Fifteen- Certainty
No, nothing is certain
It was about a year later when I woke up. Light was coming into the room despite the blind across the slanted window in the room at the top of the building. It was a Sunday, somewhere down in the little town, a Church bell was ringing. Further away, somewhere up on the cliff, I could hear the chimes at the little shrines sounding. There was a fresh summer breeze that day, full of the sun and the salt. Another day in Hoshigo.
I rolled over sleepily, and rubbed my arm over my face. It startled me, and I had to sit up, put on my glasses, push both my arms and my hands out into the light, and stare at them as if I had never seen them before. They had changed in all this time. When I had been an Ootori, when I had been a Suoh, my arms had been as pale as ivory, my hands smooth, so I would be beautiful. Now, in the light, I could see they had darkened from months of going outdoors. My hands were rough and hard from working in the café and the B&B. They seemed beautiful to me.
Memory began to return slowly. It was a curious feeling, more like remembering a film than something I had actually lived. Although, I don't know if I had really lived it. It seemed to me I had been living a half-life. Since my brief moment of lucidity on the cliff, I had withdrawn inside myself. Thinking back on that time, I could see the extent of the damage there had been. I had barely spoken in the last year. I certainly couldn't remember an actual conversation.
Ayumu had taken me back to the place he worked in, as promised. It was called 'The Globe'. The name had made me smile, I remembered, but then everything did that day. It was run by an elderly couple, Ayumu had been living and working with them for so long now they were basically a family. The downstairs was a café and a bar in the evenings, and I worked there, because I had no other way to pay for a room. I bussed tables and cleaned up. I cooked, sometimes, the owner teaching me how. I never said much, but then, I didn't need too.
They were so kind, those people. I wondered if I had even noticed it before, if I had ever thanked them. The couple's name was Mino, her name Matsuda, his Minoru. Minoru Mino, I thought, his parents were cruel. Old they may have been, but they were still so alive, full of laughter and passionate arguments, when they had them. They could argue and argue, bitterly, until one of them said something so ridiculous they would laugh again. They lived their lives that way.
Thiers was a true love story, that Matsuda-san had told me one evening as we washed up together. They had been married young, she said, when he was an apprentice in a firm. They didn't have much money, but they were happy. He had been a hard worker and was promoted again and again, until he worked too hard, and they were unhappy. It was on their silver wedding anniversary, after weeks of arguing, that things changed. She hadn't expected him to remember. She certainly wasn't expecting to celebrate. But he had eventually come in from work, thrown an envelope derisively down on the table, and said "That's for you". Inside were the deeds for a small hotel on the edge of the sea in a town no-one had heard of.
She cried that day. She had expected divorce papers. That was what she had bought for him.
So they had started over, in Hoshigo, just as Tamaki and I had once intended too. I had said nothing that day, just dried plates mechanically. Then again, I rarely spoke. They chattered away to me, however, and no-one really seemed to mind. They knew I was paying as much attention as I could.
Some days, I could hardly pay any attention at all, too lost in miasma of the past. I suppose I was still grieving and my mind had shut itself down for repairs. Some days I hardly seemed to look at them, but they would patiently call my name until I focused again. Some nights, quite often, most nights, I would cry. I would cry silently, but he always knew, somehow, Ayumu. And he was there. He always came in and sat down on the very edge of my bed. He never said a word, and he never touched me. He was just there.
On other days, there would be a letter for me. From Tamaki. I don't know how he found out where I was or what he wanted, but it hadn't mattered. I never read them. Matsuda-san would go and quietly put them aside and we'd go back to making food or washing dishes or sweeping floors. Some afternoons, between the lunch and dinner sessions, we would all go for a walk on the beach. We'd take off our shoes and walk barefoot, just where the tide licked at the shore. I would remember that the sea is always moving. Everything passes. I felt as if I had been frozen.
Friday nights at The Globe were everyone's favourite. It was karaoke night. Ayumu and Matsuda-san and even the quiet and reserved Minoru-san had been up there at one time or another. A lot of the locals came in for a laugh and a night out, to mix, to mingle. I would watch, silently. Sometimes well-meaning villagers would make a joke about unsticking my lips, but I would just smile. On the days when I could pay attention.
Tamaki had sent me letters. I heard nothing from my parents. I daresay it was a relief for them to finally be rid of the black sheep of the family.
There was one important thing of my time at The Globe. I did not dream of my phantom at all. I sometimes dreamt of the past, of Daisy and the child that had died inside me, but never of my brother or my phantom. They were gone. As I slowly began to realise, they had probably never existed at all.
And so it was, for about a year. I withdrew into my own world, and having come out of it, I cannot now remember what it was like. Everything was very still there, and very calm. Time was impartial, I could be anywhere within it. It was like watching the outside world through a window. I could see it happening, but it didn't directly involve me. I woke up that Sunday morning and found the glass had been removed. I breathed in the fresh air.
This was all so stunning for me, and so new, I lay for a moment, thinking about nothing in particular. Finally I rolled out of bed and went to the wardrobe to find some clothes. They were all still there, I suppose Tamaki must have sent them on. I wondered if I had some of his money too, but I supposed I would find out. Something about the clothes made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. Why was I still wearing long skirts and jumpers? I was a woman now. I wanted a pair of jeans. I wanted to feel denim on my skin. I vowed to buy some as soon as I could.
While I was showering and dressing, I remembered something of the night before, of the sudden and somehow peculiar circumstances of my abrupt awakening. I had been worse than ever, yesterday. Or it must have been a few days. But it had been spring, then, it must have been a good week or two or three since I had been able to pay any attention. I remembered the night before. I was sitting at one of the tables, staring into space, or the past. I had probably been there some time. The others had been in the kitchen, ready to turn in for the night. I had been asked several times if I was ready, with no response.
"The poor thing," Matsuda-san said, sorrowfully. "She must have suffered so much."
"We can do nothing more for her." Minoru-san had shook his head. "She needs more care than we can give her. We should show her to a doctor."
"No!" Ayumu said. "They'd just take her into a home and keep her on medication for the rest of her life. She's not that bad, not yet."
"Ayumu..." Matsuda-san had answered, gently. "Look at her. She needs professional help. I'll admit, I thought she was getting better, but..."
"Give her chance." He said. "You didn't see her, that day on the cliff. She had tried to kill herself, but she was so... alive. When she came round, she was... I believed her when she said she was free. She'll come back."
"I'm sure she will." Minoru-san had commented, quietly. "She just needs a little direction."
"And you think pills will do that better than her actually living a life? You read the letter Tamaki-kun sent us, you know what she went through."
"You call that living?" Minoru-san replied, gesturing at where I sat, vacant. I don't think they realised I could hear. At that point, neither did I.
"...I'll get her to bed." Matsuda-san had said. "We'll see what happens in the morning." With that, she had taken my arm, coaxed me upstairs, helped me to change. I think she thought I had left this cruel world behind for good. I had done mentally what Ayumu had stopped me doing bodily.
But it wasn't like that. It was resting, for the big push. Morning broke, and after a night of fleeting dreams, I was myself.
At last.
Having dressed, I ran from the room. Ayumu looked up at me as I reached the top of the stairs. He was there, laying out the breakfast things. On that day, we were without guests, but Matsuda-san insisted that the places still went out.
"Good morning." He smiled, slightly nervously. "You slept late today, Kotoko. How are you feeling?"
I felt a lump in my throat then, of gratitude for this kind and patient person, who had taken in a stranger and never given up on the girl who had been alive on the cliff. I swallowed.
"Ayumu..." I said, slowly. It was strange, to be out of practise at speaking. Words returned to me at last. "Good morning."
He broke into a huge smile, but seemed unable to say anything for a moment. "Welcome back." He said, at last.
"You were Caliban." I said, after a moment or two. "You were Caliban. You clung to the railings and wished me a good afternoon."
He frowned for a moment, trying to remember. Then he did. "The year we did the Tempest? That was a while back. Matsuda-san directs one every year, gives the tourists something to look at. Last year we did Romeo and Juliet, remember? I was Benvolio. You watched us every day, Kotoko."
I remembered.
I think I truly began my new life that day. For a year or more, I had been in a sort of limbo, stuck between the past and the present. There was still a tender spot, a bruise on my heart, about all that. But like an old bruise, it only hurt if I jabbed it. And I didn't intend to. At least, not too often. I would never forget, but I would remember occasionally.
That evening, I was walking in the village. It had been a strange day, feeling as if I was seeing everything for the first time, knowing I had seen it many times before. Ayumu had often taken me out on walks like this on the days when I couldn't see him. Matsuda-san thought the fresh air did me good. The evening service was beginning in the little church as I passed by. I don't know what possessed me, it if was the Holy Spirit guiding me, or if it was just my own feelings, but I went in, and sat down at the back. It was very peaceful, few people were there. I didn't really listen to the sermon either. I just closed my eyes, and thought of everything that had brought me to this point.
I heard shuffling beside me about half way through the service. It was Ayumu, of course. We sat quietly, and when the service was over and everyone else had left, I told him my story. Every last bit of it. When I was finished, and I feel silent, he smiled lopsidely at me, and said "Well, it's not finished yet. Come on, let's go see what happens next."
We walked from the Church together. We went every Sunday morning, after that, or sometimes at night.
Time passed, of course. It has a habit of doing that if we want it to or not. Considering some say humans are the only beings with any concept of time, you'd think it would put on a bit more of a show, but I suppose the world is a bit like that. I read all the backlog of Tamaki's letters. They were letters of friendship, mostly, asking how I was doing and if I was alright. I was most interested in the dates. They had grown less and less frequent. The most recent had been five and a half weeks before. I decided not to reply. I thought it was best if we let go. I worked in the bed and breakfast. When summer rolled round once again, I helped with Matsuda-san's theatre group. We did As you Like It, there on the beach, barefoot in the sand, with our backs to the sea. I loved every second. Every breath I took of that air was sacred.
One night, as summer was beginning to think of turning to Autumn, I went and stood by the salt-stained railings again, watching the sea and the sunset. All it touched was turned gold, or orange. Had I been a poet, I might have tried to express it. Instead, I watched. Ayumu came and stood beside me.
"You look happy."
"I am happy." I said. "I've been happy since I got here. I just haven't had much practise at looking like it."
He laughed, standing beside me. He looked happy too, and I said so.
"Yeah." He said. "I've had a little more practise than you, though. But I wasn't always like this."
"Oh?"
"...Let me tell you my story." He said, in the end. "You're the climax, after all."
So he told me, as we stood together and watched the waves in the restless sea, as the sun went down and the stars started to open their eyes. It seemed the Globe was a place that had caught all sorts of drifters, because he had been one too. Ayumu told me he had never seen much purpose in his life. He had wandered to the Globe one day and got a job. He had been intending to move on, but he hadn't. He had worked there the whole time, but still, he said, he didn't see the point. And then he had been up on the cliff. He had saved my life. And he thought, perhaps, if he saved that one life, perhaps he wasn't so worthless.
"I was just lucky you were up there." I said, lightly. A cold breeze was starting to come off the sea.
"...I haven't told you everything." He admitted. "Kotoko, don't you wonder why I was up there?"
"I am now." I answered.
"I was there for the same reason you were. I was going to throw myself off." He said. I must have looked shocked, because he continued. "Look, I should never have been here. My parents, they never wanted a kid, pretty much ignored me even as a baby. I should have starved to death. I would've done, but some salesman saw me on the floor in the corner. I always wondered why I hadn't died. When I saved you, I thought, maybe you were... well, what was it you told me once? My reason to be."
I couldn't help but stare. I wanted to laugh. After all that, after everything I'd been through, I'd found my reason. He was here, in front of me. My reason was another person after all. Perhaps everybody's reason was.
He kissed me that night, by the railings, with our backs to the sea. I was happier than ever. Maybe it was true love. Maybe it was because I had chosen him, for myself, by myself, and not answered to anyone. Maybe it was both.
As for Tamaki, I had one more letter from him, and saw him once more. The letter arrived one day, addressed to me, and I opened it. I had been at the Globe, then, for around three years. It was a wedding invitation, for Tamaki and Haruhi. I was happy for them, but I didn't think the ex-wife turning up at the wedding was the done thing. So I remembered a dream I had once had, and dealt with the invitation accordingly.
One afternoon, Ayumu and I were sitting at the top of the cliff, right on the edge, our legs hanging over the side. His hand was over mine, but we sat in silence. I had changed beyond recognition in the years since I had been with Tamaki. I was leaner, more tanned, there was a spark in my eyes, my hair was cut short. In summer, I wore shorts and a t-shirt and sandals. That day, however, it was winter. I wore more sensible clothes, but I still wore my sandals. I swung my legs back and forth in the sea breeze.
"Geez, you mad woman." Ayumu complained. "Aren't your feet cold?"
"Nope." I answered, and swung harder. The sandal flew from my foot, went in an arc, and fell into the ocean. I could see the splash. Ayumu laughed at me.
"Now what are you going to do?" He asked. By way of reply, I took off the other sandal, and threw it as hard as I could into the ocean. We laughed.
"Now what are you going to do?" I threw back at him.
"I'm going to kiss you stupid." He answered, and did so. Eventually, he stopped, and pulled back.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"You. You give me a dilemma." He pouted. "You're too beautiful. You make me want to do extremely immoral things to every inch of your beautiful body, but I can't because of your deeply engrained moral code that says none of that until marriage."
"It's yours too." I said, too lightly. "But in that case, I suppose there's only one thing to do. You'd better ask me."
"I can't." He complained. "You're a crazy bra-burning marriage-is-patriarchy throw-off-the-shackles-of-man feminist who would rather castrate me than-"
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him until he fell on his back in the grass and made me stop in case we fell off the cliff. I think he got the message.
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes."
Ayumu and I lived our lives like that. We helped run the Globe. When we had saved up enough money, we went travelling for a few weeks, came back and worked a little more. We went to Thailand and Korea and Singapore and China, we visited the USA and Switzerland and France and Germany and England; we went to Kenya and Somalia, Australia. We went wherever we could. We did that even when both the Minos finally passed away and we inherited the Globe. One year, we met another couple, who stayed with us on holiday. They told us of their hard working lifestyle, how they had not had a holiday in a decade. We told them of ours, and we told them to think about it. They went home, but they soon came back. After that, the four of us ran it together. Sometimes all four of us, sometimes they went travelling and we took care of things, sometimes they did the same for us. We were happy.
I only saw Tamaki once more, some years after I had received the wedding invitation. It was completely by chance. It was a Friday, while Ayumu and I were still engaged, the karaoke nights were still going strong, and he had insisted on singing some embarrassing love song. I had slipped out into the coolness of the street, and saw a family coming out of the restaurant opposite. There was a woman with long brown hair, holding a child a year or two old. I could only see her back.
"Great." She said. "I forgot my bag. Hold onto him a moment." She handed the baby back to the father and went back inside. That was when I saw his face, and he saw mine.
"Kotoko!" He said, coming over to me. "Kotoko, is it really you?"
"You bet." I smiled. "It's been a while, Tamaki."
"A while?! Why didn't you reply to my letters?! I thought you must have moved somewhere else!"
"Never mind that," I said, reaching out to pat his son on the head. "Who is this little guy?"
"Oh, um... this is Takanouchi. My, um, son."
I smiled to show him there were no hard feelings. "I'm happy for you, Tamaki. Was that Haruhi, before? She's grown her hair."
"Yes." He said. "...You've cut yours."
"I needed a change."
"It's good."
"Definitely." I smiled again. "And what about you? How is work going?"
"Oh, well..." He hesitated, and then leapt into an explanation. "My father still hasn't retired so I'm still not doing much at present, especially, as, well, Haruhi wanted to get back to work after this little guy was born; so I'm mostly at home at the moment with him, doing paperwork too, of course."
I stared at him for a long moment, and then I couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh my goodness, you're a housewife!"
"I am not!" He said, hotly.
"Yes, you are! You're Haruhi's wife!"
I couldn't stop laughing. It was wonderful. I couldn't help but think how perfect it was for him.
"W-well, what about you?!" He demanded, slightly embarrassed. "How are you doing?"
I was beyond words now, too breathless with laughter at how things had worked out, so I just lifted my hand and showed him the cheap engagement ring Ayumu had bought for me when we were in Argos one day. His eyes lit up. Haruhi joined us just then, and Ayumu came out to look for me, and all sides were thoroughly quizzed. Just before we parted, Tamaki asked me one last question.
"Kotoko... was it you who sent my mother to my wedding?"
"No." I said, innocently.
"Thank you." He said, earnestly.
After that, there was the wedding to sort out. There was so much to do, booking the Church and catering and finding clothes and rings and bridesmaids and all the rest, yet we never seemed to get anything done. One day, we were hand in hand outside a bridal shop, looking at a dress. I couldn't help but think of my last white wedding and all the misery that had followed, so I turned and looked at Ayumu instead.
"All this... it's not really us, is it?" He asked, with a chuckle in his voice.
"No." I agreed in relief.
We were married that afternoon, in the registry office in the next town. Matsuda-san and Minoru-san were our witnesses. Minoru-san walked me up the ailse. We were all wearing jeans and old t-shirts. Matsuda-san's had a tea stain on from working in the café that morning. But it was definitely us. We piled into Minoru-san's old car and drove back to Hoshigo. We went to the beach and walked barefoot in the sand. And then we ran, fully clothed, into the ocean, in the middle of winter. We ran together, the four of us hand-in-hand, towards that endless ocean, with our backs to the beach.
I cannot say for certain what the meaning of my life is, what all this was for, or why I took the route I did to get there. I'm not even sure I've found my purpose. I'm not sure that it is even there to be found. My suffering had given me a permanent stain, but while we can never fully escape the past, the future is as open and as endless as the sea. If I had realised that sooner, I would have lived a better life and known less sorrow. But I was happy. That day that we stood fully clothed in the ocean, I was happy.
Reason or not, that's enough; at least for me.
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A/N: And so, we reach the end. That was really more of an epilogue than anything; and I'm guessing some people won't like that ending for one reason or another, especially as it doesn't really match up with the mood of the rest of the story. But yeah, I'm a sucker for a happy ending. XD Or happy-ish, in this case. She's finally chosen something- someone- for herself, after all. You could say Godot has arrived? Haha, yes, that's why I chose to use the quotes- Kotoko seemed to be having a little bit of an existential crisis at times, but unlike the play, in the end, I guess she worked it out. So it's an anti-Waiting for Godot. Or something. If we're honest, it's a fanfic, and nothing more noble than that!
Okay then. For the last time, I guess it's time to say thanks a lot for reading. If you liked it or hated it, I guess you got to the end or you wouldn't be reading this. So yes, thanks :D. This was my first major story written in the first person, and when it was done, it took ages to shake Kotoko's voice off. What I'm saying is, it was special to me, in some stupid way. XD Thanks for sharing in that, or something!