“Huh? Why’s that?”
“Because I…” I’m going to quit, so you don’t have to throw yourself into the fire to save my skin. “I’m not the kind of person everyone thinks I am.”
“What? I mean, sure, everybody’s like that, right?” He shrugged casually, and I couldn’t tell if he was dodging the subject intentionally or purely by coincidence. “Good lord, kid, you’re too uptight!”
“That’s not it.”
“Trust me, it is.” He tossed the wad of paper into the hallway trash can. “You could be a mustache-twirling villain for all I care—well, ideally not a felon, I guess. But as long as you’re sincere to the camera, that’s all that matters. The camera never lies; it shows the viewers way more than we realize. You haven’t betrayed anyone or anything, Kunieda. That’s why the staff and I enjoy working with you. Period. What more do you need?”
I stood there, searching for a response and coming up empty-handed.
Instead, a staff member suddenly came running down the hall. “Shitara-san!”
“What is it?”
“There’s been an outbreak of food poisoning at a local European chain restaurant. Twenty people were taken to the hospital, some apparently unconscious. Same restaurant had an identical scandal last year. The CEO’s holding a press conference at six.”
And a moment later, I swear to you, my mouth moved of its own accord.
“I’ll go.”
Wait, what am I saying?
“I reported on the incident last year, so I can pull those files ASAP. I can get in direct contact with a health care official too.”
“Good. Get on it, Kunieda. We’ll wedge a remote broadcast of the press conference into the evening news, and then give a more detailed fact report during the late-night slot to cover last year’s incident.”
“Right.”
What do you mean, “right”?! I’m quitting! Enough with the worker bee act!
And yet, in spite of my brain’s protest, my body acted on autopilot. I went to the scene, reported on camera for the live broadcast, and asked questions at the press conference. When I made it back to the station, the director and I edited it into a prerecorded segment. Then, after a slapdash meeting, we dropped it into the late-night show.
My first day without Ushio came and went in the blink of an eye.
“Sorry, but would it be all right if I stayed behind in the studio a little longer?” I asked.
“Oh, sure, that’s fine. Once you’re done, just call my extension and I’ll come lock up. Is it okay if I turn the lights down low?”
“Yes, thank you.”
With the set cleared away and covers on all the cameras, the newly deserted studio seemed to have forgotten all about the rush of one hour prior and drifted off to sleep until tomorrow night. I asked myself: when tomorrow night rolled around, what would I be doing? The answer, of course, was obvious. I would be here, reading the news. Same as the next night, and the night after that. Because I was a newscaster.
I wanted to scream so loud it would shake the ceiling above me. What the hell was I supposed to do except wish for Ushio’s stupid dad to drop dead (in his sleep, ideally, so I wouldn’t have to feel bad about it)?
Regardless of whether Ushio was watching, regardless of whether Ushio was by my side, I wanted to be here. I couldn’t imagine myself not being here. I wanted people to want me here, and I wanted to exceed their expectations every time. I didn’t want to let them down or betray them.
Did that mean he was right all along? Was I supposed to thank him for nobly sacrificing himself so I could retain the privilege of standing here while he had to give up his own career? Was there truly no way we could keep both?
In the silence of the empty studio, I could hear a faint mechanical sound. I looked around and realized the source of the noise was my own briefcase in the corner of the room. My phone—my personal phone—was buzzing. Which meant it could only be Ushio or my parents.
Ushio… Parents… Ushio… Parents… Ushio… Parents… With every step I took, the options in my head alternated like petals plucked from a flower. With a deep breath, I plunged my hand into my briefcase and grabbed the vibrating device.
The display read: DAD.
Don’t be sad! Don’t be disappointed! I cautioned myself as I answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Kei. Sorry to call so late. Could we talk real quick?”
“Sure.” It was highly unusual for my father to speak to me directly, without my mother as a middleman.
“See, your mom’s going in for surgery tomorrow.”
“Huh?!”
“Oh, well, technically today, I should say. She was admitted yesterday,” he explained.
“For what?!”
“Uterine fibroid. But it’s just a laparoscopy, so she’ll only need to stay for two or three days afterward.”
He sounded casual about it, but as far as I knew, it was the first time my mother had been admitted to the hospital since I was born. Plus, the word surgery was always scary…even scarier when it was an organ the male body didn’t have…
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” I was so flustered, the words came out sounding like an accusation.
“Well, I mean, we did try to tell you last time, but you seemed busy…”
“Oh…” Now I remembered: I was the one who blew them off with “some other time.”
“Your mom told me she’d tell you, so I assumed you knew already. But when we were eating dinner at the hospital last night, she saw you on the news and told me she forgot to mention it.”
“Gee, great timing…”
“Sorry, son. Your old dad should have been more proactive.”
“No, it’s fine…” I said. “What time is her surgery?”
“Eleven.”
“I gotta record a voiceover first thing in the morning, but I’ll head over after it’s done. Just tell me which hospital.”
“You sure? Your mom said she doesn’t mind if you can’t make it.”
“Nah, I’ll be there. But I’ll have to be back at the station in the evening, so it’ll only be a quick visit.”
“Gotcha. Well, that’s great to hear! She’ll be delighted to see you.”
And with that, the call ended. Maybe it was for the best that everything was raining down on me all at once, since it kept me busy. Because of that, I found the strength to switch gears and head home.