybe, maybe I should just call her . . . No, some part of me insisted, She should be the one to make the call. She was wrong, and all she has to do is say so and then everything will go back to the way it was . . .
"Yes," I muttered into my pillow. "Yes she should be the one to call, but I miss her . . ."
I must have fallen asleep then, because when I opened my eyes again it was the pale gray light of false dawn. I wasn't sure what had made me wake up, but when I touched my pillow, it was warm and damp.
After you've lived
After you've died
After you've learned the truth of a lie
And the lie of a truth
I'll be waiting
"So . . . You're working late tonight?"
"Yeah . . . Listen, I think I'm going to pull an all nighter on this one, so don't bother keeping supper warm or waiting up for me. 'K Boy?"
"Right Otousan," I said cradling the phone on my shoulder as I got out the ingredients for supper.
"Sayonara."
I just grunted what I hoped would be an adequate goodbye and hung the phone up.
I turned on the stove and started frying some rice, and then I started chopping up vegetables for a stir-fry. Cooking had always been a soothing activity for me, almost therapeutic really, and lately I've been cooking a lot. Cooking a lot and eating very little of what I cook. For those who know me this is not a good sign.
. . . ddrrring . . .
I glared hotly at the phone, I really didn't like being disturbed when I cook and I had just put the vegetables on when the phone started to ring. With an annoyed grumble I answered it. "Moshi moshi?"
"Turn on the radio, Yamato."
"What's this all about Koushiro?"
"Just do it please."
Normally I would have just made him tell me what was going on, but the note of excitement in his voice puzzled me, so I did as he asked.
"Tune it to 109.5 FM, please."
Baffled, I tuned the station in. "I've tuned it, now will you plea-"
"Shhh! Just listen,"
"-And that was just Celes Chere singing her latest hit 'Hero', which is this weeks number two hit and last weeks number one. Now for the big one people! I know some of you are saying that there is no song that could beat Ms. Chere's song for the number one, but boy oh boy are you wrong! The new number one hit is . . . Mimi Tachikawa's latest single 'After'! This young lady has the most incredible voice I have heard in a very lo~o~ng time, the emotions she can provoke with just a single note are amazing! She had even me, a jaded cynical DJ, crying after I heard this song. She really deserves the number one spot and I have a feeling this girl is going to go far. I-"
"Isn't it great! She got the number one spot! All of us are listening, Sora, Taichi, Takeru, Hikari, Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, Jyou; we've all been hoping that she would get it. I've been following the charts ever since she left and-"
I let Koushiro chatter on excitedly, while I quickly turned off the radio with a numb feeling spreading through my veins.
"Yamato? Yamato? Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm still here." I didn't like the slightly strangled sound my voice had.
"Well, aren't you happy for her? She got the number one spot!"
" 'Course I'm happy for her," I said sharply, just a little too sharply.
"You don't sound too happy."
"So what?" I challenged him. "Is there a law somewhere that says I have to be happy?"
"You're my friend, Yamato. I'm just worried about you."
That made me feel a little guilty. "Sorry."
"You know, I . . . have her cell-phone number."
My heart gave an odd little wrench. "And this has what to do with me?"
"Nothing . . . I just thought you might want to know."
"Well," I said licking suddenly dry lips. "I've got dinner on the stove and I don't want it to burn."
"Oh. Well, okay . . . "
"Sayonara."
"Sayonara Yamato."
I hung up and returned to the kitchen. The smell of frying oil, Teriyaki sauce, and ginger saturating the air, was enough to make a persons mouth water. It just made me feel nauseous.
"Well," I said aloud so I wouldn't feel so bloody alone. "Looks like she's really made her way up in the world. That is, of course, why she hasn't called to apologize; she doesn't need too now. She doesn't need me now." I went over and gave the vegetables a stir, knowing that Otousan would be having a lot of first class leftovers tonight.
"Yup, she doesn't need you any more Yamato my boy." I felt quite stupid talking to myself, but didn't want to turn on the radio. Glancing over at the clock I realized that I still had time to catch the evening news. Though I had been avoiding the new of late, anything would be better than talking to myself; so into the living room I went, and turned the television on, cranking the volume up high so I could hear it in the kitchen while I cooked. I also turned it up loud so I wouldn't have to hear my own thoughts.
I was just about to go back into the kitchen when the newscaster was handed a sheaf of crisp white paper. She looked at it and tuned slightly pale under her make-up. She looked up, her eyes sad. "I've just been handed a news flash, and it would seem that we have just had a huge loss to our music community, and our society as well."
I felt a small lump of fear in my stomach form and harden as she continued.
"It would seem that the brilliant young singer/composer Mimi Tachikawa has just died in a fatal car crash. The details have not been released yet, but-"
There was suddenly a great rushing in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. I felt numb, and I could feel my lungs struggle to breathe. It was as if I was watching another person standing here. There was no pain, just a slightly hazy feeling and the buzz of white noise in my ears.
Then I heard great, wracking dry sobs, and realized distantly that it was me making those painful sounding cries, but inside I'm not crying, I'm screaming. I felt my knees start to buckle; I let them fold and knelt on the floor. I put my hands over my face and bent forward until my hands pressed into my knees. It can't be true; it has to be a lie. I moaned softly to myself; it was a primal sound, a dying sound. The sound is frightening, but no less than the fact that my world had just shattering around me, leaving me cut to ribbons by the flying shards. It must be a lie.
I didn't know how long I knelt there, didn't care how long I had knelt there, when Takeru burst through the door, a strange wild, terrified look in his eyes and ran over to me, throwing his arms around me. I could feel his body tremble with repressed sobs.
"I came." He said, holding me in an almost crushing grip.
"Yes. You came." I wondered briefly how I could keep my voice so steady, even though it sounded rusty, like I hadn't spoken in years.
"I came. I heard it on the radio. I heard it on the radio and I came."
"I know."
"The others are coming too. They'll be here soon."
"Yes. I know."
He pulled back from me, and said with the wild, terrified look intensifying. "Why the hell are you so calm?! She's dead! Dead, dead, dead . . . Why the hell aren't you crying?! Why . . . " He looked into my eyes, and his widened, terrified at whatever he saw in them. Finally his face crumpled and he started to sob softly. I wrapped my arms around him and let him cry into my shoulder.
I envied him; I had no more tears to cry.
After you have lived
And done
And run
And cried
And bleed
And died
I'll be waiting for you
"Okay, that was 'After' by Mimi Tachikawa. And to all those who said nothing could top Celes Chere's 'Hero', HAH! I think we will be hearing many more number one songs from this young lady- *Pause* Wait just a minute, I have just been handed a press release, and it seems the Mimi Tachikawa has just died in a fatal car crash . . . "
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