Chapter Three
Eileen Washio took too long to die so quickly.
Three to five years is the average span from diagnosis to death. She was just past the three year mark.
Ken barely recognized her. He didn't want to. He did not want this helpless, voiceless creature to be the image of his mother he carried for the rest of his life.
He touched her face, curled a few strands of hair around his fingers. Not her hair: too dry, brittle, and split. Her hair was red-brown, thick and wavy, barely contained by clips or elastic bands.
Her eyelids flickered as she tried to look at him.
Each visit could be the last, he knew. He wanted it over, to end the suspense. He felt guilty for wanting that.
Normally, he told her about his day and shared his thoughts. Today, he knew he had to tell her the important things. How much he loved her and would miss her. Apologize for being a brat. The secret things only she should hear. And say good-bye.
***** ***** *****
Joe had waited in the hall while Ken visited. He thought of what he'd wanted to tell his parents, and knew there were things Ken would want to say to his mother.
After Ken came out, trying hard not to cry, he went in. "Hi." The words stuck in his throat. "Uhm…. Thanks. Thank you. For being Otōsan's friend. For being Ken's mother." He blinked rapidly, against the tears. "For being my friend."
He hesitated, then leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the forehead.
***** ***** *****
Years of memories tumbled through Nambu's mind as he looked down at Eileen. Young graduate, ink barely dry on her diploma, confident in the interview, with a portfolio of aircraft designs; the woman who had helped design their most successful aircraft; the growing friendship that had never been anything else; her well-hidden attraction to Kentaro and the way she had kept him at bay as he courted her; Ken's birth and childhood; her sadness when Kentaro went undercover in Hontwarl; her strength as she continued with her life, raising Ken with his help; her exasperation with the gossip that paired her with him; and her final struggle.
He could not find words for what he felt. All he could do was hold her hand and let years of friendship speak for him. "Good-bye, Eileen," he whispered at last.
***** ***** *****
She was cremated. Ken looked at the urn, unable to believe that it contained her. Not her. Not everything that made her my mother: her heart, her will, her love. No, these are her ashes, her physical remains. Gently, he caressed its surface.
He didn't want to scatter her ashes. Not until he knew for certain whether or not his father was alive. For some reason, he could not shake his conviction that his father had not died in that crash.
"Ken?" Uncle.
"Just thinking." He carefully held the urn on the way to the car.
***** ***** *****
Eileen Washio's funeral was over before the news media found out she had died. Friends and a few co-workers, Ken, Joe, and Dr. Nambu attended the memorial service.
Francine Blake, and other reporters Nambu and boys trusted, bowed out and kept the cover going. Colleagues had disrupted Kentaro Washio's funeral. This time, the family would be left alone.
***** ***** *****
Kentaro found Eileen's obituary a week later. His cover in Hontwarl prevented him from checking the international news in the sort of detail he desired, so he waited for the weekend, when he could lounge in a public library and browse. An interest in the ISO was hardly abnormal, and he scanned the various news items with disguised interest. His surname caught his attention.
He read it three times.
Why didn't you tell me, Koza? I don't care what she may have said: you should have sent word! I should have been there for her.
Which was why she would not have wanted him to know. She had raised logical objections to his mission, which he had answered, then had cried (not in an effort to sway him), and let him go. He had hoped to return before now, with information and a network of informants and agents ready. She would not have accepted any loss of life just to see him.
Stupid, grandstanding idiot. That's all I am. We could have found someone else. We had time.
You loved a fool, Eileen. Good-bye.