Chapter IV
A sledgehammer of pure sunlight shattered my skull and I woke up. The air smelled of pollen and gasoline as I forced my eyes open, the morning sun a white hot strobe light bouncing off the walls, flashing faster and faster until I was sure it would burst and rain glass into my eyes. I shielded myself from it with my hands, sitting up on the leather couch, my hair an oily mess and my clothes feeling a size too big. My mouth was dry and nearly swollen. A poisonous aftertaste welled in my throat. Arsene's face was burned into my brain.
Haru groaned next to me, disturbed by my movement and unwilling to accept that the morning had arrived. She pulled a hand up to her face, nuzzled in the leather, and rubbed her eyes with her palm.
I looked around the room, squinting as the radiation burrowed through my eyes and into my brain. Ryuji was passed out on the carpeted floor a couple feet away, with only a decorative pillow to separate his head from the floor, and Ann slumbered peacefully in the recliner on the far wall, wrapped in a comforter and an array of sheets. I saw no one else.
I got up slowly. My muscles felt like they'd torn in my sleep. I made my way towards the bathroom, each of my footsteps on the carpet sending little pinpricks up my nerves. When I crossed into the darkness of the bedroom, the pulsing pressure in my brain relented somewhat.
Futaba slept sprawled out on the bed, looking completely at ease and comfortable. On the carpet Yusuke lay on a makeshift mattress of sofa cushions and sheets. His head was buried in the pillow, like he'd fallen asleep in the middle of cowering in fear.
I let my feet fall quietly on the carpet, making slow progress towards the bathroom door. I carefully closed it behind me, keeping the lights off.
In the faint golden sunlight that entered through the closed window curtains I could see that I looked like shit. I needed a shave and a shower. Looking at myself gave me a bit of a headache, so I stopped and ran the tap, cupping the cool metallic water in my hands and splashing it onto my face. It did little to clear the fog. Maybe something. I couldn't be sure. I used the restroom and left, creeping my way past the two sleeping creatures in the dark.
I lightly touched Haru's arm. "Hey," I said quietly. "I think it would be good for us to head back."
She groaned, shifting away from me. "I know. I'm ignoring it."
"We can't ignore it forever, though. They'll be waiting."
She turned away from me without a word, eyes still wired shut.
I went to the kitchen and filled up a glass of water.
"Here," I offered her. "Drink something. You'll feel better."
Reluctantly, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and brushing her wavy hair out of her face. She took the glass from me and took a few long sips.
"I feel awful," she muttered.
"So do I."
She offered me the cup, and I took a sizable gulp. Like the water in the bathroom, it didn't do much to help. I'd need darkness for that, and it would be a long day ahead of me before I'd get to have any kind of darkness.
She put a hand to her temple. "My head's pounding."
"I'll drive home," I offered. "Don't worry about it."
She looked down at the floor for a minute, her eyes half shut. "Okay, that would be nice."
I sat down next to her and pressed my fingers into my throbbing forehead. We sat for a while like that, neither of us wanting to be the first to make the move towards the door. Eventually I figured I should probably do it, so I got up to tell Ryuji goodbye.
"Ryuji," I said quietly, shaking his shoulder.
He didn't move an inch. For a moment he looked like he could be dead, until I saw his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I figured I'd text him later on and let him know we'd left early. I didn't plan on waking anyone else up. Nobody deserved that.
"Okay," I said. "We should probably go."
Reluctantly, Haru stood. Her feet didn't seem firmly placed on the ground, and her knees wobbled a bit.
"I feel so weak," she said, the sleep still not gone from her voice.
"It'll be better once you drink a bit more," I assured her, completely unsure if I was right or not. It'd been too long since I'd been this hungover.
We gave the disheveled apartment one last look as we left- the faint imprints we'd left on the leather couch, the open cupboards in the kitchen, Ryuji and Ann completely gone to the world, illuminated in the dusty sunlight, surrounded by socks and empty beer cans, something about the deepness of their sleep suggesting they were exactly where they wanted to be.
I opened the door quietly and my miserable wife followed me out into the hallway, the lights here somehow brighter than the sun. I closed the door with equal care and just like that, we were gone.
"Pull over," Haru said suddenly, with urgency. "Please. I'm going to be sick."
She'd been staring out the window idly for about a half hour now, her legs tucked up to her chest, her forehead pressed up against the glass, hardly speaking- distracting herself from the sickness in her stomach with the passing of scenery as I drove.
Driving had been going well enough. I had the sun visor down, but looking directly at the blue sky still felt like I was putting my teeth to a jackhammer. I'd been driving carefully and slowly, triple checking every turn, worried that I might miss something with my mind so far in the back of my skull, huddled away from the light- but now I slowed the car to a crawl and put it in park on the side of some country interstate road. An ocean of prickly green grass bristled in the heat on either side of us. There was nothing else here.
Haru fumbled with the door handle and went straight to her knees on the gravel that marked the edge of the pavement.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I swung open my door and jogged around the car to kneel by her side. It was a stupid question. Her hair was matted in tufts, hanging in front of her face. She panted between spells of vomit. I reached down gently and held her hair back for her.
"Hey, hey, hey…" I cooed quietly. "You're alright."
Another wave of nausea rushed over her and she threw up again, this time stabilizing herself with her hands on the grass. It was that all-encompassing sort of vomiting, the kind that made her wrists shake.
I rubbed her upper back delicately with my free hand, and waited for the convulsions to end, all the while assuring her "You're okay. You're okay."
A gigantic semi truck barrelled past us on the road, roaring and screaming like a great metal beast, shining silver in the sun. In it's wake it left an afterquake of noise and the overwhelming scent of diesel.
She sat up very slowly, her eyes watery, her nose running, and her mouth wet. The strong smell of vomit mixed with gasoline and hot asphalt in the muggy air.
"I'm sorry," she said, voice cracking and sore. "That's disgusting."
"Don't apologize," I told her.
"I've never felt this bad in my life."
"Let's get you home."
She nodded sadly and I helped her up. She climbed back into the passenger seat as I rummaged around the back for some paper towels. I found some napkins from a take-out restaurant under the driver's side seat, but nothing else. I suppose that's what happens when you keep such a tidy space- you never have anything you don't put there.
I handed her the napkins and she thanked me and wiped her nose, mouth and eyes. Then she took a deep breath and steadied herself, like she was determined not to break again.
"Okay," she breathed. "I'm ready."
For just a moment I looked out at the flat plane before us. It was like an inverse of the roof last night- all green except for a thin black line down the middle, all bathed in sunlight and blue with not a single star in sight. The sky changes a lot more in a few hours than I probably had in my whole life.
I started the engine and I pulled off from the side of the road slowly and smoothly, trying my best to drive the way Haru did.
We drove the rest of the way in silence. It felt right- neither of us were in the mood to talk anyway. She seemed restless, like she couldn't decide whether she'd be more comfortable looking out the window or pressing her palms to her temple and staring at her feet. She kept alternating between the two until she eventually gave up, opting to rest her head between the door and headrest, staring blankly ahead and a little to the left. A few times she sounded like she was on the verge of getting sick again, but she held herself together and we forged onward, barrelling towards Tokyo.
Two hours later we arrived at home. The lip of the garage gave us one final dizzying lurch as I drove over it, like the road had to get the last word in. I closed the garage door with the clicker that was clipped to the sun visor, and the in the rearview mirror I watched as it slowly drew itself over the sunlight until darkness settled over the car.
I opened the door and let the scent of hot engine and hot concrete into my lungs, a smell that I'd always found somewhat pleasant, but not today.
"You can go right upstairs if you want," I told her as she carefully stepped down from the passenger side door. "I can talk to them."
"It's okay," she assured me, steadying herself against the roof of the car, her voice still hoarse. "I need to be there for this, anyway."
We entered the cafe through the back door that was connected to the garage. I checked my phone- it was a crisp nine o'clock in the morning and the air felt sharp, like it would shear off the back of my throat if I breathed too deeply. We made our way past the pantry and utility closet, towards the kitchen. From down the hall I heard a chorus of voices.
"One, two- three!"
Around the corner, in the kitchen, four construction workers were hoisting up the new electric stove, their gloved hands grabbing underneath it, their backs braced powerfully. We stopped and watched silently as they lifted it and carried it over to the nook in the countertop- I didn't want to startle them in any way or get someone hurt by talking. They set it down with controlled breaths until it landed with a thud on the exposed granite of the flooring.
Toru, the head contractor we'd been working with, stood up with a huff and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. He saw us and gave us a brief nod of acknowledgement.
"Ah, you're here," he said bluntly.
"We are," I said, the sawdust in the air starting to worsen the pressurized pulses in my temple.
"You two okay? You look ill."
"We're alright, just let us know what we need to do."
"Thank you all so much for your help," Haru added with a bit of effort. "I'll bring you drinks later, when I'm feeling a bit better."
"No need to worry yourself, ma'am. There's a couple things we need to go over," he said, dusting off his gloves on his pants. "I have the paperwork set up in the seating area."
We followed Toru out of the kitchen and to one of the booths, where he'd arranged a small stack of documents. I wished the windows were closed, but I followed him diligently.
"Most of this is formality stuff. You know, a recap of what we did, general safety information and disclosure documents. That sort of thing." He took off his gloves and tossed them onto the table, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He looked to Haru. "Do you mind?" he asked.
"No," she replied, a little hesitant. "Go right ahead."
He lit his single cigarette and gave it a small puff. The smoke made me a little bit dizzy. My brain was already having enough trouble with all of this, and I didn't need a cloud of tobacco added to the list of unpleasantries. Not that I would've mentioned it- Haru had her strong ideals about guest etiquette that weren't going to change any time soon.
Toru took a long drag of his cigarette and sat at the booth, gesturing for us to do the same. We did so, and the change in altitude brought on a quick ripple of vertigo.
"First," he began. "The gas line."
He took the top sheet from his little stack and slid it across the table to Haru.
"I realize you two run this place together, but the building is your name, Mrs. Kurusu. So I'll be needing your signature on all of this."
She held her palm to her head. "Of course."
He pointed out some details with a pen as he explained. "This is informing you of all the damage the gas line sustained, and here-" He turned the page. "We're going over all the various repairs we needed to run on the gas line itself and its surrounding infrastructure."
She looked over the paper like she was trying her best to focus on the task at hand but unable to commit much thought to it. "Okay."
"The fire, luckily, didn't hit the gas line, but getting to it was another story entirely. The old stove melted over the underlying infrastructure and we had to use quite a few power tools to get everything cleared away. We have the quote for the labor on the last page."
Haru skimmed the document, reading certain sections over and confirming that everything looked right, but it seemed like she trusted Toru's assessment- she scribbled her signature in the blank. "Thank you all," she said.
"Thank you, ma'am." He took that packet and handed her another, taking another big drag of his cigarette. "This one covers the repairs we had to do to the walls and floors. Pretty self explanatory, but these were quite extensive."
I watched as Haru listened, doing her best to put her nausea behind her and give the contractor her full attention. She blinked herself back into focus several times per minute, and gave polite smiles each time he explained something to her. Despite how she must've been feeling, she was doing a fantastic job of masking her discomfort- all in the name of accommodating some man she didn't know under circumstances she'd never asked for. I suppose that's just how the best people are.
Things went on like this for at least another few hours, and I could tell near the end of it her facade was starting to crack. I got her a glass of water to make myself at least marginally useful, but as the morning turned to lunchtime my joints started to ache, my body wondering what the hell I was doing not giving it the rest it deserved, and I imagined she must've been feeling the same.
Once all the paperwork had been squared away, Toru took us to physically inspect the kitchen, in detail. Aside from some sawdust-covered PVC that littered the tile and the scent of electric saws in the air, the kitchen seemed completely restored. Whatever mangled black carcass that had remained after the fire had been unceremoniously disposed of and replaced faster than seemed appropriate- like the dread that had struck us that day was merely a waste of time and feeling. Like it had never happened at all.
"Everything on this far wall is completely new," he said between drags. "As I'm sure you both can tell. We have to install the new stove, get power up and running, and clean up our mess, but otherwise, you all should be good to open up shop tomorrow morning. We'll be here through the night."
Haru's eyes ran over the room, her face somber. "That's good news," she said.
It wasn't just the hangover. Something felt wrong about this room now- I couldn't begin to put my finger on what, but the newness of it all just made my stomach churn.
Toru showed us each of the pipes they'd had to replace, he demonstrated that each of the drawers and cabinets he'd installed worked properly, and he explained to us the ways in which his crew had been able to fully repair the structural damage behind the scenes that we couldn't see. That was the most important part, he said. As he ran his hand proudly over every new surface, my mind wandered to find the rooftop from last night, to feel the wind in my hair and taste my wife's lips on the bottle- to hear Arsene's booming voice in my head.
When we were finally done with the rundown, it was about three in the afternoon. We thanked Toru and headed upstairs, unspeaking, our breaths a little laboured, my spine feeling thinner with every step I took.
The house was empty. Morgana must've gone with Kunikazu to school, something he did every once in awhile. We didn't exactly love him doing it, but I suppose when you leave him in charge of the house, it's only natural that he'll do what he wants. I didn't care anyway.
We went to the bedroom and turned off the lights, but it was still too bright with the sun beating down on the white curtains. The half-light shone grey in my wife's eyes.
"Feeling any better?" I asked her.
"Maybe a little," she said.
We climbed into the cold sheets and let them envelop us slowly in a dizzying and fleeting restless sleep.
When I woke to the sound of the door slamming shut, it was dusk. The world was red outside. My head felt better- if I searched long and hard enough I could find the uncomfortable pulsing, but it was hardly there, like a gentle reminder instead of a screaming pressure cooker. The ceiling fan spun lazily, clicking ever so quietly with every full rotation. Haru turned herself over in bed.
"You awake?" I asked quietly.
"I am, yes."
"How're you feeling?"
She sat up and looked at me, her eyes still glossy. "Not perfect." Then, after a moment of thought, she said earnestly: "Thank you, for back in the car."
"It's alright, Haru. You don't have to thank me."
She closed her eyes and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
Suddenly, Kunikazu swung open the bedroom door, barrelling into the room, Morgana in tow. They leaped onto the bed with a bounce and a creak.
"You're back!" Kunikazu exclaimed. "You have to see my school project! Was Aunt Futaba there?"
Morgana had his fair share of questions, too. "Did Lady Ann come to her senses? Did she dump that bonehead?"
I scolded both of them. "Calm down. Let us get up and we'll tell you all about it."
I sat up and stretched my back. Things felt better, almost like the past week had been a strange dream- I was waking up in the same place I always did, the same bed, the same unchanged home- but the crimson light from the window served as a reminder that all of it had been real, from the fire, to the rooftop drinking, to the hellish drive home.
"I'm hungry," Kunikazu said.
"Let's get takeout, then." Haru suggested. "I want something fatty."
We got up and went to talk on the couch. After everyone debated their preferences, we ended up ordering some gyudon from a place around the corner. As we waited on the order to arrive, we told Kunikazu and Morgana all about the trip- how 'Aunt Futaba' was indeed there and was doing quite well for herself, how Ann and Ryuji seemed quite happy with one another, how we'd enjoyed our opportunity to meet with them all again. We left out the drinking, for obvious reasons.
"When will Futaba come to visit us?" Kunikazu asked. It'd been over two years since he'd last seen her, but he never forgot the only adult he'd ever met who could hold a long conversation about video games.
"Hopefully sometime soon," Haru answered, unsure herself. "We'll have to see how our schedule is."
The food arrived and we spent the night savoring the unhealthy meal, watching TV idly, looking at Kunikazu's tri-fold school project, and sharing the details of our trip. The sun set slowly over the jagged concrete horizon of the city until the room was a deep burgundy.
"When will the cafe be open again?" Morgana asked.
"Tomorrow," Haru replied.
The room was as red as Arsene's eyes.