“Sushi?”
“Apparently you’re supposed to have sushi after a funeral.”
“Huh” was the best reply I could summon.
No one was coming. The undertaker was in another room, the monk had left, and the door wasn’t opening. There weren’t any footsteps to hear—only the rain outside, which faintly reached my ears through the walls.
He didn’t say anything else.
Alone in the hall, we remained silent. We waited for the rain to stop.
He spoke again.
“I hope one day you get to grieve as hard as you want.”
I couldn’t find the energy to respond.
After the funeral, Masudzuki-san arrived, and we headed to the Nishikawa residence. We were led to a Japanese-style room that I was seeing for the first time. Inside, Nishikawa’s parents and Kasumi-san were waiting in full funeral dress. As promised, on the table were boxes of sushi. I didn’t understand what was happening.
I hadn’t felt like crying until now.
I was still practically a stranger to the Nishikawa family; they had no reason to go out of their way to do this for me. And yet they did, as it were the most natural thing in the world. Their concern was a little awkward, but I couldn’t say a bad word about them. Something resembling warmth filled my chest. Unable to ask about my mother, they smiled throughout the meal as best as they could.
Perhaps it made me sentimental. The sort of peaceful meal I had almost never experienced with my parents must have gotten to me.
I wasn’t in my right mind. That was how I explained how I ended up staying the night in his room.
“You sure you want to sleep on the floor? We could share the bed.”
“I’m sure. I won’t fit.”
“Yeah, it’d be cramped, but who cares?”
“Let it go.”
I could see the ceiling far above my head. It, too, was white and pristine. I was next to his bed, where he now lay.
I thought about how today should have ended, about the safest place I would find myself in when it was all over.
He’d distracted me from my plan.
I could hear him slowly breathing in his sleep.
If I left now, would he know?
I sat up, trying to make as little noise as possible, but his hearing was too sharp. He stopped me in my tracks.
“Stay the night. It’s dark out.”
“I can go home.”
“Sure you can, but you don’t have to.”
His hand came from the bed, lightly pressing on my shoulder. I gave up and lay down. Satisfied with that outcome, he fell asleep again.
Right. I guess I didn’t have to go home.
I closed my eyes and started wondering where my usual caution had vanished. After the day we’d spent together, I had come to trust him more than I ever intended. I didn’t know whether he was a good person yet. I still suspected he might be trying to trick me. And yet, I knew one thing for certain.
He wouldn’t throw out my mother’s ashes.
That was enough.
Again, I found myself thinking about the trash I left in the collection spot that morning. Early tomorrow, the garbage truck would come and take it away for good. I didn’t intend to go back for it. And yet, I regretted leaving it.
Just like I regretted how life had grown so distant.
I’d missed my chance to die. I hadn’t expected to ever go home again.
It was a simple weariness, not deep enough to warrant getting sentimental, but one that I couldn’t ignore, so I drew a deep breath to drown it out.
“You’re alive.”
That was the first thing Toyota said to me during lunch break on Monday, clearly surprised.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied casually. He let out a “hmm” in suspicion. He turned around the chair in front of me and sat down. In his hand was an expired pastry from the convenience store that he worked at. He was always bringing me those secretly.
“Well, look at you.” He laughed, pointing at my hands. It was a bento from the school store. I hardly ever checked what they had on sale, but when I opened my wallet, I realized I could already afford it and felt dizzy on the spot. I figured that was how rich folks must have felt. With considerable excitement, I bought one of their larger bentos. It had several different fried foods on a bed of rice.
Now that I could eat without worrying where my next meal would come from, I was hungrier than ever. I might have grown a little taller already.
“Want some fried chicken?”
“Thanks, man.” When I lifted the container in his direction, Toyota snatched a piece without hesitation and continued, “Seriously, though! I never imagined you’d still be around after your mother’s funeral. Guess I was wrong.”
“You thought I was gonna die?”
“I’m not saying you were gonna die. Dunno... I thought maybe you’d skip town, or you’d stop coming to school or something. I definitely didn’t expect to see you having lunch at school today.”
“Huh.”
“So, what now?”
“Haven’t decided.”
One of my mystery fried foods was a white fish. As I chewed, I remembered the dinners we had at the Nishikawa residence every night. I’d been too stressed to taste any of those meals. I was enjoying this bento far more.
Well, except for last night.
My world had changed. It had a little more color now than before.
“Toyota, were you at my place on Sunday?”
“No. My father hasn’t come home.”
“You wouldn’t have...moved any trash bags by any chance?”
“What? Did something happen?”
“No, don’t worry about it.”
I’d ended up staying the night at his place on Sunday and went home early the next morning. The trash bags were gone by then. I sighed, thinking trash collection just had to happen early on the one day I wanted to dumpster dive, only to find them by my front door, as if they had been waiting for me all along.
I thought Toyota might have noticed my name on the notebooks or recognized my shoes through the transparent bag and brought them back, but...
If it wasn’t Toyota, I couldn’t think of many people who would come knocking on my door.
“I’ll keep working my part-time job for now. I still don’t know why, but the money’s good. That’s the only way I can keep going to school,” I explained.