An abnormally potent stink of alcohol oozed out of the gap of the apartment door I cracked open. Unable to endure it, I shut the door right back and retreated to the balcony. After taking several deep breaths to clear up the air in my lungs, this time the door was opened wide.
"Finally home eh~ Shoutaa~~"
At the same time, the sound of someone awakening could be heard from the middle of the pitch-black room. Ignoring it, I flicked the room's light switch,
"Gyah-- Don't turn on the lights all of a sudden!"
Mom shrieked and faced back down on the table.
...What's with that state you're in?
The disastrous sight, illuminated by a fluorescent light, rendered me speechless.
Apparently, she's been terribly drunk again. The 2LDK apartment's living room, which had been perfectly orderly up to when I went out, was now devastated as if hit by a local tornado.
"Again, Mom?"
"Oh c'mon~ I just can't help it~~"
Mom raised her face listlessly while scratching her head, further disheveling her hair. Her face was all puffy and her skin all worn-out; alcohol is probably to blame here. Both her eyes were so red that it's painful to even look at. Not a shadow remained of the looks she had when she used to boast that she could look another ten years younger is she were to get serious.
"But of course you can... You're drinking way too much, I say..."
"Now, it's your fault for coming home so late, Shou-chan~~ Mom got soooo lonely... Couldn't go on without drinking it away, yeah?"
Having said that, Mom then chugged down all the remaining half cup of shochu in one go.
"Mu~haa~~ 'twas good. Un~believably good. It's impossible, Shou-chan. I just can't separate myself from this baby~~"
"It's not like I ever told to not to drink, didn't I? I was telling you to stop reckless binging..."
"Hmp~h, kids shouldn't talk back to grown-ups. That said, what's a kid like you even doing up this late? You didn't go to the part-time job again, did you?"
"Of course not. Didn't I already tell you that I was going to hang out with the baseball club guys?"
I opened the refrigerator, using the door to shield myself from Mom's angry line of sight.
"Hmph, then that's fine. Anyways, I'm not letting you do part-time jobs. Go and quit tomorrow. Mom's orders are absolute~!"
"You're bringing that up again?"
I took the chilly barley tea off the fridge, poured it into a cup, then drank it all down.
"It's because you never listen that I just have to say it again and again, right, Shou-chan? You're already a third-year, but you're still going off to do part-time... It's time to prepare for exams, so focus on your studies-- ...Wait, you listening, Shou-chan? What're you rummaging around there for?"
"I'm listening. But you know, the room really needs some cleaning up right now. I'm going to clear the table as well, so give me a hand here."
Things will get dragged on if I mess up in refusing to hear what Mom has to say. In this case, hand-waving it away with some vague statements was the right choice.
"Eh~h, wait a sec-- Don't clean up yet. Mom is still drinking here, you know. Huh-- Oh no! Look here, Shou-chan. Mom's cup is all empty! Shou-chan, hurry! Bring drinks to your poor Mom, chop-chop!"
Doing things this way, she'll just forget the topic herself. Now that Mom has cut off the conversation that she herself had started, she stretched out her arm with her cup in hand, clinking it against a bottle that was just within reach.
"Alright, alright..."
I sighed, with the intention to convey that I have been unwillingly doing all this, then picked up the mostly emptied shochu bottle, put it away in the kitchen, and filled Mom's cup with barley tea instead.
"Ah~~ 'twas good. I know it clears up my throat and all, but you know this isn't what I asked for, right? Now, don't be discouraged by your mistake and give it another go, yeah?"
"Nah, just drink that. It's about time you changed to barley tea for today."
Although Mom normally drinks all the time when she is at home, only about once a month would she go over the limit. Her crying is one indication, so I had to immediately force her to stop consuming alcohol if I were to see her eyes turn red. If I don't, the room would be messed up horribly, and so will Mom's physical condition on the next day.
"You won't ever be young again no matter how much you dress up, so you really should change your drinking habits, Mom."
"He~h, worried about Mom's body, eh? How nice of you, Shou-chan."
Although I did my best to be sarcastic, Mom ended up laughing happily for some reason.
"Really, I wish Miyata-san would follow your example, about being nice and all. Listen to this, Shou-chan. There's this annoying accountant at my hospital..."
"I know. You've been telling me every night."
"Then you'd better listen this time, too. This Miyata-san is acting all high and mighty, saying, it'd be troublesome if you're not more cost-conscious, Koharu-san. Gah, he's gotta be kidding. What does he think he's even saying, cost-conscious? It's the end of the hospital if nurses care more about costs than their patients, dammit. I hope you lose the rest of your hair, damn baldy. Ahh... how annoying. And then there's this other time when--"
"Whoa, hold it. I'll listen to that story later. Isn't there supposed to be some mail for me?"
I raised my hands forward, interrupting Mom before she got so fired-up that she continued her grumbles until dawn.
"That thing from Z-Kai? It's here. On the table."
Mom directed her sight to the room with the wooden floor.
"Just that? Is there anything else?"
"Hm~m, anything else? What'd you mean, anything else~? Your Mom won't know if you don't spell it out, yeah~~?"
...Yup, there is.
Even though she didn't actually give an answer, I could tell just from her ear-to-ear grin.
"C'mon, c'mon. Spell it out, Shou-chan~ What do you think is the other thing that was sent to you~~? ...L-O-V-E-L-E-T-T-E-R~~?"
"Jeez, enough already. Is it also on the table? You haven't looked at what's inside, have you?"
"I already looked, obviously. I'm your Mom, you know. Kids these days still send them, huh~~ These kinds of letters... I used to do these kinds of things when I was a student, too. Snuck them into the desk of a senpai from the basketball club... Da~yum, now that's what I call youth. Hey, so who's this girl? She cute? You kissed? If you haven't, then bring her over next time. I'll be hiding in the closet."
"Alright, alright, next time it is. And make sure to drink your barley tea."
I nailed down a reminder to Mom, who had no intention of lifting her cup up whatsoever, then slid open the door to the room with wooden floor.
The seven-mat room was one of dim flooring. The things I was looking for were arranged on the writing desk by the window.
One was a large envelope of Z-Kai study materials, and the other was a small, flower-patterned envelope. I picked up the envelope that was decorated in its four corners with patterns of deep red gerbera, confirming its external appearance. It was sealed with a heart-shaped sticker, and there was no sign of it having been opened prior.
Mom was obviously joking when she said she had already looked inside, since she couldn't possibly be laughing and messing around like that if she actually did. Although I knew that much, I still couldn't help not double-checking.
Since I first became a third-year, once every month, a flower-patterned envelope from an undisclosed sender would be dropped directly into our mailbox. Mom came to the conclusion that they were love letters intended for me based on the sole fact that they were flower-patterned.
Looks like Mom just turned on the TV. I could hear some mumbling sounds from the living room. Double-checking that the sliding screen was closed, I then turned on the table's stand light. Sitting down on the chair and unsealing the envelope, I then opened up the letter from Dad, which started with "To Shouta," just like always.
The plain white writing paper, lacking any coloring and decorations in a complete contrast with its packaging, contained extremely concise reports of Dad's most current circumstances, written in his quirky handwriting. And as always, a single photograph was enclosed. I wonder what outlying island is this? A cross-shaped island floating amid the waves, with the evening sun in the background. I might not know the exact location, but I knew that it was a place in Japan from the tattered shimenawa hanging from the cross-shaped island, and also,
[An island that fits perfectly with Enka]
Those words, scribbled on the back of the photo, which vivified my visualization.
"...Well, this is new."
I took out a bundle of photographs from the drawer. Then I turned them over, one by one. Malaysia, Mongolia, Czech Republic, South Africa, Mexico... As I thought, this one was the first of his photos to come from Japan.
"I see... so you've come back to Japan."
Dad, a freelance photographer, spends most of his time overseas. The name Hazaki Wataru is apparently quite famous in the field, but I've never heard Dad's name being spoken by anyone else before.
Once again, I looked down at the photograph. It was a curious picture, for sure. Perhaps it was because of the island's fascinating charm, or perhaps it was Dad's expertise in his craft. Either way, I just couldn't take my eyes off the photo. As I stared at it, I felt as if the roar of waves and the fragrance of the seashore were wafting through the air.
Mom's laughter could be heard from the room next to mine. Then a coughing fit, throat-clearing, and then a soliloquy, "Let's get some more barley tea~". Separated by the sliding screen, Mom was putting an excessive effort in calling for attention to her existence.
I was never told how a photographer who wanders the world and a nurse who works for a hospital in the Tokyo metropolitan area came to meet and fall in love, but the married life between Dad who was barely at home and Mom who easily succumbs to loneliness would not last long. Perhaps it was just too predictable, just as many of our relatives have been saying from the started.
Apparently, Mom would always drink and cry alone whenever Dad was away from home. Then, after giving birth to me by herself at the hospital, she changed to crying while holding me instead. All while making idle complaints about Dad. Even so, Mom would be so delighted when Dad finally came home once in a while, spending her time laughing happily up until it was time for Dad's next trip. Mom has always truly loved Dad, I'm sure.
But that probably made it all the more painful for her in the end. After their divorce, Mom ended up refusing absolutely all contact from Dad. She never picked up his phone calls, never accepted his mails and letters, never took any child-support money, and never talked about the past.
This letter being able to reach me was thanks to my clumsy Dad finding a way with all his wits, which resulted in him not writing any receiver and sender's names. Dad bet his chances on Mom's head coming up with no more than the straightforward formula that [Flower-Patterned Envelope = Love Letter] and won a splendid victory, sending his letters right into my hands.
Suddenly, the lights in the living room were turned off.
"I'm going to sleep."
I could hear Mom say so quietly, and also the sound of a Japanese-style room's sliding screen being slid open.
"Good night."
I answered, switched off the stand light, then opened the window, taking care to not make a noise.
Through the branches of tall elm trees, I overlooked the dimly lit park.
It was a small, triangular park that was built to the back of the two-story apartment building.
It was a lonely park, with only a playground slide and a swing apologetically sharing its space.
From my memory, Dad would always be there. Dad, the man who taught me baseball.
[Let's go play catchball.]
He would always invite me along with those words. Dad, the man who liked beer, tobacco, kombu, and most of all, baseball. Because he couldn't choose anything as his favorite, he would always wear a shabby hat with letters which seemed to not be the name of any baseball team.
The wind swayed and rustled the elm leaves around.
Illuminated by nothing but a single street light, the playground slide drew a short shadow on the ground. Right beside that slide was the spot where Dad would be when we were playing catchball. In reality, Dad may be someone who travels the world, but even now, inside me, Dad would always be sitting right there, poised for a catch with his glove.
I imagined myself holding a ball in my left hand and pitching it, aiming at Dad. The ball made its way through the elm branches, landing right in the middle of Dad's glove.
"Ball."
Saying that, Dad then threw the ball back to me.
Dad's judgements have always been relentless.
Chapter 2 Complete
Hi, is this still active?
ReplyDeleteIt's active, yes. I'm back to it now that I'm done with Kino. The next parts have some complicated things to translate into English though, so I'm still figuring out how to deal with them and keep them consistent.
Deletenice to hear that, looking forwards to it ^^
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