Summer Haikus – Chapter 11

I don’t sleep well in the loft above the kitchen. The room is spotless and comfortable but bright in the morning. At Michigan State, Halley and I make our room pitch black and run a fan to drown out the sounds of the dorm. I never realized how many people were night owls until I lived in a dorm. The local Meijer, our huge grocery store, is open twenty-four hours a day, so students shop there in the middle of the night all the time. I was once there when a sorority hazed their pledges and made them shop for breakfast at 4am. Yes, I was grocery shopping at 4am. Don’t ask.

I thought living in Tokyo would mean lots of noise, constant traffic on the street, and people walking around at all hours, but Kichijōji is not downtown Tokyo, but the loft is deathly quiet, and my ears are ringing. I lie in bed at 2am and stare at the ceiling before I get the idea to download a white noise app for my phone and run that all night. Jet lag is kicking my ass.

I walk into my mom’s hospital room the next morning, sleep-deprived and unwashed, straight into my aunt and cousin.

“Isa-chan?” my Aunt Yoshiko asks, her eyes wide. “Is that you?”

I glance at myself in the mirror behind the door. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, no, no!” she exclaims, coming forward and squeezing me. I try not to grunt. I’m also very sore. Jet lag does strange things to my body. I need to run this afternoon or I’m toast. “You cut your hair. I didn’t recognize you.”

Ah. Yeah. I forgot that I cut my hair to my chin and got bangs when I graduated high school. Now, my wavy hair grazes my neck and my bangs are past my nose. I should get it trimmed up and maybe dyed too, but who has the time? Not me anymore.

“Isa-chan, I thought you’d be at the ryokan,” my mom says, her eyebrows pulled together. “It’s eight in the morning. You should be out running errands.”

My aunt glances between us, worry on her face. “Rumi,” she admonishes my mom, “you’re not serious. You can’t expect Isano to take over for you at the ryokan.” She presses her hand to her chest, and both Kae, my cousin, and I step back. A fight is brewing.

“Who else am I going to ask to take over? Certainly not you.”

“Well, of course not. I have a job.”

My mom rolls her eyes. Well, at least she’s feeling spry enough to fight. “Selling kimonos on eBay is not a job.”

My aunt puts her hands on her hips. “I have my own store in Ikebukuro, my own online store, and I sell on eBay. It’s a full time job.”

“Mom, can we please not do this now?” I pinch my eyes closed against the impending headache. I need coffee. I never needed coffee until college, and then it was free in the caf everyday with my meal card. I kept saying, “They should just put up a sign, ‘Free Addiction,’ next to it.”

“Auntie, I’m fine with the work. Mom, Grandpa is giving me one more day to acclimate. Grandma is taking care of things. And I have a splitting headache. Can we talk in English?” I glance between my aunt and cousin. “Never mind.”

“How about I go get coffees?” Kae asks, as she comes over to hug me. “It’s great to see you. Now that you’re here, I hope we’ll hang out together?”

“Sure, and yes to coffee with milk and sugar please.”

“I’ll see what the vending machine has.” She waves and leaves the room, pulling her phone out of her purse. I watch her go, taking in her platform shoes, short skirt, flowing blouse over a tank top, hair in a ponytail, frosted and curled. Her makeup is dewy and perfect. I have no idea how anyone can look that good this early in the morning.

“I’m sorry we didn’t talk much yesterday, Isa-chan,” my mom says, beckoning me to her. I sit on the side of the bed. “Tell me how the end of the school year went.”

In any normal circumstance, I would tell her what happened between Masa and me. She knows we’re good friends and how much I adore him, but I’m not coming clean about how I screwed it all up in front of Aunt Yoshiko. My aunt has never been supportive of anything anyone else has done. “Critical” should be her middle name. She has something negative to say about every person she meets.

“All of my grades were posted, and I did well across the board, but I got 4.0s in Japanese and linguistics this year.” I pull my hand moisturizer out of my bag, squirt a large amount onto my palm, take my mom’s hand, and massage. She leans back with a sigh and a smile on her face. She used to do this for me when I was a kid, and when I got older, I did it for her too. I should consider painting her toenails. The end of her cast is covered with a sock right now, and I can’t tell if she needs a pedicure or not. “So I decided a few weeks ago that my major will be linguistics with a minor in Japanese and communications.” I smile at her, but she blinks at me.

I sigh and slip back into English as I rub the sides of her fingers. She hasn’t worn her wedding ring in years. “My Japanese professor thinks it’s a smart move.”

“Is this what you want to do?”

“Dad wants me to go into engineering. Still.”

“I didn’t ask what Dad wants.”

“Dad pays the bills.”

Mom’s jaw tightens and she closes her eyes. I drop her hand, cursing myself. Why would I bring up the money when I know she doesn’t contribute a dime? “Sorry,” I mumble.

“You won’t consider hotel management? Michigan State has an excellent program.”

“Hotel management? This is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it. Why —?” I stop, understanding her current trajectory. “Because you want me to take over the ryokan someday?”

“Maybe?” She winces at the pain in her face, but my scalp heats as my temper rises.

“You have never once talked about me taking over the ryokan.” I sweep my gaze down her body, at the hospital gown, the bruises, and the double casts. She probably thought she’d live forever and eventually get me to do it. Now, the outlook appears cloudy and uncertain.

She deflates, her eyes downcast. “Do what you want to do, and don’t think about me, Isa-chan.”

Wow, a guilt trip on only my second visit to the hospital? That has to be some kind of record.

“Mom, please.” I dispense more moisturizer, cross to the other side of the bed, and massage her other hand. My aunt taps away on her phone, ignoring us. “Well, I want to do the linguistics and Japanese,” I say trying to get us back on track. “I’m good at both. I don’t think I would ever be a good engineer.”

“You’re smart enough to be an engineer. You always did well in math and physics.”

“I know. I just don’t love it like I love language, and I had to make a decision. As it is, I’ll need to go to school for five years to double major. If I switched over to engineering like Dad wants, I’d still be at school for five years because I’d have to take all the pre-reqs I skipped.” I drop my mom’s other hand and tip mine in the air. “Five years and one major, or five years and a double major?”

“The choice seems clear to me,” Kae interrupts in English. Her English is pretty good. We often spoke over Skype so she could practice with me. She hands me a can of coffee. “Be careful. It’s hot.” I wrap a napkin around the can and pop open the top. Hot coffee with milk and sugar, in a heated can, from a vending machine. I sip and immediately feel relief. “Ah, that’s good. Vending machines here are so awesome.”

“Are you talking about your major at school?”

“Yeah. What did you decide to study?” Kae goes to one of the local universities in Tokyo, though she confessed to me last year that universities in Japan are much different from the ones in the States. They have a very different college culture here. College is less expensive than the States, by a landslide, and the students usually kick back and take it easy. Japanese universities are not especially rigorous.

“Fashion and marketing.”

I nod my head at her outfit. “Not surprised by that at all. You always dress well.”

My aunt beams at Kae. I glance at my mom and she’s staring out the window. No words of praise for her over-achieving daughter. I can’t catch a break lately.

“I’m transferring to Bunka next year. It’s going to be great. I’m even getting my own efficiency apartment.”

“That’s fantastic.” I squeeze her arm and smile. If anyone in my family is going to do well at something they love, it’s Kae. Bunka is perfect for her, with its prestigious line of famous fashion designer graduates. She’s been creative and fun her whole life. I’m her exact opposite in many ways. Standing in my running pants, a loose shirt, no bra, no makeup and my hair unkempt, the difference is painfully obvious. I make a mental note never to come to the hospital again unless I’m presentable. I’m afraid I’m embarrassing Mom.

I finish off my coffee and smooth out my shirt.

“Mom, can I bring you anything? I can come back this afternoon.”

She turns her face to me. “No, darling. Except, if you could go by the ryokan and make sure everything is okay there, I’d really like to know.”

“Really? I can’t bring you anything?”

“No.” She focuses on the window. “What day is it again?”

“Thursday.”

“Oh no,” she says, trying to sit up, but unable to. She huffs as she settles back down. “Mr. Omuri should be by this afternoon. Please let him know what’s happened, and tell him he can come speak to me if there are any issues.”

“Mr. Omuri?” I ask, reaching into my purse for her planner. Carrying her planner and mine at the same time is becoming back breaking. I may need to get a messenger bag.

“Mr. Omuri…” my aunt purrs.

“Stop it, Yoshiko,” Mom snaps at her.

I glance between the two of them and my aunt smiles and clucks her tongue while my mom shoots her looks that could kill a small animal. I run my finger down the appointments for today and find “Omuri – Ikebana” written in at 14:00.

“I’ll take care of it, Mom. No problem.” Whatever it is, hopefully it’s not too complicated. Ikebana is flower arranging, I think. I can do that.

A nurse enters the room with a tray full of meds. “It’s time Mrs. Sugai got some rest so she can take her medication. What is your level of pain today?” she asks, and my mom grimaces.

“Eight.”

The nurse notes it on her tablet and dispenses three pills into my mom’s hand.

Eight. My stomach churns as I watch my mother swallow pills to help her be comfortable.

“I’m gonna go.” Without saying goodbye, I speed walk from the room, unable to take a moment more of her suffering.

—-

The pavement outside is warm and steamy, the sun beating down on an older man hosing off the sidewalk. He already swept up, as evidenced by the broom and full dustpan set off to the side. This is one thing I’ve always loved about Japan, how clean the city is. No litter or trash. No errant stickers. Just spotless streets and sidewalks, so clean I wouldn’t hesitate to lie down on them.

I look left and right, wondering which way I should go. It’s time to run, time to get away from this, even just for a little while. I don’t need this stress. I have enough stress in my life already without any of this. This is stuff that falls way outside of my plans. I pace the front of the hospital three times, glance down at my sandals, and realize I’m not running anywhere. Not like this.

I sit on a bench halfway down the block, lean forward, and rest my head in my hands. Why am I being so selfish? This is my mom. We were inseparable for most of my life. She stayed home with me when I was a baby, and when I went to school, she waited years before enrolling herself in part-time college courses on accounting. When Dad started coming home late every night or not coming home at all, the need to leave was written all over her face. Maybe she always planned on returning to Japan to take over the ryokan. I was a teenager, but I saw the look, the longing. She begged me to come with her, but I didn’t want to leave my school and Halley. Halley and I were running together all the time. She already had Olympic dreams then. I couldn’t give up the running. I was already selfish.

“Hey there,” a man’s voice says in Japanese, “mind if I sit here?”

I pull my head out of my hands and sit up, squinting into the bright sunlight. I should have brought my sunglasses. A young doctor, his hair buzzed short and a slim lanky build under green scrubs, gestures at the empty spot next to me. I nod and rub at my face.

“You look tired,” he says, adjusting his dark framed glasses on his nose and opening a can of hot coffee. “You could probably use this more than me.”

“I already had one, thanks. Jet lag is killing me.”

“Are you not from around here?” He sits back, takes a sip, and throws his arm over the back of the bench.

“No, I’m from America. Michigan.”

“Wow, your Japanese is really skilled! I’m impressed.”

I roll my eyes. This is always the first thing I hear when I tell people in Japan I’m not from Japan. “Ah! Nihongo ga jōzu desu ne!” they all say. Yes, yes, I am skilled in Japanese. Thank you.

“What?” he says, laughing. “It is.”

“Thanks. I’m half Japanese, and my mother raised me speaking Japanese. She’s from Kichijōji. Well, she’s in there now.” I wave at the hospital.

“What happened?” He sits forward, concern blanketing his face.

“She was hit by a car.” I lace my fingers together, squeeze, and wait for my knuckles to turn white before letting go.

“That’s awful. Will she be all right? Would you like me to look in on her?”

“I think she’ll be okay. I hope so. You don’t have to look in on her, but thanks for offering.” I have no idea who this guy even is, but his badge reads, “Endo Tomohiro” (Endo being his last name), and the badge belongs to the hospital.

“Did they catch the guy that hit your mom?” he asks. This is the first time anyone has asked me that question. In the States, we always want to know who did it first.

“It was an old woman who shouldn’t have been driving anymore. Sad but true.”

“I see,” he says, sipping on his coffee. “If you ever want to talk —”

My purse buzzes against the bench, interrupting him. “Sorry,” I say, digging for my phone. I pull it out and Masa’s name is on my screen. My heart seizes before jolting into a sprint. Oh my god, he wrote me back! I stare at his name long enough for the phone to darken, and I have to turn it back on again. My finger shakes as it hovers over the screen. He’s going to diss me, right? He’s uncomfortable with our friendship now that I’ve ruined it? I steel myself for a harsh rebuke and swipe.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”