Look Over There / and in here
"A little to the left. Little more. That's too far. A little—oh, oh! That's the spot!"
Miss Olivia threw her hands up and giggled as Yomotsu scratched her back. At her age and in her condition, stretching her hands behind her back to scratch was a real challenge, especially in some of those hard-to-reach places. With her hands still in the air, she clapped them, and laughed aloud.
"Reunited and it feels so goooood~"
Yomotsu nodded and continued. "And after this, I can help you with that puzzle you've been working on."
Miss Olivia's hands dropped back into her lap. She was wearing a bright orange fleece top and a blue skirt that cut off halfway between her knee and her ankle. "You sure know how to sweet talk a lady," she said. "I've been so stuck on these last few. I must be missing some of these darn pieces! And once they fall into the carpet, I swear, you're the only one that is ever able to find them."
Yomotsu chuckled modestly. "I have had to crawl to find many hidden objects, usually traps and concealed time bombs. Life has prepared me for such a task."
The old woman put her hand to her mouth and yawned. "If only," she reflected quietly, "You could solve your own puzzle, so easily."
He cocked his head to one side and, in hollow cheer, replied, "Those are pieces maybe only you are able to find." He lowered his hands.
"I didn't tell you to stop scratching!" Miss Olivia howled, and he could hear her turn in her chair to glare at him.
"S-sorry!" Yomotsu quickly said, "So sorry!" He went back to back scratching, but now his curiosity was itching more than her back.
If this was a puzzle, were only a few pieces remaining, or had they only just finished the border? What if there really were missing pieces? Could enough still be gleaned to see the full picture, or would there always be a haunting sense of incompleteness?
"I think I may have found out where your father worked," Miss Olivia said, suddenly.
Yomotsu knew enough not to stop scratching, but he was listening carefully.
"Yes, that means I have names. His and possibly your mother's. But… I have to make sure this Mr. Hirasaka is the real one. I don't want to get your hopes up, over nothing, you know."
He closed his and moved his tongue over his front row teeth. "Then why tell me this at all?"
"Because," she answered, "You have a right to know that I haven't just given up. I'm not interested in using you. I'm interested in saving you. You and your little friend. The handsome one."
He stopped suddenly. "The handsome one?"
Miss Olivia chuckled. "You say it as though it's something controversial. He really is quite the charming young man. So dashing! And he's got a really cute butt."
Yomotsu blinked hard.
"Poor, poor Yomo—you can't even see his cute butt. So no wonder you have no clue what I'm talking about! You'll just have to imagine his butt, and how cute it is."
Yomotsu just sort of stood there. "Yeah. Y-Yeah."
"And his hair. It's so… White!" Miss Olivia cracked another laugh. "It makes him seem so mature! And he is so gosh darn mysterious and angsty. He must have some wild fangirls."
"Thanks, Miss Olivia," Yomotsu muttered, a little angrily. "But I wanted to know about my parents."
"Oh, yeah, those!" The old woman rose from her chair. "But, you know, there really is not much more I can say, without being sure. All I had to go off of were some photographs and some scattered pieces of information. If I'm right on this, your parents were very private and maybe secretive people. They had a low profile, I think."
She walked towards the table, where her incomplete puzzle was. A large chunk towards the center was unfinished, and there were random spots here and there with holes, as well. Yomotsu felt the puzzle with his hands and made a mental note of where the gaps were. From this information, he was able to imagine how many pieces might be missing on the floor somewhere. He bent down, to crawl and begin searching.
"My dear Yomo," Miss Olivia began, above him, "Even if you know the truth, a lot might not change. You were abandoned, Yomo, left at the door of an orphanage when you were just a little child. They never tried to contact you, from what we know. Sometimes, the answers we seek are painful and do more harm than ignorance alone."
Yomotsu paused in his search. His voice was low. "I still want to know the truth. No matter what the cost."
Miss Olivia smiled sadly in his direction. "You'll follow your justice to the end… Oh! Honey! Try to look over there. I think I might see a piece!"
He swept his hand across the carpet and felt something. He paused on the object, turned it around among his fingers, and determined it to be a puzzle piece.
"I'm just worried about you, dear. Something bad is about to happen. I can feel it in my bones. You know, how some can feel changes in the weather, in their bones. I can feel your fate change. It is growing denser. It is about to storm."
Yomotsu rose, smiling. He handed the piece to Miss Olivia. "Speaking of storms," Yomotsu started up, eager to change the subject, "Have you heard whether we are going to be getting one? It's been sprinkling for most of the day. Why doesn't it just hurry up and get it over with?"
Miss Olivia turned her head, toward the nearby room. They table they were standing by was directly across from the open doorway. "Your friend is still standing there," Miss Olivia said. "He's been standing there this whole time, almost since as soon as he got in. Both him and his butt haven't moved. Something is on his mind."
Yomotsu nodded. "Something always is."
he knocked on the door. by turning slightly to the right, he could see the clouded grey sky and the parking space. little holes were in the concrete, and water had begun filling them up. he watched the little drops hit the surface, and then sometime later, the door opened.
"oh, hey there!"
he looked back toward the door, and it was now open a little. she had a peach-colored bath towel wrapped around her body. with one hand, she held the robe tightly together, and with the other she began to scratch lightly at her bare right shoulder. her eyes went from him to his surroundings, and once she was sure there was no one else around, she smiled.
"sorry, i was, uh, taking a bath," she said.
he nodded and quickly smiled back. "i kinda figured."
her hair was long against back of her neck. behind her, there was a distant light from an opened room, but other than that, the only light on them was from the grey sky. her hair looked darker.
"i'm not used to seeing you not wearing a ponytail," he said. "or your scarf."
she peeked outside and looked toward the same parking lot he had been looking at.
"and i'm not used to seeing you wearing something so casual," she said, still looking in the same direction.
"i had no reason to dress up," he said. "it's just you, after all." he crossed his arms and smiled.
"maybe you're just getting too used to me," she said. there was a light sigh in her tone. she looked down and was quiet. "and this is your way of settling down."
he shuffled around and scratched his shoulder. she looked at him.
"but let's get you inside. it's so damp out here."
he was about to say he didn't mind, but she had already taken his forearm with her free hand and was starting to pull him to the door. he followed her inside, closed the door behind them, and slipped off his loafers. she went on ahead, and he stood and phased out for a moment.
"you want something to drink?" she called out from the kitchen.
he looked around. the living room to his right had a couch and two soft armchairs. one of the chairs was closer to the sliding door that lead out to the patio. the other was across from it and closer to the fireplace. the blinds were pulled back from the patio door, which allowed a lot of grey light to enter the room. he rested his hand on the couch and squeezed the material.
"i want to ask for tea with honey, but i'd feel like i'm being too obvious." he scratched just under his nose. "but yeah, i'd like some tea with honey."
she stopped, thought about it, and then made a crafty face. "sorry, sir. we only serve wine at this place."
he said that would be fine, and she left for the kitchen. he sat down on the edge of the couch and tilted his head toward the patio door. the blinking lights of a plane went across slowly.
"any preference?"
he rested his chin on his palm. "surprise me," he said.
she came out a little while later in a faded pink t-shirt and lavender-colored sweatpants. her hair was wet and still not in a ponytail. she was not wearing socks. in her hands were two glasses of a dark red wine.
he looked up at her. "i'm not used to seeing you wearing something so casual."
she sat down across from him, in the chair closer to the fireplace. "what can I say? i have layers."
"i'm sure you do," he said with a smile. "so mysterious. that's something i like about you."
"there are things you don't like about me?" she asked. "already?" the corner of her mouth lifted slyly.
"a ton," he said.
she laughed. "go on."
"for starters," he said, "you have a bad taste in literature."
"there's good taste, huh?" she tilted her head. she was batting her eyes.
"yes." he lifted his index finger. "and that's the second thing i don't like about you—you interrupt me a lot. how am i supposed to help you out with all your deficiencies, if you keep interrupting me?"
she covered her mouth with her left hand.
he gave her a thumbs up. "much better. now, as i was saying: literature. you read too many thrillers. that's cheap entertainment. you don't read the finer things."
"i can't tell how much of this is sarcasm anymore," she said, stifling some laughter.
"you have a bad taste in decorating. and in here, it shows. this room could use some proper ambience. light a candle or something. put up a nice portrait on the wall. maybe of a nature scene. and music," he said.
"what's wrong with my music?" she asked.
"no, no. that's one of the things i like about you. you have a good taste in music."
she nodded. "well, thanks. but again, there's good taste?"
he pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. "well," he said. "of course there is. but it is not something i can simply explain. just be glad you have it"
"it has to be felt, right?" she asked. "and i'm feeling it?"
"exactly," he said. "you seem to have a natural feel for these things."
"and that makes no sense, whatsoever," she said. "we're talking about books and music, not legal theory. there's no right and wrong here. only cool and not cool. and, i enjoy some really, really cool things, i'll have you know. and that's not just my music and books. i like a lot of really cool things."
"like what?" he asked.
she kept her blue eyes on him for a while. she smiled quickly, then blinked. "just things in general."
"see?" he said. he paused. "hey. i need to use your bathroom for a sec, if that's okay."
"oh." she looked at him very seriously. "no, it's not."
"then, i am going to take it by force. or else, if you really want me to, i can walk all the way to the nearest store and meet my needs elsewhere."
she reclined in the chair. "just be quick. i want to hear all about how your work is going when you get back."
he rose. "you know i can't very well tell you about my work—"
"just this once?" she scratched her shoulder, through her shirt. "break the rules for me."
he chuckled. "i can't make exceptions."
"yeah. i guess you're right."
he looked at her while he walked towards the bathroom. she was using the nail of her thumb to scrape under the nail of her index finger. she did the same for the rest of her fingers on one hand, then started with the next.
he felt around to find the light switch in the bathroom, and, after pushing it up, closed the door behind him. a faint aroma was inside the room. the room had a weight to it, like the density outside, only more concentrated rather than dispersed. he went towards the toilet and lifted the pink seat cover up. he looked to his right, and he saw the tub halfway full of water.
the water looked deep and white. he could see the reflection of the ceiling lights on the surface. he took a few steps closer, so he was right in front of the tub. he stood on the bath rug and could feel the wetness through his socks. the water of the tub was colored by the cloud of soap left, which was left by the white bar within reach.
he could see his reflection in the water's surface. it was dark and featureless. he looked at the shadow on the water. he reached his hand into the tub, starting at the fingers, and submerged it. the water was a little cooler than the temperature of the room. he squeezed his hand while it was underwater and felt the pressure as his fingers closed into his palm. he noticed that the details of his hand were faint underneath. he felt his hand through the water, going towards where she would have been soaking her feet. he then moved his hand back to the center. reaching his arm down further, he pressed his open hand against the bottom of the tub. it disappeared below the wrist. he could smell the scent of the soap. it did not smell like anything in particular, but it reminded him of her. he wiped his hand on the nearby hand towel and finished in the restroom.
she was not in the chair any more. he approached the living room and looked around. it took a while for him to notice the small form of the person bending down. she was lighting a candle on the end of the room opposite where they had been conversing. she flicked the match and blew it out. the woman with the onion-colored hair disposed of it.