Somehow: part two
By Uozumi
Author’s
Note: It’s nice that this is set in the
1980's - there is so much I can do at the airport that I couldn't think of
doing in this day and age. I own
nothing.
----
"This is
my room," Eiji dropped his duffle near the bed as Ash came through the
doorway.
The room was
medium-large with a wood-paneled floor. It had white walls, and a large sliding window that exited out
onto the back porch. The house was one
story, but somewhat large, about the size of a good-sized ranch-style house
back in the United States. There was a
long bookshelf that ran along the wall that faced the foot of the bed, and a
small closet was just beside the bed, its dark brown door closed. Just to the right of the bed, the opposite
side than where they were standing, was a small window higher up in the wall.
Ash's green
eyes took all it in as he tried to formulate all the various escape routes in
his head.
Wait.
Escape routes
in his head . . . .
Ash closed his
eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He highly doubted that anyone would track him this far away, and
even then, what business did he have devising escape routes?
"Are you
tired? I can get -"
"No, not
tired, just thinking," Ash waved a hand through the air as though the
topic would dissipate with the motion. However,
just the word suddenly made him aware that he was quite tired, and it made
sense. Even though he had slept on the
airplane, the time difference was substantial enough that it weighed down on
the teenager.
Then Mrs.
Okumura's soft and high Japanese floated to them from the direction of the
kitchen.
Eiji answered
back in Japanese, then turned back to Ash, "Her English isn't very good. She didn't finish high school, and there she
didn't do it well."
Ash nodded,
then followed the shorter male out of the room and down the hall. When he
entered the kitchen, he was met with the smells of the exact same food that
Eiji was always content in sharing back in New York. As he took it in, many memories flooded back to him of just it
being he and Eiji in the apartment, or wherever they were staying, eating
Japanese food and talking.
"I guess
I'm not going to escape those tofu sandwiches, am I?" Ash smirked.
Eiji smiled
back, "I told you - Tofu is perfect food."
"Ei-chan,"
his mother said something to him in Japanese as Ash just contented himself with
making a mental picture of the kitchen. There was a stove towards his left from where he stood looking out
at the back yard at a door much like Eiji's door that let out onto the back
porch. There were cabinets of very dark
brown wood around the edges of the kitchen and under the pale countertops,
which were white and speckled, the same color as the wall, which had no
speckles.
"Ashu-san,"
Mrs. Okumura turned to him, holding a steaming bowl of noodles with some sort
of sauce Ash didn't know on them, "take to table, please?"
Ash nodded, and
took the bowl, cradling it as Eiji led him to the dining room. "Place them
here," Eiji indicated a hot pad for Ash to set the bowl down.
"Don't you
think it's a little much?" Ash
glanced at a few other large dishes set out.
"Kasan
does this whenever new people come," Eiji explained. "She will slow down . . . in a few days .
. . weeks . . . ."
"Months?"
Ash suggested, and before Eiji could nod solemnly, a flash of white had
appeared.
"Ashu-san,"
Nanako was instantly at his side, "what will you drink?"
Ash raised an
eyebrow at the "Ashu-san," wondering mildly what it was about as he
answered, "Water, I suppose."
Nanako answered
something back in affirmation and went off to get the drinks for the meal.
"She's . .
. um . . . very hyper," Ash noted after the girl had gone, he and Eiji
standing at the table casually.
"Imoutochan likes you - is all," Eiji commented,
looking off somewhere else, his mind thinking about something.
Ash was about
to say something, when Okumura-san entered the room, "Sit down, soon it
will be time to eat," he smiled at Ash pointedly, a warm, kind, and
reassuring smile. The man had changed
out of his business suit and looked very young and vigorous even if he had to
be over forty.
Ash took a seat
across from Eiji, leaving the seat open nearest Okumura-san. It was subconscious, just the idea of
distancing himself form the businessman who had been dressed as though he had
been an official or manager of some sort. It just brought up pain that he wasn't consciously remembering,
and perhaps it was the sudden appearance of a mother figure that drew Ash to
this end of the dinner table.
Soon, Mrs.
Okumura and Nanako entered the room and set out the last of the meal before
taking their seats, Mrs. Okumura between Ash and Eiji; Nanako between Ash and
Okumura-san. As soon as the food was
passed, and Ash prepped himself mentally for the meal as always when Eiji
insisted upon having this kind of food, Mrs. Okumura looked to her son and
asked him something in Japanese.
Eiji responded
into Japanese, and the whole family began talking and laughing as Ash just ate
some of his food. He still wondered if
this had been a smart idea after all. He had no grasp of Japanese, he had no money, he somehow had
managed to bring his reading glasses and passport, but he had no way to repay
the Okumura family or get a job.
"Ashu-san,"
Nanako spoke up suddenly, jarring Ash from his thoughts, "what is American
like?"
Ash paused
along with Eiji. How could he answer that? Could he give her what most Americans saw? He certainly couldn't tell her the truth . . .
.
"It's . . .
it's a place full of squandered dreams, where you have to make or break
yourself," Ash replied. "Your
life can go one way or another, there is no gray area."
"Ah,"
Nanako replied, then inquired, her eyes innocent, intentions pure, "If no
gray area, where are you?"
Ash blinked. Could he say, "Oh, the dark side,"
or not?
"Imoutochan!" Eiji reacted before Ash could, and
exclaimed some rearmament in Japanese.
Nanako shared a
glower with her brother, then said something curt in Japanese back.
"Nana-chan,"
Mrs. Okumura reprimanded.
The girl turned
to her mother and said something impassioned in reply as Ash watched, wishing
he hadn't sat between them.
"Ashu-san,"
Okumura-san addressed the boy abruptly, putting an end to whatever was being
exchanged, "I welcome you," and he raised his drinking glass,
"into our home."
Eiji was next
to pick up his glass, and he too was smiling, then came the women, and they
toasted their new houseguest, who merely smiled slightly, feeling a tad
embarrassed.
He wasn't a
person, in his opinion, that they should toast.
To be continued
. . .