“Yes, I suppose the ribbons look a bit childish, don’t they? You’re a big girl now, after all.”
She was still smiling. Then she went to the closet and brought out a plain blue dress.
“You have such lovely skin. I’m sure any color would suit you.”
That’s when I finally realized it was no good trying to talk to her. She was completely broken. She lived in a world of her own where my words couldn’t reach her. She kept showing me different outfits, just as happy as could be.
“I’m a boy.”
I had no choice. I had to say it, to get it out in the open.
“I’m a boy.”
I said it slowly, clearly, so she’d get the message even in the little world inside her head.
Krsh, krsh, krsh…
“Apologize.”
Krsh, krsh, krsh…
“I won’t.”
Krsh, krsh, krsh…
“Why would you say such a terrible thing?”
Krsh, krsh, krsh…
“Because it’s true. I’m a boy.”
Krsh, krsh, krsh…
I was such a fool. There was no way someone who’d become as crazy as she was would accept the truth. It’s like if you went back to medieval times and tried to tell them that the earth wasn’t flat. They wouldn’t believe you. They wouldn’t understand.
Finally, Mommy stopped telling me to apologize and went right to bed. Because I wouldn’t apologize. I heard her grinding her teeth, but that stopped after a while, too. That day, I took a nice, relaxing bath by myself and slept better than I had in a long time. Mommy stayed asleep the whole time, but I was sure tomorrow would be better. If I kept repeating, day after day, that I was a boy, it would get through to her eventually.
That’s not what happened. The next morning, I didn’t wake up the way I usually did. Our apartment was usually full of the mugwort scent of Mommy’s perfume, but today, there was a different smell. A smell so bad that it prickled the inside of my nose. That was what woke me up. Mommy was bright red. She was where the smell was coming from. Her face was all slashed up. A kitchen knife was lying at her feet. She didn’t cook very often; that must have been the first time she’d used it in a while.
I tried to stop the bleeding. Do you know about how women menstruate? They bleed from between their legs. Mommy had shown me menstrual pads before (“You’ll have to use these someday, Yuki.”), so I knew that they were very strong and good for absorbing blood. I grabbed a whole bunch of them and tried to patch up Mommy’s stomach, but it didn’t work. I still have some of them. They were pretty and bright red at first, but they’ve dried up and gone black now.
Mommy had stopped moving. She’d gone cold. For a while, I just stood there, looking at her mutilated body. Parts of her makeup were coming away, showing the ragged red skin underneath, making it look like some grotesque polka-dot pattern. Then her mouth fell open. I couldn’t help but stare at what I saw there, too.
You know how human teeth are usually all bumpy on the top? Mommy’s weren’t like that. They were completely flat. That made a weird kind of sense to me. I mean, she was always grinding them so much.
I wasn’t really sad or frightened at the time. Not hungry, either. Mr. Nakano eventually noticed the smell and reported it, but apparently, it took three days for it to get that bad. That whole time is a blank to me. I was taken to the hospital, and the police asked me lots of questions, and then I went to live with Daddy again. Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa were all very nice to me. I wouldn’t have to dress like a girl anymore.
But I should have known it wouldn’t go so smoothly. I couldn’t be allowed to be the only one who was happy. It was one night, when I went to the bathroom, I think. I undid my zipper, and I heard that grinding sound again. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. If I covered my ears and closed my eyes, Mommy would go away. But it didn’t work.
Let me tell you something, kid. The more you try to act like something isn’t there, the more you pretend you can’t see it or hear it or know anything about it, the bigger it gets. Before I knew it, Mommy was with me all the time, every minute of every day. I could see it was no good fighting it. I had to resign myself to my fate.
The reason this was happening, the reason Mommy was with me all the time now, was because I’d killed her. I was a girl. A girl, just like Mommy. Mommy’s Little Yuki. But I’d pretended to be a boy and made Mommy sad and ruined her life. Being a boy was what killed Mommy. I was terrible.
Mommy said that she wanted to do her life over again. The reason she was never happy was because she’d married Daddy, she said. And that was because there were no other decent men in her life, only the ones who flocked around her like bees. Apparently, having a good man was the sole way for a woman to be happy.
How do you know if a man’s decent or not? He needs to be rich, he needs to be smart, and most of all, he has to have a handsome face. You marry someone like that, and you get to be happy. Someone like Daddy just wasn’t good enough. But Mommy couldn’t get married anymore. That’s why I had to do it for her. Mommy’s happiness was Yuki’s happiness. Yuki’s happiness was Mommy’s happiness.
I searched and searched for the right man, and finally, I found him. His name is Toshihiko. He’s got plenty of money, and he went to a good college, so he must be smart, too. And handsome? He’s downright beautiful. I don’t think a more beautiful person could possibly exist. Even the hottest pop stars look like moldy old potatoes compared with him. I saw him on the train one day. I just so happened to find him. He sparkled like the stars in the sky.
I did my best to find out where he worked and got a job there, too. Toshihiko was the only one who sparkled there; the rest of the place was like a muddy quagmire. Obviously, he was attracted to me, too. We hit it off right away. He told me he loved me. He gave me a ring. We’re married now. That means we should be living together, but for some reason, he never comes home.
That’s strange, isn’t it? He’s my husband, so we should live together. We have to be together. Mommy will be sad again if we’re not. She’ll never be happy. That’s why I must, must, must live with Toshihiko. He has to make me happy. Mommy said that she’d help me. Of course she will—my happiness is her happiness. But I’m sad to say there’s not a lot she can do to help right now.
Why do you think that is?
It’s because there’s hardly anyone left who remembers her. You’ve never heard of a ballerina named Haruko Kadowaki, have you? I’m not blaming you. You’re just a kid. She was at her most popular a long time ago. Back then, she had a ton of fans and people professing their love for her, and plenty more people who vaguely knew about her. They’d remember her once they heard her name, at least.
If nobody remembers her, if no one knows who Haruko Kadowaki is, she won’t have any power. You remember what I said before, right? The more you try to ignore something, the stronger it gets. That’s why I need you to tell everyone about Mommy. Do it right, so they know who she is and so they think about her every day. It’s all right. Mommy really will appear if you call her. It won’t count as lying.
See? She’s here with us now. You can hear it, can’t you? The grinding. That’s right. This is Mommy. Isn’t she pretty? What’s that? Why you? Because you piss me off. Oh, don’t cry. That’s only going to make you even more annoying.
How could I not hate you? You’re such a plain, homely-looking boy, and you go dressing like that and wearing makeup. You don’t even get bullied for it. You actually seem to have a lot of friends. I bet your mom is homely as well. But she’s probably happy all the same. What? Why? Damn, you’re annoying.
Mommy, stop it. He can’t do anything for us if you kill him.
Anyway, that’s why I need you to tell as many people as possible. Make sure everyone remembers Haruko Kadowaki. Then Mommy will get stronger, and Toshihiko will finally notice me.