Removed – Chapter 11

“Sanaa, can you hear me?”

I feel the press of lips against my forehead and warm hands on either side of my face. I’m sure that’s Sakai, and the roaring in my brain is starting to sound like water rushing through pipes instead. I’m not boiling hot anymore, so I chance to open my eyes and find myself inside the door with a view of the ceiling. Both Sakai and Jiro are crouched over me, concerned, and my head throbs.

“What happened? Why does my head hurt?” My mouth is completely dry, my tongue withered and unusable.

“You went down like a sack of bricks. I think you hit your head. We’ll get you some ice,” Sakai says.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Jiro says, his eyes wide. I realize he’s holding my hand, so I squeeze it.

“I… I’m okay.” I try to sit up, but Sakai puts his hands on my shoulders, and I lie back down.

“You looked up and, before I knew it, you were on the ground.”

I lie silent for a moment thinking about the sky, the rock garden, the watering can. It did happen. I’m not imagining things.

“I’ve never been outside before. All the heat… and the air. The blue sky was crushing me, then the world spun around… and I blacked out?”

Nothing is making sense. Everything was too frightening. Both Jiro and Sakai sit in silence, and I burst into tears when the shock on their faces doesn’t fade.

“What was that? Why did that happen to me? I was so helpless. I couldn’t move.”

Sakai brushes the hair off my face. “Can you sit up now? I think you had a panic attack.”

I pull myself up, and I’m relieved to find the world staying in one place. But a panic attack? Blowing all the breath from my lungs, I take a deeper, calming one.

“I didn’t feel panicked. It was like a part of my brain turned off.”

“May be agoraphobia. Doctors working on the colonization say forcing people who have lived inside all their lives to live outside might be difficult. I think it might be more difficult than they thought,” Sakai says.

I wipe the tears from my face with my free hand. I am not letting go of Jiro.

“I couldn’t help it. Never been outside before.”

Sakai nods. “We’ll have to desensitize you.”

Now I am starting to panic. No, no, no. The blue sky will suck me up and spit me out into space. It’s a wonder gravity even works outside. No, I will not go outside again. Deep breath.

But then I look at Sakai and realize I’m not going to get away with staying inside for the rest of my life. Nishikyō does not exist on Yūsei. No domed city. Everyone will live outside. Oh gods, what a nightmare.

Sakai stands up, and Jiro pulls me to my feet before letting go of my hand. I want to snatch his hand back and hold on forever. I’m cold and alone without it. Instead, I hug myself.

“I want to go home now.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Sakai leads us out of the ward and back to the train. I would give anything to forget this day. Well, at least everything that happened from the elevator ride on.

I head straight home and take a nap before having a quiet meal with my aunts. Today was so confusing, and I can’t concentrate on their conversations. Aunt Kimie asks me about work and all I’m able to say is I have tonight and tomorrow night off. Everything else about my attitude, I blame on the crazy workload.

After dinner, I sit in bed with my tablet reading over news stories and exchanging messages with Miko. She’s been happy but misses me. I’ve missed her and Helena, too. I’m glad Miko will be at the izakaya tomorrow night with Yoichi because I’m dying to see a friendly face. Helena is working a double-shift tomorrow, so it’ll just be us.

“I’m so excited you managed to talk to Jiro!” she writes. “How did that happen?”

I think for a moment about what lie I’m going to tell this time to keep everybody in line. This is getting difficult. Eventually, this web of lies I’ve woven is going to disintegrate, and someone, probably me, will be hurt.

I better go for a half-lie.

“Well, you know I love karate, and I wanted to try something else. He’s teaching me sword fighting. But you can’t tell Aunt Kimie because she’ll freak out.”

There’s silence for at least three minutes, and I sit and watch the clock waiting for Miko to write back.

“Wow. Sword fighting? Really?”

I shocked her.

“Yeah, he came… recommended,” I write.

“Okay. Somehow I can’t imagine you wielding a sword, but… Fine.”

You’re not the only one, Miko.

“I’ve only trained with him a few times in between long shifts, and it was weird with Jiro at first. I have a huge crush on him, and I have no idea if he even likes me. Can we not be too forward about it tomorrow? Please?”

If I don’t come right out and ask her to do this for me, she’ll make some sort of silly comment and embarrass us all. She and Helena know how much I loved Joshua and teased me about it constantly until we broke up and he started making fun of me in front of other people. Chad was how I coped. I hate being embarrassed, and if I go through it again with Jiro, I may never recover.

“Sure. You know I’ll be polite and sweet. I’m happy to see you try someone else.”

A new message pops up, but lo and behold, it’s from Jiro. My finger hovers over the screen before tapping on the alert.

“I hope you’re all right after today. How’s your head?” he writes. I reach up and touch the back of my skull, but thankfully, a bump never formed. I must be more hard-headed than I thought.

Miko’s messages are flashing in the background, but I’m going to ignore them.

“Fine, actually. No bump. Just tired. Been a long day… Well, long few months. I don’t sleep much at night.”

“Me neither. Too much to think about,” he writes.

Is it too much to ask he’s thinking about me? I’m needy. I really am.

“I lie around for hours and hours staring at the ceiling and letting my brain work.”

“No wonder you’ve been so tired at practice. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

I’ve never been good at hiding my fatigue. Aunt Kimie says I’ve always been a great napper. As a kid, I would keep slowing down until someone stuck me in bed, and then I’d sleep for hours at a time. I’m still like this. Jiro commented on my exhaustion once a few weeks ago, and I brushed it off and asked that we never talk about it, and he hasn’t, until now.

“Sorry. I wish I could sleep. I could use real, deep sleep. Maybe if I were well-rested more of life would make sense to me.”

“I will just have to work harder at tiring you out so you collapse from exhaustion every evening.”

Sounds good to me, but I don’t think his idea of work and mine are the same. My mind is in the gutter.

“You’re doing an excellent job already, thank you very much,” I write.

“Okay, then. Get some rest. Oh, and before I go, I’ve sent you a drawing. I hope you like it. Sleep well.”

I access my inbox immediately. Jiro changed his mind. That must mean something. I open the file he sent me and catch my breath. He’s so skilled with line drawing this could be a photograph in black and white. I wonder if he ever uses color?

The drawing is of three paper lanterns hanging from a string along a wooden beam. Every swoop and swirl of the wood is painstakingly drawn out, every little bump and imperfection. It is so rare for me to see real wood, I wonder how his imagination must work. Each lantern is swayed a bit as if a wind has come and bumped them out of place. Delicate silk cords hang from the bottom of each, knotted and twirled together, furled by the breeze. Such a small piece of life but so iconic of life. The illustration is a study of how orderly things move within the space around them. It is brilliant.

Jiro has more talent in his little finger than I do in my whole body. I’ve seen the way he fights. He has this carefree, creative, and spontaneous side that comes out when he’s holding a sword in his hand. From what I see here, it’s the same when he draws, but he channels the creativity with his attention to detail. We’re so different, but sometimes I think about how alike we are. We are both passionate about what we do and what we believe in. Both observant, determined, and ambitious to a fault.

I write back to him only to say, “I love it.”

I prop up my tablet with the drawing next to me and stare at it as I drop off to a dreamless sleep.