"Not About Angels"
Dec. 21st, 2014 01:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spacewhistler~Wrote this on a whim.
Chapter One
“5. People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires.”
– from the 21 Things My Father Never Told Me.
We all like to believe that we’re the protagonists of our own story. But, in reality, we can play both the good guy and the bad guy, depending on who we choose to be. Life is a series of decisions and choices. It’s up to you to make them.
I woke up to the sound of beeping noises. I sat up, quite disoriented, and yawned like I’ve never yawned before. The sun’s rays were peeking through the small gaps between the hospital window’s blinds. With my eyes closed, I stretched my arms and let out another huge yawn.
“Good morning, Satoshi-kun.”
My mother was already up. She was always an early-riser, even before she was sick. Her face was pale, as it always had been since we came here, but the weak yet genuine smile on her face today made me smile back at her.
“Good morning, Mama,” I greeted, with a smile mirroring hers. I stood up from the little sofa beside her bed and proceeded to assist her in fluffing her pillow. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she answered, as usual, in the same soft voice. She would always answer with that single word whenever I inquire about her health. If I haven’t been checking with the doctors, I might have been fooled by her responses.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the usual beeping of machines. Mama had a roommate but she passed away yesterday in her sleep. The woman often had too many relatives over but they kept the room alive with their constant gossips and funny stories about their friends and jobs. I saw Mama’s face regain its rosiness as she laughed and talked with them. Yet the good always die early. The fleeting life that reflected in my mother’s eyes vanished yesterday when the nurses cleaned the bed beside hers. I held her hand after that as she cried for her newfound friend.
This was the reason why I hated hospitals before. Aside from the fact that it reeked of various medicines that make my knees weak, death was not a rare occurrence in this place. A patient dies, the family pays the bills, the room will be cleaned and soon, there would be no trace that a person had died in that bed the day before. It was quite cruel to think how doctors and nurses could move on so quickly from the death of a patient but on the other hand, it was sad that they have to go through another one again and again.
As I settled my mother’s head back into her pillow, the door opened to Ryoko, the nurse who was in charge of Mama. She, with her pretty smile and her records in one hand, never failed to turn me into a stuttering mess whenever she checked in on my mother. Of course, Mama wasn’t oblivious to my feelings for the soft-spoken nurse as she laughed when I missed a step on my way to Ryoko.
I scowled but Ryoko just giggled and raised a hand in greeting, “Good morning!”
I answered with a hand up and a lame “hi.” I’ve never really dealt well with girls, putting aside the fact that I have been with only my mother for my whole life. I rarely went out to play with other kids when I was young. I only had two friends at school and both were guys. I have always been immersed in fishing and painting that I didn’t notice the existence of women until I turned 25.
Ryoko was different though. When I brought my mother to the hospital after another alarming fainting episode, Ryoko was the one who first lent a hand. I would never forget her worried face and harried calls for assistance. She was the first one who caught my eye and my mother was delighted to see me making a fool out of myself in front of a lady like Ryoko.
Ryoko turned immediately to my mother and shot her a few inquiries, as per usual. She also checked on my mother’s dextrose, her pulse, writing notes, here and there on her records as standard procedure.
“I trust you have been well-rested, Mrs. Ohno,” Ryoko said. “Because if you aren’t, then Satoshi would be the one to blame.”
The two girls shared a few chuckles as I made a face. Ryoko sat on the sofa that I was sleeping on a few moments ago. I sat beside her as she initiated another chat with Mama. According to her, constant attempts to get my mother to converse would help in raising her spirits and her energy a little. And I definitely agreed because Mama’s face lit up as soon as Ryoko said, “My mother packed an extra lunch for me. I would love to share it with you. Okasan has been experimenting in the kitchen lately and this was her first perfect creation, you know.”
“Oh, I would love to have a taste of that!” my mother gushed, her hands clasped together in anticipation. The two shared easy-going smiles that I couldn’t help but wonder if Ryoko would agree to a lunch at our house as soon as Mama’s sickness abates.
I must have been staring intently at the side of Ryoko’s face that I almost didn’t notice Mama calling out my name. When I turned to her, she had a knowing grin on her face. “Satoshi-kun, don’t you want to tell me about the letter you received last night? You didn’t get to tell me what it said.”
My mood dimmed with Mama’s question. I have been avoiding this question since I read the letter last night. I stood back up, put both hands in my pockets and sighed. I went to stand by the window and busied myself with opening the blinds. “It was from father’s secretary.”
I heard my mother gasp when I pulled up the blinds and let the sunshine into the small room. I bet she didn’t expect the letter, either.
My father was a taboo topic for the both of us although she continuously insisted that I keep contact with my father in case the time comes when she could not provide for me anymore. You see, he was one of the richest men in the country. I avoided the newspapers because it was highly likely that there would be news about him. I have steered clear of his monthly “donations” and sent them back without my mother knowing about it. He gave up recently and I thought I have gotten rid of him, at last.
But last night, a letter arrived from my father’s secretary, containing important news about my father. Haruto Maruyama died last night of a heart attack and his secretary, Natsume, said that my presence was requested during the old man’s funeral and discussion on the inheritance that I was bound to receive. Apparently, he thought of leaving me something behind. I never expected that from a selfish man.
“What happened?” she asked feebly. I knew it hurt her to talk about my biological father but she has always claimed that he was her first true love. Circumstances just happened and pulled them apart. I didn’t care. If he cared about us, he should have stayed. When he walked out on us to get married to another woman who was carrying another child, I swore I’d never forgive him even if he groveled under our feet. The groveling didn’t come because he didn’t go back.
He never even said goodbye.
I have gone noticeably quiet that Ryoko perked up. “I should be going, Mrs. Ohno. I’ll drop by at lunch.” With a wave, a polite nod and a concerned look, she was gone. The room was drowning in silence again, the beeps becoming fleeting sounds in the background.
“He died,” was my simple statement, the nonchalance in my voice was faked and forced. Even though I have carried a grudge against the man for my whole life after he left us to fend for our own, he has been a father to me during the better parts of my life. “He died…and his secretary just sent this pathetic letter with barely few words of remorse. Who does that?”
“Satoshi…”
“Who does he think he is?” I muttered angrily, looking down at the white-tiled floor, restraining myself from doing something rash. The letter was nothing short of fancy. It arrived smelling like apples mixed with a slight spritz of my father’s favorite cologne. The sweet scent permeated the narrow staircase I was in. I opened it with hesitation and skepticism. It contained mere statement of facts that I should know.
Your father died last night of heart attack.
Your presence is required at his funeral tomorrow and at the Maruyama residence after the burial to discuss about your inheritance.
We will send a few people to assist you in your departure.
We eagerly await your arrival, Satoshi Maruyama.
Natsume.
I assumed that the letter was rushed. After all, I have four other brothers, living completely different lives in various parts of the country, who needed to be informed. In my frustration, I tore the letter into pieces and threw it into the nearest trash can.
But my mother saw the letter in my hands last night before I read it. It was too late to deny that I received one.
“Haruto died,” my mother repeated in shock. “When? And of what?”
I plopped my limp figure back on the sofa in defeat. “Last night. He had a heart attack.”
Silence ensued for the nth time today.
Chapter One
“5. People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires.”
– from the 21 Things My Father Never Told Me.
We all like to believe that we’re the protagonists of our own story. But, in reality, we can play both the good guy and the bad guy, depending on who we choose to be. Life is a series of decisions and choices. It’s up to you to make them.
I woke up to the sound of beeping noises. I sat up, quite disoriented, and yawned like I’ve never yawned before. The sun’s rays were peeking through the small gaps between the hospital window’s blinds. With my eyes closed, I stretched my arms and let out another huge yawn.
“Good morning, Satoshi-kun.”
My mother was already up. She was always an early-riser, even before she was sick. Her face was pale, as it always had been since we came here, but the weak yet genuine smile on her face today made me smile back at her.
“Good morning, Mama,” I greeted, with a smile mirroring hers. I stood up from the little sofa beside her bed and proceeded to assist her in fluffing her pillow. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she answered, as usual, in the same soft voice. She would always answer with that single word whenever I inquire about her health. If I haven’t been checking with the doctors, I might have been fooled by her responses.
The room was eerily quiet, save for the usual beeping of machines. Mama had a roommate but she passed away yesterday in her sleep. The woman often had too many relatives over but they kept the room alive with their constant gossips and funny stories about their friends and jobs. I saw Mama’s face regain its rosiness as she laughed and talked with them. Yet the good always die early. The fleeting life that reflected in my mother’s eyes vanished yesterday when the nurses cleaned the bed beside hers. I held her hand after that as she cried for her newfound friend.
This was the reason why I hated hospitals before. Aside from the fact that it reeked of various medicines that make my knees weak, death was not a rare occurrence in this place. A patient dies, the family pays the bills, the room will be cleaned and soon, there would be no trace that a person had died in that bed the day before. It was quite cruel to think how doctors and nurses could move on so quickly from the death of a patient but on the other hand, it was sad that they have to go through another one again and again.
As I settled my mother’s head back into her pillow, the door opened to Ryoko, the nurse who was in charge of Mama. She, with her pretty smile and her records in one hand, never failed to turn me into a stuttering mess whenever she checked in on my mother. Of course, Mama wasn’t oblivious to my feelings for the soft-spoken nurse as she laughed when I missed a step on my way to Ryoko.
I scowled but Ryoko just giggled and raised a hand in greeting, “Good morning!”
I answered with a hand up and a lame “hi.” I’ve never really dealt well with girls, putting aside the fact that I have been with only my mother for my whole life. I rarely went out to play with other kids when I was young. I only had two friends at school and both were guys. I have always been immersed in fishing and painting that I didn’t notice the existence of women until I turned 25.
Ryoko was different though. When I brought my mother to the hospital after another alarming fainting episode, Ryoko was the one who first lent a hand. I would never forget her worried face and harried calls for assistance. She was the first one who caught my eye and my mother was delighted to see me making a fool out of myself in front of a lady like Ryoko.
Ryoko turned immediately to my mother and shot her a few inquiries, as per usual. She also checked on my mother’s dextrose, her pulse, writing notes, here and there on her records as standard procedure.
“I trust you have been well-rested, Mrs. Ohno,” Ryoko said. “Because if you aren’t, then Satoshi would be the one to blame.”
The two girls shared a few chuckles as I made a face. Ryoko sat on the sofa that I was sleeping on a few moments ago. I sat beside her as she initiated another chat with Mama. According to her, constant attempts to get my mother to converse would help in raising her spirits and her energy a little. And I definitely agreed because Mama’s face lit up as soon as Ryoko said, “My mother packed an extra lunch for me. I would love to share it with you. Okasan has been experimenting in the kitchen lately and this was her first perfect creation, you know.”
“Oh, I would love to have a taste of that!” my mother gushed, her hands clasped together in anticipation. The two shared easy-going smiles that I couldn’t help but wonder if Ryoko would agree to a lunch at our house as soon as Mama’s sickness abates.
I must have been staring intently at the side of Ryoko’s face that I almost didn’t notice Mama calling out my name. When I turned to her, she had a knowing grin on her face. “Satoshi-kun, don’t you want to tell me about the letter you received last night? You didn’t get to tell me what it said.”
My mood dimmed with Mama’s question. I have been avoiding this question since I read the letter last night. I stood back up, put both hands in my pockets and sighed. I went to stand by the window and busied myself with opening the blinds. “It was from father’s secretary.”
I heard my mother gasp when I pulled up the blinds and let the sunshine into the small room. I bet she didn’t expect the letter, either.
My father was a taboo topic for the both of us although she continuously insisted that I keep contact with my father in case the time comes when she could not provide for me anymore. You see, he was one of the richest men in the country. I avoided the newspapers because it was highly likely that there would be news about him. I have steered clear of his monthly “donations” and sent them back without my mother knowing about it. He gave up recently and I thought I have gotten rid of him, at last.
But last night, a letter arrived from my father’s secretary, containing important news about my father. Haruto Maruyama died last night of a heart attack and his secretary, Natsume, said that my presence was requested during the old man’s funeral and discussion on the inheritance that I was bound to receive. Apparently, he thought of leaving me something behind. I never expected that from a selfish man.
“What happened?” she asked feebly. I knew it hurt her to talk about my biological father but she has always claimed that he was her first true love. Circumstances just happened and pulled them apart. I didn’t care. If he cared about us, he should have stayed. When he walked out on us to get married to another woman who was carrying another child, I swore I’d never forgive him even if he groveled under our feet. The groveling didn’t come because he didn’t go back.
He never even said goodbye.
I have gone noticeably quiet that Ryoko perked up. “I should be going, Mrs. Ohno. I’ll drop by at lunch.” With a wave, a polite nod and a concerned look, she was gone. The room was drowning in silence again, the beeps becoming fleeting sounds in the background.
“He died,” was my simple statement, the nonchalance in my voice was faked and forced. Even though I have carried a grudge against the man for my whole life after he left us to fend for our own, he has been a father to me during the better parts of my life. “He died…and his secretary just sent this pathetic letter with barely few words of remorse. Who does that?”
“Satoshi…”
“Who does he think he is?” I muttered angrily, looking down at the white-tiled floor, restraining myself from doing something rash. The letter was nothing short of fancy. It arrived smelling like apples mixed with a slight spritz of my father’s favorite cologne. The sweet scent permeated the narrow staircase I was in. I opened it with hesitation and skepticism. It contained mere statement of facts that I should know.
Your father died last night of heart attack.
Your presence is required at his funeral tomorrow and at the Maruyama residence after the burial to discuss about your inheritance.
We will send a few people to assist you in your departure.
We eagerly await your arrival, Satoshi Maruyama.
Natsume.
I assumed that the letter was rushed. After all, I have four other brothers, living completely different lives in various parts of the country, who needed to be informed. In my frustration, I tore the letter into pieces and threw it into the nearest trash can.
But my mother saw the letter in my hands last night before I read it. It was too late to deny that I received one.
“Haruto died,” my mother repeated in shock. “When? And of what?”
I plopped my limp figure back on the sofa in defeat. “Last night. He had a heart attack.”
Silence ensued for the nth time today.
