Reclaimed – Chapter 3

I’m in a hospital bed dressed in a light gown. The world around me is fuzzy and soft, viewed through a smudged lens, and my mouth is dry. I try to clear my throat and shift but moving my body is difficult and shifting my hips irritates my skin. A flash of memory, blood in the bathroom and how it stained my underwear and legs, knocks the wind out of me. Tears start before I can even ask where I am.

“How could you let this happen, Jiro? I trusted you to take care of her. She looks like hell.”

My eyes focus on Aunt Kimie in the doorway with Lomo. She’s berating Jiro, his head dipped.

“She’s so skinny. Haven’t you been feeding her? And it looks like something has up and died in her hair!”

Lomo cries into a handkerchief, sobs that shake her shoulders. My mouth refuses to form a sentence and the signals from my brain to my body are so slow, lagged and disjointed.

“Hey,” I squeak out. Three sets of eyes snap to me, and my aunts rush to my side. Jiro waves at someone in the hallway and follows them in.

“Sanaa, thank the gods you’re okay. I saw my life flash before my eyes when they brought you in.” Aunt Kimie lifts my hand to her mouth and presses her lips against it. Right. I must be back in Yamato at the hospital. My aunts work here.

I lick my lips; they’re cracked and dry. “Don’t be mean to Jiro,” I whisper at them. “Not his fault.”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The young woman doctor who accompanied us on the shuttle comes around to my other side with a tablet in her hand. She hums over the read-outs, leans in to examine my face and eyes, and pulls a stool over next to me. “I’m afraid we have bad news, Miss Itami.” She nods at Jiro, as he sits on the bed at my hip and takes my hand in his.

“I’m so, so sorry but we lost the baby,” he says. I nod through my tears and squeeze his hand tight. I knew it would come to this. There was just no way I was going to hold onto the baby. Days of riding horses, not eating, constant sickness, kidnapping, and being drugged took their toll. I’m amazed I held onto it for as long as I did.

“I’m sorry I failed us,” I whisper. He shakes his head at me. “I promise to do better next time.”

“You didn’t fail. My gods, you’re the strongest person I know.” He turns his eyes to my aunts. “I swear I had no idea she was so far gone. We’ve been traveling for weeks and hadn’t even showered for ten days. If only I had seen her without clothes on, I would have known.”

I direct my eyes down. Listening to Jiro plead with my aunts hurts my soul.

“Miss Itami, I know this is hard and you have my condolences. Miscarriages are very common especially with early pregnancies. Your body had been through a lot of hardships lately, and I think this is an indication that, for future pregnancies, you should take it easy.”

“I can get pregnant again?” My words slur and eyes droop. I must be drugged to dull the pain.

“Yes. Of course.” The doctor squeezes my arm. “Many woman miscarry several times before having healthy pregnancies. I’m very sorry.”

My head bobs and my eyes refuse to stay open.

“We’ll keep her on the antibiotics and pain killers for another twenty-four hours and then you can take her home to rest. She should be fine in about five to seven days.”

A warm hand jostles my shoulder, and I pry my eyes open. “You’ll be all right. Rest and relax. Pregnancy symptoms could last four to six weeks, though, so you should do whatever you can to abate those. Mr. Itō told me about the cake?” She raises her eyebrows, and I nod. “It’s being analyzed by the lab but herbal medicine like this should do the trick. If you’re uncomfortable smoking it, please ingest it.” She bows to me before leaving the room.

“What a mess,” Aunt Kimie mumbles. I slip into unconsciousness again.

Darkness is the only safe place to be.

Once I’m out of the hospital, we return to the temple where we prayed for Koichi, the day we met Hiro for the first time. Hiro walks through the grounds and sweeps the porch, kneels and prays for his parents. I bring a blanket and sit seiza outside in front of the Jizō statues with Jiro and Sakai. I ignore the pains in my body and concentrate on the prayers I’ve never been good at.

Stones I collected from the estate sit heavy in my pocket before I pile them with other stones next to the line of statues. I hope this brings peace and a safe passage to the afterlife for my lost child because it’s the only thing I can do, the only way available for me to grieve.

Night is not a peaceful and easy time for me. I wanted to be home in my own bed — I begged Jiro to be home — but I didn’t expect to be sleeping in my bed with my cat and dog under such circumstances. I lost the baby, our baby. A part of me is empty now, a hole in my gut where once was the promise of a real future. I deserved that baby. My family deserved to continue on. Now I can only hope I can try again someday. Jiro stirs, his warm arms wrapped around me, and he sighs into my back. I lift my eyes to the clock — 5:05am — way too early to be awake. Not even the birds are chirping outside yet.

It’s been five days since the miscarriage, but the nausea hasn’t abated. I shift in Jiro’s arms and freeze as he lets go, rolls over, and falls back to sleep. Kumo and Momo with one of her kittens are asleep at the foot of our bed. I put my bare feet on the cold floor, unwrap a napkin of crackers on the nightstand, and slowly munch away while taking sips of water.

This is my new routine laid out by Oyama. Whenever I wake, I’m to eat crackers and drink water. No matter the time. So, if the sun is about to rise and I’m awake, I eat the crackers, drink the water, and smoke the cake. This is the only time of day I’m required to smoke. I can return to bed if I like because Oyama or Beni will come to me with breakfast around eight. Oyama has figured out how to soak the cake in oil and use it in food so I get the relief I need. I don’t have to worry about the baby anymore, so I partake of the cake gratefully. What do I have to lose at this point?

I grab the cigarette and the lighter from the bedside table and tiptoe out to the porch. The sky is still dark, and I know I’ll go back to sleep, but I might as well get the routine underway. I light the cigarette and stand with my back against the wall, gazing out at the garden and pond. Oyama’s garden has flourished in our absence. Sprouts of green shoot from the ground in straight lines, the dirt giving way to life. I remember my own hands in that soil, tending it and seeding it. Look at how dirt can grow things but my own body cannot.

“When you die in a few days, I’ll be sure to tell Jiro you went to your grave carrying his unborn child.”

Wouldn’t Risa be glad to know of my continued failure?

I inhale on the cigarette again, pull a piece of cake leaf from the tip of my tongue, and flick it to the ground. I take a deep breath, down to the soles of my feet, and let it out as the effects of the cake roll over me, dampen the nausea, and clamp down on my anger.

The soft sound of gravel crunching approaches me, and I squint my eyes into the darkness. Who else is up at this hour? Around the corner of the house comes Miko, dressed in pajamas and a sweater. Her head swivels around, and her nose sniffs the air before she heads straight for me. I haven’t seen her since I returned.

“Sanaa,” she whispers, enfolding me in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Miko…” I move the cigarette from my right hand to my left and smooth out her hair. “Thanks.” I shrug my shoulders. “Miscarriages happen. Why are you up so early?”

“Same as you.” She jerks her head at the cake, and I hand it to her. “I was sick, so I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air, but I smelled the cake.” She inhales, blows the smoke out, and hands the cigarette to me. She wraps her sweater tighter across her chest, leans back on the wall next to me, and I rest my head on her shoulder.

“How far along are you now?” I ask. I want my life to be normal. I don’t want to dwell on my own problems. I’d rather concentrate on my friends.

“Thirteen weeks. Can you believe we’ve been here that long now? Yoichi and I heard the baby’s heartbeat the other day. They gave me a little monitor that syncs with the tablet. I can hear the heartbeat whenever I want.”

“Modern technology is wonderful.” Too bad it couldn’t save me. I fiddle with the cigarette in my fingers, trying to think of the next normal thing I can ask.

“And how is Yoichi?”

She grimaces and tries to cover it up with a smile before sighing. “He’s… Well, he’s annoyed. With Jiro gone, he’s been doing a lot more work for the family than he likes. It’s…” She shrugs.

“Complicated, I’m sure,” I fill in. I clear my throat. “Do you know the sex of the baby?”

“You can find out the sex at ten weeks. They do a scan. We’re having a girl.” Miko’s voice cracks, and her head dips forward, so I extend my arm around her waist and squeeze.

“Don’t cry,” I whisper to her. “Having a baby, boy or girl, is a wonderful thing.”

“That’s not it. I don’t care about the sex of the baby. I feel awful talking about this with you.”

I nod my head and smoke again. “It’ll be all right. Jiro and I will try again someday soon. Maybe in a year.”

Miko wipes her face and sighs. “I should be saying these things to you. I’m a horrible friend.”

“Not true. You’re my best friend.”

We both smile weakly at each other, years removed from the days of sleepovers, gossiping about boys, and playing dress-up with Helena.

“How much longer will you be sick? It seems unfair to lose a baby and still have the pregnancy signs.”

I sigh, letting out all the air from my lungs, and inhale on the cigarette again. “It’s unfair but most of my life is unfair lately anyway, so what’s the difference?”

“I agree. You’ve been dealt a shit hand. No one should go through the kind of torture you’ve gone through.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it’s not over.” I lift my head from the wall behind me as Kumo comes out to sit at my feet. He looks up at me and whines. “What’s up?” I ask him. He comes around to my other side and nudges me away from Miko towards my bedroom. “Okay. Okay.”

Miko laughs. “Your dog is something else. Oh, I’ve decided I want a kitten when Momo is ready to wean.”

I kiss her on the cheek. “Sure. I’ll pass the word along.” I grasp her arm as she turns to go. “Hey, Miko.” I glance left and right to make sure no one else will hear me. This little notion has been nagging at me since I saw the woman with the squirrel and Romi with her animals. “I think the natives here talk to animals.” I bite my lip and wait for her reply. Miko has an amazing bullshit barometer. She can tell when someone is trying to scam her.

“Doesn’t everyone talk to animals now that we have them? I caught Yoichi talking to birds the other day.” She laughs and swats at a fly that buzzes by her head.

“No, really talks to them and they talk back. I thought I saw a woman talking to a squirrel on the road and it whispered back to her. Then we were at a farmhouse and the matron had this monkey, five cats, and a dog, and they all seemed… I don’t know.” I peer out at the darkened sky and wonder what I really saw, or was I just sick and hallucinating?

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful if you could? Just think of the things animals would say.”

I blink my eyes as Miko smiles at me. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Imagine the kinds of things birds see from the air or fish in the sea or cats that sit in strangers’ windows. They would be fun to talk to. Lots of gossip.”

“Huh. You’re right.” I stare off into the garden as a rabbit hops in and tries to get through the netting without luck. What is he thinking? “I’ll let you know if it’s true. I’m going back to bed.”

“Me, too,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Sanaa?” I turn at the door. “Stay strong. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of kids in your future.”

Back in bed after I’ve peed and changed the pad in my underwear, I curl up against Jiro’s back and cry myself to sleep.