Deviations

Taka: Mitsu

The day I met the girl I would come to love I lost one of the only two real friends I had. Any other day, if I ran into a girl on the street, I’d be charming, getting them blushing and giggling even if I had no interest in doing them. But that day, my fake self was gone. I was just a boy, a young child in my near-adult body, running around the neighborhood, searching desperately for my beloved Mitsu.

The mist that had been falling since I left the house had morphed into a slow, steady rain, as if to set the appropriate mood for the looming outcome. My sneakers splashed through the puddles forming as I ran, calling Mitsu’s name every few seconds. Even as my fear of his truly being lost grew, I tried to keep my calls cheerful so he wouldn’t think he was in trouble.

We’d been together for ten years, ever since the day my parents had surprised me with a little fat, wriggling puppy as a bribe designed to keep me happy when they told me I’d soon be a big brother. Truth be told, I’d been happy at the news, but I didn’t let on. Hell, what eight-year-old in his right mind would have turned down such an awesome trade?

Mitsu! Dinner! He’d always had a voracious appetite, even though he only weighed four and a half kilograms, but his favorite word didn’t bring him flying to my side. He had such short little legs, I doubted he’d gone far. But what if someone had stolen him? Cute little dog sitting in the rain, I’d be tempted to snatch him up too.

Please, Mitsu! Answer me! I tried again. Was he still chasing that damn cat? He’d never been a fan of cats, and seeing that one jaunting down his sidewalk had sent him into a frenzy. The cat had the good sense to take off in a flash of black and white fur, but Mitsu had given full chase. Still, he was old and getting slow. He’d have to quit soon. Any minute he’d come around the corner, wagging his tail and grinning so hard his eyes would squint; he wouldn’t even bother to apologize for worrying me. He’d know I’d pick him up and half-chastise him while spoiling him; I never was good at properly disciplining him.

When a high-pitched scream cut through the sound of the rain, I knew what it meant. Deep in my aching heart, I knew what would make a person scream like that. Dread filled me, like it had a few weeks after I’d gotten Mitsu, the day my parents sat me down again, only this time to tell me that my little brother had died inside my mom and there would be no baby. Mitsu helped me get through the months when my mom cried more than I thought anyone physically could and my father kept working late instead of being with her, leaving me to try to comfort her.

The scream came from the other side of the park. I ran till my lungs nearly burst in complaint, but I wasn’t fast enough. His little white body lay on the side of the road, the unrelenting rain matting his once soft, tousled fur against his body. A trickle of red-stained water ran from his body to the drain nearby. The clinical part of me was glad he hadn’t suffered first…glad I wouldn’t have to be the one to put him out of his misery.

Mitsu. My voice broke as if I were still mid voice-change, but I didn’t care. He was mine and now he was dead because I fucked up and let him get out the door. I squatted, reaching out to ruffle the top of his head. Once, the motion would have sent him into ecstatic little circles, but not anymore. Though warmth still radiated from his body, his chest wasn’t moving.

A sniff made me realize I wasn’t alone. A girl squatted beside him too, her pale hand stroking his damp side. As soon as I looked at her, it clicked that she’d been there the whole time; my brain just hadn’t processed it.

Her hand trembled as she spoke in a low, quivering voice. I’m sorry. They didn’t even stop! I saw him standing on the side here and I tried to call him. The driver could have swerved to miss him, but he didn’t and I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

If I hadn’t started crying, I’d have tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault. At least she’d cared enough to stay with him. But if I’d tried to speak, I’d have outright bawled, so I sat there, my fingers still trying to ruffle that now too-wet fur. Her small hand appeared in front of me as she dabbed her handkerchief against my face to dry my tears. It was a silly thing to do if you think about it. I mean, the rain wasn’t stopping, so why bother wiping my tears? My face was as soaked as hers, but it was nice of her to try to be of help anyway.

Once I had my emotions under control, I looked up at her. The rain glued her short black hair to her face as it blended with her tears. No umbrella hung on her arm nor lay nearby. Not that I had the right to judge when I’d run out of the house without one too. She wore a coat despite it being the start of June, but it offered little protection from the rain. Still, she’d sat there with my Mitsu. That made her okay in my book.

Something about her seemed familiar. She looked to be around my age. Had I seen her at school, in a different class maybe?

Um…thanks. For staying with him, I mean. He always hated being by himself, would go nuts if left alone too long. So I’m glad someone was with him, you know? I managed to get it out without the cracking voice reappearing.

She nodded before pulling the plain black scarf from around her neck. Here, you can wrap him in this, if you want.

You sure?

She flashed one of those half smiles, the kind you give someone when you aren’t happy or laughing, only trying to offer a little comfort. Yeah, I’d rather he have it.

Thanks. Even though he felt no pain anymore, I worked methodically to avoid jolting his body. The scarf was long enough to make a perfect shroud for a dog of his stature. He was lighter than usual as I picked him up and stood.

She wiped my face for me again before pressing the handkerchief into my hand. The flimsy bit of cloth, white and lacy with little flowers looked almost obscenely cheerful when paired with the cheap, functional, black scarf. Keep it, in case you need it again.

I didn’t want to be rude by pointing out that the rain had rendered it useless, so I did my best to return the half-smile. Thanks again.

I bowed as best I could without squishing him. She returned the gesture before stroking the bundle in my arms, giving the dog she’d known long enough to watch him die one last pat. With another brief bow, she headed down the street, going north and towards the coastal side of the district. The same direction I walked to get to Shinji’s place. Perhaps that’s where I’d seen her, hanging out in one of those areas.

Walking back home, I kept a slow pace to give myself a few minutes alone to say my goodbyes. "You were a good boy, Mitsu; the best dog in the world. Remember when I got so sick, you wouldn’t even leave my side to go eat and made kaasan[1] bring your dinner along with mine? And whenever I got home, you’d always wag that tail so hard I half expected it to fly right off. You made me happy to be home, even if I wished I could just leave and never come back. I’d have never left without you, though, not ever."

I paused, forcing back fresh tears, unwilling to risk anyone else seeing me cry. The girl at least had been part of it, but random strangers on the street? No. That much of my pride was still around at least.

I’m sorry, Mitsu. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have picked you up when I answered the door, or locked you in the house while I got the seal. I should have made that damn delivery guy close the gate. Why did he leave it open? Why was I so careless? My voice broke again as I gave his body a light squeeze. I love you, Mitsu. I’ll never forget you. I promise. Don’t worry about me. You head on up to the heavens now. I bet it’s a paradise up there with meat-covered bones and steaks and cats too stupid to run as far as you can see.

When I reached the house, I spotted his stuffed bear by the door. It had, in a way, been his own pet. He’d carried it all around the house with him and wouldn’t go to sleep without it. It was missing both eyes now, but still it was as if the bear were glaring at me, its sightless face seeming to scream out accusations over my mistakes.

I’m sorry…your owner’s gone. He went to be with my granddad. My voice hitched as I stupidly tried to explain things to a teddy bear. I reached down and picked it up, putting it on top of Mitsu’s bundle.

Seeing it there, its little bear arms seeming to hug his body was the final tipping point. I let my grief explode and cried in the rain like a child as I mourned my dog. For those few minutes, I stopped caring what anyone would think. All I cared about was that he was gone and would never return.

After my tears ran dry, I found a large box in which to put him, along with his bear and favorite rope bone, until my parents got home. I picked up the lid to close it, but paused. He loved flowers. Granted, he loved digging up flowers rather than enjoying their beauty, but still, it seemed appropriate to put some in the box too.

My mom wasn’t much for gardening, but our neighbor had a gorgeous garden with flowers almost year round covering the ground around the huge cherry tree where she and her husband often sat in nice weather. Even though Mitsu had dug in her flowerbeds before, when I explained what happened, she offered her condolences. And despite the still-dripping skies, she went out into the garden and brought me back the prettiest white blooms from her chrysanthemum bushes.

I don’t know what was harder, putting that little box away or dealing with my father when my parents came home. My mom tried to comfort me by reminding me he’d been old and had enjoyed a long, happy life. It didn’t help any more than that girl wiping my tears from my wet face had, but her embrace was warm and comforting.

Of course, my father couldn’t miss an opportunity to throw out one of his lessons and point out the obvious. It’s a shame, such a shame. Leaving the door open like that was irresponsible, Taka. I’m sure you understand that Mitsu’s death is because you were careless and didn’t think about your actions. It’s a painful lesson to learn at your age, but it’s important. Once you take over the company, the lives of all our employees will be in your hands. It’s a responsibility you can’t take lightly. It’s important for you to learn to own up to your mistakes and accept responsibility for your actions. You must always think about the consequences of your actions. You understand?

Yes, sir. I’d learned a long time ago that was the best answer to give when he went into lecture mode. He had no interest in discussing his advice. He dispensed it, and it was expected that I would accept it as the absolute truth. No questions allowed, even if sometimes I had no clue what he meant. Of course, today I understood perfectly well. Yeah, yeah, in his own way he was right, but would it have killed him to give me a few days before shoving my screw-up in my face?

I swallowed my burst of annoyance and looked down with my features carefully schooled into a proper contrite expression. "Otosama[2], can I have him cremated? I’ll pay for it from my own savings."

Cremation? What a waste of money. We can just have the city dispose of the body. I mean really…

My mom put her hand on his arm and the annoyed look dropped from his face. I swear she has magic powers in that hand or something. No matter how ticked off or stressed he gets, she touches him like that and bam, he’s calm again. I do sometimes hear them argue at night, but it never sounds too serious and they always seem fine in the morning. Nothing like the crap Shinji deals with all the time anyway.

She gave me one of her sweet mom smiles. Of course, sweetie, you go ahead and call them. It isn’t too late yet, so they might be able to get him today.

Thanks, kaasan. I darted into the hall before my father regained his senses and realized he’d been overruled. One of the mobile services was still open and agreed to come, parking down the road, a few meters outside our neighborhood. Rain continued to fall in fat, steady drops, as I washed Mitsu’s body before walking out to meet them, this time with an umbrella.

Rather than go home to wait and deal with my father again, I sat under the nearby bus stop shelter and called Shinji. He wouldn’t be all judgy and crap. He’d let me wallow in the blend of self-pity and self-loathing gnawing at my heart while helping ease the aching.

After his voicemail picked up, I remembered he was out working some freshman girl this evening. I hung up, knowing he’d call back later. I debated sending him an email, but I decided to wait for his call. I wasn’t about to kill his mood to win our bet, and at this point, there wasn’t anything for him to do anyway, other than listen to me whine. Granted, I wouldn’t have minded having him with me right then, but it wouldn’t be cool to interrupt them like that.

So instead I sat alone, trying not to think about the now ownerless plush circle that lay at the foot of my bed.

Miho: Family

I made it halfway home before I had to duck into a small batch of trees at a small park, losing what little food was in my stomach. At least no one was around to see me hurling or how bad I was shaking as I moved a few meters away and sat down in the grass. That dog, that poor dog. It was my fault, all my fault, and I’d let his owner thank me! Even acting like a sympathetic bystander instead of admitting my guilt.

Some sick, twisted part of me was glad the car hadn’t stopped. Then I hadn’t had to hear it, the sound of screeching tires. Or smell the burning rubber. God, if the driver had tried to swerve, he might have crashed, and I’d have been a useless heap lying on the ground. Only alive instead of dead like I’d planned.

I thought it would be poetic justice, being crushed under the wheels of one of the big delivery trucks that frequent that particular road. It was what I deserved, what I earned, but instead I’d chickened out. I laughed to myself, a harsh sound devoid of mirth. One reason I’d changed my mind was the thought of how horrible it would make me, turning an unwitting stranger into a murderer. But the driver ended up doing that to himself anyway, only he’d killed that sweet dog instead of my worthless self.

Dark wisps curled around me as I sat there in the grass, oblivious to the continuing rain. My breathing was shallower, and my vision blurred. No! Stop! Go away, I barked as I tried to will myself to be calm. None of it was real; it was my mind’s way of giving me a visual enemy to combat versus the shapelessness of my broken self.

I pulled my little flip phone from my pocket. His number was on speed dial, but I stopped myself from pressing the call button. I wanted to hear his calming voice, but it was Sunday. He was off today. Unlike medical doctors, therapists rarely work on weekends. I mean, he always said to call anytime, even after hours, but of course that wasn’t true. No one wanted to be bothered with work stuff if they weren’t at work. I clicked the phone closed. It was only a few days until our next appointment. I could handle this.

I forced myself to my feet to walk the last few blocks home. In the genkan[3] lay a pair of black high heels, right in the spot I always put my sneakers. Though annoyed at my routine being disturbed, I pushed the shoes aside, knowing they meant she was home. I straightened her shoes for her before leaving mine in their usual spot and headed inside.

"Tadaima."[4] As usual she didn’t answer. Not like I expected this time to be any different, but I had to try.

Considering how wet I was, I should have gone straight to the laundry room to strip, but I wanted to see her. Even knowing how much it would hurt and that I wouldn’t get what I needed, I really just wanted my mom right then.

I found her standing in the kitchen, looking out the apartment window at the sun setting over the horizon. Mama?[5]

Oh, Miho. You’re home. She looked in my general direction, her brown eyes as dull and lifeless as her too-thin body. My moment of happiness at her coming back faded as I looked at my once beautiful mom not even pretending to care that I was there. Her voice was the same as it had been for years now. Tired. Drained. Another thing I ruined. I killed her. Her and my once loving, patient dad.

I try to be a good daughter who never complains, not about my problems, not about my fears, and not about being alone for most of the last three years. But no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to bring them back, not even a little. If only they’d never had to see my twisted body, maybe they wouldn’t have broken. They’d stayed with me through all the skin grafts, the months in the hospital, the loss of my sanity. They helped me survive it all, but at the cost of any love they’d once had for me. My hideousness had been too much to bear for such pretty, perfect-looking people.

The mom in my memories would have fussed at me for standing there soaking wet. She’d have grabbed a towel and started drying my hair while chiding me for not having an umbrella. She’d have run a nice warm bath for me and had hot chocolate and cookies waiting in the living room. The shell of a woman standing in front of me never even noticed the puddle forming at my feet.

And yet, for all that my parents hated me, I kept trying; another way of atoning, another way to punish myself.

I just need to take my bag upstairs and I can start dinner. I was going to make your favorite curry. Do you want some? I always kept the ingredients on hand, and for the nikujaga[6] my dad loved too. I made it for them if they happened to come home from their long business trips when I was not in school. But they never ate it during their brief drop-bys. Hell, I’d had chatty door-to-door salesmen stick around longer than my parents these days.

I won’t be here that long. She pushed herself off the counter and brushed past me to go to the laundry closet. I only came to get a few of my summer clothes.

I pushed aside the pain and forced myself to smile to her retreating back. Need a hand?

I’ve got it. She never looked at me when she spoke. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she even saw me anymore at all. I wondered if she thought of me as one of those new phones that talk back at you. Well, maybe not. She would probably love the phone.

Before I followed her down the hall, I glanced back to confirm that the telltale white envelope sat on the dining table. I think it’s the only reason they really came home anymore, besides picking up things. To leave me money to live on. Part of continuing their responsibility as my parents, I guess, no matter how much they hated the duty. It wouldn’t have reflected well on them to completely abandon me. Still, I always wondered why they didn’t take all their stuff and do their monthly money drops using a remote deposit so they’d never have to come home again.

Leaning on the laundry room door, I watched her unload the dryer, drinking in her every feature. Had she lost more weight? Was her face more haggard than before? She folded her things in a hurry, tossing them in the open suitcase sitting on the washer. So eager to leave.

Papa came home a couple of days ago. He had to get his summer clothes too since it’s hotter in Okinawa than here. I was a little worried because he looked pale, like he was sick, but he said he was fine. He didn’t have time for dinner either, but he let me pack him a bento. You want one? It wouldn’t take…

She cut me off, still avoiding my gaze. I’m eating with a coworker tonight.

Yeah, right. Like I didn’t see the frilly little red panties and matching bra in her suitcase? As far as I knew, she and dad never saw each other anymore, so I doubted they were for him. Why did they even stay married? Couldn’t be for love, and it sure as hell wasn’t for me. Neither of them were in the industries that would frown on them breaking up. Maybe if they divorced they’d be happier.

Done. She snapped the suitcase closed. I better hurry. I’ll miss the train.

She shouldered past me, the suitcase hitting my hip. If she noticed my wince, she said nothing. She’d changed her shoes and had her hand on the door before she bothered looking over her shoulder, her eyes still landing anywhere but on me.

"Ittekimasu."[7]

"Ittera…"[8] The click of the door bounced around our empty apartment. "…sshai." My shoulders dropped as I sighed out my tension. Even though I missed them, having them around was always so stressful I was relieved when they left again. Guilt niggled at me as I sloughed my way back through the house to change out of my wet clothes.

I didn’t bother with a long soak in the tub. Just a quick shower to clean up before changing into my nightgown and going back downstairs to start dinner. I made the curry rice anyway, both because I liked it too and as a way to remind myself of the foolishness of hoping things would change now. My parents were gone; I needed to accept that. I knew that, really I did. But I was an idiot.

My stomach rumbled. I suppose wasting what little I’d gotten to eat at school had left me extra hungry. One of the usual pack had accidentally knocked my lunch out of my hands at school. I’d managed to snag a melonpan[9] before lunch was over to tide me over, but most of it was now lying in the park somewhere.

One nice thing about essentially being parentless? No one fussed if I ate my dinner in the living room while doing my homework or if I drank a soda with my meal. No one would scold me for skipping the onions because they are disgusting or for adding extra beef. And no one would tell me to go to bed early instead of eating a little ice cream and playing a video game.

Best of all, there was no one to see me walking around in a nightgown, letting my scars show. No one yelling at me to cover them up or gagging at the sight of them. I wanted to see them, needed to see them, my never-ending reminder of the greatest sin I’d ever committed in my seventeen years