It was late on a Tuesday night. His eldest was at the
house, holding down the fort and looking after his
youngest. His daughter was back on campus, under the
care of her resident assistant. And his other son
was asleep in the hospital bed...with Alexandria
sitting next to him.
Alexandria hadn't had to teach that day, so she'd
been in the hospital room or attached sitting room
all day long. At the moment, Mitsuru really wanted
to bring her into the sitting room to get some sleep,
but, as he knew this was one of the few moments that
she could spent with her son, he refused to make her
give that up.
He was really beginning to worry about her.
His Xandria was an amazing woman, but she often
took entirely too much on herself and just left
him to watch.
He knew she was near her breaking point when he stopped
by earlier that afternoon. He had stuck his head in
the sitting room door and was just about to say hello
when he heard her softly singing another Tori Amos
song.
With tears running down her face, his dear wife was
practically whispering the lyrics, "Time. Thought I'd
make friends with time. Though we'd be flying. Maybe
not this time. Baker, Baker. Baking a cake. Make me
a day. Make me whole again. And I wonder if he's ok.
If you see him say hi." Her voice broke on the word hi.
After that she began to sob silently.
It broke Mitsuru's heart.
At that point, he turned around and left the hospital.
He went to a florist and got a dozen of her favorite
flower and then when to the bakery to get her favorite
specialty cake. He came back and bestowed both gifts
on his wife. She smiled at him with a watery smile
and said thank you.
And his heart broke again.
He hated feeling powerless. And he had felt powerless so
many times this year. Powerless to help Hasukawa after the
first accident. Powerless to help Andrew after the second
accident. Powerless to save Xandria from her own grief.
'God, I think it is about time you cut this family a break,'
Mitsuru thought to himself.
This of Living
Living with Nightmares - chapter seven
He was floating in a sea of pain again, emotional pain
this time. At Genkai's request, he (apparently unconsciously)
decided to take a mental journey into the area with which he had
not been dealing. Now he wished he hadn't
This flash was much like earlier ones, that is, no picture
accompanied the flash; there was only sound. In fact, Yusuke
got the impression that what he heard being shouted back
and forth was actually a composite of several conversations.
And, listening to the hateful words fly in the black
nothingness, he was immensely grateful that they were no
images. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand the looks
that must have appeared on Alexandria Ikeda's face.
The shouted comments going back and forth were hard enough
to listen to.
"Don't act like my hell surprises you," his voice had
shouted. "It's because you I'm a nigger in the first
place!"
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare use that word. Don't
EVER use that word in reference to yourself, your siblings,
me, or anyone else in this family. Don't you EVER!"
"Why did you have to be my mother!" he heard is voice
scream in anguish. "I hate having to deal with this
being black crap."
"Well, I'm sorry, but those are the breaks," came the
unsympathetic reply. "I'm as much a part of you as your
father. So all that 'black crap' is part of who you
are. Deal with it!"
Again, he heard himself sounding hateful and resentful,
"I so wish my father had married a good Japanese girl
like Grandma wanted."
The respondent snorted, but, in this way of hearing,
Yusuke could clearly hear the pain in the response.
"That's all well and good, but, then, you wouldn't
have existed."
"He could have had children with this girl. Intelligent
children who aren't confused about anything. They would
have had a son."
"Which still wouldn't have been you! You would not exist
in that dream world of yours!"
"Better to not exist than to exist as part of you."
And it went on. At points, his voice sounded deceptively
analytical and neutral as he tore at her. "Your sister is
always saying how race isn't real; how race is what you
believe yourself to be and convince others that you are.
So, if I believe I'm Japanese-American and I convince others
that I am, that means I'm no longer part black, doesn't it?"
"You can't deny that part of you. You are my son."
"Not by choice...and I could probably convince the world
that we weren't related."
As the voices rolled around in his head, the young man
tossed and turned, muttering, "No. No. Stop. Make it
stop." He felt the heat, the heat of anger and hatred
closing all around him. All he wanted was relief and
release.
Out of nowhere, he felt a cool, wet cloth on his forehead.
The abrupt change of temperature caused the flash to fade
in the background. Slowly he became aware of the world
outside of himself. He moaned as he shifted slightly.
After making the sound, he felt someone lovingly stroke
his head and ask quietly, "Are you in pain?"
He knew the voice, of course. It had been one of
the first voices he had heard when he first woke up
to this reality. It was also the other voice in
his most recent flash. "Yeah," Yusuke replied
quietly as the emotional pain hit him anew at
her voice.
"I'll go get a nurse," the voice continued.
"No," Yusuke objected as he began to slowly
open his eyes. "No nurses."
"Then, I'll call your father or your grandmother.
They can sit with you for awhile," the woman began
as she rose from the chair next to his bed.
"No, wait," Yusuke objected. Catching her hand as
she stood to move away from the bed, he pleaded,
"Stay."
At first the woman looked like she was going to leave
anyway. Something in his face must have changed her
mind, however, as she slowly came back to the chair
and sat down. "Alright. I will stay, if you wish."
The young man in the hospital bed sighed in relief.
As they sat together in silence, he had a chance to
study the woman. She was an arresting picture. Rich
dark brown hair with red highlights framed her face,
with the long bangs in the front falling in front of
her glasses. Brown eyes looked out intently from
behind those glasses; eyes filled with too many
emotions to name.
She had a young face, although stress lines were beginning
to show. Yet they seemed to give her face character,
much like the scattered streaks of gray did for her
hair. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and a loose
sweatshirt that bore the name of a university of which
he had never heard. On her left hand, she wore a sedate
amber and onyx ring paired with a matching gold and
silver wedding band. On her right hand, she wore another
smaller, delicate ring of gold. He couldn't see the
design from where he was, but he could see that it
held no stone. No other jewelry adorned her.
The other thing that stood out about her were her soft
hands. She hadn't let go of his hand since he reached
out to stop her from leaving.
He knew who she was. And he knew he had to talk to her.
But he didn't know how, and his 'Andrew translator' was
no help. Apparently, Andrew didn't know how to talk
to this woman, either.
"So," he said in the silence, "You were Andrew's mother?"
"Yes," was her quiet reply. "Unfortunately for him, I was."
"Unfortunately?" Yusuke asked in surprise. "You wish you
weren't his mother?"
"No," the woman replied in a calm voice, as if she were
stating a fact, not making an emotional claim. After a
few beats of silence, she sighed. "It's just that, like
every parent - every good parent at least - I wanted my son
to be happy. I wanted to provide him with everything he
needed and as much of what he wanted as was possible.
"It wasn't hard to do when Drew was younger," the woman
laughed quietly. "When he was a baby, all he seemed
to want was food. I used to joke that he had inherited
my appetite.
"As a toddler, he needed to show his independence. 'I
can do it, Mommy!' was what I'd hear all the time. 'No
help! I can do it!' It used to make me smile, even
when it frustrated me.
"As a kid, he needed to be active. Karate
classes, Tai-chi classes. Boxing lessons. Anything to
prove that he hadn't inherited my academic inclinations.
Although, some nights he'd still sneak downstairs to
watch 'Prime Minster's Questions' with me. And would
ask me to read him parts of my students' papers from
time to time.
"At thirteen, however, what he wanted, what he seemed
to need was my ethnicity and everything tied to it out
of his life. Everything. Including me.
"Oh, it didn't happen immediately," the woman continued,
"but it happened. And I wasn't really prepared for it.
As I only had one racial heritage to worry about growing
up, I didn't know how people adjusted to having two, or
even when 'mixed' children became race aware.
"Growing up where I did, I was race aware my entire life.
I just was. And all of my other children...well, I'm not
sure how they deal with who they are, but they've all found
some way of doing it. Everyone except Andrew. But then,
no one was teased, brutalized, and attacked for his status
as much as Andrew was. Maybe that-" the woman shrugged
quietly as she stopped talking. "But that was more
than you wanted to know."
"Maybe," the young man began after a pause, "Maybe Andrew
was just confused. And he didn't know how to deal with it.
So he just stayed angry to avoid the pain. Stayed angry and
cocky. I do that," the young man finally admitted. "It was a
way of staying safe. Don't commit your all to something
that might not be stable. Don't embrace all that you are
if people will fight you to take away your identity,
your resources, your life."
"Maybe," the woman said quietly.
"You are a lot better than my mother," Yusuke mused aloud.
Ignoring the woman's gasp, he continued. "I mean, I knew
on some level that she loved me. Dying the first time showed
me that if nothing else. But she wasn't responsible. Half
the time, I felt like the parent looking after her. She
drank entirely too much and wasn't really there when I needed
someone to depend on. I mean, I could be gone for long periods
of time, telling her next to nothing, and she would go bar-
hopping. Just go on with her life."
"I think," the young man continued, "that Andrew is really
lucky to have you. Besides the fact that you obviously
give a damn about him, you are rather responsible. It's not
like he has to take of you. And on some level, I'm sure Andrew
knew that as well and was proud to be your son." As he
looked over at the woman, she was crying quietly. "Ack!
Don't cry! Look, I'm sorry if I spoke out of line or anything-"
The woman shook her head, smiling slightly through her tears.
"No, it's not that. It's just that I haven't been taking
care of anyone lately. I've such been sitting around, staring
into space-"
"And making sure that I get the care I need, right?" Yusuke
pointed out. "And as for staring into space, I hear that
you've had a rough year. That makes you entitled, right?"
After a flash of surprise flittered over her face, the woman
nodded. "I guess it does at that."
For a few minutes, neither spoke. Finally, the woman turned
to look at the young man in the hospital bed. "Do you really
believe that you aren't my Andrew?"
"I don't know," Yusuke answered honestly. "I mean, I feel
like Yusuke. I feel like I lived that life, however crazy
it may sound to you. But," he added quietly, "deep down,
a part of me understands this world, too. It recognizes
people. It has insights that only someone who lived a life
as Andrew would have. It's frustrating as hell!"
The woman laughed at expression of frustration. But, after
her brief laughter died away, the question was still in her
eyes. And Yusuke still felt compelled to answer. "I'm not
sure if I am your Andrew. I'm not sure what anything really
means anymore. And I cannot pretend to be something I'm not.
But," he began as he turned to look the woman in the eye, "
I would, at least, like to be your friend. I don't know,"
he shrugged, "maybe I'd get the chance to have a responsible
mother in my life for awhile."
The woman smiled sadly, "You mean, I may not get my Andrew,
but I'd still have four children?"
At that question, Yusuke was sure the woman would tell
him where to stick his idea. Instead, she said quietly,
"I think - I think I'd like that...Yusuke."
The young man nodded as sleep began to catch up with him
again. "So, what should I call you?" he asked as he began
to sink back into a peaceful slumber.
"You can call me Alexandria," was the last thing he heard her
say.
And the most surprising thing about the night was, that at
that last moment, her voice didn't sound like Kota's voice.
It sounded like her voice. Like Alexandria's voice.
- to be continued -
house, holding down the fort and looking after his
youngest. His daughter was back on campus, under the
care of her resident assistant. And his other son
was asleep in the hospital bed...with Alexandria
sitting next to him.
Alexandria hadn't had to teach that day, so she'd
been in the hospital room or attached sitting room
all day long. At the moment, Mitsuru really wanted
to bring her into the sitting room to get some sleep,
but, as he knew this was one of the few moments that
she could spent with her son, he refused to make her
give that up.
He was really beginning to worry about her.
His Xandria was an amazing woman, but she often
took entirely too much on herself and just left
him to watch.
He knew she was near her breaking point when he stopped
by earlier that afternoon. He had stuck his head in
the sitting room door and was just about to say hello
when he heard her softly singing another Tori Amos
song.
With tears running down her face, his dear wife was
practically whispering the lyrics, "Time. Thought I'd
make friends with time. Though we'd be flying. Maybe
not this time. Baker, Baker. Baking a cake. Make me
a day. Make me whole again. And I wonder if he's ok.
If you see him say hi." Her voice broke on the word hi.
After that she began to sob silently.
It broke Mitsuru's heart.
At that point, he turned around and left the hospital.
He went to a florist and got a dozen of her favorite
flower and then when to the bakery to get her favorite
specialty cake. He came back and bestowed both gifts
on his wife. She smiled at him with a watery smile
and said thank you.
And his heart broke again.
He hated feeling powerless. And he had felt powerless so
many times this year. Powerless to help Hasukawa after the
first accident. Powerless to help Andrew after the second
accident. Powerless to save Xandria from her own grief.
'God, I think it is about time you cut this family a break,'
Mitsuru thought to himself.
This of Living
Living with Nightmares - chapter seven
He was floating in a sea of pain again, emotional pain
this time. At Genkai's request, he (apparently unconsciously)
decided to take a mental journey into the area with which he had
not been dealing. Now he wished he hadn't
This flash was much like earlier ones, that is, no picture
accompanied the flash; there was only sound. In fact, Yusuke
got the impression that what he heard being shouted back
and forth was actually a composite of several conversations.
And, listening to the hateful words fly in the black
nothingness, he was immensely grateful that they were no
images. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand the looks
that must have appeared on Alexandria Ikeda's face.
The shouted comments going back and forth were hard enough
to listen to.
"Don't act like my hell surprises you," his voice had
shouted. "It's because you I'm a nigger in the first
place!"
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare use that word. Don't
EVER use that word in reference to yourself, your siblings,
me, or anyone else in this family. Don't you EVER!"
"Why did you have to be my mother!" he heard is voice
scream in anguish. "I hate having to deal with this
being black crap."
"Well, I'm sorry, but those are the breaks," came the
unsympathetic reply. "I'm as much a part of you as your
father. So all that 'black crap' is part of who you
are. Deal with it!"
Again, he heard himself sounding hateful and resentful,
"I so wish my father had married a good Japanese girl
like Grandma wanted."
The respondent snorted, but, in this way of hearing,
Yusuke could clearly hear the pain in the response.
"That's all well and good, but, then, you wouldn't
have existed."
"He could have had children with this girl. Intelligent
children who aren't confused about anything. They would
have had a son."
"Which still wouldn't have been you! You would not exist
in that dream world of yours!"
"Better to not exist than to exist as part of you."
And it went on. At points, his voice sounded deceptively
analytical and neutral as he tore at her. "Your sister is
always saying how race isn't real; how race is what you
believe yourself to be and convince others that you are.
So, if I believe I'm Japanese-American and I convince others
that I am, that means I'm no longer part black, doesn't it?"
"You can't deny that part of you. You are my son."
"Not by choice...and I could probably convince the world
that we weren't related."
As the voices rolled around in his head, the young man
tossed and turned, muttering, "No. No. Stop. Make it
stop." He felt the heat, the heat of anger and hatred
closing all around him. All he wanted was relief and
release.
Out of nowhere, he felt a cool, wet cloth on his forehead.
The abrupt change of temperature caused the flash to fade
in the background. Slowly he became aware of the world
outside of himself. He moaned as he shifted slightly.
After making the sound, he felt someone lovingly stroke
his head and ask quietly, "Are you in pain?"
He knew the voice, of course. It had been one of
the first voices he had heard when he first woke up
to this reality. It was also the other voice in
his most recent flash. "Yeah," Yusuke replied
quietly as the emotional pain hit him anew at
her voice.
"I'll go get a nurse," the voice continued.
"No," Yusuke objected as he began to slowly
open his eyes. "No nurses."
"Then, I'll call your father or your grandmother.
They can sit with you for awhile," the woman began
as she rose from the chair next to his bed.
"No, wait," Yusuke objected. Catching her hand as
she stood to move away from the bed, he pleaded,
"Stay."
At first the woman looked like she was going to leave
anyway. Something in his face must have changed her
mind, however, as she slowly came back to the chair
and sat down. "Alright. I will stay, if you wish."
The young man in the hospital bed sighed in relief.
As they sat together in silence, he had a chance to
study the woman. She was an arresting picture. Rich
dark brown hair with red highlights framed her face,
with the long bangs in the front falling in front of
her glasses. Brown eyes looked out intently from
behind those glasses; eyes filled with too many
emotions to name.
She had a young face, although stress lines were beginning
to show. Yet they seemed to give her face character,
much like the scattered streaks of gray did for her
hair. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and a loose
sweatshirt that bore the name of a university of which
he had never heard. On her left hand, she wore a sedate
amber and onyx ring paired with a matching gold and
silver wedding band. On her right hand, she wore another
smaller, delicate ring of gold. He couldn't see the
design from where he was, but he could see that it
held no stone. No other jewelry adorned her.
The other thing that stood out about her were her soft
hands. She hadn't let go of his hand since he reached
out to stop her from leaving.
He knew who she was. And he knew he had to talk to her.
But he didn't know how, and his 'Andrew translator' was
no help. Apparently, Andrew didn't know how to talk
to this woman, either.
"So," he said in the silence, "You were Andrew's mother?"
"Yes," was her quiet reply. "Unfortunately for him, I was."
"Unfortunately?" Yusuke asked in surprise. "You wish you
weren't his mother?"
"No," the woman replied in a calm voice, as if she were
stating a fact, not making an emotional claim. After a
few beats of silence, she sighed. "It's just that, like
every parent - every good parent at least - I wanted my son
to be happy. I wanted to provide him with everything he
needed and as much of what he wanted as was possible.
"It wasn't hard to do when Drew was younger," the woman
laughed quietly. "When he was a baby, all he seemed
to want was food. I used to joke that he had inherited
my appetite.
"As a toddler, he needed to show his independence. 'I
can do it, Mommy!' was what I'd hear all the time. 'No
help! I can do it!' It used to make me smile, even
when it frustrated me.
"As a kid, he needed to be active. Karate
classes, Tai-chi classes. Boxing lessons. Anything to
prove that he hadn't inherited my academic inclinations.
Although, some nights he'd still sneak downstairs to
watch 'Prime Minster's Questions' with me. And would
ask me to read him parts of my students' papers from
time to time.
"At thirteen, however, what he wanted, what he seemed
to need was my ethnicity and everything tied to it out
of his life. Everything. Including me.
"Oh, it didn't happen immediately," the woman continued,
"but it happened. And I wasn't really prepared for it.
As I only had one racial heritage to worry about growing
up, I didn't know how people adjusted to having two, or
even when 'mixed' children became race aware.
"Growing up where I did, I was race aware my entire life.
I just was. And all of my other children...well, I'm not
sure how they deal with who they are, but they've all found
some way of doing it. Everyone except Andrew. But then,
no one was teased, brutalized, and attacked for his status
as much as Andrew was. Maybe that-" the woman shrugged
quietly as she stopped talking. "But that was more
than you wanted to know."
"Maybe," the young man began after a pause, "Maybe Andrew
was just confused. And he didn't know how to deal with it.
So he just stayed angry to avoid the pain. Stayed angry and
cocky. I do that," the young man finally admitted. "It was a
way of staying safe. Don't commit your all to something
that might not be stable. Don't embrace all that you are
if people will fight you to take away your identity,
your resources, your life."
"Maybe," the woman said quietly.
"You are a lot better than my mother," Yusuke mused aloud.
Ignoring the woman's gasp, he continued. "I mean, I knew
on some level that she loved me. Dying the first time showed
me that if nothing else. But she wasn't responsible. Half
the time, I felt like the parent looking after her. She
drank entirely too much and wasn't really there when I needed
someone to depend on. I mean, I could be gone for long periods
of time, telling her next to nothing, and she would go bar-
hopping. Just go on with her life."
"I think," the young man continued, "that Andrew is really
lucky to have you. Besides the fact that you obviously
give a damn about him, you are rather responsible. It's not
like he has to take of you. And on some level, I'm sure Andrew
knew that as well and was proud to be your son." As he
looked over at the woman, she was crying quietly. "Ack!
Don't cry! Look, I'm sorry if I spoke out of line or anything-"
The woman shook her head, smiling slightly through her tears.
"No, it's not that. It's just that I haven't been taking
care of anyone lately. I've such been sitting around, staring
into space-"
"And making sure that I get the care I need, right?" Yusuke
pointed out. "And as for staring into space, I hear that
you've had a rough year. That makes you entitled, right?"
After a flash of surprise flittered over her face, the woman
nodded. "I guess it does at that."
For a few minutes, neither spoke. Finally, the woman turned
to look at the young man in the hospital bed. "Do you really
believe that you aren't my Andrew?"
"I don't know," Yusuke answered honestly. "I mean, I feel
like Yusuke. I feel like I lived that life, however crazy
it may sound to you. But," he added quietly, "deep down,
a part of me understands this world, too. It recognizes
people. It has insights that only someone who lived a life
as Andrew would have. It's frustrating as hell!"
The woman laughed at expression of frustration. But, after
her brief laughter died away, the question was still in her
eyes. And Yusuke still felt compelled to answer. "I'm not
sure if I am your Andrew. I'm not sure what anything really
means anymore. And I cannot pretend to be something I'm not.
But," he began as he turned to look the woman in the eye, "
I would, at least, like to be your friend. I don't know,"
he shrugged, "maybe I'd get the chance to have a responsible
mother in my life for awhile."
The woman smiled sadly, "You mean, I may not get my Andrew,
but I'd still have four children?"
At that question, Yusuke was sure the woman would tell
him where to stick his idea. Instead, she said quietly,
"I think - I think I'd like that...Yusuke."
The young man nodded as sleep began to catch up with him
again. "So, what should I call you?" he asked as he began
to sink back into a peaceful slumber.
"You can call me Alexandria," was the last thing he heard her
say.
And the most surprising thing about the night was, that at
that last moment, her voice didn't sound like Kota's voice.
It sounded like her voice. Like Alexandria's voice.
- to be continued -