Chapter Twenty-Three
"Thank you," she said quietly, taking a sip of the hot coffee that was just handed to her.
It was bright that afternoon, almost blinding, and white hot sunlight burned through the café's windows. She was the only customer; outside there were few people out, probably due to the dry heat, and mixed with the dusty air was the smell of burning.
The woman herself was ordinary looking, long black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, bags underneath her dark eyes. She was wearing a grey, oversized hoodie over what seemed to be a short white dress and a pair of dirty old sneakers. The dress was immaculately clean, however, almost as blinding as the sunlight.
"You going anywhere in particular?" the cashier asked after handing the woman her beverage.
She nodded, "I'm looking for my baby. I think he's with his father."
"Where's that?"
"Home." The young man blinked at his customer and her vague answer. She, however, looked out into space, sipping her coffee slowly.
The woman began again, "I looked in the mirror this morning, and I didn't recognize myself." She looked down at her reflection in her cup, "I...I still don't know who I'm looking at."
". . .You heard me," Dr. Donna Madison said coolly, crossing her arms. She glared at Agent Drake and tapped her foot.
Drake frowned, "That is ridiculous! We need this done as ASAP, so we can start ballistics--"
"--I have one other recent autopsy I have to finish this afternoon. I've already told you, I'll start on Mr. Kazama tonight. And--" she uncrossed her arms and leaned into the fed pointing her finger at his chest, "--The last thing I need is for you two to be right under my nose while I'm trying to work. I'll get you your results tomorrow afternoon. Maybe." Madison then glanced over at Lei, who cringed a bit at the woman's stern look. "You're lucky I'm doing this, Jay. I should turn you in."
Madison herself was a plain looking woman in her mid-forties, dirty blonde hair cut in a neat bob and deep frown lines that parenthesized her thin lips. She was dressed comfortably in a grey t-shirt and jeans. Her white lab coat was slung over her other arm, while a pair of old sneakers hung on her shoulder by the shoelaces.
"Fine, FINE!" Drake roared throwing up his arms, sending spittle into the woman's face. She flinched a little, pulling back her arms to fold her coat over her stomach. However, Madison still glared fiercely at the fed, standing her ground.
"You can go anytime now," she added quietly, still glaring.
Drake let out a frustrated huff and turned to Lei, "She needs to do her job. Let's go." The detective nodded once, twisting his mouth up to the side after watching the brutal exchange. He then turned and nodded out of respect to the doctor. Both men started to leave.
"Wait, you're Wulong Lei, right?" Madison called after them.
Lei stopped and turned around, "Yes?"
Her frown deepened, "I have something for you--" She then turned and eyed Drake, "--If Agent Drake doesn't mind waiting outside for a couple minutes. It's in my office."
"Don't want me tagging along?" the fed asked steadily, trying his best to keep a stoic face, though it was obvious that he was still fuming.
The doctor let out a chuckle, "This wasn't sent for you, Jay. Just go wait outside in your government-issued Pinto. I promise I won't keep him long." She then nodded at Lei and gestured for him to follow her.
The building itself was a standard police station; bland, cubicles all over, cops and detectives doing paperwork that morning. Lei and Madison passed quite a few workers on call waiting to be alerted, despite how slow it was. The detective sighed; they were still young and hadn't become disillusioned yet. He wasn't sure if he pitied the younger cops or if he envied them. They then left the office area and headed down a hallway with the special units and state bureau offices.
As she led him down the hallway Madison spoke softly, "Just as a word of warning, watch your back."
Lei blinked, "Huh?"
"Don't trust Jay. His own unit doesn't even trust him." Finally they reached a small office near the crime lab. Madison dug in her pocket until she found her keys, fiddled with them a bit, then unlocked the door.
"The two of you go back, huh?"
She shrugged as she pushed open the door, "Something like that." She moved to the side to let Lei enter; the doctor's office was filled with boxes, some closed, some half packed. As she entered herself, she added, "It's more like I've had the misfortune of working with this guy for years."
She hesitated then finished, "…And so did Bryan."
"You knew Bryan?"
She ignored the detective's question and asked, "Did you get the letter I sent?"
"Oh!" Lei shoved his hand into his blazer pocket and fished around, his keys jiggling until he pulled out the small, unmarked envelope.
Madison smirked, "Didn't even open it, eh?"
"Well…I just forgot. I've been doing so much backtracking--"
"--Don't worry about it. You and I both know Jay isn't going to find Kazama. Jay knows it too." She then crossed her arms, "Open it." The detective did what he was told, blinked, and pulled out the small key that had been sealed inside.
"What's this?"
"It's a safe deposit key." The doctor moved over to behind her desk, cleaned off the papers that had been sitting in her chair, and sat down. "There's a bank in outside of Miami where that keys belongs. I meant to give you the address and all when I sent that off, but I wasn't sure when you'd get a chance to look."
Lei frowned, "What's the deal?"
"Did Jay ever tell you how Agent Fury died?"
"Yeah…botched arms deal. Bryan got caught in the crossfire, sounds like."
Madison hung her head at Lei's response. She was silent for a moment before lifting her head again, her eyes watering. She covered her mouth with her hand pensively; the look on her face was far off and stormy.
Quietly, she pulled her hand from her face and responded, "That's the official story the Bureau went with. It's not the truth, though."
"You should really come with us, Christina," Grant cackled. "It'd be a blast!"
"We're not taking this trip for fun," Forest mumbled under his breath. Christie and Jin's apartment reeked of marijuana and cigarettes. It actually was only a few hours before their guests would be leaving for the airport. Though the sun was setting, the lights hadn't be turned on at all that day and the blinds opened wide, letting in the bronze light from outside dimly light the living room. They all sat on floor in a circle in front of the tiny couch in the pad. Derrick was half asleep, not used to smoking as much as the others and was practically stretched out on Forest. The American had tried pushing the other man off of him several times, but by that point, he had given up, cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Christie giggled, "And what would I do there?"
"You could hang with us. It's not like you have any obligations here," Grant added, his voice suddenly turning from playful to a stern curiosity. He then glanced over at Jin, who despite having his eyes half-closed seemed to be staring pensively at the bookie, "Right?"
"I can't leave Jaime here by himself!" the younger girl protested, almost not able to finish her sentence from laughing so hard.
"Or," Derrick butted in, lifting his head off Forest's shoulder, "he could come too." He pulled himself off the American, struggling a bit to sit up straight. "To be honest, if those guys found out where Law lived, they can find Christina and Jaime. It's really not fair to dump our problems on them without offering, right?"
He then turned to Jin, "How's that?"
Jin skewed his mouth to the side, "Thanks, but no thanks."
"Oh, come on!" Grant cackled. "I remember Christina saying she wanted to go to the U.S. to find that friend of hers. And you, I'm sure you could find something to do with yourself." He then laid his head back on the front of the couch. "A couple of hookers, maybe some gambling, some fly-fishing--"
"--I said no." Grant lifted his head a bit to stare at Jin. Jin's face was drawn down in a tight frown; however he stared at Grant calmly, as if he was silently threatening the other man.
"Why not, Jaime?" Forest asked, "Really, we're doing you a favor. You could go see your family and friends again. I bet they're just dying to see you again."
Jin glared at Forest, "Asshole."
Grant sat up completely, "That's uncalled for. He's just agreeing with Derrick and me--"
"--And I said no." Jin stood up. "You know, I don't have to take this shit, especially in my own home."
"And what do you have to be afraid of?" Forest asked coolly as he stood up as well. The room became silent then, all eyes on the two young men. Christie's eyes widened and she glanced over at Grant, who, like her, stared wide-eyed at Jin and Forest. The girl then looked back at Jin, still in shock over his reaction to the other man.
Forest repeated himself, "I said, what do you have to be afraid of?"
"Guys, it was just a suggestion," Derrick pulled himself sluggishly to the couch. "If Jaime doesn't want to go, he doesn't want to go." He then turned slowly towards Forest, "Law, no need to speak to him like that. He said no and was polite about it."
"No, no," Forest insisted, "I think Christie deserves an explanation why he doesn't want to go back to the U.S. I mean, Jaime's obviously hiding something."
Grant lifted a brow, turned to Christie, and whispered, "I didn't get all that from him. Maybe just...not wanting to leave because it's inconvenient..." She nodded once weakly, still keeping her eyes on Jin.
Grant then turned towards Jin and added "Hey, Forest, lay off," raising his voice playfully. However, Jin shook his head and marched off down the hallway. There was loud slam from his bedroom door. And the four were all silent.
Forest crossed his arms, still eyeing the hallway.
Christie stood up abruptly, "I should go talk to him--"
"--No, let him pout," he said sharply.
"Actually, Law, I think you should go apologize. After Christina talks him out," Derrick retorted softly as he laid his head back on the couch. He then made a shooing gesture. "Go on, you two. This may take awhile. He was pissed."
Christie frowned and made her way towards the hall. As she passed Forest, she grabbed his arm and dragged him along.
The house was empty again. That was something Jin hated every morning, but he dealt with it. He had been so used to spending the mornings with his mother until before they had moved and she took up that new job. He still didn't know exactly what it was she did now, but when she came home in the evenings, she took her medication and passed out on the couch in the tiny living room, usually not waking up again until morning.
It would be a couple hours before his tutor showed up. His mother wouldn't let him go to a public school. It never really bothered him when they lived out in rural Japan, isolated when it was just him and her. Now that he was thirteen, seeing other children running about on his street made him almost resent the fact. He didn't bother mentioning it to his mother though. It took a lot to wake her up in the evenings, and when he managed to do so, she was irate and incoherent. So, he knew to let her be.
He carefully shuffled over to his bedroom door, slipping his feet into his house shoes, then continuing his shuffle down the hall to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of rice and vegetables for breakfast. He wasn't sure if there were still even vegetables; he couldn't remember the last time he had gone out to the marketplace. Usually, he did end up having to be the one to buy food, ravaging his mother's room to find money to do so. She didn't go buy food anymore, and it was something that she remembered her meds and alcohol. Again, it was something he never thought about when he was younger, but now he was seeing that was something wrong. However, he had long decided that was little, if not, nothing he could do about it. No one knew he existed, no one cared that he existed, and his mother kept it that way.
As he dreaded, there were no vegetables, little rice, and only a tiny bit of cut beef that probably needed to be thrown out. He made a face as he picked up the near-empty sack of rice from the cupboard then made his way to the counter to place a bit in the steamer. Already, he was making plans to go out and get food after his tutor left. It would require that he'd have to wait until after his mother made it back, if only to go through her purse.
Jin watched television in their living room as he ate his breakfast. There was nothing on except a few low-budget dramas and on the one foreign channel they got, some BBC programming in English. That was usually what he was doing when his tutor came, just watching the world news.
The woman would often blink in wonder at him and ask in Japanese, "Do you even understand what it is you're watching?" He wouldn't reply but just turned off the t.v. instead. He knew his mother hadn't informed the lady that they were immigrants. He spoke and read English fine enough, something his mother had taught him on her own time when he was little, making him read over letters his American grandfather sent with the child-support payments. There were plenty of English language books and novels in his bedroom that he read in his free time. In fact, the novel he was reading now was Treasure Island, a book that he had read and re-read many times. He liked stories about escaping, about travel to exotic places, and the likes.
He also reread a lot of the letters from his grandfather. Jin had never met the man in person and suspected he never would. There were no photographs of his grandfather included or any other photos of his father's family. Most of the time, the letters were straightforward and actually addressed to his mother, requesting receipts of how the money sent was used. Though, every November, Jin would get a friendly-toned letter wishing him a happy birthday and a gift, usually a book or sometimes an extra check. He enjoyed that much more than the wad of yen that his mother handed him hastily before she hurried out to work.
The news was boring this morning, and Jin yawned before shoving his chopsticks into his mouth again. It was mostly stories following the stock market in North America. He saw that Mishima came up quite a few times as one of the companies doing well in the economic slump over there. It made him idly wonder if his grandfather had anything to do with them; Jin honestly knew next-to-nothing about his father's family.
He didn't even know his father's first name.
He blinked as he heard the front door open, and jumped up from where he was seated on the floor to switch off the television. His tutor was early.
Only, it wasn't his tutor; it was his mother. Jun Kazama marched into the little home, practically throwing off her shoes at the door, and hurried past her son into her bedroom. Jin blinked then strained to listen; he could her cursing underneath her breath and rustling of papers, and then finally the slam of her bedroom door as she emerged, looking very upset.
She was a very plain looking woman, tall and waif, with her black hair combed out of her face and behind a red headband that matched the tie she was wearing with her navy dress suit. Her cheeks were flushed, which Jin figured was because the vodka she drank that morning hadn't gotten out of her system yet. Yet, she seemed to be carrying herself fine that morning as she hurried over to the phone, holding several papers.
Jin could only watch, and did so quietly as he finished his breakfast. She dialed quickly and began speaking calmly to what he deduced was an operator, and this went on for several minutes until his mother was silent, her foot tapping impatiently.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Jun growled into the phone in English, "Heihachi, it's too soon. Too soon!"
She was silent again as she listened, then responded, "You said that-- No, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, I think it's better that he didn't know. Of course I've told him about you--What am I supposed to tell Jin about him?" Jun glanced up and looked over at her son. Her eyes drooped as she listened again.
"I'm sorry, it's just too soon," she then said hastily and hung up.
She then turned to her son and addressed him in Japanese, "I took the rest of the day off. Did you want to go out?"
Jin responded, "We need groceries."
"Then we'll go grocery shopping."
"What about my daily lessons?"
"I've already called Abe-sensei from work. She's not coming today."
Jin's eyes dropped, "I see."
Jun seemed oblivious to her son's disappointment as she walked past him, patting him once on the shoulder before stating, "We both need to freshen up before we go. Sound good?"
He nodded once reluctantly.
There were fewer people out than Jin expected, since he had never been to the marketplace that early. However, he searched in wonder at all the food stands, larger and fresher foods than he had ever been able to find on his own. His mother walked briskly through the district, occasionally stopping to bow and chat quickly yet amiably to some of the shopkeepers as she carefully selected items to purchase. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and she looked even thinner in the striped pink tanktop and denim capris she had changed into. As he watched Jun, Jin wondered if that was how she functioned at work. Hiding her clouded eyes and the fake smiles.
He couldn't understand how anyone could live that way. Then again, he never did understand his mother.
He stayed close to her as they stepped onto the crowded commuter train, gripping her hand. He hadn't held her hand since he was a toddler, and aside from anxiety, he felt nothing towards her. No affection or happiness, just ill-ease. They said nothing to each other as they watched the world pass by from beyond the train's windows, a world switching from the crowded suburbia to the empty countryside and suburbia again as if was a film being rewound and fast-forwarded over and over again.
As they walked from the train station to their neighborhood holding their bags, Jun asked softly, "Jin?"
He looked over to acknowledge her.
"Would you want to spend a summer with Grandfather Mishima?"
His eyes brightened and he stopped walked, "I'd love to!"
"Good. You may have to." She was silent after that, continuing her walk towards their home, which was still several blocks away. Jin blinked then jogged to catch up with her, struggle a bit with the grocery bags he was holding as he scurried up to her. The schools were just starting to let out; he watched as a group of kindergarteners were being lead by their teacher across the street, each one of the little children in bright yellow sunhats and walking as obediently as a group of five-year olds could. It was like watching a procession of ducklings waddle by, as a child strayed occasionally fascinated with things like the sunlight streaming through the trees or the small cars that cruised by carefully. The older children and teenagers skipped by gossiping with friends, some walking their bikes and already half out of their uniforms.
"Is something wrong, Mama?" he asked when he finally caught up with his mother. She was still quiet and continued to walk forward; their small home was in view now, and their neighborhood was filled with life. Jin watched in wonder, almost overwhelmed with it all, until the front door opened, and he was hurried inside by his mother.
She cooked that evening. Jin couldn't remember the last time Jun had cooked something for him. She didn't eat much herself, a screwdriver by her side with way more vodka than orange juice as she chopped and grilled vegetables. Everything was cut expertly, as if she had hadn't stopped being a mother.
They ate their dinner without speaking. Underneath her breath, however, Jun sang. It was fierce and malicious, despite the loving lyrics; something that should have been a gentle lullaby, something Jin remembered his mother singing to him when he was younger as she rocked him with apathy. Irritated, he watched her across the dinner table; her food untouched, and he listened. The singing never stopped, and she never looked up at her son.
"God, STOP IT!" he finally cried as he shot up from his seat. His hands were balled up into tight fists and trembled.
Her soft murmuring continued.
Jin covered his ears and screamed, "STOP IT! STOP IT!" over and over again, tears rolling down his cheeks as his mother sang to him until he finally rushed over to her and grabbed her shoulders and began shaking her aggressively.
"STOP IT!" he screamed.
She finally looked up, "...Don't touch me."
He pulled back, startled.
"Don't touch me," she repeated steadily, standing up slowly.
"I...I'm sorry, Mama--"
"--DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screeched, her voice resonating with fear and anger. The older woman hugged herself then hunched over, sobbing. "...Don't touch me."
Jin hesitated but reached out, "Mama--" She recoiled back violently, head still down as she wept to herself.
He tried reading for the rest of the night. However, he was distracted, constantly glancing over at his bedroom door. Outside of his room it was dead silent and dark; bothered, Jin carefully marked his spot in his book and got out of bed, creeping over to his door. Cautiously, he opened it to peek his head through.
The only light that was on from the bathroom; it spilt out from underneath the closed door, contaminating the otherwise perfectly dark hallway. Jin shook his head and sighed heavily; his mother was still in there. She had been for hours, locking herself after fleeing from him at dinner. Normally, he wouldn't have thought much of it, but it was the look in her eyes. After the color had drained away from her face, she dashed away as if she had seen a ghost.
Jin reluctantly slipped through his cracked door and crept down the hallway to the bathroom. When he reached the door, he gently tried the knob; still locked. Without any hesitation, he headed to the kitchen, hastily searched through a drawer in there until he found an awl, and then made his way back to the bathroom. Quickly and expertly, he messed with the lock until it popped open, and then carefully opened the door.
His mother was sprawled out on the bathroom floor asleep, her dark hair strewn all over the white tile floor. Beside her, the bottle of her prescription pills was lying, its contents spilt over the floor. Jin squatted to eye his mother better; every breath she took seemed to be a struggle, her mouth half opened as she took shallow breaths. But she was peaceful, and that made Jin relax. He left the room for a moment, reemerging with the blanket from his bed, and he placed it over Jun. Then he sat across from her, drawing his knees up to his chest as he watched her into the morning.
Christie knocked on the door softly, "Jaime?"
No response.
"He's not going to answer," Forest sighed, crossing his arms.
Her frown deepened and she turned to Forest, "You should really be the one to do this. Exactly, what was that all about?"
"Let's just say...I don't like liars."
She blinked once then stammered, "I'm not sure what you mean--"
"--He's not who he says he is."
"I know. He already told me." She turned back and started knocking again. "Jaime, everyone's sorry. We'll take them to the airport in a few minutes--if you want--and it'll be all over. Jaime?"
Silence.
Forest rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. "Let me try."
"No," Christie said as she lifted a brow. "Your mouth got you into this. The last thing any of you guys need is make him even madder. He's the one with the car, remember?"
"Just let me try once. I bet I can get him to come out." She sighed heavily and moved to the side, hugging herself with skepticism. She started tapping her foot, brow still raised.
Forest knocked once, "Kazama?"
"Kazama?" Christie uncrossed her arms slowly, confused.
"I know you can fucking hear me. You're the asshole, you know?" He turned around and pressed his back to the door. "You left once, had everyone all worried, and now you don't want to go fix that. Fucking selfish." His voice cracked; slowly he slid down on the floor.
The door cracked then opened slowly, and Jin appeared. He was, however, silent staring straight at Christie.
He then looked down at the other boy, "I've said everything I'm going to say to you."
"She stopped sleeping at night," said Forest, his voice breaking up from trying to hold back tears. He however still looked forward, his hands folded over his stomach as he leaned over his knees.
Jin rolled his eyes and started close his door, yet the other boy continued, "I don't know if Rang knows about it since he left town right after the funeral, but she stopped sleeping, stopped eating, stopped talking. Her mother was going to have her institutionalized. She's still not entirely better. I don't know who she is anymore. And it's your fault." He looked up, "It's all your fault."
Jin rested his forehead on the door, not able to bring himself to slam it shut as much as he wanted to. His hand trembled as it gripped the edge of the door. He wanted to punch something, but at the same time his eyes felt heavy, unable to look up at Christie; his body refused to move. He could feel patches of heat all over his body, the places where the black thorns and lightning often appeared, on his chest and arms. His back. His back ached just below the shoulders. That prompted him to finally move, quickly latching his door shut without another word.
That was when he felt feverish and flopped back first onto his bed, his eyes finally closing.
And he saw that first snowfall from seven years ago, his mother lying next to him in the street. Her lifeless eyes staring back at him from beneath the feathery wisps of her hair and snow, so beautiful and peaceful; it was the first time he could admit that he truly loved her, and he whispered it.
"I love you, Mama."
He didn't notice then the odd angle of her neck as he lovingly smiled at her and reached out to touch her cold cheek before closing his eyes to finally rest.
