Laces, Trains and Rain.
"I'm so sorry," Ayumu says softly from his perch on my bed.
"It's fine, don't worry about it," I try not to let my displeasure show in my voice. "I'm sure I can get home by myself."
In a few days I will be leaving Yamaku to return to my family home for a three day weekend, Ayumu was meant to be coming with me. Best laid plans huh. Now it turns out his mother wants him home and apparently there's no arguing with her. People with normal parents confuse me. I'm trying not to take this personally, but it's hard.
"If there was any other way," he sighs.
"I said it's fine." I sit down next to him, catching him off guard I wrap my arms around his chest. It's not fair to be mad at him for this, even if that's how I feel.
"I'm going to miss you though," I say into his shoulder, I've seen him every day since the track meet.
His arms work their way tentatively around me, "I'm going to miss you more than the desert misses the rain."
"That was awful," I grin.
"I hit a bum note, it happens," he shrugs, his cheeks lighting up with a nervous smile.
Sitting up in bed I start to trail soft kisses up his neck. Well if I'm not going to see him for awhile. He moans softly in response. With one fluid motion I slide onto his lap, facing him with my knees still on the bed. Delicately he slides his hands under my shirt, crawling up my skin until they are gripping the flesh of my back. Falling forward I cup his face roughly in my hand as his grip on my back tightens. My kiss is desperate and hungry. Subtlety be damned.
I pull away for a moment, breathing hard. "It undoes at the back," I say keenly, pressing my lips back against his before he can answer. In response he fumbles with the catch of my bra, releasing it quickly. Has he been practising?
A moan escapes my lips as his hand gently cups my breast, the difference in how rough we are with each other nearly makes me laugh. I don't think he minds me being rough though. Images start to run through my mind of where this might lead, unfortunately this scandalous chain of thought is interrupted by my door opening with a massive bang.
With a squeal I jump away from Ayumu, landing hard on my backside in a pile of dirty laundry. Glaring at the door I meet the eyes of the intruders. Ryouta and Ikuno stare at me open mouthed, my cheeks start burn.
"What's going on?" Ayumu asks, his cheeks as red as mine.
"We… came to see you," Ryouta sniggers, trying exceptionally hard not to burst out laughing.
"And you've never heard of knocking?" I grumble, getting to my feet.
"I'm sorry Miki, Ryouta was in a rush, I did try and tell him." Ikuno says mournfully, her hand over her mouth.
"Right… Ikuno, cover your boyfriends eyes." She does so, giving me a confused look.
"What's going on?" Ryouta asks, trying to peek past the pale fingers held across his face.
Quickly I take my bra off under my T-shirt, throwing it into the laundry pile I landed on, with a swift kick I hide it with a t-shirt. Ryouta seeing that would not be fun, I already get enough about the shorts. "Oh," Ikuno giggles in understanding, taking her hands away from Ryouta's face.
"What happened? What did I miss?" he asks, looking between me and Ikuno, even giving Ayumu a hopeful look.
"Something magical," Ikuno winks at me. Her boyfriend looks between us confusedly going to say something, but is silenced with a look. That's a neat trick.
Ayumu is very quiet, his cheeks not quite their normal shade yet. Sitting down beside him I gently take his hand. I think he gets a bit overwhelmed when my friends are around, not out of shyness. It's like he's not sure when to insert himself into conversations, though with Ryouta's special brand of insanity that's hardly surprising.
"So what did you want?" I ask, looking up at them with a forayed brow.
"Right," Ryouta slaps his forehead with his stump. "You need to tell Ikuno to tell her parents that I should be able to go home with her."
So looks like weekend planning is going well in their camp as well.
I rub my head with the flat of my palm. "I thought that was the plan anyway?"
"It was," Ikuno groans. "I thought they would be okay with it, then I get a call from my dad about how he has all the stuff planned and Ryouta is no longer invited."
"But surely you can talk sense into them?" Ryouta pleads.
"I can't I told you, they don't listen to me!" She looks like she's on the verge of tears. Should I be feeling grateful for the neglect? Seems much less stressful.
"Why doesn't Ryouta go with Miki?" Ayumu says unexpectedly.
"What?" All three of us look at each other, a little stunned.
"I thought you were going with her?" Ikuno points out. I explain the situation as quickly as I can, feeling a headache start to build. This is too much thinking for after a therapy appointment.
Initially I was reluctant to let any of my friends meet my parents, because I had no idea how they would react. I don't want sympathy. The idea grew though, and before I knew it I was looking forward to showing Ayumu my home.
"What do you think?" Ryouta asks his girlfriend.
The relief in Ikuno's face is clearly visible as she clutches at a way out of her situation. "I think it's better than being stuck at school, as long as Miki's okay with it?"
"I don't mind, I guess, Ayumu?"
"I have no objections, it was my suggestion after all."
"Right," I say.
"Good," Agrees Ikuno.
I catch Ryouta's eye, he looks at the floor quickly. I guess he really didn't have much say in what just happened, then again neither did I. At least no one is being left behind. Even if plans have changed quite dramatically I can still trust Ryouta with whatever happens this weekend. Though he won't be as much fun as having Ayumu to share my bed. Cuddling definitely helps me sleep, perhaps I didn't get enough as a child.
With many repeated apologies and promises to make things up to one another my friends leave the room. I collapse back onto my bed, startling Ayumu. "Sorry," I mumble, pushing my hand over my eyes.
That was embarrassing, well at least I still had my t-shirt on when they walked in, and my skirt thinking about it. I might as well throw myself out of the window if Ryouta ever saw me in my undies. I wonder if Ikuno has shown him what she wears under her school uniform?
A blush touches my cheeks. I'm surprised at Ikuno's reaction though, she spoke of being treated like the family baby before, but it's like she's almost afraid of her dad. Or more likely afraid of his disapproval. Reading between the lines it seemed as if she had not mentioned her boyfriend, was she hoping they would be too busy to notice?
"Would you care for a back massage?" He slides a little closer to me, finding my side with his fingertips, "I looked it up online last night, it sounds interesting."
"That sounds lovely," I smile, slipping my shirt off and rolling onto my front. I hope he read the right guide, otherwise I may never walk again. I giggle when his hands find me, tracing the outline of my prone body. Very carefully he straddles me, sitting lightly on my thighs.
His hands gently start to trail up to my shoulders. The feeling of warm fingertips against my skin is magic as always, I feel the embarrassment and worry start to evaporate. This is why I need him around. Finding the spot where my bra strap normally sits he stops then lets out a small chuckle.
"So that's what that sound was!"
— — —
It feels surreal to be on a train again, last time I was full of so many conflicting emotions. Fear, worry, pain. Now it's like I'm being carried away from home to the endless unknown. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be feeling. Are they expecting me to let them be parents? That ship has passed, as far as I'm concerned we are equals, old friends meeting again for the first time.
Ryouta sits across from me, his phone resting on his lap.
"She won't be home yet," I say softly.
"I know, but I don't want to miss her text."
Leaning back I watch the countryside flicker past the window. I assume Ayumu will call when he gets home, we didn't make any solid plans. Then again I think we both like our independence, I doubt he would watch his phone for my call any more than I would for his. Not that I don't miss him. But sometimes it feels like we are two stowaways on the same ship, huddled close for safety and warmth, but still ultimately strangers bound to part when we make port.
"Do you think Ikuno's embarrassed by me?" Ryouta asks, staring at his phone.
"No?" I answer, surprised. "What makes you say that?"
"She didn't want me to meet her parents?"
"I think she did," I shrug, "I don't think she expected so much attention from them, honestly I think she was taking you so she would have someone to talk to."
"What makes you think that?" His glasses are slightly askew.
"Just an educated guess." I reach forward straightening his glasses.
"Thanks mum," he smiles at me, before nearly falling off his seat when his text message alert sounds. I leave him to his fevered button pressing. Playing with the bandages around my stump, I don't really need to wear them of course, the physical wound has healed long ago. But I don't like the idea of looking at the mangled mess of skin all day every day.
— — —
Rain pours down as we step off the train onto the gloomy platform, Ryouta's eyes widen as he stares at the paint flaking from the metal supports and the vandalised benches. Yep, this is definitely home. As we exit through the turnstiles into the car park there are a handful of vehicles and only one person, a solitary woman waiting under an umbrella, she waves at us.
With my bag splashing through puddles I approach, she's middle aged, her skin starting to wrinkle and hair starting to grey. It's like her body is desperately clinging onto the youth that passed her a long time ago.
"Good afternoon, I'm Miss Kita your mother's housekeeper." She looks us over as we stand in the rain. Finally seeming to come to a conclusion she snatches our bags without asking, I share a glance with Ryouta as she leads us to a small red car.
"Would you like some help getting the bags in?" I ask as she opens the boot, she frowns at me as if I had made an inappropriate joke. Have I done something wrong?
"No thank you, please make yourself comfortable."
Sliding into the back seat beside Ryouta, who is engrossed in his phone once again, I push a strand of wet hair out of my face. Well we're either being taken home or being kidnapped, either way at least we're out of the rain. Not long after the boot closes our sensibly dressed chauffeur climbs into the driver seat.
"Are you two okay with your seat belts?" she asks from the front. What the hell? I share a glance with Ryouta who just rolls his eyes.
"I'm good thanks," I say, trying not to sound too irritable.
The rest of the drive home is spent in silence, though I do notice our driver keeps looking in her rear view mirror, presumably out of fear we might lose more limbs while she's not looking. Trying to ignore her I focus on the streets around us, sporadic memories of hours wasted flash through my mind. I wonder which street I was on when I lost my hand?
— — —
Open mouthed I stare around our small apartment, it's changed completely. It's so clean. The windows that were once permanently closed are propped open, letting the smell of the rain washed streets float in. The coffee table home to bottles and dust, now shines, with a stack of knitting supplies handily in reach of the threadbare recliner.
Even the inhabitants have changed, my mum stands next to the worn sofa, her hands held behind her back as she waits for my approval. I can hardly recognise her, she looks bright and alert in clean clothes with well kept hair. Miss Kita despite my initial impression is some kind of miracle worker.
Standing beside my mum is a short thin man, I don't recognise him, but he must be my Dad. It's from him I get my skin tone, his wrinkled teak skin contrasts with his silver hair. Not grey, grey hair does not shine like that. He smiles nervously, I smile back. I have no idea what to say to him.
Very aware of Ryouta behind me I cross the room in three strides, wrapping my arms around my mum. She seems a little surprised, but hugs back happily, my father watching with a smile on his face. The pair of them are so thin and frail. I'm a little afraid to squeeze too tightly.
"Look at you," my dad is the first to talk, as I pull away from the embrace. His voice seems vaguely familiar, holding me at arm's length he eyes me up and down. "You've grown so much, but my god, your hand?"
"It's fine," I say, quickly cutting him off. That talk can wait for another time. "This is my friend Ryouta," I step back to gesture to my plump friend, who bows deeply, almost losing his glasses.
"I thought he was blind?" My mum says with blunt surprise. Did she take his awkward stillness for blindness? I feel my cheeks start to redden.
"No," I explain slowly, "That's my boyfriend, he couldn't make it."
"Boyfriend?" Now it's my dad's turn to sound surprised. Behind me I hear Ryouta burst out laughing, before nearly choking in his effort to stop. That'll teach him.
"I am seventeen you know," I frown. Having an argument would not be a good way to start our weekend.
"Seventeen is still young."
My objection is interrupted by the housekeeper. "Dinner will be ready soon. Why don't you two wash up and get out of some of those wet clothes, you'll catch your death"
While giving Ryouta a brief tour I'm amazed at how well the place has cleaned up, all of the house work used to be mine, I didn't leave the place in a complete mess. But it was never exactly clean. Happily my room seems to have been left untouched, I'm grateful. Things might be messy, but it's my mess. I sit down on my bed while Ryouta's eyes wander around the room.
"Your family seem nice," he says, rummaging through my dusty bookshelf. I've not touched those old children's books for years.
"Yeah," I sigh, "I hope they like me."
"Well they care about you, just don't do your normal Miki thing and you'll be fine."
"My Miki thing?" I ask, eyebrow raised.
"You know, not telling anybody what you're thinking or how you feel," he grins at me. Blah, I'm getting better at that. I have no one to talk to for most of my life, and now that I do they want me to be a chatter box. Thinking about it, this weekend is going to keep Dr. Ueda going for weeks.
I would argue the point, but we get called back for dinner, I settle myself at the table surprised to learn we're being served. Well this is new. My parents sit across from me, shockingly they are holding hands. I smile softly at them. Didn't think I would see mum do that again. Our food arrives, disturbingly it has been cut up for me and Ryouta.
"What the he-" an under the table kick from Ryouta cuts me off mid sentence. Everyone has stopped to stare at me.
"What Miki means is that it's very kind of you to cut our food for us." he shoots Miss Kita a winning smile. "But we are quite capable by ourselves, otherwise we would have wasted away."
Miss Kita mumbles something about just trying to help. I guess I should have expected a reaction like this from some people. Ryouta has lived like this his entire life. Between the hospital and Yamaku I have hardly spent any time around normal people.
With an embarrassed air we dig into our meal. It's not bad. I will never admit it, but being pre-cut does make it easier to eat. With dinner finished Miss Kita departs for the night and we spend the rest of the evening in front of the television. Like a normal family, plus Ryouta. Very little is said, I don't know how to bring up any of the things I want to talk about, neither do my parents judging by how they look at each other. In the end I give up and lose myself in the colourful game show filling the screen.
— — —
I can't move, I can't move! Panic rips through my body as the squealing horn pounds in my head. I make another agonising effort to free myself from the wreckage of the truck. It's useless I'm paralysed, only my head is free from whatever invisible force binds me. Feeling hot tears run down my face I turn my attention back to Tatsuo.
"H..hey… wake… wake up," my voice croaks horribly, I can taste blood in the back of my throat. There's no response, but I didn't think there would be, I just hoped.
A sound of braking glass distracts me. Looking up slowly as if in a haze I see a heavy black boot kicking through the windscreen, I close my eyes as I'm showered in tiny diamonds as the glass finally gives in.
"H… help," I beg the man who half climbs inside the cab. He ignores me, reaching instead for Tatsuo. Looking up I catch his distinctive emerald eyes, he gives me a vaguely apologetic look, before returning to his task. Reaching inside Tatsuo's leather jacket he pulls out a wad of bank notes.
"P… Please… H… help!" I cry as he hurries away from the truck.
I wake up with a start, my arm out stretched to grab for some invisible intruder. What the hell? Sitting up with a shudder I stretch my arms and legs, just to make sure I'm no longer paralysed, feeling more shaken than afraid.
Stroking the bandages of my stump I realise I was expecting pain that hasn't come. Well that's progress. I've seen those emerald eyes before, but I can't recall where. Unless that was a memory and not a dream, but if that's true it raises more questions than it answers.
I extricate myself from my covers, standing up. I'm a little surprised to find myself in my old bedroom. I need to clear my head. I change into my running clothes in the moonlight, not knowing what time it is having left my clock back at Yamaku. I peek out of the window, It looks the right time for a run. The rebellious night awaits.
Opening my door slowly I step out into the living room, my running shoes in my hand. Ryouta sleeps peacefully on the sofa, a ray of moonlight illuminating his face. Bless him. He's not alone in the room though, a thin figure sit's at the dining table, shrouded in darkness. Dad?
"Hi," I say softly as I approach, mindful not to wake Ryouta.
"Miki, are you okay?"
I shrug, "Can't sleep, you?"
"I haven't been sleeping too well either," he eyes me up and down. "Are you going somewhere?"
"I like to run," I take a seat across from him.
"Oh, you always did," he smiles at me. "You were a little terror when you were a kid, I could barely keep up, It's a little late though isn't it?"
I shrug.
We sit in silence, neither of us seeming to know what to say, It's like talking to a stranger. This is ridiculous. The letter might have thrown me, but I need to remember what this man did to mum.
"Why did you go to prison?" I ask, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.
"I guessed you would want to know, but before I tell you, please understand how deeply ashamed I am of my actions."
I nod slowly. So he's going to be honest.
He clears his throat, apparently this has been rehearsed.
"One night I went out for a colleagues leaving party, he was younger than me and as young man do found his enjoyment from drinking heavily. I went along with his wishes, after all it was his party," He takes a deep breath. "At one point in the evening I consumed far too much drink and when a fight broke out over a petty matter I intervened despite my better judgement. I pushed a man away from my co-workers."
I wonder if this was meant to be in a letter, it sounds like it.
"Go on," I urge,
"He tripped and fell, his head hit a curb stone. Emergency services were called but there was nothing anyone could do for him, I was arrested that night." He rushes through this last sentence, eyes downcast.
"So it was an accident?" I say softly.
"I never meant to hurt him badly no, but through my actions, no matter my intentions, he died." In the moonlight his eyes glisten. "Two daughters and a son lost their fathers that night."
"I'm sorry," I hate it when people say that to me, as if it helps anything. But I honestly can't think of anything else to say.
"You have nothing to be sorry for Miki," He looks up at me, his bloodshot eyes catching the moonlight.
I shrug, "You lost so much of your life over a stupid mistake."
"I have been punished most severely for my mistake, I've had to miss watching you grow. My mistake cost you and your mother dearly." It's hard to gage his tone, bitter, regretful, sad?
"I should have been there for you," he admits gruffly.
Telling him that I didn't notice his absence comes to mind, but I've been telling myself that for a long time. I'm not sure it's true anymore, if it ever was. What should I tell him? That he didn't deserve what happened to him? I think he knows that, and what help would it be anyway. I didn't deserve to lose my hand but I did. At least I hope I didn't deserve it.
"May I see your arm?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper but loud enough to shatter my chain of thoughts.
"I don't like people touching it," I reply, crossing my arms in front of me on the table.
"How did it happen?" he asks.
"I don't know," I reply with a sigh, explaining what happened after I woke up, the army of strange doctors and nurses, my loss of memory. I even explain how hard it was to get used to being lopsided. As Ryouta so neatly puts it. I don't mention the dreams or the phantom pains though, he wouldn't understand.
"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching across the table he takes my good hand.
"Don't say that." Using my thumb I trace the back of his hand, his skin is paper thin. "There's nothing to be sorry for, try-" I have to think for a moment. "Try that sucks."
Staring at me open mouthed he shakes his head slowly, "My Miki you are marvel, aren't you?"
"I don't know about that," I grimace. "Just Miki is enough for me,"
Finding myself opening up to him I have to hide a smile. He's the type of person I like talking to, straight to a point then move on, with no need to draw out what can't be changed. I think the term realist fits.
"So you're back with mum then?" I wonder aloud.
"Yes, I've missed her greatly. We will be taking things slowly," he yawns into his hand. "Excuse me."
"Go get some sleep dad," I turn in my seat, slipping my feet into my running shoes. Gah laces.
To my surprise my dad appears in front of me, kneeling down with a cracking of joints. I wince.
"You don't have to, I can…" I trail off as he starts to tie my laces. An image of me sitting in this chair when I was younger, so young that my feet didn't touch the ground flashes across my mind. As does the man tying my laces as he did all those years ago. Thanks dad.