Koji, Hitomi and Aya sat on the corrugated roof of the warehouse, using towels to keep the metal from burning them. Even so, the late afternoon breeze was cool. They watched for a while in silence as boats drifted over the surface of the water. Aya's mind wandered in the form of semi-transparent images sliding by in her mind's eye, overlapping each other as they moved in opposite directions. She saw the Heavenly Dogs playing to the dancing crowd, the food court of the mall, Ryu's smile when she broke the smuggling story, the press conference, walking down the sidewalk on a busy day, washing her brown contact lenses in a small plastic tube, watching the traffic crawl by, far beneath her window.
Hitomi squeezed Aya's hand, bringing her out of her reverie. “It's really good to see you again,” Hitomi said, smiling. “I'd wondered where you ran off to.”
Aya was touched by Hitomi's sincerity. “Well, I have been pretty busy.”
“And Koji told me you were ill.”
“Yes, that, too. A few times, actually.”
“Oh?” Koji looked worried.
“Have you gone to a doctor?” Hitomi asked.
“It never occurred to me to see a doctor,” the tengu replied, thinking out loud.
“I don't blame you,” Koji said. “I don't trust doctors.”
“Sick how?” Hitomi pressed.
“I get these really bad headaches.” Aya explained. “They're very powerful. My eyes got blurry, my ears ring, sometimes I even vomit. It's terrible. I've never experienced anything like it.”
Hitomi nodded. “Migraines.”
“Oh.” So that's what they're called.
“Yeah, my grandfather used to get them pretty bad. He'd just lay down in a dark room and wait for it to pass. And we had to be super quiet then – he couldn't handle any noise. He told me he's had them since he was a teenager.”
Aya considered this. “I never had them before I moved to town.”
“Could be stress related. You never had these in Korea?”
“Never,” Aya said, watching the ships on the water.
Hitomi smiled. “Definitely sounds like stress to me. There's medicine you can take, though. Or you could learn how to live with them.”
Aya nodded. She knew it wasn't simple stress. She'd experienced stress before, many times. Living in Gensokyo was often times the height of stress – there was simply no comparison between trying to meet a deadline and dodging a lightning fast barrage of danmaku.
A tanker ship and a sailboat passed each other on the water, the latter giving the former a wide berth as it made its way past, easily avoiding its wake.
A thought solidified within the tengu. What she was experiencing was something different from stress. It was more like an allergic reaction. And there was no helping an allergy. You could take medicine to make you more comfortable, but the allergy would remain. In truth, there was only one way to get rid of an allergy.
“Hitomi, would it be very rude of me to ask if I could stay the night here tonight?”
Koji looked surprised, but Hitomi beamed warmly.
“Of course you can,” she said. “Our couch is always open to you.”
Aya smiled. “Thank you, Hitomi.”
Aya didn't sleep that night. She stayed up with the Heavenly Dogs, talking, drinking, laughing. She even made an attempt at drumming when a jam session began. Hitomi's voice was clear and strong, and Koji's guitar work was as intricate as a woven tapestry.
Aya needed this. She needed to celebrate life with these people, relish their freedom with them. As they dropped off to sleep one by one, she kept wanting to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Hitomi was the last to go to bed.
“Aya,” she'd said as she spread a blanket across the couch, “You really got to come by more often. I mean really. You're a lot of fun, kiddo, y'know that? I know you've been sick, and working a lot, but don't work too much, OK?”
“I promise I won't work too much.”
“Good, good. It's important in life to remember what makes it worth living. And you know what that is, don't you?”
“Doing what you love?” Aya suggested.
“Eeeeexactly. Right. You're a smart girl, Aya.” Hitomi yawned. “Woo … think I had a bit too much beer. Anyways, Aya. Listen. Don't get caught in the rat race. Be yourself.” Hitomi shuffled off to her futon. “You're so cool. Good night.”
“Good night,” Aya said, watching Hitomi walk away.
“What do you mean, you're quitting?” Ryu asked, raising his voice. “Is this about making you work when you were sick? Because I really had no idea that-”
“No, it's not like that,” Aya assured him. “I really like working here. It's for personal reasons. I need to go back home.”
Ryu studied her face for a moment, trying to decide something. “Look,” he lowered his tone. “I'll try to scrape together a salary for you somehow, alright? I can't promise anything stellar, but … damn it, Syameimaru. You break a huge story, and that's when you decide to quit?”
“I'm sorry. But it's what I need to do.” Aya bowed deeply. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
“Yeah,” Ryu grunted, releasing a sigh.
Aya straightened and turned, walking away from his desk.
“Syameimaru,” Ryu called after her. “Keep us in mind if you're ever in town again, alright?”
“Will do!” Aya called back. Hideaki eyed her as she walked to his desk.
“Did I hear that right?” he asked. “'If you're ever in town again'?”
“I'm afraid so.” Aya smiled. “I just resigned.”
Hideaki shook his head, confused. “Why? What's wrong?”
“Personal reasons. I need to go back home.”
“For how long?”
“Well, I don't know. But I don't think I'll be coming back for a very long time.”
“That's a real shame,” Hideaki said. “I know you haven't been feeling well lately, physically and emotionally, but after you broke that story I thought you might brighten up a bit. Most journalists wait their whole lives for a story that big.”
“I know. And I'm very grateful for your help here.”
“Nonsense. You're naturally talented. All I did was cheerlead.”
“You're too modest.”
“No, I mean it. You could go all the way if you wanted. So, I do hope if you never come back here, you at least never give up journalism.”
Aya nodded. “I promise I'll never give up journalism.”
“Alright then.” Hideaki stood, and bowed. “It's been an honor working with you.”
“And with you as well.” Aya didn't know what else to say. “Just … take care of yourself, will you? Learn to relax sometimes.”
Hideaki appeared to start to say something, but then changed his mind. “I will. Good bye, Aya.”
Aya smiled, turned, and walked through the doors of the office, the ringing of phones, clattering of keyboards, and the undertones of office conversations following in her wake. She stepped onto the sidewalk, lifted her face to the sun, and walked home, just like any other person on the street.
Koji woke, cautiously opening his eyes. The moment the early afternoon sun hit them, he felt the searing pain of a white-hot coat hanger being pushed through his forehead, and he shut his eyes again. Way too much beer last night. It had been his own fault for trying to keep up with Aya. Who knew a girl that petite could drink so much without even seeming to get drunk?
Koji's thirst reached to the pit of his stomach. He felt he would crack in two like a stale cracker if he didn't get some water. With great effort, he eased himself to an upright position. Blinking a few times to clear his head, he brought himself to his feet and stepped towards the refrigerator, sending a sheet of paper skittering across the floor.
Koji regarded the paper sideways for a moment, and then noticed his name was handwritten on it. He stopped, picking it up:
Hello, everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for a wonderful night, for being such gracious hosts. I can honestly say I've never met anyone like you (and that's a compliment, Koji). But I need to go back home now. I'm not suited for living in the city, I decided, and it's affecting my health. But more, my home isn't here, and never will be.
I came here hoping to learn more about people, to figure out what makes them what they are. I'm sure I didn't learn everything there is to know, but I did learn that nobody is the closed-off machine they seem to be. Some people, while living in the same routine, day after day, for years on end, are still empathetic people with a passion in their hearts. And then there are people like you, who live by their hearts alone. You should be very proud of this.
I don't think my experience here would have been the same without you all. I know I wasn't available very often, but I want you to understand how much it meant to me to meet you.
How can I explain it? Imagine that you left home, and ended up some place so different from everything you know that you felt like you were on another planet; that the faces passing you on the street belonged to another species. But then, out of nowhere, you meet people who are almost exactly like the ones you grew up with. That would make things a little better, wouldn't it? I know it meant a great deal to me. Knowing you has been invaluable.
Sometimes you remind me so much of people I know back home, but unfortunately, I can't take you with me. I did, though, leave you something to remember me by, on the table in front of the couch. I'll never forget any of you. Know that I will think of you fondly, and often. Thank you. - Aya
Koji read the letter twice. He felt the powerless desire to say good bye to her, but there was nothing he could do. She was gone now. He closed his eyes and brought the page to his face, inhaling slowly, breathing in her words, her smile, his memories of her.
He put the letter down on his futon and walked to the couch. He looked at the small table that sat in front of it. It was perfectly spotless, except for a single, long black feather.
Aya closed her Bunkachou and lay it next to her, stretching on the grass before sliding her hands under her head, looking up at the clouds drifting across the Gensokyo sky. She crossed her ankles and took a long breath, letting her eyes slowly close. As the summer wind flowed soundlessly over her skin, Aya took a deep, slow breath, and drifted off to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment