An old story (2)This is my oldest memory.
When I was younger than Misaki.
A story of when I was around 2 to 3 years old.
Just like Misaki, I didn’t know anything.
And my mother, just like the present me looking after Misaki, looked after me.
She fed me, brought me to the toilet and bath, and taught me minimal information.
She taught me things like ‘don’t trouble other people’ and ‘greetings are important’.
Suddenly I thought.
What are parents?
A mother is someone who teaches me common sense.
She feeds me.
At that time the only adults I knew were my parents and my teacher.
Then what is a teacher?
A person who teaches me things.
That means that there is no difference between parents and teachers.
If there was a difference, it’d be whether or not they used money for my sake. That’s it.
Then, the one who uses money for the child is the parent?
… I don’t really get it.
But, to me that was what a parent was.
Around the time I became aware of my surroundings my lessons started and the chances to see my parents faces decreased dramatically.
Once per month I might meet them during a meal, around that much.
Something is wrong, I thought.
When I first thought that was triggered when I talked to her.
When I truly believed it was triggered by attending a public middle school.
Since I committed violence I was kicked out of the so called “elite path” and enrolled in a public middle school. At that school there were those guys who I doubted were even the same “human” as me.
Being rowdy in the middle of cla.s.s.
Not listening to people.
As if they were beasts with no reason, they lived on pure instinct.
Of course there were good people too.
Those people, they resembled her.
That’s where I realized, she wasn’t special, it was me that was strange.
Sometimes the subject of family would come out. They weren’t talks about pedigree, it was about what they did together, curfew, things like that.
Once I asked a question.
Do you speak with your mom everyday?
Well, if a greeting counts then yeah.
I see, they see their parents everyday.
That seems to be common.
The 2nd year of middle school we were made to write a composition.
The theme was about our families.
I didn’t write anything.
I only submitted a paper with my name on it.
‘There must be something’, the teacher said.
‘Like what?’ I answered.
Something like what you talked about, who’s in your family… the words came smoothly out of the teacher’s mouth.
I see, it’s alright if I just write about that, huh.
The Tendou house has 3 people: father, mother, and me.
The last time I talked to my family was after the violence incident.
‘Why did you do something like this?’ My mom asked.
‘I don’t know.’ I answered.
My mother persistently asked but since I really didn’t know I didn’t say anything else.
Finally my mom made a very tired face, sighed, and said this:
“You’re the worst, really. As I thought it would have been better if you were never born.”
As a result, I presented my paper that seemed as if it was written by a elementary schooler.
I don’t know what my teacher thought after reading it, but after that he never touched the subject of my family again.
This paper held a small significance.
When someone asks me about my family I can say “After ‘It would have been better if you were never born’ we haven’t talked” and they wouldn’t be able to respond. And if I answered like that once they would never ask a second time.
Come to think of it, there was a guy who got angry.
‘Horrible’, ‘unforgiveable’, ‘saying whatever they want’, there was a person like that.
I feel like I gave a suitable response.
Not really, that’s their choice.
Giving birth to a child and thinking they wish they never did, that’s their choice.
I feel like I answered like that.
But I felt like it was unfair.
The adults are free, but the children have no freedom.
Since they don’t know anything they can only desperately memorize things.
Thankfully I was taught how to study.
But I shiver every time I think about if I wasn’t taught that.
Well now.
Cause of something like that, I don’t know much about ‘parents’.
From common sense I know of ‘splendid parent’ but I don’t know anything about it.
For example, it felt like reading a description of something I’ve never seen.
What should I do?
If I become a splendid parent I can make Misaki happy. That’s the goal.
But I don’t know anything about ‘splendid parent’ and ‘happy’.
How exactly do you implement something you don’t know?
I thought as I looked at Misaki.
Frowning and moving her hand, she glares at the notebook, smiles, then looks disappointed…
“Hey, Misaki.”
“…n?”
“You havin’ fun?”
“…n.”
When was the last time I used the word ‘fun’?
…s’not like me at all.
Jeez, I give up.
This ain’t like me at all.
Why am I worrying over stupid stuff.
I’m gonna live as I like. Didn’t I already decide that?
I ain’t bound by anythin’. I’m free.
Free?
I got it, for now, how about this?
A parent has the freedom to say ‘I wish you were never born’. Then the child also has to have the freedom to say ‘I’m glad I was born’.
Yeah that’s right, that’s good.
Splendid parent, let’s put such an ambiguous thing on hold.
Let’s make Misaki think ‘I’m glad I was born’.
Yosh, if it’s this then it’s easy to understand.
I hope I can do something to make her happy.
…For that, I’ll need more money, huh.
Aah s.h.i.t, what’s with this?
Now that I have a goal I’m all excited. If it’s was gonna be like this I shoulda done something earlier.
“Misaki.”
“…n?”
“…No, it’s nothing.”
‘Thank you’, saying those words was a little too embarra.s.sing.
I look at Misaki who’s tilting her head in curiosity; my cheeks loosen slightly.