Itsumi’s mother was very generous and would sometimes give me gifts. She’d say “Please decorate your home with this” when presenting me with an exquisite Limoges mantle clock, or “Please use this with your mother” when giving me a lace-knit coaster, and “I bought this twice” when handing me a Kiriko glass. I was embarrassed to bring such luxury items into a house where they stuck out like a sore thumb and frankly caused more trouble than they were worth, but my siblings were delighted the day I brought them home some Godiva chocolate.
“Oh, we’re so grateful for these fancy things. Wow, you’ve really made your way up in the world, haven’t you,” my mother remarked sarcastically as she picked at the chocolates with us. She wasn’t happy that I had quit my job at the supermarket.
“We would make even more money if you picked up a shift at the supermarket when you’re not tutoring, you know,” she groaned, nevertheless throwing truffles into her mouth.
“I can’t. I’m not even supposed to have a part-time job. I quit being a cashier to be a tutor. They might expel me if I break the rules again,” I tried to explain.
“Just lie if they catch you.”
“So you wouldn’t care if they took my scholarship money away?”
“I didn’t want to send you to a private school in the first place. So what if you do get expelled?” she retorted, wiping smeared chocolate off of my brother’s mouth. “Besides, tutors don’t usually work every day. Why do you come home so late all the time?”
“Well…because I joined a club.”
“A club?”
“Yeah. The school’s Literature Club.”
“Ahh, because you like books. Really goes well with your new fancy social status.”
“Don’t say things like that. If you hate our lifestyle so much, then maybe you shouldn’t have divorced Dad!” I flared up.
My mother went silent. I had never spoken to her like that before, let alone even mentioned the divorce. Going to an elite private school had gone to my head, and I had probably started to look down on her.
“Well look how brazen you’ve become, speaking to your mother like that,” she mumbled with a wry smile. She didn’t seem angry. “Yes…Having a place of your own.”
“…What?”
“I didn’t have a place of my own when I married your father. And I’m sure he was just as lost as I was.” My mother saw the surprised look on my face and suddenly became flustered. “Well, not in the physical sense, more in the way of emotional support—”
“I know how you feel,” I cut her off. This time it was my mother who looked surprised.
“I understand you, Mom,” I repeated. “I feel the same way.”
At my words, her face softened. We sat across from each other at the dinner table and drank our tea in silence. I guess I really am my mother’s daughter, after all, I thought.
If divorce had given my mother a place of her own, the Literature Club and its salon were the same for me. I wanted to thank Itsumi for giving me somewhere to belong.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Um, I’d like to do something to repay you,” I once said to Itsumi. I didn’t just want Itsumi, but her whole family, to feel my gratitude for everything they had done for me.
“If you want to give back, you shouldn’t give to us, but to those less fortunate,” Itsumi suggested instead, grinning.
Soon after, I resumed the volunteer activities that I had given up on in junior high. Using wanted ads I found on the internet, I volunteered to talk with senior citizens who lived alone and to people who’d moved from the countryside who had no friends in the area. As someone who had searched for her own place to belong, I wanted to help those people because I used to be just like them. Of course, it takes courage to meet up with a total stranger, but I felt brave enough to do it because I knew I could distract them from their loneliness. I may not have been the most outgoing volunteer, but I do think I was good at it. I could understand their pain because I know the bitter tang of loneliness.
When I was in junior high, I was busy studying for exams and only volunteered when it was convenient. But now I was ready to follow in Itsumi’s footsteps and volunteered with a renewed sense of passion. I had always thought that volunteering was just about giving to others, but for the first time I had realized that you also get so much in return. I finally saw that it was also essential for my own personal growth.
The Shiraishi family’s generosity helped open my mind. I idolized them. I remember thinking that, if I were to get married and have children someday, I wanted to have a family that was just like theirs.
In my eyes, they were perfect. They had everything that my family could never have—good manners, compassion for one another, a refined upbringing—and they were everything that the ideal family was supposed to be.
I think jealousy arises when you have the conceited notion that you’re entitled to something that you’re not. But I never felt jealous when I saw Itsumi and her family. That’s how far superior their world was to mine.
Then, it became the time when the green of the earth began to shimmer under the new summer sun. Itsumi, who was normally lively and energetic, fell depressed. She usually played a pivotal role in our conversations in the club, but now she just sat there, half-listening.
As Itsumi grew weaker by the day, the club members began to worry. Sayuri made black tea with honey and ginger to perk her up, and Akane fed her some homemade quiche she had stuffed with vegetables. Diana gave Itsumi a replenishing full-body massage with Bulgarian rose oil, Sonoko researched Itsumi’s condition in her medical books, and Shiyo tried to support her with encouraging speeches.
What had happened to Itsumi? I thought about asking her about it every time I went to their residence to tutor.
Then, one night—
I saw it by chance: their perfect family falling apart.