AN: Oh gosh, don't kill me (I may be in a horrible hole, but I don't want to die!) So yeah, this school year sucks major #!#$#(. Ugh, stupid phase one teachers and their NON PREPERATION for honors! All the grades are weighted XX. I magically pulled straight A's out of my non-existent hat (not that that even MATTERS anymore!). And such a new marking period begins, and I have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN! (Only now, I already have a C in English, yay!)
Last Stop
Chapter Seven: Family Matters
"It's Van!" Hana cried excitedly as Hitomi and I walked across the parking lot. Millerna and Dryden released the little girl's hand as they watched from the doorway, that I-knew-this-would-happen-all-along-SUCKER smile spread across their faces. Normally, I would've been angry that they'd set me up again, and stalked off. But instead, I just smiled as I kneeled down to embrace Hana.
"Hana . . . I left you yesterday, didn't I?" I whispered into her ear as she latched her arms around my neck. "I'm sorry."
"Vaaaaaan," Hana said, pulling back to look me in the face. "Dryden said you were here when you were little. He told me about you. How come you never told me you were like me?"
There was a hurt look in her gray eyes as I searched for an answer. But there really was no answer, not that applied to Hana. She wouldn't have pitied me, or shied away from me; she would have understood. Yet when fear clutches you, it is hard to get out of its grasp. And perhaps understanding wasn't what I was looking for.
What I was looking for was love.
"Would you tell other people you were an orphan, Hana? Even if they themselves were orphans?" Hitomi asked gently, kneeling down as well. "I think you, of all people, can understand how Van feels."
"I guess . . ." Hana replied sadly. I smiled at her, an apologizing and forgiving smile, and suddenly her face lit up. "Did you two kiss and make up? Did you, did you?"
I had to avert my eyes, my cheeks flaring up, while Hitomi just chuckled. She seemed rather comfortable with our relationship already.
"Yes . . . With a kiss and everything," Hitomi said, resting her head against my shoulder. It was too hard to resist leaning into her hair, so I gave in without a second thought.
"Will you share him with me, Hitomi?" Hana asked shyly, with the innocence only children can pull off. Even I had to laugh.
"Of course," Hitomi whispered, kissing the young orphaned girls forehead lovingly. My hand stroked her hair lightly. We stayed that way for a few moments, in the middle of the parking lot, peacefully, until Hana asked a question that made the air grow heavy.
She looked me square in the eye as she said it, unfaltering, with a bit of plead. "So now you can adopt me, right?"
As soon as she said that, I couldn't breathe. All oxygen to my brain was cut off. I sat up straight, eyes widened and my mouth slightly agape. Even Hitomi seemed shattered by the question, for she too sat up straight and seemed unable to breathe. Adopt me. Those were the only words that my mind could comprehend. Adopt me. Was this what she'd wanted to happen all this time? Was that why she was so trusting of me? No . . . that couldn't be.
Hitomi and I looked at each other with uncertainty. There was nothing to be uncertain about, really. We simply couldn't adopt her. Too many things could happen between now and a year, now and a few months, now and a week, now and tomorrow with Hitomi and I. That thought startled me even more. I shook it off, telling myself full well that that was the least of our problems.
After what seemed like minutes, but was merely a few seconds, Hitomi looked away, staring at the pavement, as if ashamed. I turned back to face Hana, who already looked crestfallen, but still pleaded to me with her eyes. Those sad gray eyes that I couldn't resist. The ones that I had to resist. Certainly not because I wanted to; if I could've, I would've adopted Hana in a heartbeat. But I knew I couldn't give Hana what she needed, what she deserved.
"Hana . . ." I began, searching for an easy way to put it (as if there were such a thing). But suddenly the little girl began to sob gently, to herself, without seeking comfort from me.
"I understand . . ." she whispered quietly, turning to go back to the orphanage any child would loath with all their heart.
"No!" I exclaimed, grabbing her around the waist and hugging her small frame to my chest. "No," I whispered again, "you don't understand. You're too young to understand. We simply can't adopt you, Hana. Hitomi's still in school, and I work all day. When would we have time to be with you?"
"And we have little money," Hitomi added, stroking Hana's hair, as I could feel her warm tears through my shirt. "We wouldn't be able properly provide for you."
"And we don't live together," I added hastily. "We could break up any day," I gave a shifty glance over at Hitomi, who gave me an expression saying how could you even SUGGEST that? I smiled slightly, despite myself.
"But I don't want to be adopted by other people!" Hana cried, finally daring to look up at me. "I don't want to! I don't want to stay here! I want to be with you!"
I saddened greatly. "You don't always get what you want in life." I could've kicked myself for saying it, but it was true. I knew full well it was true.
"How come I never get what I want?" Hana asked so quietly that I barely heard her. "Am I bad? Am I being punished for being bad, Van? Is that why mommy and daddy went away? I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to be bad."
A choked sound came from beside me, and I knew Hitomi was crying. Hell, I was on the verge of crying. I couldn't find my voice. All I could manage was to hug her tighter. My heart was slowly being torn into a million pieces . Hana, sweet, nice, caring, innocent Hana, who'd done nothing wrong in the world . . .
Was the spitting image of me.
Am I bad? Did I do something wrong?
I managed to shake me head. "No. No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault, I swear," I choked, brushing away her tears with my thumb.
"Then why?"
How was I supposed to answer that? "It's just . . . There is no reason . . . It's how life works," again I couldn't come up with anything comforting, only able to tell the truth.
"I don't like life," she said sullenly.
"Don't say that," I crooned. "Just because I can't adopt you doesn't mean I don't love you. It would make me very sad if you thought that. And it would make me sadder if I didn't see you smile." I kissed her forehead lightly, her tears gradually subsiding.
"If I could have, Hana, I would have adopted you four months ago," Hitomi said, whipping the little girls face with a handkerchief. "I love you, Van loves you, Dryden loves you, and Millerna loves you. Please, don't be sad. We're right here."
I felt her arms tighten around my neck, but I felt no more tears wash my shirt. After a minute, Hitomi stood up, shaking out her legs (we'd been kneeling most of that time). I followed her lead, holding on to Hana as she still clung to my neck.
"Want a piggy back ride?" I asked, trying to bring the little girl back to her normal state. She nodded into my chest. I placed her on my shoulders carefully.
"Can I say something about what you said?" Hana asked just before we'd reached the entrance.
"I don't remember the last time you had to ask to say something," I joked.
"You guys will never break up," she stated flatly.
I wasn't even going to bother asking how she knew that.
oOo
Dryden's office was just as I remembered it, except it hadn't been Dryden's back then, of course. But apparently Meiden Fassa's son shared the same sense of style (or lack of) as he did. Perhaps the only thing that was different about the clutter-filled room was the picture of Millerna on the desk.
The manager sat in his chair, leaning back with that smug smile. I sat in the chair I'd sat in so many times before-- I distinctly remember creating the one hole that's in it. But why was Dryden calling a conference with me now? He didn't have control over my life anymore.
"You handled Hana rather well, Van," Dryden's voice pierced the silence as he twiddled with a pen in his hands. "Very caring of you."
I didn't know what to say.
"Been a day of emotional ups and downs, huh?" he continued, putting the pen down. The playful look that always sparkled in his eyes dissolved, and his expression became serious. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down again."
I still said nothing. My muscles tightened. Dryden's chocolate eyes bore into mine, searching, searching for emotion, a sign that I was scared. But I wasn't scared. What could possibly hurt me now?
With a small snort, Dryden opened one of his many drawers, extracting a crinkled piece of paper. He handed it to me, and upon closer inspection, I saw it was a news paper clipping, dated around ten years ago. I scanned the first side, but it was obviously not what Dryden intended me to read, for it was cut off. Cautiously, I flipped it over, and my eyes widened involuntarily in shock.
There were four tiny pictures with a caption: Late Sunday night on Route 31 North, a car lost control, and jumped the barrier into oncoming traffic. Four cars were involved in the crash, backing traffic up for miles. The three in the car that lost control, Goau, Varie, and Folken Fanel, were all pronounced dead at the scene, their bodies severed and burned beyond recognition. Five others were injured, one critically.
The pictures were of my mother, father, and brother, and what was supposed to be their car, but what merely looked like a burning piece of scrap metal.
I read the article over and over again, but it was all just a blur. I stared at the pictures. Of my father and mother, who looked older than I remembered them. Of my brother, who'd turned out to be a fine looking young man. He always had been, after all. They must have turned out okay without me to weigh them down.
And then they'd all died. Ten years ago.
"Why didn't you . . . Your father . . . Why didn't he tell me?" I asked quietly. "Why didn't you tell me!" My voice rose angrily.
"Tell you? When you were fifteen? Even I could tell that would have been foolish," Dryden replied calmly.
"Didn't I have a right to know my family was dead? Didn't I at least deserve that liberty?" I asked coldly.
"You were unstable at fifteen, even more so than usual. Their death would have devastated you. I'm afraid . . ." He paused, his eyes shifting away from mine. "My father was afraid you would've committed suicide."
My breath was momentarily taken away. Yes, when I was fifteen, it was my mini-suicidal period. Every teenager thinks about committing suicide at least once, right? But although my case was minor, it was still serious. Everything just seemed to finally get to me, to sink in. There was no one there for me. I wanted to fade away. But every time I would hold those scissors in my hands, sliding them ever so slowly against my wrists, an overwhelming fear consumed me. I could never penetrate deep enough to draw blood, only little scratches. Once they saw the cut marks, they sent me to see psychiatrists, not that they were helpful in any way.
No, the only reason I hadn't taken my own life was because I was too much of a damn coward to do so.
I chuckled sadly. "You know I would've never done it."
Dryden tapped the pen he'd been playing with to his lips. "Perhaps you would've found the courage you needed. Perhaps that would have been your way of being reunited with your parents. To find your peace."
I'll admit I didn't think of that.
"Still . . . ten years, Dryden? Ten fucking years!" I cried.
He didn't flinch at my vulgar language. "It wasn't my decision. And you didn't want anything to do with me."
My fists shook with pent up rage. I wanted to break Dryden's pretty little nose. But I didn't lay a finger on him. Instead, I stared down at the newspaper article again. I felt shocked, but not all that sad.
"Where are they buried?" I asked suddenly, the thought just popping into my head.
Dryden didn't move, but his eyes hinted at surprise. "I'm not sure . . . I never thought to find out."
"Are you good for anything?" I snapped.
Dryden smirked. "No. I suppose I'm not."
I snorted, folding up the article and stuffing it into my pocket, then walking out without so much as a "bye".
oOo
Our ride home was quiet, perhaps out of mere exhaustion, or perhaps because everything just felt awkward now. But I enjoyed the silence, our silence, as I reveled in my mushed up thoughts.
As the school came in to sight, Hitomi spoke hesitantly. I hadn't said much to her about what'd happened in Dryden's office, but my feelings just radiated from me. "Um . . . May I ask you something?"
"Anything," I answered, not taking my eyes off the road.
There was another hesitation. "This may not be the right time to ask you this . . ."
As I put the car in park, I turned to look at her. She was blushing profusely, avoiding eye contact. This somehow lightened my mood, placing a tiny smile on my lips. I kissed her cheek lightly, whispering into her ear, "I said anything," before kissing her earlobe.
Hitomi giggled, turning slightly to catch my lips. "I suppose you did . . ."
"So? Ask me already, before I tickle it out of you. And someone could get hurt in a car," I said jokingly, giving her another teasing kiss.
She scolded me softly. "Van, stop it . . . I can't ask if you keep kissing me . . ."
I went against her wishes and gave her a real kiss this time. "Stop stalling . . . I'm giving you time in between . . ."
"Come with me to my parents' this weekend," she mumbled, as our lips brushed ever so slightly. They never got any closer, for I pulled back out of her reach, but still relatively close.
"What?" I asked in shock.
"I mean!" she continued hastily, blushing again. "If you have to work or you're not comfortable, you don't have to, I was just wondering!"
Come. Parents. Weekend. Those words stuck out in my mind as I gazed blankly at her red face. I should have seen this coming, shouldn't I? It's a standard thing in relationships, to meet the parents. To be scrutinized; to be rejected; to be approved; to be dissuaded. My heart began to race. I wasn't worthy of being Hitomi's boyfriend.
Oh, shut up self pity.
"V-van?" Hitomi stuttered, still completely embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry . . ."
The proximity practically closed between our lips, and I could feel her breath as she exhaled sharply. "Don't . . ." I whispered. "Don't you dare be sorry." I didn't kiss her.
"So you'll come with me?" she asked tentatively.
"Of course," I replied.
She smiled into my lips.
oOo
People walked on and off, talking loudly or sitting quietly, the train rolling steadily along. I hated trains with utmost passion. They were stuffy, noisy metal things on wheels. Kind of like my bus, only somehow, much worse (because it was my bus, perhaps?)
So why take the train? Because Hitomi wouldn't let me drive. Why? I have no idea. Why not fight it out with her, lose, then kidnap her and drive anyway? Because I'm a sucker for her, that's why. And such is why I ended up on a train.
It was seven in the morning. Hitomi leaned on my shoulder, resting, but not sleeping, as I hugged her closer with my hand around her waist. I was wide awake, staring at nothing in particular. An old man reading a newspaper. A business man checking his watch every thirty seconds. Hoodlums snickering in the corner about getting laid. And a young couple crooning over a baby.
I looked away.
"Van?" Hitomi asked, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me.
"Hm?"
"I meant to ask you . . . What did Dryden want to talk about? You seemed upset,"Hitomi said.
I glanced around nervously, like anyone cared what we were talking about. "Nothing."
She stared at me for a moment, before sighing in exasperation. "Van . . . why do you always try to lie to me?"
"I'm not lying," I growled defensively.
"Yes, you are," Hitomi cut in.
I snorted. "It doesn't matter what he said."
"Yes, it obviously does, if you're lying to me about it," she said, a bit of hurt in her voice. My shoulders slumped slightly and my eyes softened. I didn't like it when Hitomi was mad at me. I didn't like it when we glared at each other. Stupid me for trying to cover things up. . . .
I kissed her on the cheek, whispering an "I'm sorry" as I pulled away. We sat in silence for a minute, as I contemplated what to say. Was there any way I could word it with an 'I don't care' attitude? 'Oh yeah, Dryden, he just decided to tell me that my parents died ten years ago. No big deal.' As if Hitomi'd ever believe that. But I really didn't want her freaking out on a train.
"It was just a little chat about my parents," I said calmly.
There were a million ways you could take that sentence, and as I gazed at Hitomi, she was obviously pondering which I meant.
"And?" she asked tentatively.
Unconsciously, I pulled her closer. Something inside me wanted her comfort. "And . . . they're dead. They've been dead for the past ten years. All three of them. In a car crash."
Somehow, telling this to Hitomi, on a train with a bunch of random people who didn't give a damn, hurt a lot more than the night before. Warm tears formed in the corners of my eyes. But I refused to cry.
Hitomi leaned against my shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Van . . ."
"Let's . . . let's talk about something else," I whispered quietly.
She nodded into my chest. "If that's what you want."
We sat in silence for a little while, lost in our own little world, cut off yet somehow still strongly connected to each other. I wanted to say something. Something I'd been thinking about for the past couple weeks. For some reason, it was taking a lot more courage than expected.
"I want to start writing again. Maybe . . . not fiction right away. I took journalism too. It would be a good way to start again . . ."
Hitomi smiled brightly at me. "That's great, Van!"
I paused. "Are you sure?"
"You love to write, don't you?"
When I was little, I remember how writing used to be a relief for me. I always felt the slightest bit happier after venting out my anger on a piece of paper. But this writing wouldn't be about anger, would it? No. Now I had more of an abundance of feelings to unleash. Remorse. Anger. Love. Hate. Sadness. Happiness. My life was on a roller-coaster ride of these emotions. In my view, the greatest stories were based on something real, yet something not everyone can, or wants, to feel in their lifetime.
"You filled this void within my heart, Hitomi, but I feel as if there's still something missing," I said. Our eyes locked. "I really want to write."
"Then do it," she replied in that cheerful tone I loved so much. "I'll be here for you."
"Thank you," I said quietly, a huge grin on my face.
The next stop was announced.
"Our stop is next," Hitomi said, unable to mask her growing excitement as she squeezed my hand.
I had this queasy feeling.
oOo
Hitomi practically leaped off the train when it stopped, as I grabbed our two bags and walked behind her. The Kanzaki's were only a little ways off, waving frantically when they spotted us. Hitomi ran straight into the arms of her mother, a women in her mid-fifties, slightly shorter than her daughter, with brown hair and green eyes. Hitomi's father was about the same height as me, with light brown hair and gray eyes. Her brother, who looked like the typical teenage heartthrob, was in between the height of his sister and father, with blondish hair and cold, yet somehow playful, blue eyes. Yes, he'd definitely fit in with those other "musicians".
I stood off to the side, feeling awkward and out of place, as Hitomi gave each of them hugs and greetings. Then she turned to me, smiling, as I stood still in uncertainty.
Eventually, she dragged me by the shoulder, scolding me about being shy.
"So, this must be the Van we've heard so much about," Hitomi's father laughed, presenting an outstretched hand.
Holding both bags in one hand, I shook his with the other. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kanzaki."
"You don't have to be so formal," Mr. Kanzaki replied in good-nature. "You can just call me . . . dad."
"Dad," Hitomi cried in almost the same exasperated voice she always gave me, a slight blush adorning her cheeks.
"What?" Mr. Kanzaki shrugged. "Fine, fine. He can call me Sadato, if he wants."
"Thank you, Mr. Kanzaki," I answered politely.
"It's nice to meet you, Van," Hitomi's mother said quietly, with a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm Anna, Hitomi's mother."
I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "No, no, the pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Kanzaki." It was like one of those cheesy conversations out of some horribly written romance novel.
Next in line was her brother, who was busy staring at a bunch of girls out of the corner of his eye. "Yo, I'm Mamoru, Hitomi's bro, nice to meet you," he said in a rush, with that I-know-I'm-super-cool type voice. I could see why Hitomi would find him super-annoying, after all. But maybe he was super-cool, too.
"It's nice to meet you, too," I said, ready to explode if someone didn't take the attention away from me.
"So, now, let's be going," Mr. Kanzaki said cheerfully. "Van, hand over those bags!"
"It's okay, I've got them, Mr. Kanzaki," I said.
Mr. Kanzaki frowned. "Son, you better give me those bags or I'll take them from you forcefully."
I was so confused. No, really, I was in a daze. Wasn't it rude to let him carry the bags? Or, was it rude of the host to let me carry the bags? Wasn't I supposed to making a good impression here? Wasn't it good for me to carry the bags? Wasn't it!
Hitomi nudged me, whispering, "You better just give him the bags, or he'll flip out right here in the middle of the train station."
I stood bewildered for a few seconds, before holding out our luggage, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Kanzaki."
"And stop calling me Mr. Kanzaki; you make me feel old!"
Such was my first meeting with Hitomi's parents.
oOo
The rest of the day was an introductory period; in other words, there were more questions asked than on an SAT, and unfortunately, some were harder to answer. How old are you? Where are you from? What are your hobbies? Where did you go to college? What do you do for a living? Those were the easier ones. Although, saying 'bus driver' as my career wasn't the greatest thing in the world. But Hitomi was right there to defend me, explaining how I wanted to be a writer and all that good stuff. They still seemed skeptical, but at least I had a plan, right?
Of course, the harder questions were those surrounding my parents. It was so tiresome to fill people in on the backdrop story of my life. Ever since I'd met Hitomi, I felt as if that was where my life should be begin. That was when I went through my greatest turn around, but also some of the toughest challenges. I thought of all the emotions I'd been through because of her. I stared at my knuckles, at the pink flesh that was left behind. I thought of the way her lips always left me gasping for more.
Life wouldn't be worth living if you didn't have hardships, if you never cried, if you never felt emotional pain; but is it worth living if you're never happy? Life should be balanced between the two, but mine never was, not until Hitomi. Could I call it life, then? I wonder. But it didn't change the fact that I had to tell the same story anyway, and receive the same sympathy, and feel the same pain.
Time does not heal all, it only represses the pain.
Dinner, however, was interesting. For once, I got to hear things about Hitomi, and not myself. Most of the stories were about how big of a klutz she was, and throughly embarrassed her, but they made me laugh. Others were about how she'd always helped those less fortunate than herself. And others still were about her and her failure with the opposite sex. She just didn't click with males, seeing as how she was kind of . . . out there (not that I minded). Mamoru congratulated her on finally picking a "hot one".
And in this short time period, I realized how little I actually knew about the Hitomi I called mine.
The light from the television was the only thing illuminating the room. It was eleven thirty at night, and we'd all just gone to bed. I was sleeping downstairs, on their pull out couch. It was the only thing they had to offer, but I didn't mind. It was peaceful down there, for I had the tv on mute, and cozy. It was neither hot nor cold. I didn't even have to wear a shirt.
The steps leading upstairs creaked, and I spun my head around. There, enhanced by the light, stood Hitomi, adorned in but a mere white, short-sleeved, knee length nightgown. I blushed, despite myself, as she came towards me.
"H-Hitomi, what are you . . ?" I began, but she silenced me with the tips of her fingers, and slid gently under the covers with me.
"I thought you might be lonely down here," Hitomi whispered, facing me as she rested her head on her arm.
"I sleep by myself, in my lonely apartment, all the time," I said quietly.
She stared at me, a coy, yet somewhat sad smile crossing her lips. "Then I guess I'm the one who's lonely."
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer to me, until her face rested only a few centimeters from mine. I kissed her forehead softly. "I wouldn't want you to be lonely. But why are you so sad?"
"I'm not sad," Hitomi sighed into her pillow. I waited a few moments for an elaboration, but none came. Even as she caressed the nape of my neck, her gaze was elsewhere. My insides twisted in confusion and utter helplessness, for I'd never seen Hitomi in this state before. A sudden impulse took over, as I wanted to make her happy, as I wanted to make all her thoughts melt away . . .
As I kissed her supple lips more profoundly than ever before. Maybe I was desperate, maybe I was crazy, hell, maybe I was just too damn tired to think straight, but I kissed her with utmost passion, sliding my tongue cautiously into her mouth. It was yet another step in our relationship. There had to be something that separated lovers from friends, sex from making love. To be in love requires not only the chemistry you'd find in a friend, but a certain level of sexual desire. I loved Hitomi for everything; her kindness, gentleness, caring nature, radiant smile, understanding yet not understanding ways, unaesthetic, yet beautiful, body, everything, and I was finally letting her know it.
Her response was that of surprise, shyness, and . . . longing? Desire? I couldn't tell, my mind was that mushed. But I didn't want it to end so soon, as she moaned when I released her from my deadly grip, leaving gentle butterfly kisses behind. She snuggled closer to me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I caressed her hair with the tips of my fingers. Our breath labored slightly, and heat surged into my cheeks as the moment caught up with me. Yet still I hugged Hitomi ever closer to me.
"It's okay to be sad . . . every once in a while," I murmured.
Hitomi shook her head. "I said, I'm not sad," she whispered into my skin, sending chills throughout my body. I felt her smile into my neck, leaving a light kiss. "Especially . . . not after that."
A whirlpool of thoughts about dinner again pounded through my mind, and my smile faded. I didn't know anything about this girl snuggled peacefully against me, keeping me warm, allowing me to take strength from her. What was her favorite color? Who were her best friends? What was her favorite book? Favorite band? Movie? Flower? Had she not just been sad, distressed, dependent upon me, despite her denial; or perhaps I wanted her to depend on me, just this once?
"What's your favorite color?" I asked.
Hitomi giggled, but exhaustion was evident. "You're so random when you're tired."
"I really want to know."
There was a silence, and I thought Hitomi had fallen asleep. "I don't have a favorite color; I like them all."
"Even black?"
"Even black."
"What's your favorite book, then? Surely you must have a favorite book."
"Van, what's with you all-of-the-sudden?" Hitomi asked, concern, frustration, and exasperation poorly hidden in her voice.
"I'm thinking about how much I don't know you," I whispered.
Hitomi lifted her head off my chest and loomed over me, perhaps but a mere centimeter or two away, and her sparkling green eyes captivated me. We stared at each other like this for a few moments, until Hitomi started to giggle and captured my lips, and continued to laugh even as she released them.
"You're so, so silly," she said tenuously, placing a hand on my chest as she sunk back into her pillow. "You know me better than anyone . . ."
"I love you," I murmured, watching her nod off to sleep.
"I love you, too," came her muffled reply. "And A Walk to Remember."
"Huh?"
"A Walk to Remember . . . by Nicholas Sparks . . . is my favorite book . . ."
I smiled and turned off the television, but I didn't fall asleep. The moon cast a faint glow, basking my Hitomi in light, reflecting serenely off her skin. And I stared at her, watched her sleep, my arms loosely around her waist, her hand resting softly across my heart, breath shallow, hair tousled, features untroubled. A Walk to Remember, huh? I remembered reading that book; don't ask me why I read it, I just did, back when I was twenty. Despite the fact that it mentioned orphans quite a bit, I suffered through, and actually felt pretty touched by the end. Thinking, Hitomi reminded me of the girl . . . Jamie, was it? Sure, maybe Hitomi wasn't some crazy Christian who ostracized herself from others, helped wounded critters, and had a terminal illness, but you know, they were both really nice, perhaps misunderstood, and helped orphans (how many people can honestly say they help orphans?). My sleepy mind began contemplating what the younger Hitomi was like. Basically, I came up with something similar to what she had grown to be, only with childish innocence . . . and a hopeless romantic.
I continued fantasizing for another two hours.
Light will creep in soon
And I still haven't slept a wink.
I wish the sun would hide its head,
So I could watch you dream some more.
I wanna watch you dream some more.
I wanna watch you.
oOo
I woke up at six AM in a confused state. Damn internal clock. I was used to running on about eight hours of sleep. What reason did I usually have to stay up late? Except for the occasional long outing with Hitomi, I went to bed at ten to ten thirty. I was really tired, but couldn't fall back asleep. Surprisingly, Hitomi woke up soon after.
"'Morning, love," I said gently as Hitomi rubbed her groggy eyes. She looked so cute. Her hair was a complete mess, and I longed to tame it with my fingers. She seemed just about as tired and confused as I was. Sitting up, she gave me a sidelong glance, smoothing out her nightgown. Her very wrinkly, very light, very revealing nightgown.
Bad hormones, very bad hormones.
"Good morning, Van," Hitomi sighed, smiling haphazardly, snuggling back into her pillow. I smiled back, shifting closer, fulfilling my wish of fixing her hair . . . or maybe I was just messing it up some more.
"Go back to sleep," I said, kissing her ear lightly. She shook her head.
"No, my parents will wake up soon. We should just wake up and get ready." Even as Hitomi said it, I knew she didn't want to get up. Still, she pushed me away playfully, getting out of bed, a fiery blush illuminating her cheeks. "And . . . I don't think they'd approve of our . . . position."
I shared in her blush as I recalled that I was shirtless with flimsy pajama pants on. Guess Hitomi was doing to me exactly what I was doing to her. For some reason, that made me feel good.
"I agree."
We got ready in the next twenty minutes, and sure enough, not long after Hitomi came downstairs and kissed me soundly, her parents awoke. By six forty, they came strolling downstairs, eying me closely as Hitomi and I watched television. They kind of freaked me out, especially her father, who was staring directly at the hand I had placed around his daughters waist. I wanted to wrench it away, move to the other end of the couch, and sulk as if I'd done something wrong. Hitomi, sensing my tension, turned and scolded her father with her eyes.
I relaxed as she turned back to me with a smile, kissing me softly on the cheek. "He doesn't mean it," she whispered before standing up to help her mother cook breakfast. "Are we waiting for Mamoru?" she asked.
"Oh, that bum, he won't wake up for at least another two hours," Mr. Kanzaki replied, flipping through the newspaper absentmindedly.
"Who you callin' a bum?" Mamoru hissed icily, stepping gracefully down the stairs, despite the fact that he only wore boxers and a muscle shirt. And, oh no, his hair was all out of place.
"Good morning, brother," Hitomi said cheerfully, turning on the stove and buttering a pan.
He gave a nod of acknowledgment, "Morn, sis."
I was seriously beginning to wonder what type of songs this guy wrote.
"Why are you up so early?" Mrs. Kanzaki asked.
"No reason," Mamoru replied casually, but I caught his eyes flicker in my direction. God, between her father and brother, could I possibly be the only guy in Hitomi's life?
oOo
Let's just say breakfast was . . . interesting.
It started off like any other breakfast. First, it was cooked, then, we started to eat it. Magic, I tell you, magic. It was nothing big, just some eggs, and bacon, and toast, and coffee. Yeah, there might have been some other stuff, but that's beside the point.
I was sitting across from Hitomi, who was as cheerful as ever. But I noticed her glance at the clock once every few minutes, and when she caught me staring skeptically, she'd smile. I found this behavior strange, as if she were waiting for something to happen. Still, I dismissed it and went on chatting with her family.
Hitomi was the first to finish, excusing herself, placing her plate in the sink and pouring a glass of water. I quickly finished the few remaining eggs on my plate and excused myself as well. When I reached the sink, Hitomi held a small, oval shaped pill in her hand. I immediately assumed that she didn't feel well.
Maybe she had a terminal illness after all.
"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.
An awkward silence consumed the room. My mind began to fret that she really really DID have a terminal illness and she just hadn't gotten around to telling me yet. But as soon as her brother began to snicker slightly and Hitomi to blush, I knew there was something much more . . . let's say "innocent" going on. And it obviously wasn't a cold.
"You mean you haven't told him?" Mamoru jabbed. "And you thought you could hide it this weekend?"
"I . . . no," Hitomi replied lamely.
"Perhaps you should take Van to your room and have a nice discussion," Sadato Kanzaki said, turning the page of his newspaper.
"Yes . . ." Hitomi replied, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs to her room, but only after she'd taken the pill.
Since there was barely anything in her room, a bed, dresser, shelves, and a few things she'd left behind from college, it was spacious. I could almost see why Hitomi had come to crawl into bed with me last night. She was probably used to a crowded area, and a roommate. Somehow, this didn't make me feel pleased. I wanted Hitomi to sleep with me because it was me, not because her room felt eerie and foreign.
After closing the door, Hitomi sat me down on her perfectly-made bed. She sat next to me, leaving a bit of distance between us, yet still holding my hand. I still couldn't fathom what she was going to tell me.
I should have guessed.
"Promise you won't yell?" Hitomi began.
"Why would I yell?" I asked stupidly.
"Van."
"Okay, okay, I promise."
She took a deep breath and looked me right in the eye. "I take birth control pills."
Okay, so initially, I was shocked, and perhaps a little offended. I didn't really see a reason for her to be on birth control, unless she was hiding the fact that she'd been in a sexual relationship before me. Up until then, I'd assumed we were both virgins. Or maybe she just didn't trust me? I'll admit, I had been pretty aroused the night before, but I would never take advantage of Hitomi like that. Ever.
I gave her a mischievous smile. "So, this is your big secret?"
"Don't be offended," she replied quickly. "It's not because I don't trust you."
Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Why, then?"
"Well . . ." She trailed off, glancing towards the door, as if wanting to escape. I squeezed her hand gently, even though this conversation was a bit awkward. "I . . . It's my cycle. It's always been irregular. My doctor recommended these birth control pills, but I never started until a few years ago."
I'd never really heard of a girl taking birth control pills to stabilize their period, but then again, I wasn't a girl, and I didn't have these . . . problems. It's not something we discussed in health class, either. Or maybe we did, I wouldn't know, it's not like I payed much attention in that class. In my current situation, I was regretting that decision.
"I understand," I said with a smile, pulling her gently closer to me. "There was no reason to make this such a big deal."
Hitomi leaned against my shoulder. "I'd be lying if I said it had nothing to do with you, though . . ."
"Oh?" I mumbled, hugging her closer to me. "And why is that?" I asked, slipping a finger under her chin and making her face me.
"Because you're really hot," she whispered, playfully trapping my lips in hers.
oOo
Needless to say, I actually enjoyed my stay at Hitomi's house. And I don't think her parents minded me so much either. Her family may have been weird, but who was I to talk?
"Now, Van, you better take care of my daughter," Mr. Kanzaki laughed as we shook hands good bye at the train station.
"I will, Mr--" He gave me one of those looks, "Dad." I finished. Dad. That word felt really awkward.
"When will you be visiting next, sweetheart?" Anna Kanzaki asked, a touch of sadness in her voice.
"Christmas time," Hitomi assured. "And I'm sure Van will come, too." She looked at me and smiled. Any doubts I had about us breaking up between then and Christmas were washed away.
"Of course."
AN: Well now, because of the new review reply feature, this section obviously becomes a lot shorter. I kinda like that feature, only, now I can't reply to those of you who review anonymously (unless, of course, you leave your email).
Anyways, why did it take so long, right? Lots of reasons! You have to admit, this chapter was pretty long . . . by my standards. School started, and I really regret taking six majors, three minors, and having to take that stupid biology lab, which means I have study hall occasionally too. Plus, I moved up in my social studies and English classes, so now the work level is totally different. My mom is going to back to school, too, so she and I have to share the computer (and she conveniently gets on at my prime times for writing). And I was stupid and tried playing field hockey on top of playing on two ice hockey teams. AND I'm not very efficient with my time. Hence the late update.
Blah, I hope nothing bad has happened to any of you, what with all this crazy weather happening around the world! And I hope you didn't think something bad happened to me XD. (Happy belated Thanksgiving to those that it applies!)
Only four more chapters -cries-. You guys should love the next one, whenever the hell I write it.
-Spirit0