Heh heh heh, I am eeeeeeeevil and reading this you shall know why. The next two chapters is when I actually have an idea to what I want done, unlike the others where I am mindlessly wandered throughout the life of Kagome, Sesshomaru, Inuyasha and her friends and family. Actually, perhaps my evilness will not even be apparent until the next chapter but it is coming and I just wanted to tempt you with the inevitable "shit hitting the fan" shape of events that is coming soon. And I know many people were confused with the whole Kagome saying "Inuyasha" last chapter.
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I am not commenting on this. Just read, go on, read, and all shall be explained. Well, not everything, but on that point it will be explained. So read and drop a note.
AND CHECK OUT "SWORD PLAY"!!!!! It is Kag/Sess as well…funny at sometimes and deep at others, but not as deep and true to life as this. As for a "CMAR" two…I am going to write it after I finish sword play…and if I get more reviews then I want to write faster and then the end will come faster and then I can start "CMAR: Two" faster. If that is what you people want…
Okie dokie, I'm sorry that I am resorting to these levels to get reviews but I really like SP and the liking of that story seems to be a little thin. Although I thank everyone who reviewed that story.
On another note, thank you so much for the feedback on this story, it is truly amazing and inspiring. I like to write original works but even this was a little test to see if people would actually enjoy something that is so painfully true to life that the readers themselves cannot help to relate to it. I honestly am astonished at the sheer number of people who have e-mailed me after reviewing wanting to discuss things in the story and comment on certain aspects that were more intimate in nature. Wow, thank you so much. Please continue to ask your questions and speak your mind—I am open and feedback is much welcome. Without further ado—
Read and enjoy,
-MC
P.S. On another note, I wrote a one-act play with my friend called "It's All Up Here" and it was performed for three nights in a collection of one-acts by new playwrights. Not only did our one-act get astounding reviews, people actually came up to us and told my friend and me that our little one-act was their favorite out of the five others in the show. Also, the shows sold out all three nights and we had to turn people away. I just wanted to say congrats to my friend and myself for our playwriting debut that was an awesome success! Anyone interested in reading it—e-mail me!
Thanks!
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Isn't friendship strange? I mean, it is normal to have friends and everything, but at the same time, it is just so strange. Now, stay with me here. I am thinking that it is so strange that we can come to depend and love someone so much who isn't related to us by blood or by marriage vows. (Now, marriage is a whole other can of worms I am not touching right now…not in the mood for fishing at the moment) I just think about it because I guess it is so strange to come back from college and just think…there are people here whom I love so desperately but I haven't seen in about three months and I am used to seeing them practically every day. And how can these people that I haven't seen for three months take me in their arms and hug me and just love me. It is so weird, if you really think about it. Just, what is friendship? You know, not that friendship that is just friendship but that friendship where you would genuinely do anything for someone and that it physically hurts when you realize that you will have to leave them again and not see them for another three months. And in that time they will again take you in their arms and accept you back into their lives regardless of what happened to you in college, what you did there and if you aren't the same person you were before. It is extraordinary to think about. That no matter what you do in college, it doesn't seem to touch them—the people back home. I mean, there are always exceptions to the rules but in general, college is a personal experience and people at home cannot fully comprehend what really goes on there—even if they have been to college themselves. I mean, it's crazy. I mean, to know, absolutely know that this person will always be there for you. I have that, amazingly. But still, it's weird. To think that this person will do anything for you and that the feeling is likewise. It is just crazy how things happen like that. And how you meet the people who will become some of the most important people in your life. Like, when you say that you would like to do something with this person when you are older…as a joke or whatnot…like "when we're twenty-one, lets do this…" or "I am so going to do that at your wedding…" or "Your kids can call me Auntie Gabby and they can call me Auntie Kim" or etc. But instead when you say these things, instead of that feeling in the back of your mind that says "even how much I want this, I don't think we are going to be friends that long." I am talking about the friendship where you abso-bloody-lutely KNOW that this person is going to be in your life that long. Because, if they aren't, then you don't know how you could survive. That is the kind of intense friendship that I have. But, it's insane to think about that you can feel that powerfully about someone that isn't in your family and they aren't going to be your life partner in marriage. Instead, they are your life partner in friendship. The person who knows all the nerdy, stupid, dorky things you've done and they still love you for it. The kind of people that are there for you no matter what. The kind of people that make you, in essence, you.
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Things never went as they are supposed to. Life is just that way. You wake up one morning and you think…when I was five, ten, fifteen, didn't I think I would be doing something else at this moment? For me, I never really knew what I wanted to be. At five, my dearest aspiration was to be a fish. At fifteen, all I wanted was to be noticed by boys and so I couldn't even be bothered with the logistics of my future. And now, now I am sitting here and wondering, why didn't I have dreams? Because, I must have had something that I wanted to do…something I passionately believed and was heartbreakingly aware that there was something that I was meant to do in the world. But I don't remember ever feeling that way. I got into my line of work because I seriously wanted to give my mother back something that she gave me in my life. I wanted to give her a comfortable living and a happy retirement. And now that she has that, I honestly don't know what I have left for myself. What does this mean? Did I just do something that I happened to be good at to get rich but now I am stuck at an overpaying job that I despise? Do I really despise my job? I mean, I never thought so but when the day approaches when I have to go back to work, my heart and stomach clench in that strange feeling as if I am being pulled inexplicably towards this force—and I don't appreciate the pull at all. I guess it is just a little disappointing to think that work is this painful for me, that I can't feel like I accomplished something I at least love no matter how hard the work is. It reminds me of how my father was before he died. He did blue collar work and even though I was immensely proud of his work I was struck by the depressing feeling that he hated it. Or that he had these dreams, these wonderful, beautiful dreams in his life and he gave them up so my mother could finish college and that I could go to private school. It just made me so sad, so damn sad that he sacrificed his life, his passions for the sake of his family. No one worked harder than my father. He did everything in the house. I remember thinking offhandedly before he died that if he ever left us I didn't think we could survive. And, goodness, we barely did. I had to learn responsibility like I never knew it before. I had to learn how to cook, clean, do bills and everything else in-between. I had to sacrifice regular childhood memories and friendships because I needed to help my mother at home. And the pain, the pain was unbearable. How could we survive after being taken care of for so long and so well by my father? My chest constricts and my heart clenches painfully even today. He, he, he was my friend, my buddy. He called me princess. He called me pie face. He gave me leggos and Ninja Turtles. He made my lunches. He drove me to school. He was my Daddy. And he left me…
And now she is trying to leave me too. She, her, my mother, my Mommy. She is sitting in some room of the hospital not being herself. I can almost see her face now; staring off into space, eyes glazed over, mouth hanging slightly open as her hands rest limply in her lap. She practically screams helpless! from every orifice of her being. I cannot even begin to know how to help her. And that is what makes me so scared and frightened. I couldn't do anything for him either. I couldn't will away his disease, I was completely helpless in the face of such treachery. And now my mother is going to be taken away. She is my last link, my family, my mother. I don't honestly know what I would do without her. How could I, how could I survive a blow like this? What would I do with myself? Where would I be? Stuck in a job that I am beginning to realize isn't me and an orphan in this cold, cruel world. I wanted to crawl into a hole and be forgotten. I want to have no responsibilities and be a little child again, carefree and innocent—not aware of the dangers and disgusting sides of life. I want to be that little girl, that little child that made me see the fun and interesting aspects of the most inane things like mud, carpet and cardboard boxes. I want the ability to just forget everything that I have learned and just be who I was so many years ago. Do you think this is possible?
My mother had been given permission by the doctor that she was allowed to take walks with Martin and me, as long as one of us held her hand. She walked slow and deliberate, as if she had to make every step count, heel to toe, heel to toe. I wanted to turn around and hug her, kiss her, slap her—do anything that would make her snap out of this crazy disease that made my mother do a disappearing act. I wanted to show her how much this hurt me, how much this was bringing back the memories of Daddy—how much I was holding back the tears even now. I wanted to rip her hand from Martin's and scream into her face about the injustice of leaving is and how I need her to be there for me when I am dealing with the weirdness that is Sesshomaru and I, how I will never take her for granted again and how I never want to loose her like Daddy. I wanted to tell her how important she was to me and how much I loved her but there was nothing that I could say to her that she could comprehend. Nothing, absolutely nothing.
As I left, Martin followed me outside the ward, stopping me in the long, dark hallway that separated the "crazies" from the rest of the hospital.
"Kagome…um, the doctors wanted to tell you that they were thinking over the possibilities of your mother's disease and they came up with a new diagnosis. It seems, it seems as if she is bi-polar."
I wanted to laugh under my breath like a cruel wolf1 and forget that those words were ever spoken. Yes, I knew that her disease was most likely not merely depression, but I never thought that she would be bi-polar. Ice cold chills swept into my lungs as if I was freezing from the inside when I remembered exactly why Martin was being so cautious with me.
"Are you saying that this—this could happen to me when I'm her age?" I whispered, unable to speak at normal decibels.
"Kagome," Martin said, taking my hand in his, "they don't really know much about this disease yet, and it's a little confusing to predict anything, but yes, being bi-polar is genetic, they believe."
Sesshomaru said he would pick me up I told him as my hand fell limply from his. I didn't want to be taken care of by Martin, the husband that replaced my Daddy and the man who now, with my mother as she is, might be the only man who is my family. Not my true family, but the closest thing that I would have left to a family. I sat down on the curb outside the hospital and waited for Sesshomaru to pick me up. He was on time as usual—the man seemed to have a penchant for orderliness and would accept nothing less than perfection; which, ironically, never seemed to bother me when we were together. I was the person far less than perfect and I never felt less than comfortable with him. It was as if he had allowed me into his life, giving it a bit of the chaos necessary for survival. Perhaps I was a replacement, a replacement for the rebellious and crass attitude he adopted when he was young. But it honestly didn't matter to me. I had a man whom I felt comfortable with and he seemed to enjoy my company enough.
I didn't want to speak out the possibilities of this ever happening to me. I didn't want to think that I could leave my child and husband (if I ever got married or whatnot) and live a life where I was lost under the sway of genetics. I didn't want to think about any of this at the moment. I didn't want to consider the fact that this was something I would have to discuss with someone if the relationship really got serious. Would this affect their feelings for me? Would they decide that we couldn't be together because of this? Overanalyzing was a bitch and I needed some good old therapy Sesshomaru style.
As we drove home to my apartment, I moved my hand to rest on his knee, and he turned to look at me. He smiled, one of his rare, helpless smiles that he didn't seem to like to show anyone because he didn't like being helpless, that much I knew. He has been so kind to me lately, picking me up and taking me to see my mother almost every day. He spent the night with me every night even though he had to leave in the mornings to go to work. We didn't talk much, but instead I found comfort in the silence and companionship he offered. I didn't have to think about anything when I was with him. It was so easy just to sit and be with him. It was like we weren't even in some sort of relationship at all, but we were two people who decided to make an arrangement; an unspoken arrangement that just spoke volumes in its silence. I liked our arrangement. Sometimes he would get this far away look in his eyes and turn to me as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. It seemed like he was struggling with himself over some unknown battle that I wasn't involved in. But he continued to stay with me and keep watch over me, almost. He would hold me in his arms after we had sex and sometimes he would just want to hold me until I fell asleep. And when my breath evened out he would get up and work on his cases from the piles of books he had brought over and lined up in my bedroom and that spilled out into the hall. I knew this because I couldn't sleep much, especially with everything going on. I was half afraid that if I would sleep I would wake up and be like my mother, or I would be asleep when someone called to say that she had snapped out of it, or in my slumber I would dream of Hiten and that was never a good thing. I hadn't forgotten that Miroku, who hadn't called me since that day, told me Hiten was in town. I couldn't get the notion that it was fate, that there was a reason why Inuyasha was out of town, that perhaps I was finally get the romantic prince that I wanted with Hiten. Even though Inuyasha could never happen, and subconsciously I know its true, the only man who I thought could ever steal me away from him would be Hiten. Maybe it was because I loved him before Inuyasha and he was my first love or something. But I don't think that was the thing that was really bothering me when I slept. Because, when I slept I had lucid dreams, I had these dreams that scared me, that made me afraid to be asleep in fear of dreaming them again…
10/24/2003
3:49 a.m.
She stands a little in from the doorway as if she isn't quite comfortable coming in all the way. She has a backpack on, full from books, so many that she is carrying some in her hands as well. She stands casually, with one foot carrying all the weight while the other sits off to the side. She looks comfortable, but it seems like there is an underlying current of confusion or desire to know the knowledge that I give to her. She isn't a normal color for a human. In fact, she seems almost whitish. Her form doesn't waver and it isn't apparition-like, but her skin just seems to illuminate in some fashion that gives her this whitish glow. She seems familiar to me, the kind of friendship you feel when you have met the person a couple times and don't know each other's bad faults yet to be disappointed in their character. It seems like you have had a few chats with this person before, perhaps met a bar and had a pleasant conversation and maybe bumped into each other shopping one day. Her face isn't apparent to me, when I notice her, I don't look at her face, and rather I notice her whole being. When I speak to her, I am in this half awake half asleep state where I don't realize that there could be no one in my room at this hour at that my door is always locked so she couldn't have walked in but I am awake enough to think that I am actually talking to someone. When I talk to her, it seems absolutely imperative that I explain or speak on the issue that I was asked about or just simply speaking of. And its not like I simply start up a conversation, rather it seems when I speak, it is either the middle of my thought process on the subject or the middle of the conversation with her. So it seems like I have been speaking to her for a while.
The first time I was to give her and some other people directions. I don't know or remember where they were going, but I do remember actually sitting up on my bed and speaking to them. The thing that roused me from the conversation was that when I asked them something, they didn't answer, and I actually said to myself "Oh, I am just talking to myself" and then went back to bed.
The second time it seemed like it was just the girl, and we were discussing something but it was a general topic, it didn't seem like I was bearing my soul to her or her to me. It was simple banter and again I was sitting on my bed facing towards her. The thing that roused me from the conversation this time was the fact that Sesshomaru heard me and said "go to sleep, there is no one here, go to sleep." I don't know how many times he repeated this, but it took a while for me to understand that there was no one in our room.
My fears on this subject are that I am not getting enough sleep or that I simply miss Inuyasha so much that I am replacing him with someone in my dreams. But I cannot shake the feeling that the girl is some girl at the office, even though I don't know her. I kind of recall the girl's name in my dream to be Kikyou, but I'm not sure I am just speculating after the dream or if I am actually thinking this. Another fear is that perhaps I am being visited by some apparition that wants me to help her out or whatnot. This is the scariest thing because I have never been known to speak to anyone in my sleep. I used to sleepwalk, but I was never lucid enough to remember anything that went on. But here I remember details, how she looked, the general idea of her and I am even awake enough to remember what we generally spoke out. And now this thing has occurred twice, with the same person, as if we were friends or something. She doesn't seem to want to do me harm, but still, I do not want to sleep at night, for fear of meeting her again…
The phone rang as he kissed my neck and up my jaw. I went to reach for it but he quickly linked my fingers with my own. And then he ran his tongue over my lips and I turned and nuzzled his neck with my nose. He growled loudly as I playfully bit his neck and the answering machine picked up simultaneously.
"Kagome, darling, pick up the damn phone. I came all the way back to see you and you never seem to be here. What is wrong? I called your cell about ten times today but god knows you never pick it up. I've left about five messages on your blasted phone here but to no avail. Where the hell are you?"
Sesshomaru was ignoring the message machine, I guessed, for he was still moaning a little as I continued to take off his dress shirt and run my hands along his muscles, tickling his stomach gently and sucking on his neck. But I paused as I heard the next comment.
"Honestly, and after I came over the other day I was sure you would call me or something. I came home specifically for you because I heard about your mother. I am so worried about you. You looked completely dreadful and you just collapsed in my arms. I had to go pick up my luggage at the airport on the penalty they would dispose of it so I had to leave. But I left you in your bed, all snuggly. Darling please call me I really—"
"Who is this?" I asked into the phone that I jumped up to get, clad in my bra and slacks that I wore for the day. The question was unnecessary but I felt the need to ask it anyway.
"Sweetie, you know its me, come on. Has a whole, what? Week, two weeks, three weeks or whatever in Paris made you forget your best friend? I hope not!"
"Inuyasha…you're back…" I whispered into the phone, my eyes locked with certain amber orbs that resembled their younger sibling's. He looked so beautiful at that moment, his long, silver hair spilling over his shoulders as he graced my bedroom floor (we never seemed to make it onto the bed) and for that one moment I wondered what it meant to him that Inuyasha was back. And what did it mean to "us," whatever "us" was.
Inuyasha was back.
My stomach clenched uncontrollably. What was this I was feeling now?