Secret Keeping Sakura – Chapter 7

MIEKO

Refreshed after a nap, I walk to Chie’s ramen restaurant where I drop off the fish and promise to return soon. I wave to the woman running the grocery store and turn the corner toward the center of town. The library is a place I’m very familiar with. When I was in middle school, and Mom had to stay at school late for meetings or conferences, I spent evenings at the library until it closed, studying and reading until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Now the library is a shining modern wonder, twice the size of ten years ago. It’s an evacuation point should we be struck by an earthquake or flood, and everyone in town visits a few times per week.

As the door slides open, I’m afraid to enter. I’ve had too many surprises recently, and I expect more secrets to come out. But running away from them is just living in denial. I said I’d help anyone Mom was helping, and I meant it. Even if I can only give money or a little time on the weekends, I’ll do what I can.

“Mieko-san…” A man behind the circulation counter breathes out my name as I approach. His hair, graying at the temples, is coiffed in a stylish swoop, and when he bows I get the overall impression he’s a lean and athletic man. “I didn’t expect you to come here.”

“Do I know you?” I ask, certain of the answer already.

“I’m afraid not. I knew your mother, very well, and I’ve seen photos of you…” His voice fades away, like a train swiftly leaving the station. Where had he seen my photos? At home? I doubt my Mom carried around photos of me, not since I was a kid.

We stand in awkward silence as someone approaches the desk and asks to check out books. A younger man, about my age, joins us, and my heart sinks. Minoru Sugimoto stands before me. I haven’t thought of him in a long time, not since high school when he’d whisper at me in Algebra class. He was always trying to date me, but I resisted because school was important. Getting good grades was my number one goal, and my mom would’ve been disappointed in me if I suddenly became boy-crazy. It was just the two of us. We had to stick together.

“Ah… Mieko.. -san.” He trips on my name, probably because the last time we saw each other was when people called me “Mie-chan.” He bows, and my stomach squirms with discomfort. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I worked with your Mom almost every day. She will be missed.”

“I’m… I’m sorry to be tongue-tied. I didn’t know you worked together.” Another secret, but not one I’m surprised by at the moment.

“I came to the funeral yesterday, but I don’t think you saw me.”

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, bowing.

“Don’t be. It was a hard day for everyone.”

Silence stretches between us, no one approaching the front desk, the library as quiet as the grave.

“Did you come to collect your mother’s things?” The librarian asks, gesturing to the back staff room.

“Yes. And to check on the people she tutors.”

“Of course. Please come this way.” I follow him into the back room where a few desks are set up, modern cubicles with their name plates hung on the side. I glance at Minoru’s desk as I walk by. The top is neat and tidy, a coffee cup sits half full, and one small photo of a boy about ten years old sits next to the phone. Few people bring photos of family to work, but in a casual place like the library, it would be acceptable.

The librarian waves to a box of papers and books.

“Her planner is on top. She kept a schedule of the students who came in for tutoring, a list of their assignments, and notes to their teachers. She was very thorough.”

Picking up the planner, I can tell it’s full of notes by the creases on the cover. Mom’s handwriting jumps out at me, and I stifle a sob but keep the tears in my eyes where they belong. She’d obviously worked hard to help these students, and I’m impressed by all the notes and lesson plans.

“I wanted to contact the students and talk to them about getting them help since she’s gone.”

“Their contact information is at the back of the planner.” He points to the last page, and I find a list of ten students, boys and girls, their addresses and phone numbers.

“Excuse me. I hear someone at the front desk.” He bows and leaves me alone with Minoru.

“So this was my mom’s desk? She worked here enough to have a desk?”

Minoru jerks back. “Yes, of course. Every day.”

“Hmmm,” I hum, sitting in her chair. I pile her things into the provided box, ignoring Minoru, figuring he must have other work to do.

But he clears his throat over my shoulder, so I turn around.

“Your mother was a good person, very loyal and caring. It was a little strange working with her at first… You know, because I asked you out so many times in high school. But she was easy to get along with. A lot like you were.” He stumbles over “were,” maybe because he has no idea how I am now.

“That’s nice,” I say, getting back to Mom’s desk. I sigh at the collection of dead pens in her drawer. She could never throw pens away.

My skin grows uncomfortable as I realize Minoru is not leaving. I pause and look up at him again. I should try to make small talk.

“How have you been? I saw the photo on your desk. Is that your son?”

“Yes,” he says, sighing and smiling. “He’s nine and goes to our old school.”

“You must be proud. How long have you been married?” The question comes out of my mouth before I glance at his hand. No ring.

His face falls in a frown. “I’m divorced. Five years now. He lives with me, and my ex-wife lives in Switzerland.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I asked. Please forgive my rudeness.” I bow to him and curse myself for being too forward. I must be exhausted to forget my manners.

“Don’t worry.” He waves his hands at me, an eager smile returning to his face. “It’s been a long time, and I’m over it now.”

“Still, that was rude of me. Sorry again.” To cover up my gaffe, I throw more of Mom’s belongings into the box, and in an empty mug on the desk, I find a key chain with several keys on it.

Minoru points to them. “Oh, those are for her desk, and I’m sure you want what’s in those drawers. I can take the keys when you’re done.”

“Do all of these belong to the library?” I hold up the keys. Six look the same but the seventh one is older, a dark patina to it setting it apart from the others.

“All but that odd one. That’s your Mom’s, I think.”

I empty the drawers full of snacks, makeup, and tissues, but nothing more. I came here looking for answers, and I only got more questions, and a box of junk to go with the other junk I have to clean out of the house.

“Before you leave,” Minoru says, his hand grasping my shoulder lightly. “Your mother helped me through a hard time with my divorce, and I’m sure you’ll be grieving her loss for a long time. She used to tell me we all live many lives, the lives of childhood, of adulthood, before or after events that define us. She told me my new life after the divorce was worth celebrating, that she lived many lives and they were all precious.” He nods his head once, a definitive swift movement. “I wanted you to know that she lived her life happily.”

She lived many lives.

She had secret lives, and I was only a part of one of them.

I hold the last key on the chain in my hand and squeeze it in my palm, certain it belongs to the desk at home.

Would she want me to know what’s in the desk?