life in moderation
chapter 15: cherry on top
Once again, unbeta'd, as I wanted to get this up ASAP, so I apologize for any mistakes and whatnot.
I'm so sorry this was so late! Between procrastination, my social life and school (and my spastic keyboard breaking down on me), things have been busy. Thank you to all those who continue to read. And now review responses aren't allowed again, so...
I disclaim, etc.
o
As I enter the hospital, I'm bombarded with the smell of disinfectant, nearly overpowering as it seeps in through my mouth and nostrils. I've been in plenty of hospitals over in my lifetime, but the smell gets to me nonetheless. Bitter in a bland way.
The women at the front desk glances up as I walk in, smiling with her brightly painted lips before going back to the crossword open on her desk. Hair that has obviously been dyed far from its original colour is falling out of the bun she has it tied back in, but she pushes it back into place, though it will only fall out again a few moments later.
"Er, excuse me?"
She looks up again. "Hello there, hun… do you have an appointment or something?" Judging from her voice, it's the same woman I talked to on the phone. Husky and middle-aged, her throat is tanned and freckled like quite a few women her age are.
"Sort of," I tell her. "I was contacted about a week ago, about a girl I was supposed to see… I'm a doctor, and-"
"Oh, you." She nods, turning to her computer and tapping at the keyboard a few times. "What was your name again?"
"Eisei Suikotsu."
"Right then…" With one flourished tap, she calls up a file on the screen. "You're a bit early, but that's a nice change compared to most people around here. She's in Room 306 on the third floor. You're just supposed to wait outside until a nurse lets you in, alright?"
"Yes. Thank you," I murmur as I step away, looking around a little to figure out where I am (it's been a little while since I was last here) and head off to the right, side-stepping a woman in a wheelchair as I do.
"Buh-bye, hun!" the receptionist calls, giving me a wave. "Have a nice day!"
o
I fucking love today.
As of this morning, I consider myself 22 years old. I also consider myself rather lucky. I'm sure some of the people I used to know didn't survive to 20…
Lucky, lucky me.
On a lighter note, I'm also fortunate to have a boyfriend who can bake a decent cake. That's right. Sesshou-maru baked me a cake. A chocolate cake. With cherries and red icing flowers and everything! The only bad thing about it was he refused to let me eat it until after breakfast, which he also made himself while I slept in late, thank you very much. I usually would be at work, but Mrs. Higurashi decided to let me have to day off. I still had two classes, but I was in such a good mood they breezed by. One of those days where the clocks decide to skip into double-time and the hours slide away.
I felt like such an idiot, though; half the time I had this huge smile on my face that I could hardly control. It just felt like there was something huge and amazing inside me that was trying to bust out of my mouth, intensely and gloriously. Like I was a superhero or something, and I couldn't be kept down by anything or anyone.
Stupid, right?
I lean forward, peering into the mirror as I brush on another layer of mascara, careful as not to jab myself in the eye. A red long-sleeved shirt clings to my chest, full of static, and around my hips is a black skirt I wasn't aware I owned until today, as I have no recollection of buying it – I probably 'borrowed' it from someone and forgot to return it. I'm not fond of dressing up, but hey, it's a special occasion.
I blink twice, hoping the little dark chunks on my lashes don't decide to stick to and smudge darkly against the skin around my eyes. It must really be my lucky day because they obey, and with another few glances in the mirror at myself, the mascara (that's probably past its expiry date, come to think of it) goes back in my purse and I'm out the door. I step into the hall, savouring my last few steps before I have to put on my goddamn heeled shoes.
"Ready to go?"
Sesshou-maru stands in the doorway to the bedroom, pulling at the cuffs of his shirt. At least he had to go through the torture of getting dressed up too. We're going to a restaurant; not something hideously expensive and high class that makes you feel really intimidated and out of place when you just pass by it on the street, just a small place with decent food. I wasn't too fond of the idea a first, but he insisted, and I was blushing when I rolled my eyes at him.
"Mmhm." I answer casually.
"Sure you haven't forgotten anything?"
"Yeah, yeah," I say, sticking out my tongue briefly. "You're not my mother."
In amused annoyance, he starts down the short hallway beside me, and says almost mockingly, "Make sure you behave."
"It's my birthday," I retort. "Everyone goes out, gets drunk, and fucks on their birthdays."
"Really now."
I'm pretty sure it's a smile he hides behind his coat as he opens the closet door and pulls it out. I lean around him, displeasure growing as my coat is nowhere to be found, which is odd, because I would almost swear I put it in here… where I last saw it escapes me near completely, but I give the closet one last look through before turning to Sesshou-maru and asking him.
He pauses in response, looking a little thoughtful before shrugging his shoulders. "Check the bedroom."
Thankfully, he chooses not to say anything about how I should have listened to him when he reminded me not to forget anything, and I head (still blissfully sock footed) to the bedroom. Of course, as if just to prove to me I'm not completely in control of the world today, my coat is thrown on the back of the chair sitting by the window.
It figures that he was right…
I pull it on, taking yet another look in the mirror before leaving. I can't stay too long in front of them still, else things start to get all screwed up in my head…
As usual, a little bit of bitterness burns inside me whenever that sort of thought comes up, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus my attentions on the voices coming from the door. Either we have guests or Sesshou-maru's suddenly begun talking to himself in odd voices. Who knows, it would go along fine with the other strange things that have been happening lately. Well, not strange, I guess. I've just been getting really odd feelings lately; the one you get when something is a little off, or when someone's watching you, or talking about you behind your back. Maybe it's paranoia, maybe not…
As I turn the corner, I'm a little surprised to see Sesshou-maru, one hand still resting on the open door, chatting coldly with Bankotsu and a pink-scarved Jakotsu (whose expression drops a little of its vibrancy as he catches sight of me, no less).
Wait…what the Hell are they doing here?
"Hey…" I say, trying not to seem rude. It's always hard in this sort of situation to be polite when you're wondering 'Why are you here and how did you know where I live?'. Over the past week I've been talking to Bankotsu quite a bit, and a little to Jakotsu, but I wouldn't use the word 'friend' too strongly just yet. Some people come off pretty desperate and/or lonely when they smack the label on anyone who will take a minute or two out of their daily schedule to engage in somewhat mundane conversation with them.
I receive a polite nod from Jakotsu, and Bankotsu smiles. "Hey, don't you look nice tonight, Kagura?"
Jakotsu elbows him not so subtly in the ribs. I'm not sure if I should laugh.
"Thank you?"
"Anyways, we just stopped by to say 'Happy Birthday' and all that, since we were walking by anyways," Bankotsu continues. "I saw Mieko at the library, and she told me, if you were wondering."
"I was," I say, relaxing a little. "Well… thanks."
Another nod from Jakotsu.
There's no time for an awkward silence, as Bankotsu quickly makes a comment about having to leave and in a few seconds our doorway is empty once again.
"You have odd friends," Sesshou-maru comments as he reaches for our shoes (I don't bother to correct him on his wording, it doesn't much matter). "Where did you meet those two?"
"Bankotsu through classes. Jakotsu through him."
He shakes his head. "Never before have I met someone so interested in what shampoo and conditioners I use."
Something halfway between a snort and a laugh comes out of my mouth, and in that rush of bliss I take Sesshou-maru by the hand, pulling him out the door. My damned shoes throw me off-balance though, and I feel myself falling (sweet, blissful, harrowing freefall for all of one and a half seconds!) back into him, more laughter bubbling up from inside of me.
"Heh! I'm sorry…" I laugh, tilting my head back to look at him. The thickly fly-filled fluorescent lights border his face as he looks at me, upside down.
"Er, thanks…"
"It's fine," he says, shifting as to better support my weight.
I wonder if he really knows just how much he's done for me…
He's been a little busy over the past week, what with the book needing to be ready in a week or two for Christmas sales and all that jazz, but each night he's managed to be home at least an hour before I get to bed, just to be there… it makes a difference, somehow. Slowly, between kisses, touches, silences and sound, I've begun to unravel. Little bits and pieces of me are coming to the surface. Letting him see. Telling him about the things my father did to me. The things other people did to me. Things I did to me…
And never once did he turn away.
Never once did he seem to hesitate.
Never once did he criticize, or give me one of those looks people give you when they find out something that you did or said that makes you feel like complete shit. Worthless. And he's still here, amazingly enough. I catch myself wondering why sometimes and force myself to stop.
I'm not used to things meaning this much to me. Actually, I think this is the most anything has ever meant… Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst from the sheer force of it.
He raises an eyebrow was I slide my hands up through his hair and hold the back of his neck, forgetting to give a flying fuck about where we are as I dart upwards to kiss him.
"I love you. You know that, right?" I tell him.
He nods, then guides me back to my feet and turns my around. Hands on my shoulders, eyes looking straight into mine and nowhere else, he pulls me a little closer.
"I love you…"
Like I said, right? The best fucking birthday ever.
o
I can understand why so many people hate hospitals. Such horrible things happen in hospitals, and unfortunately, those tend to be remembered over the good things, however small they are. It seems enough to make one go mad, some days, after having so much birth, death and sickness happen around you constantly.
My 'other half', if you will, quite likes it here. All the death, all the blood… I ignore him, continually reminding myself hospitals are places meant to heal and prevent death. He doesn't much care.
After waiting outside the door to the patient's room for a while (long enough to cause me to start counting floor tiles), a nurse emerges.
"Eisei Suikotsu, I presume." At my nod, the older man motions to the door.
"Go right in. The doctor that's been taking care of her will be in there as well to help."
"Thank you…"
Tight-lipped in business like, he proceeds to fill me in on what they've managed to find out so far. "We've managed to identify her as Taijiya Sango; the missing girl from the murdered family. Right now we've chosen to keep this a secret, and only the cops know, just to be on the safe side. She's still pretty unstable, and doesn't talk a lot, so don't be too demanding of her, alright?"
I nod, and after answering a few more questions, the nurse nods me into the room, a small, square and white box completely alike to every other room in the building. There are no cards or flowers on the windowsill, and heavy grey clouds are visible through the slits in the blinds.
On the bed (white sheets, white mattress, white shapeless pillow), she lies, head lolled back on the pillow with her long, dark hair tied back in a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. She – Sango – looks quite a bit different from when I last saw her, face distorted with pain and confusion, streaked with tears and blood. Now her skin is pale, no longer flushed pink with cold, and she wears an immaculate hospital gown that hangs awkwardly around her body. Dazed and ostensibly unaware, she stares off, chest rising and falling offbeat to the constant, steady beeping of the heart monitor. She's probably on so many painkillers its hard for her too feel much at all. The stitches that run up her cheek look crude and harsh against her soft features, and I can see another bandage on her arm peeking out from under the sheet.
The poor girl…
There are two chairs sitting by the bed, one already occupied by the doctor; a silvery-haired man who looks to be about in his fifties, eyes appearing small and squinted behind his glasses. I sit myself down next to him, unsure of what to do for a moment before he breaks the rhythm of quiet background sounds.
"Sango…" he says softly (she does not stir). "How are you feeling?"
She takes a moment to respond, and when she does so it's in a fine, wispy voice, strained and slightly rough from remaining unused for quite a long time. "Okay…"
"We're going to ask you some questions, Sango," the doctor says in his calm, paced voice. "You can answer at your own pace; there's no rush. Just do the best you can."
As his voice fades off, he looks to me. I realize immediately that it's my turn to speak, though I have no words. Skin so drastically pale, she almost seems like a ghost, just a figment of a person, and if I reached out to touch her, my hand would go right through.
Where to start, where to start…
She takes a long, shuddering breath.
"Sango… do you remember the day I found you in the snow?" I try, hoping I'm not being too straight-forward. The doctor allows me, so I go on, prompting, "It was a Sunday…"
Her chin twitches in nod. "Yes… I saw you then…"
It's becoming hard to look at her; I feel that somehow I'm violating her, and admittedly, I'm reminded of Kikyou, so I try to keep my eyes on the window.
"What do you remember about that day?"
The doctor adds, "Tell us whatever you want to… whatever comes to mind."
"Kohaku was sick," she says instantly, voice growing in volume, though the words still come gradually. "Mom was up all night, trying to keep his fever down… She wanted to stay home from work and take care of him, but I told her I could take care of him, and she should rest. Dad agreed, but she really didn't want to…"
Her voice wavers and settles back into its whispering quiet. Her eyes widen, the whites threaded with vermillion.
"Yes?" I ask.
She murmurs something.
"If you could, please, a little louder?"
"It was my fault," she says. "They were late… they were late because I made such a mess of the kitchen when I tried to make pancakes. They were trying to work things out and take care of Kohaku and everything else all at once, so I tried to make breakfast. I was worried though, so I accidentally burnt the pancakes, and burnt myself, and that made them late. And if they weren't late… it wouldn't have happened!" She's growing slightly hysterical now, the edge on her voice causing my grip on the arm of my chair to tighten. The tempo of the heart monitor begins to speed up, growing rapid.
"Are you alright, Sango?"
She ignores the question, the murmuring seeming to be directed at herself. "Dad was about to leave… He was going to leave but…"
My muscles grow stiff with tension and worry as her face overflows with a mix of so many emotions all at once that it's impossible to pick one out, each blending with every other. The heart monitor races still. I find myself leaning forward as to better hear her mutterings; the rush of thoughts that are no doubt roaring inside her head trying to take the form of words.
Her voice slurs into breathlessness. "Mom was…in the kitchen with Kohaku and me… Dad was going to leave, but… but…"
The terror rises in her eyes.
"Sango," I find myself saying, "take your time… we're here, it's okay. We're going to help you. Just try and remem-"
"We heard Dad open the door, and someone came in. They were talking… Mom was too busy to… then it was loud, like gunshots, and," she shudders, choking. "Blood."
All of us wince.
"All over the floor… he… footsteps and…he…" Her breathing is rapid and shallow once again, lips trembling as tears begin to spill onto her face and her fingers grip the sides of the mattress. "Mom… Mom!… she told Kohaku and me to go, but Kohaku tripped and I tried to help him up… then… Mom!"
"Are you-"
"Sango, please-"
A wail starts in her throat, raising in volume and crackling like radio static as it turns into a heavy sob.
"He killed Dad!… he killed Mom, and Kohaku!… I shouldn't be alive! Why am I alive? Why am I- Oh, God! Oh God!"
Her hands clench the sheets so tightly her tendons rise out of her wrists and her knuckles rise up, trembling. For a moment, I think she's going to vomit as she rolls over on her right side and pounds at the mattress, all of body her shuddering with her sickened cries. The doctor, somehow able to keep his calm during all this, rises from his seat and run-walks to the door, calling in the nurse. I feel somewhat useless, glued to the seat of my chair and still trying to decipher her distorted recollection as the nurse holds her body down and the doctor sticks a needle in her arm, slowly injecting.
"He shot… Mom… why did he… she said, the name… Naraku… Why?"
Naraku.
That was the name Kikyou…
The drug seems to work fairly quickly, and it seems only seconds that the previously reigning pandemonium has disintegrated into this restless quiet. After checking Sango, who continues to whimper sharply, the doctor turns to me.
"I thank you for coming in today to help me," the doctor says in a hushed voice. "I think seeing you loosened something inside of her from that day; I have tried to pry something from her before but she hasn't responded. I suppose we'll have you come in again… You'll receive a call; except it sometime soon."
I nod as he shakes my hand. "Ah, you're welcome…"
The moment still hasn't quite caught up to me as I find myself pushing open the heavy entrance doors and out into the darkened parking lot, ankle-deep in snow.
My other-half is laughing, revelling in memory.
o
It's a kind of silly, but I've been obsessing over it. Only a little, though. I just get the thought out of my head, though. Somehow, no matter what I'm doing, it will always find a way to pop back into my brain. Always him, always stupid him. I have begun to make up stories about it to try and satisfy it and make it go away, but no such luck.
Miroku has been pretty busy lately, and I doubt he would ask for me anyways (not without mercilessly teasing me about liking Inuyasha – which I don't!), so the only way to actually know would be to ask Inuyasha himself. Unfortunately, right now he's complaining to me about some old woman that was bothering him today when he was spare-changing downtown.
We sit on one of our usual benches in the park, not too close, the greasy wrappers from our dinner sitting between us. All the leaves have fallen from the trees by this time, leaving the limbs a charcoal brown, naked save a lightly frosting of the snow that fell earlier this morning with a wind though would leave you looking slap-faced, but ended before noon. Eyes anywhere but me, he continues on and on…
"…and then the old bitch tried to hit me with her bag! Fuck, it felt like there were bricks in there or something! I didn't even deserve it, that old hag!" Arms crossed over his chest, his lips are set in annoyed pout
"Inuyasha?"
It's the first time I've spoken in a while. He looks up, as if he has just noticed that yes, I am capable of talking as well.
"Er, yeah, Kagome?"
Well, there's no going back now, is there?
"Um…" My hands squeeze the empty cup of hot chocolate held between them, the insides still dotted with droplets. "Remember… remember, how you keep mentioning someone, and-"
He snorts. "You mean the old hag who hit me?"
"No, no…." I shake my head. "That person. You never call her by name, just 'her', and she comes up quite a bit, so… I was just wondering…"
His eyes narrow into thin slits, glowing brilliant yellow anger. "None of your damn business." The curse word is accented, as he knows it bothers me.
"That's what you always say!" I protest, turning a little on the bench as to look at him straighter. "I don't get why you won't tell me! You're so stubborn!"
The same old argument.
"You're the one who's stubborn!" he accuses, like a child who can think of nothing better to say. His nose wrinkles, almost into a snarl, as if having this squabble offends him. "It's nothing! Why are you so obsessed about knowing anyways?"
"I just am!" is all I can come up with. "My God, I was just asking! You don't have to be so rude about it!"
He stands up abruptly, causing me to lean back a little from the start. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he beats me to it. Just like every time before, my attempts have failed miserably.
"Look, I don't want to talk about it, so why don't you just shut up and go home! It's not like she's coming back, so what do you have to worry about?" He snaps, always eager to get in the last word before stalking off, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets.
o
Dear Kikyou,
I guess I should've written sooner, and I'm sorry I didn't. Thank you for your letter, though, Ruri and Hari really appreciated, as did I. It was greatly relieving to know that you're doing well. I won't lie to you because you wouldn't believe me anyways; I was really worried. We all miss you (Ruri and Hari are monitoring me as I write this to make sure I don't ramble off, and so I remember to include them a fair amount).
Damn right we are! It's taken you long enough to actually write this thing, Suikotsu, Hari and I already sent her quite a few! It's about time you did!
Alright, now that I've wrestled the pen back from Ruri…
Everything at the clinic is going fine. We haven't had any major problems for a while, aside from the pregnant girl who's friends brought her in a few months ago after her water broke (I called an ambulance and she got to the hospital in plenty of time, thankfully) and a teenager on the verge of suicide that came in. I wished you had been there. You always were great at talking to them and calming them down.
Your letter is boring, Suikotsu!
I agree! Plenty of odd stuff has happened! Like the rat man!
I apologize, they… what rat man?
The guy that stands along the street where we go to get coffee and tries to sell people rats that he gets from the allies.
He threw one at Tsubaki yesterday! I swear, Kikyou, it was one of the funniest things I've ever seen!
Well… I don't think there's much I can add to that.
I just hope things are going fine with you still, and I'm proud of you for handling it all so well. When you come back, you still have a job here, if you want it. We'd love to have you back.
Sincerely,
Suikotsu
Ruri
Hari
Feeling a smile push its way recklessly over my lips, I set the letter down on the table beside the torn-up envelope.
After all that's happened, and after so long, it's hard to believe they still remember me enough to write. Time seems to move so rapidly. I know the paint-blanched halls of this labyrinth like I built them myself, the routine becoming unsettling familiar. Faces come and go (and come again) so swiftly that it's hard to keep track.
It's nearly December now, I think; even when I sleep with all the blankets piled on me, I can feel the chill. I never dealt well with cold.
I wonder what Inuyasha's going to do this year…
With chilled fingers, I pick up the near-dead pen setting on the desk and bring it to my paper, hesitating one quick moment before letting the ink sink in.
o
With cake-stained lips and breath that smells just a little more than subtly of wine, Kagura shivers and rests her head on my shoulder. The make-up is smudged, sticky on her half-closed eyelids as she drifts softly in and out of sleep.
So close she could be a part of me…
End Chapter 15
Interesting note: There actually is a 'Rat Man' in Toronto, though I haven't myself seen him. Apparently, he has ferrets now.