CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE – TO HOLD BACK (MoniKenta)
Kenta muttered to himself as he knelt down, ready to pick up the fourth cardboard box he had returned for in the classroom. With appeals to his pride and strength, he had been tasked by his classmates to help with lifting and carrying boxes of the borrowed materials they had used for their booths—extra cans of paint, brushes and other such things—back downstairs at the maintenance room. At first, there had been four of them working with him, but with growing suspicion and irritation Kenta saw that they seemed to vanish, one after another, always with an excuse and a bunch of apologies.
Late for dinner, late for a date, late for whatever. Little dolts should've just told me that they wanted me to do all the work. Though Kenta did not often complain about the kind of menial work he did during projects and undertakings like this, he would have at least appreciated a bit of help. Still, it would not do to just leave everything unfinished just because he was now alone in his group. Few other students passed by, cleaning up as well. Though the day was growing late, Kenta knew that a few more minutes would not hurt, seeing as how he had no urgent reason to be at home immediately. Also, there was the idea that Monika might still be at school, wrapping up debate practice with her club. Perhaps if she was indeed still around, a short trip downtown would help ease his mood after a hard day's work.
For the most part, Kenta did grudgingly prefer the quiescence of after-school work. Although it left him with no friends to chat with and make things easier, it granted him some form of peace after his return to school from suspension. No explicit comments were made about his altercation with seniors, but true to his musings, some of the contemptuous stares and whispered remarks he had been hearing before have now started increasing. Whenever he was alone in going about the school or when he made his way to lunch, he would catch groups of boys looking at him, sneering and shaking their heads, no doubt trying to get on his nerves and reveling in his recent mishap. Some of the bolder ones took to making snide comments loud enough for him to hear whenever he passed them by.
"Dunno about you, guys, but if I were suspended because of some lousy idiot, I'd want payback."
"Do you think showing off is a good enough reason to get laid off of school for a while? I think that's what happened to someone I know."
"I've been thinking. How long d'you guys think it'll be before Monika comes to her senses about her taste?"
"The line's probably forming up for Monika as we speak. Wanna start signing up?"
Kenta sighed gruffly, shaking his head and instead focusing on carrying his box of materials carefully down the stairs. The initial sting of such encounters have left their mark on him a lot more than he wanted, but he knew that lashing out and confronting his detractors would do him no more good than his fight did. More incidents would put his status as a student in further jeopardy, and he did not want to deal with another disappointment to his family and to Monika anymore. His last encounter with Monika—a surprise put into motion by Sayori and Akihiro—had solidified his desire to never have another mishap.
Outside the windows in the corridors, the sun was starting to paint the surroundings in a mixed hue of orange and gold, blending in perfectly with the autumnal foliage of the trees around the school and in the rest of Eishima. It was the best time to hold the school festival indeed, right before the first snowflakes fell and made outside excursions and gatherings difficult. With the amount of effort that everyone was putting in, Kenta looked forward to seeing how well things would go this time, and he found himself wishing that he hadn't mucked things up to dampen everything slightly in his perspective.
Kenta was still lost in his thoughts when he entered the cramped maintenance room. Carrying his box carefully, he made his way around spare classroom armchairs, piles of other cardboard boxes, cleaning materials, and even some lockers. He half-expected the school caretaker to be present as he was earlier during his previous deposits, but he was all alone this time around.
Placing the box down next to the other boxes he had deposited before, Kenta looked around. Thankfully, he only had two more boxes to go, but the back-and-forth trips from the ground floor to the third floor were taking their toll on his legs. Kenta decided to rest for a while, knowing that the caretaker wouldn't mind as long as he did not mess up any of the things inside the room. He sat down on a nearby armchair and took out his phone, sending Monika a quick text.
"still boxing, u still in school?"
"'boxing.' very funny, Kenta :))) yes, still here, just wrapping up practice"
"i hope ur vp's not giving u guys trouble... -_-"
"nothing i haven't handled before, don't worry :) where are you right now? wanna go out after for a quick cup of coffee after this? i could really use one"
"are u sure abt that"
"yes :) no surprises this time, i promise :)))"
"well, another surprise won't hurt XD anyway, are u absolutely sure?"
"yes, i am :)"
Smiling to himself, Kenta pocketed his phone, stood up, and made his way towards the maintenance room's door. The words he had been hearing all week belied his joy for a moment, but above all of them, Monika's opinion stood out the most, and that was good enough for him.
The third floor corridor was truly devoid of people by the time Kenta made his way back upstairs. Most of the students around and outside had already gone home. Sunlight seeped through the windows as the sunset progressed, bathing Kenta and the corridor in an orange hue broken by long shadows against the walls. Kenta hummed tunelessly to himself as he went, wondering what else he and Monika could do after getting coffee and counting the choices he had. When he looked up as he walked, however, he saw that he might not have to wait that long to ask Monika.
"Debate practice already done?" he called out as he approached his classroom. Monika looked around from where she was leaning against the wall next to the classroom door.
"To be honest, I wasn't expecting to finish up before you did," she said, smiling. "Too much 'boxing,' I presume?"
Kenta laughed at the joke, but as he opened his mouth to reply, he stopped short for a moment when he noticed the aura in Monika's emerald eyes. She was as beautiful as ever, that much could be said, but for some reason, she also looked . . . tired, as if she had just finished cramming for a particularly grueling exam. Having grown used to seeing Monika being warm and accommodating most of the time, such a look would immediately tell him that something was wrong, whether at home or here at school. Somehow, her sudden invitation for a coffee downtown made a lot more sense now.
"Kenta?" Monika called out.
Kenta shook his head, noticing only then that he had begun to stare. "O-Oh, yeah, I had to fight one box after another," he said, grinning in an attempt to dispel the change on his face and mood before Monika could notice. "Featherweights and heavyweights are mixed up, but nothing my weight class can't handle."
"Oh, do you want me to help you?" asked Monika.
"Oh, no need!" Kenta said quickly. "I think I can just muscle these last two boxes on my own. N-Not that I'm trying to be, y'know, all macho or something, of course! It's j-just . . . I can handle it."
Monika narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?" she said with a small pout.
"Y-Yeah!" Kenta stammered in reply. "Don't worry about me. You can just come with me downstairs and then we'll be on our way once I've set everything down."
"Well, if you say so," said Monika. Though the tone of her voice was light, the weary air in her eyes lingered.
And so, the two of them left the corridor and made their way back downstairs. Not wanting to delay things any further by bringing down the last two boxes separately, Kenta stacked the two of them on top of each other and carried them carefully down the stairs. Monika walked in the same pace he did next to him, guiding him so that he would not risk tumbling down. Though the boxes made it tricky for him to not miss any steps on the stairs, Kenta was thankful that they shielded his face from Monika's gaze, as it allowed him to observe her closely for any sign that she was indeed thinking seriously about something.
When the boxes were finally stored away in the storage room, Kenta dusted his hands and grinned at Monika. "I wanna make another boxing joke but I think I ran that into the ground by now," he said facetiously.
Monika grinned back in spite of the weight behind her eyes. "Very funny, Kenta."
Kenta's smile faded somewhat. "Monika. . ." he began.
"Yes, Kenta?" asked Monika.
Staring deep in her eyes and seeing more of the tiredness he had noticed, Kenta hesitated for a moment. What if her problems involved a personal matter that he had no business in? What if he was merely imagining Monika's enervation? The seconds ticked by, and Kenta knew that his reluctance was now no longer bound to go unnoticed.
Monika stepped closer. "Kenta, what is it?" she asked softly.
Kenta beseeched her intently, trying to think of the right words to ask. "I . . . I just thought you were . . . I mean, you look kinda . . . tired, that's all." He shrugged. "I dunno, I might be imagining things, don't mind me," he added with a short laugh.
But Monika, ever so insightful and intuitive, who seemed to know him better than his own self did at times, simply smiled again, as if she had sensed what else he chose not to utter. "I thought so. Well, you're not wrong. I'm feeling a bit drained right now," she replied.
Kenta looked at her for a moment. "Can I ask why?" he said quietly.
"Of course you can," said Monika in reply. "The truth is things have been happening, and not a lot of them are positive. I knew I should've told you about them before, but I guess I didn't want to stress you out as well, and I also wanted to concentrate on making it better instead of letting my emotions get the better of me."
Kenta nodded. "I understand." After a brief pause, he added rather stiffly, "It's Takeo again, right?"
Monika let out a sigh. "Partly. It's more of . . . well, my parents."
"O-Oh." Kenta fell silent for a moment, his anticipation of annoyance grinding to a sudden halt as his earlier thoughts were proven true. Though he was prepared to voice his thoughts about Takeo Kimura's stuck-up antics, family matters were an entirely different matter. Because Monika did not bring her parents up much in conversations, especially after his brief first meeting with her mother, Kenta always avoided touching on the subject.
Monika looked at him, noticing his sudden silence. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't want to dampen the mood or anything, but I figured it'd be better if I was honest about what I'm feeling. To be frank, it's getting hard to do that nowadays at home."
"No, no, it's okay," said Kenta hurriedly. "I just . . . I'm sorry for asking."
"Don't be," Monika told him. "You wanted to know, and I think it'd be better if I didn't shoulder this all the time on my own."
"Well, I'm glad that you trust me enough to tell me right now. I know it's stressful, and that you might not wanna talk about it right now. . ."
"It's fine." Monika smiled again to reassure him. "We'll discuss it over a cup of coffee at downtown, okay? For now, I just want to walk quietly. With you, of course."
Kenta blushed. "W-Well, I'm here all the way," he said, smiling back.
Though the Cocoa Connection was occupied by more people than usual, there was still solace to be found upstairs in the quieter sections of the bistro's second floor. The sight of blissful couples conversing and cuddling on loveseats belied the more somber mood that was gripping Monika, but she kept her gaze straight and made her way up the stairs in dutiful silence. Kenta followed beside her, casting occasional glances of worry as they went. Monika felt his gaze upon her many times before when they were walking downtown without exchanging a lot of words, and she could practically feel his concern and urge to start asking questions.
When their orders finally came—a cup of hot espresso for Monika, a glass of caramel macchiato for Kenta, with a clubhouse sandwich to share between the two of them—only then did Monika settle down. She let out a sigh, rubbing her eyes wearily.
"It all started yesterday, at home," she began, bracing her hands around her cup and letting the warm ceramic soothe her palms. "Mom wanted me to come along with them to this business dinner she and Dad were having with some of the people who were going to help them set up in Osaka."
"That sounds a bit lame," Kenta muttered.
"You can say that," said Monika with a short laugh. "This isn't the first time they asked me to tag along on meetings like this one, and it's always so dull for someone who's not involved in the family business like me. So I told Mom that I didn't want to go. Besides being out of place, I had things to do for the debate club, like finalizing the requirements needed for us to officially enter the nationals."
"What did your mom say?"
"She . . . She got a little peeved. It caught me off guard, to be honest. She went on this short tirade about how I'm starting to be lax about a lot of things, about how I'm starting to rebel against them and how I seem to avoid talking to them. It's just . . . wrong. I mean, 'avoid talking to them?' Really? She's going to tell me that when she and Dad are practically the ones who never say anything to me unless they have an actual reason to? It just feels wrong."
Feeling her frustration boiling up, Monika took a sip of espresso to soothe her emotions. "I told Mom just as much, and she just got even more irritated. She told me all of a sudden how she and Dad want me to come along on these kinds of meetings to let me get a feel of how the family business is. Learn the ropes, basically."
"Wait, so they want you to get involved in the business?" asked Kenta.
"I think so, though they seem to have a funny way of showing it. It's like they're pushing me headlong into it without asking me first. I mean, I've always had the idea that they'd want me to join them in the business, but I wish they took the time to actually talk to me about it. Then again, they've done that with a lot of things before in the past, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When I do have something to say, they'll just walk all over it and tell me to just go along with what they want. Well, last night, I didn't want any of that."
A short silence fell. Monika took another sip from her cup, her eyes resting on the polished surface of the table before her. In her mind, she recalled what had happened, how her mother had stared at her with that utterly disapproving look on her beautiful face. In spite of her exasperation at what had happened, Monika had been struck the most by that look, so much so that she spent a good deal of the night contemplating about the argument as she lay awake on her bed.
Kenta fidgeted for a moment on the table, his opal eyes bearing a contemplative look. His macchiato remained untouched, Monika noticed.
"How about Takeo?" Kenta asked quietly. "Something happened with him too, right?"
Monika nodded, her temple throbbing once as she remembered the stress from earlier. "A problem with the budget for the nationals, to be exact. Takeo fears it'll set us back and maybe even stop us from finalizing our requirements in time. He told off a lot of our junior officers for it."
"Did they steal the money or something?"
"No. They just couldn't finalize where exactly the funds will be allotted, and we can't exactly start allotting unless we know exactly where the money's going to go. Our juniors were simply too caught up in festival preparations and other things to take care of it immediately. As always, Takeo says they're being too lax. Totally ridiculous, if you ask me. Our juniors are doing their best, I'm sure, but he doesn't believe it. He . . . He even suggested that they were trying to sabotage things on purpose to skip out on practice."
Kenta let out a gruff sigh. "Seriously, where is this guy even coming from with all this?" he snapped. "It's not your problem if he's always got a stick shoved up his—"
"I know," Monika interrupted, noticing the rising tone in Kenta's voice and wishing to defuse it early on. "It's totally demoralizing for the rest of the club when he goes on like that. When I stepped in and reminded him of his boundaries, that's when he . . ."
Kenta sat up straighter. "When he what? Monika, if he shouted at you or something, I'll—"
Monika waved her hand quickly. "No, it wasn't like that, okay?" And indeed it wasn't; the icy stare that Takeo gave her when she had stepped in to diffuse the situation was not volatile like what Kenta might be imagining, but it had the same edge that her mother's disapproval had the night before. She let out a helpless sigh. In spite of her frustration, she did not want to vent too much and cause Kenta to snap, knowing full well that his opinion of Takeo was shaky enough as it is. While she did not think Kenta would accost Takeo the following day, sharing the details of her earlier confrontation with Takeo with him may darken his mood, and it was the last thing she wanted now that Kenta was doing better.
Kenta would want to know, she mused to herself. Somehow, it reminded her of Sayori's hesitation with letting Akihiro know of the problems she was going through.
"He didn't shout or fight me or something, don't worry. He just . . . started questioning my leadership in front of the others."
Takeo's words rang almost unwarranted in her mind as she spoke. Are you seriously going to keep on being the doting mother to everyone, Monika? Are you always going to answer irresponsibility with such niceties without any attempts at discipline? Are you truly going soft on us at such a crucial junction? With these words, which Takeo had spoken in a chilly tone that matched the coldness in his eyes then, Monika's indignation had grown. Indeed, Takeo was right; she always chose to soften her seriousness with lenience, but only because she knew that any lapses made could be addressed without actively discouraging a club member by scolding him or her needlessly in front of the others. Takeo, on the other hand, had little patience for such an approach, and she had resented him many times before because of this, even more so after their most recent mishap. But she didn't dare give voice to her frustration in front of her fellow club members, not if she wanted to avoid a serious argument and create conflict on the road to the nationals.
"It's not that I don't like being questioned," Monika went on. "Even leaders make mistakes, and I've made my fair share of them. But I think it got to me a lot more than usual because . . . well, that thing with Mom already has me stressed out, and this just added fuel to the fire. And it's made worse by the fact that I couldn't say everything that I wanted to say about it. On both instances, I just . . . kept quiet, acknowledged the situation and went meekly. Granted, I managed to skip out on going to the business dinner with my parents, but it's hardly a win. In the next few days, they're just going to act like nothing happened, and I'll just fall back in line and go with the flow. I mean, that's how it's always been with them, and maybe even with Takeo and the debate club. I . . . I think it's involuntary at this point."
"What do you mean involuntary?"
"Like it's already ingrained in my system to just follow what people need me to do, and even if I want to deviate from that, I'd do it in the end regardless. It's like . . . like my choices don't matter."
As she uttered those last few words, Monika felt her hands grow limp. The truth of them struck her a lot more than she had expected. Perhaps it was because she had been coasting for so long on the comfort and joy of being with people like Kenta. Perhaps as she spent more time with him and people like Sayori, Akihiro and all the rest, she had been made to believe that her choices mattered, that she could deviate from the dull grey of her routine-based life and find some color in the world. Perhaps that was why these recent altercations with her mother and Takeo Kimura and the stress of the debate club stung so much. After all, when one floats on lofty heights, it can presage a painful fall back down to Earth.
Monika stood up, her eyes cast downward. "Excuse me. I need a moment," she uttered softly.
"Oh, s-sure, go right ahead," said Kenta.
With a grateful but fleeting smile, she turned from the table and made her way towards the nearby restroom. Dejection began suffusing her upset mood with an additional somber shade, and it was more than she could bear without standing up and going somewhere to ease her stress.
In the restroom, she walked over to the mirrors, gazing at her reflection as she leaned on the marble sinks, her palms stinging against the cold surface. Other patrons would come and go, passing her by to go into the nearby stalls or wash their hands on the neighboring sinks. Monika, however, remained where she stood, staring deep into her own eyes, letting her gloom run its course in silence. Nothing was out of place except the telltale signs of tiredness on her visage, slivers leaking through the cracks of a mask. As her own face stared back at her, it looked as if she was gazing out of a hole, from a landscape where she was alone and trapped.
The thoughts that ran through her head, the emotions she was feeling, they were all both jarring and miserably familiar, Monika knew. She was no stranger to having sleepless nights in the past, wishfully thinking about the other things in life that lay beyond her grasp. It had colored the poems she had made in the past, fueled her fingers as she played the piano alone at her house, and even inspired her to write that song she had played for Kenta long ago. It made her yearn for freedom, freedom beyond the mundane veil of her everyday life. And for a while, as she took those first brave steps with Kenta and their common friends, Monika believed that this horizon of liberty was a lot closer than she had expected.
And then the truth was there like a splash of cold water to the face, waking her up to realities that she thought she had already moved on from.
Monika sighed, looking away from her reflection. Kenta was waiting, she knew, and as dejected as she felt, she did not want him to go home feeling the same.
By the time they had finished their beverages and their sandwich, night had already fallen. Monika was soon anticipating with mounting heaviness the arrival of Mr. Fujita in the family car to pick her up, ready to give her that reality check that had punctuated her moments of bliss many times before. Kenta made no move to ask questions about what she had shared to him earlier, but the concern and conflict was plain to read on his face. Monika did not want to discourage him from asking something that she would be able to reply to, but Kenta seemed keen on avoiding the topic for her sake, and instead he had asked her random things about the festival and the next get-together they would be having with the rest of their friends. With a faint glimmer of hope, Monika looked forward to the respite and comfort of being with Sayori and the rest soon on another casual outing, though the weight of the upcoming nationals still hung over her head waiting to water down her joy.
The cold night air caressed their faces with its sting as they exited the bistro to wait for Mr. Fujita to arrive. Many times before, the two of them had ended their evening excursions in such ways, but none as potentially subdued as this time around. Kenta kept glancing sideways at her, always holding back whenever he'd open his mouth in an attempt to speak before she would go home.
When Monika locked eyes with him as he glanced again, she smiled and reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his in a gentle clasp.
"I'll be fine, Kenta."
Beneath Kenta's opal gaze, conflict kept warring. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Just one of those days. It'll pass, okay?" And yet as she said those words, Monika wondered privately for just how long it'll be before things do pass. Not knowing what else to say, she gave Kenta's hand a reassuring squeeze, and felt slightly more hopeful from the warmth.
The family car arrived not long after their brief exchange, pulling up carefully alongside the sidewalk to line up perfectly with them. Monika made to walk towards the back door, turning back to Kenta to say goodbye, but she stopped short as the door opened all of a sudden.
Even on what Monika knew was an ordinary evening, her mother still looked as sophisticated as ever. She climbed out of the car with both purpose and grace, her high heels clicking as they touched down on the pavement. The deep red dress she was wearing was topped by a long black coat, making her look like she was on her way to another business dinner.
Before Monika could speak, her mother looked at her and nodded towards the car. "Get in," she told her curtly before turning her gaze upon Kenta, who looked equally astounded at her sudden arrival.
"Mom—" Monika began, but her mother cut across her.
"In the car, Monika. Please."
With reluctance and puzzlement bordering on worry, Monika climbed in the car, looking back over her shoulder as her mother walked over to Kenta. Standing up straighter, Kenta stood his ground, though his face bore the same apprehension that Monika felt as her mother stood before him. From where she sat in the car, Monika could tell that her mother was speaking to Kenta, though the distance coupled with the ambient noises in the vicinity made it difficult to figure out what she was saying.
"Miss Monika? Is everything fine?" said Mr. Fujita from the driver's seat.
Monika hung back, hesitating, her hand still on the car door. Part of her wanted to get out of the car and ask her mother what exactly she was up to, but she knew that such a move might exacerbate whatever was happening right now. All around them, people merely kept walking by, not even glancing at her mother or Kenta. Monika took that as a sign that perhaps what she was seeing was no argument in the making, though where her mother was concerned, it could be anything.
Slowly, silently, she closed the car door. "Everything's fine, Mr. Fujita," she replied at last, smiling at the old driver in an effort to hide her worry. "May I ask why Mom is with you?"
"She'll be meeting a few of her friends down at the posh restaurant by the city hall," Mr. Fujita replied. "When she found out that I was going to pick you up here, she asked if I could drop her off along the way."
"I see." Monika glanced again outside the car's windows at Kenta and her mother. "Was she . . . was she angry or something?"
"I don't think so," said Mr. Fujita. "She seemed right as rain throughout the trip."
Until she saw Kenta standing there with me, Monika guessed.
After a minute of waiting and watching, her mother returned to the car, taking her place at the passenger seat in complete silence. Monika quickly looked back at Kenta, checking to see if he had taken any sort of verbal beating. Kenta, however, merely smiled and saluted in farewell, betraying no hints as to what he might have heard firsthand. All Monika could do was smile and wave back as their car slowly rejoined traffic and drove down the street. She turned in her seat, watching Kenta's figure shrink in the distance as he walked home.
At last, she turned to her mother. With some relief, she managed to steady her voice, as she asked, "Mom, what was that back there? What did you talk to Kenta about?"
Her mother kept her eyes on the road. "I told him a few things," she replied curtly.
"And what things are those, exactly?" asked Monika tentatively.
"Nothing too harsh, I assure you. I just wanted him to know his place."
Monika stared at the back of her mother's head, aghast at how self-contradictory the reply sounded. "'Know his place?' What does that even mean?"
Her mother craned her neck, giving her the smallest of glances. "We'll discuss this some other time, Monika. I need to be somewhere, and you need to be at home. Your father will be waiting for you to arrive before dinner."
"I'm not hungry." Monika sat back, indignation coursing through her. Seemingly content with her surrender, her mother sat up straighter and returned her gaze upon the road. This time, Mr. Fujita was the one who glanced back, and Monika felt her frustration ease as she saw the concern in the old man's eyes.
Back home, her father met her with the same casual cordiality that he always showed everyone, oblivious to the argument that almost happened earlier. Monika greeted him routinely and went upstairs, not intending to stick around during an awkward dinner filled with questions and clarifications about what happened last night. Luckily, her father was soon made busy with a phone call from a business associate, and Monika managed to quickly retreat into her room undisturbed. After getting dressed in a flash, she sat down on her bed and took a look at her phone.
Kenta had sent her only a single text, but its length gave her some form of reassurance. "hey there. i hope ur ok. don't worry, i'm fine too. ur mom didn't say anything too harsh, tho i'm not gonna lie, her stare was pretty scary lol. anyway, take care of urself, alright? don't let ur mom or ur dolt VP get 2 ya too much. whatever's got them riled up, it'll pass, and things will be back 2 normal b4 u know it :) see ya around!"
In spite of her own doubts and concern, Monika had to smile at the candid cordiality of Kenta's message. It made her appreciate him even more, and regret that she practically fled from him earlier to find respite from her dejection.
"i hope that is indeed the case for the next few days. here's to hoping the festival will help me recover from all this. you take care too, okay? see you at school, and thank you for everything :)"
Sending her reply, Monika let out a sigh and looked around, her eyes resting on her reflection in the nearby mirror that hung next to her bed. Tomorrow was going to be another day; another day to put on a brave face and keep fighting, to make sure that everything was okay, or if that was not possible, to at least pretend that everything was okay. Such was the struggle of the leader, the princess who wanted out, the doting mother who wanted to both understand and be understood.
Monika stood up and walked over to her desk opposite the bed, taking out the notebook in which she often wrote her poetry from her schoolbag. So many feelings and thoughts were coursing through her that it felt just right to finally settle down and let them out through writing. Nowadays, the only papers and words she often saw and made were the ones related to the debate club—notes to be corrected, forms to be signed, and other such things. This time, she wanted to write what she wanted, if only to make her feel grounded again and distract her from the worry of the next few days. Her pen at the ready, like the keys of a piano beneath her fingertips, she began to think—and feel.
It was around nine o'clock by the time she finished her poem. As she stared at the words she had written, Monika wondered if her writing style had changed without her knowing it, owing to her mood nowadays and the experiences that had influenced it.
"It couldn't have been me.
See, the direction the spackle protrudes.
A noisy neighbor? An angry boyfriend? I'll never know. I wasn't home.
I peer inside for a clue.
No! I can't see. I reel, blind, like a film left out in the sun.
But it's too late. My retinas.
Already scorched with a permanent copy of the meaningless image.
It's just a little hole. It wasn't too bright.
It was too deep.
Stretching forever into everything.
A hole of infinite choices.
I realize now, that I wasn't looking in.
I was looking out.
And he, on the other side, was looking in."
Monika knew the imagery hearkened back to her thoughts at the Cocoa Connection's restroom, when she stared at her own face in the mirror and found herself thinking that she was staring out of a gaping hole to another reality, a hole leading to the infinite choices that she had believed in. When she had begun looking for the right voice in which to convey her sentiments, she found herself laughing and shaking her head as she wondered if she was merely feeling overly dramatic about the hands she was being dealt nowadays at school and at home—the typical pangs of a teenager in high school. But the more Monika wrote, the more she knew she was burdened, more burdened than she wanted to let on. Reading through the words again, they sounded true to the turmoil she felt, the pressure and loneliness she felt in being trapped. Monika wanted to put in some references to her mother—she had put Takeo in as both the "noisy neighbor" and, almost grudgingly, the "angry boyfriend"—but instead she found herself avoiding the thought of her lest her frustration return to cloud her thoughts.
As always, though, Monika wanted to look at the brighter side of things, and thus her poem ended on the hopeful note brought by "he." She pondered on whether she would show Kenta this particular poem or not, partly to make up for leaving him alone at the table in confusion and worry and for the embarrassment he undoubtedly felt at her mother's sudden presence. Either way, whatever she would end up choosing to do, she felt immensely grateful once again for the comfort he always brought her, and found herself wishing that the next time they met, it would be on a happier note.
Kenta stared at the ceiling of his room, enduring the silence in solitude. He wanted to text, to call, to check and see if Monika was still awake. However, the clock flashing at half an hour past eleven dampened his resolve. Monika would be asleep by now, and after the particularly stressful day she had endured, Kenta was reluctant to take up any more of her time. Still, the lies he had told her through text was starting to bother him, and he began to wonder if he was digging himself a hole by letting them stand. Again and again, for the past hour he typed out various messages of admission, but he always ended up deleting them before he could get the courage to actually send them.
Mrs. Steinbeck made her intentions crystal clear when she stared him down in front of the Cocoa Connection. Kenta had expected her to berate him for taking Monika out with her permission, but instead Mrs. Steinbeck took another approach to express her thinly veiled disapproval of him.
Mr. Yamaguchi, I know that you and my daughter are seeing each other. While I wouldn't normally mind that too much, I've noticed that she's starting to become a bit more . . . rebellious than normal. I've seen that for myself recently, and even heard it from some of her schoolmates. Now, now, before you say anything, please let me finish. Monika has a bright future ahead of her, and we are doing everything we can to make sure it stays that way. I trust that she told you about our move to Osaka, so it should be obvious how important our plans are for her. We do not want her to be distracted from that, or from the national debate competition she will be attending this January. If it's not too much to ask, please steer clear of her. She needs to refocus on her priorities, and I'm sure that you want what is best for her too. I will be talking to her about this as well. Thank you.
That Mrs. Steinbeck did not even wait for him to reply or say anything told Kenta enough. He had wanted to speak out, to get in a word edgewise, but standing face to face with Monika's mother is not as easy as staring down Takeo Kimura or any other rival he would ever face. After all, what good would an argument in public do except to exacerbate the situation and potentially take Monika away from him for good? Then again, with the precarious situation he was in, Kenta was already feeling the walls close in around him.
The lie would have to endure for now, he knew. Apologizing to Monika in his mind, he sighed and turned around, closing his eyes as he waited for sleep to overtake him.