The day she was scheduled to be released from the hospital, I woke up early. Most days, I woke up early in the morning, rain or shine, whether I had plans or not. Today, the sun shone, and I had plans. I opened my bedroom window and let the fresh air into my room. I gazed off, as if I could see the flowing currents. The morning felt good.
Downstairs, I washed my face, and when I went to the living room, my father was on his way out. I thanked him for going to work, and he looked happy and slapped me on the back before he went out the door. He was always full of energy, year-round. I always wondered how someone like me could have been born to a father like him.
My breakfast was already waiting for me on the dining table. I said, “Itadakimasu” to my mother, giving appreciation for the meal, then I said it again to my food on the table before eating her miso soup. I really liked her soup.
As I enjoyed my breakfast, my mom finished up with the dishes and sat across the table, where she began drinking a cup of coffee.
“Hey, you,” she said.
“What?”
“When did you get a girlfriend?”
“Huh?”
What had gotten into her? Was that seriously the first thing she wanted to say to me in the morning?
She said, “If it’s not a girlfriend, then it must be someone you like. Whatever it is, you should bring her over.”
“It’s neither, and I won’t.”
“Hmmm. I would have sworn.”
I wondered where she had gotten that idea. I guessed it was her parental intuition at work. Even if she was wrong.
She said, “Just a friend, then.”
That wasn’t right either.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what she is,” my mother said. “I’m just glad someone has come along who can see you for who you are.”
“Um… Okay?”
“Did you think I hadn’t seen through your lie? Don’t underestimate your mother.”
I stared at her. I appreciated my mother, but I had indeed completely underestimated her. Her eyes had a strength and a brightness that mine didn’t, and she really did look happy for me. I felt put in my place. I smiled with just the corners of my lips. My mom had already turned her attention to the TV as she continued sipping her coffee.
Since I wasn’t supposed to meet the girl until the afternoon, I spent all morning reading. The book she’d lent me, The Little Prince, was still waiting its turn. On my bed, I read a mystery novel I’d bought not that long ago.
The hours passed quickly, and a little before noon I changed into some simple street clothes and left the house. I wanted to go book shopping first, so I arrived at the train station quite a bit early and went into a large bookstore nearby.
I browsed the store for a while, bought one book, then went to the café where we were to meet. The place was a short walk from the station, but since this was a weekday, there were plenty of open tables. I ordered an iced coffee and claimed a seat by the window. I was about an hour early.
The coffee shop was pleasantly cool, but I felt hot on the inside, and the iced coffee was refreshing as it went down. The coolness spread through me, as if it was circulating through my body; of course, that was only in my imagination. If the coffee really did circulate throughout my body, I’d be the one who died first.
Between the A/C and iced coffee, I managed to stop sweating, and soon my stomach began growling. Thanks to my healthy lifestyle, my appetite was right on schedule for lunch. I thought about ordering something to eat, but I’d promised to have lunch with her. If I satisfied my hunger now, and she whisked me away to another all-you-can-eat place, I’d regret my decision. She could have that effect sometimes.
I thought back to when she dragged me out to lunch those two days in a row, and I chuckled. That was more than a month ago now.
Deciding to wait for her responsibly, I took out my current paperback and put the book on the table.
I’d intended to read the novel, but my gaze drifted outside; I didn’t know why. If I had to give a reason, all I could say was I just felt like it, which was the sort of carefree reason I expected from her, not myself.
Outside, people passed by each other in the bright daylight. A man looked like he was overheating in his suit; why didn’t he take off his jacket? A young woman in a tank top trotted toward the train station; was she off to do something fun? A high-school aged boy and girl walked together, holding hands; a couple. A mother pushed her baby along in a stroller and—
I noticed what I was doing, and I was taken aback.
The people outside were strangers. I would likely never have any connection to them the rest of my life.
If they were strangers, why was I thinking about them? I wouldn’t have done that before.
I thought I had no interest in the people around me. Or rather, I had decided not to take any interest in them.
I chuckled to myself. Had I changed this much? I was enjoying this, and I laughed again.
I pictured the face of the girl I was waiting to join me.
She had changed me. She’d changed me, and I knew it.
The day we met—not when we got put in the same class in school, but when we actually met—I was put on a path of change, in who I was, in the course my life would take, and in my views on life and death.
Then I remembered what she would say if she heard those thoughts—that I had made the choice to change myself.
I chose to pick up the lost book.
I chose to open that book.
I chose to talk to her.
I chose to train her how to be a student librarian.
I chose to accept her invitation. I chose to eat with her.
I chose to walk next to her. I chose to go on a trip with her.
I chose to take that trip wherever she wanted to go. I chose to sleep in the same room as her.
I chose truth. I chose dare.
I chose to sleep in the same bed with her.
I chose to eat the breakfast she didn’t finish. I chose to watch the street performer with her.
I chose to suggest she learn magic.
I chose to buy her the Ultraman figure. I chose the souvenir we ate on the train.
I chose to tell her I had fun on the trip.
I chose to go to her house.
I chose to play shogi. I chose to push her away from me.
I chose to pin her to the bed. I chose to hurt the class representative.
I chose to yield to him. I chose to make up with her.