Act 1: Conjecture
Losing Touch - part 3
I lay down on the living room sofa and let the cool breeze from the window caress my body. Today’s weather has been treating us well, despite it being summertime.
tmp tmp tmp I hear Hisao’s footsteps come down the carpeted stairs with excitement.
“Feeling tired?” He asks.
As I open my mouth to reply, a loud yawn escapes my lips only to be quickly muffled by my hand. I guess that serves as a good answer.
“All this walking has left me quite drained, I'm afraid, not to mention the inhuman amounts of hot soup we had for lunch.” I feel warm and cozy, ready to lay down my head and dream of tomorrow.
It would be a good thing, hadn’t we planned to stay awake until Hisao’s parents came home so that we could have dinner together again.
“What time are your parents set to come home?”
“Well, they finish work around 11, but overtime is common there. Add up the drive back and it could be between 12 to 2am,” states Hisao as I hear him open a door in the living room that I didn’t know existed until now. “
Now where was that thing...”
If I haven’t lost track of time, it should be around 8pm. I’m not confident that I can stay awake for another hour, much less another four. The mere thought of fighting off my drowsiness any longer is tiring, and I can feel my eyelids become heavier with each passing second.
“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours and we can cook dinner together.” Hisao must have noticed me slipping away, because his tone is slightly louder, accentuating every word in the hopes that his volume is enough to keep me awake.
That certainly sounds nice, but my curiousity is keeping me from fully falling asleep. “What did you want to show me?”
“
This!” His voice echoes from within the room he walked into. “I can’t believe it took me until now to remember this thing.”
“Listen to this.” His statement quickly followed by the gentle strum of a guitar, each note filling the room with a pleasant sound. Some of the notes are out of tune, and the way the chord echoes from within the guitar seems off, as if the sound hole wasn’t properly proportioned.
“You play the guitar?” with my curiosity piqued, my sleepiness slightly fades away.
“Well no… yes… maybe? Not really. It’s a looooong story, and you said you felt kinda tired… maybe later?”
His tone does a poor job of masking his underlying excitement. I can tell he’s dying to tell me something, but doesn’t want to appear inconsiderate. I have a feeling that the story behind this must be good, so I decide to push my nap for later.
“No, please, go ahead with your story.”
“Ok so, it’s not really
my guitar nor my story. It’s actually my father’s.” Hisao begins his tale as he excitedly plops down on the sofa chair close to mine. “This guitar is how my father stole my mother’s heart.”
“My mom was very popular back in highschool—or so my dad claims, I can’t picture her ever being cool— and had a lot of boys chasing after her nonstop. It’s probably an exaggeration, but dad claims that there were always at least 3 boys trying to confess to her every week.”
I am unsure of what Mrs. Nakai looks like, but I can imagine that she shares some traits with Hisao. If her face structure is close to my boyfriends, she must have a slim and sharp face, high cheekbones, and smooth skin. I can picture her being quite the looker for a lady.
“Mom and dad used to be classmates, and lab buddies during science lesson. Apparently Dad fell in love with my mom when she would stay long hours after school to help him catch up with his school work. ‘Not even my teachers had enough patience to help me learn, but your mother refused to leave her teammate behind.’ He would say. But he had no idea how he could ever stand a chance against all the other candidates in school. He kept seeing all of them rejected one after another, and he didn’t exactly have anything to offer that all the other rejected candidates didn’t. Then one day, Mom invites my dad to one of those drive-in movie theatres showing western romance movies. In one of the scenes, the protagonist confesses to the girl by playing her a song on his guitar, and the girl immediately falls in love with him.”
The thought of someone stealing a confession from a movie scene is cheesy to me, but it does sound like something Hisao would do. I guess he had to have gotten that from someone in his family.
“So my dad gets the idea that if he does the same, my mother will surely fall head over heels for him. There’s just one problem, he doesn’t know how to play guitar, nor can afford to buy one. So he does the most logical thing he can think of!”
“He saves money to buy a guitar and signs up for guitar lessons?”
“Nah, he breaks into the school’s music room and steals a guitar and the few guitar music sheets he can find. My dad was quite the delinquent back then. Not even a good one, at that, because he gets busted by some music club student on his way out.”
From the few interactions I’ve seen between Hisao and his father, he’s certainly not your average adult. Still, it is hard to imagine him as a teenage delinquent.
“Getting busted was both a curse and a blessing for him, because it did solve the remaining problem he had. He had just found his new guitar instructor! Dad threatens to beat up the poor guy if he doesn’t keep his mouth sealed and teaches him how to play guitar. And my father is a pretty big guy, so the boy does the wise thing and obliges.”
Now that I think about it, Hisao’s father must be quite tall judging from the position of his voice when he stands. Mrs. Nakai is short on the other hand, probably the reason why Hisao is still quite tall, but not nearly as much as his father.
“Things went smoothly for a little while. There was a ruckus about the missing equipment, but dad kept his head low and took his guitar lessons after class, it didn’t last long, however. It took less than two weeks for the boy to work up the courage to report him to the principal, and my dad got in a lot of trouble.
No matter what, he refused to return the guitar he had stolen. ‘Not yet’ he kept saying. Security tried to forcibly take it from him, but my had fought back as hard as he could. As expected, the guitar got seriously damaged from the altercation. Now my dad had charges of theft, destruction of equipment, fighting school security, threatening a schoolmate… the list went on.”
I’ve read about how love makes you do illogical things. I can’t say I agree with Mr. Nakai’s actions, but his intentions were pure, and I can’t help but admire them.
“In the end, he ends up getting expelled, and headed home defeated after being scolded by the entire school administration and everyone in his family, including his third cousin twice-removed. But he doesn’t care about either, what he’s truly sad about is not being able to play a song for the girl he loves.
Then on his way out, destiny strikes. He sees the janitor dumping the busted guitar into a dumpster. He immediately takes it and rushes to my mother’s house. He arrives with a busted guitar that's out of tune and has a huge crack in the middle, bent headstock, and 2 missing tuning machines. He also has little over a week of experience, a music sheet he can barely understand, and only memorized half the lyrics. But that doesn’t stop him, he finally reaches my mom’s house decides to steal another scene from the movie. The protagonist threw small pebbles at the girl’s window until she opened it, but my father chose a pebble that was too big and ended up shattering her window. But hey, at least that got her attention!”
Hisao takes my hand and places it over a wooden surface. The guitar. It’s chipped in many places, the wood is old and rough, and there’s a huge crack widening the music hole. The strings feel rusty and dull, as if they hadn’t been changed in a long time. I move my hand up the bridge of the instrument, until I come across a bent piece of metal connecting the tuning machines, and an out of place gear that is barely still in contact with its counterpart.
“He actually managed to play a song for her that day. The sound was way off, and he missed a lot of notes. He also butchered the french lyrics, he had trouble pronouncing most things. It was a broken piece, but he played it anyways, and my mom loved it. Luckily for my dad, mom already had developed feelings for him just weeks after they had met, but was too afraid that their relationship wouldn't work out. ‘We came from such different backgrounds, and I couldn’t see how two pieces of a different puzzle could ever fit together.’ she told me. But looking outside her window she heard her answer. She heard a piece of music that was broken, out of tune and incomplete, but beautiful nonetheless. She took it as a sign that even if their relationship might not seem perfect, it could still work as long as both of them tried.”
“That’s a very beautiful story, Hisao, thank you for sharing it with me.”
“I remembered it while walking outside. It reminded me a bit of the music box I gave you.”
That simple wooden box means the world to me. It was Hisao’s first gift to me, a memory that will never be forgotten. That box was what got me thinking about Hisao as more than a friend, and it was the box that I placed at his bedside when he woke up after his incident. In a way, that music box was present both in the birth and the reset of our relationship. Makes me wonder…
“Maybe one day our children will talk about our music box the same way you talk about this guitar.”
“W-well I uh…” Hisao begins stuttering worse than Hanako used to, and I realise…
Oh goodness, did I say that out loud?!
“I-it was just a thought! You know sometimes my mind wanders and…” I can feel my face become warmer by the moment.
“Hey it’s fine! Its uh… It’s actually a really nice thought… I just hadn’t imagined life so far ahead before.” Interrupts Hisao, reassuring me. “I think I’d like that someday.”
There’s a peculiar tone of dreaminess to his words, as if he had just pictured us that far into the future.
“Anyways, that’s kinda why I said I could play the guitar but not really. My dad taught me the piece he played that day he confessed, so that I could play it for her during mother’s day. It’s slightly adjusted, using alternate tabs that take advantage of the out of tune strings so that they sound closer to a normal guitar.
So technically speaking, I can only play one song in this one of a kind instrument.”
Such a skill would sound useless to anyone else, but the sentimental value behind it coupled with the story it carries make it priceless.
“Could you play it for me?”
“Sure, but don’t expect much. I haven’t played it in years, and I’ve forgotten most of the lyrics.” He takes the guitar into his hands and I hear him sit down on the sofa next to mine. “Lay down and relax, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to make dinner.”
He tests a few strings and attempts to tune them to the best of his ability —the ones that still have working tuning machines, at least. I lay down on the sofa once more and close my eyes, but refrain from falling asleep while Hisao prepares to play for me.
He taps his thumb against the bridge of the guitar four times and hums a tune to himself, trying to find his tempo. Moments later, the room is filled by the gentle strokes of guitar strings. The tune is slightly off, and it’s obvious which tabs are are meant as replacements for the broken ones, but the general rhythm and feel of the song make up for it. I recognize the song immediately as Edith Piaf’s
’La Vie en rose’. Hisao claims not to know the lyrics, but I can hear faint words escaping his mouth to guide himself through the song. He has problems pronouncing french, especially the ones with heavy Rs, but he tries regardless. He’s probably too shy to sing full strength, afraid to butcher the pronunciation like his father.
As the tune carries on, my mind can’t help but drift back to the thought of our future, and I begin to fade away thinking of what could be. The sweet melody coercing me to sleep. As the song draws to a close, I feel my senses becoming numb, making it hard to focus on the music. The final note is the last thing I hear before I escape into my dreams.
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I’m gently awakened by a different melody. Its low, and the vibrations of the strings echo throughout the room, as if it had become much bigger. I recognize this as a cello, and whoever is playing it is doing so with aggression. It’s way too loud, and each note resonates as if they had been played with all their might.
I sit up from the sofa as I regain my senses, and once I’m sitting up straight, whoever is playing the cello immediately ceases.
“Ah, I see you’re back. How was your day?”
It’s that voice again. The one that sounds dangerously familiar but completely strange at the same time. I don’t know who it is, but I feel like I know them. It’s a female, she sounds young and foreign. Her japanese has an odd accent accompanying it, I’ve heard it before, but the answer can’t seem to leave the tip of my tongue.
“Would you care to join me for some tea?” Her voice is several steps behind me now, but I didn’t hear her walking there. It is at that moment that I notice that I’m standing, and the sofa is gone. I don’t remember that either.
Her voice is gentle and inviting, but a feeling in my gut is telling me not to take her up on her request. I weigh my options, and see no harm in listening to what she has to say. Although I am curious to know something first.
“Who are you?” A rather straightforward and rude way of greeting someone, but my desire to know this woman’s identity is unusually strong, to the point where I
need to know who I’m talking to,
“It should be obvious, but I guess my japanese might sound pretty rusty. Living in Scotland for so long will do that to you.” She walks over to me, her footsteps echoing off the walls of the large room we find ourselves in. She takes the back of my hand and places it on her shoulder. “Go ahead, take a look.”
The fabric on her body is light and soft, the design of it is reminiscent to a nightgown. I move my hand up her neck and find a lock of hair, combed straight and well taken care off, but no scent to it. I finally reach her jaw, and her facial structure is oddly familiar.
I begin mapping the contours of her face, making mental measurements and forming a picture in my head. Halfway through, I being to realise that we share similar features. The shape of her cheekbones and jawline are identical to mine. It doesn’t stop there, however. I am met with more similarities between the two of us with every new area I explore. I revise the image of her, and come to an undeniable conclusion.
She’s me.
She looks exactly like me. Our height is matching, as are our faces.
I’m completely lost for words, I take a step back to make distance between us, but end up falling backwards and land on a chair that was not there a second ago.
“Thank you for joining me.” She says as I hear her place a porcelain cup and saucer on the table, which seems to have shifted from wherever it was to right in front of me. “French vanilla, just like we like it.”
She pours me a cup, but I can’t feel neither the aroma nor the warmth coming from the tea. This tea was not made anytime recently.
“You know what? I’m tired of speaking japanese, feels like everything I say is a tongue twister.” She pulls back her chair and sits down opposite of me, pouring herself a cup.
“
Do you mind if we speak The King’s instead?”
I’m caught off guard by the sudden change of language. Her english has heavy traces of the Scottish accent —not as heavy as a native, but clear hints of having picked up the language while living there. I noticed the same thing with my father’s english during my last visit.
“Your choice, I’m much more comfortable with my Japanese.”
“
Suit yourself.” She takes a sip of he tea, and unlike mine, it gives off a strong scent of vanilla. Freshly made.
“Why am I here?”
“
I don’t know, Lilly. Why are you here? Care to take a guess?”
“I don’t have time for this. Just answer the question.”
“
My my, Lilly. So much hostility. What’s the rush, do you have somewhere to be?”
Her words are true, why am I being so rude towards her? I feel a looming sense of danger, telling me to walk away right now. Despite that, I choose to stay. So far, she hasn’t done anything to merit such a response. I give the question some thought, but come up with nothing.
“No, I can’t say I know why I’m here.”
“
What?” She sets down her cup and saucer a tad too strongly, causing it to clang loudly, and unpleasant sound only heightened by the echoes of the room. “
You really can’t think of anything wrong you might have done?”
“Not in particular, no.”
A moment of deafening silence ensues, and I wonder for a couple of seconds if she has disappeared like the rest of the room. No such luck
“
Right, little miss perfect has never done anything wrong in her life. She’s always a victim of circumstance.” Her words carry a sharp edge of aggression. I don’t like this one bit.
“
Can’t think of anything? I’ll give you some reminders?” She taps her finger against the porcelain edge of the cup, chipping at it. “
I guess the earliest example could be found as early as your birth, huh? Being a huge burden to your family from the moment you arrived?”
“I didn’t ask for this, I had no choice over my condition!”
“
Blah blah blah. Victim of circumstance as always. Forcing your sister to work herself to the bone and abandon her life to take care of you and bringing shame to your family. I presume you don’t blame yourself for that either?”
Her tapping becomes faster and louder, and the tea cup sounds like it might chip.
“
Let’s move on then. What about the student council breakup?”
“I had nothing to do with that, what happened was a consequence of Shizune’s actions.”
“
What?! I know you managed to convince everyone else that what it was Shizune’s fault, but have you really lied to yourself so much that even you believe that? Do you really think that your intrusive antics weren’t the cause of the fallout?”
“What happened between me and Misha had nothing to do with the student council.”
“
Oh ho, that’s just golden. But I guess it is to be expected from you. Deny that you were the one who caused everything to go wrong and blame it on someone else. After all, what’s truly important is that you maintain a good image no matter what, right? Even at the expense of painting Shizune as a colossal bitch.
“Don’t use that word to describe her, she’s family.”
“
I’m only an extension of yourself, sweetie! Anything and everything that leaves my lips is because deep inside this empty heart. You. Think. Its. True.”
She pokes me in the chest to emphasize her last words, hard enough for it to string. I try to swat away her hand, but by the time I swing, she’s already back in her seat.
“
Let’s move on from the past. After all, you will just keep telling yourself something cliché about not being able to change it, as if that made what you did any better. What about now, Lilly? What the hell do you think you’re doing with Hisao?”
“Don’t… just don’t go into that territory.”
“
Oh shut up. I think it’s about time you faced reality. You have the audacity to rope a boy into a relationship with you, did you not have enough with being a burden to Akira already!?”
“I-I’m not a burden to anyone! I may have trouble with some things, but I can still be independent.”
“
How pathetically delusional of you. And to make things worse, it couldn’t even be a normal boy. You just had to hook the one with a heart condition, didn’t you? It’s not enough that he spends his entire life working to provide for you, now he actually has to kill himself trying.”
Her voice is significantly louder compared to when we first sat down.
“
The poor lad nearly died just to get you to stay for Christ’s sake! All because you couldn’t grow a spine and tell daddy to piss off. Which reminds me, did you seriously confess to Hisao knowing full well that you would have to leave for Scotland? Jesus, who in their right mind would ever inflict heartbreak to someone with arrhythmia, it’s almost as if you were purposely trying to kill him or something.”
I firmly slam my hand on the table, and take my leave. “I don’t have to listen to you any longer.” I am unsure of where I am, so I’ll start by walking the direction opposite of her.
“
You’re seriously just gonna walk away?”
My reply comes in the form of hastening my step, extending my hand infront of me to find the nearest wall possible. That’s my plan. Find a wall, follow it until I come across an exit.
“
Open yours eyes, Lillian. You can’t walk away from me because I am you. The difference is that I see you for what you truly are.”
This makes no sense. I have already walked nearly thirty steps, but I can’t find the end of the room. Her voice is close, as if she was following me a few steps behind, yet I can’t hear her footsteps.
“
Don’t be blind to your true nature. Take a hard look at yourself for once in your life. Can’t you see that you only bring pain to those around you?”
”LEAVE ME ALONE!”
I start running, desperate to find the way out. A blind person should never run this fast, it’s impossible to know what is in front of me, and I could collide against something at any time. But i don’t care anymore. I
need to find something. A wall, a door, anything at all in this empty void. I don’t care if I have to smash my face against it.
“
How short-sighted of you to make decisions based on your feelings, not considering that your actions have consequences. Either that, or you simply don’t care. Look at the bigger picture, Lillian.”
How is she still right behind me? She is not running, I can’t hear any footsteps or a strain in her voice.
”SHUT UP!”
I break into a full sprint.
“
Come back, Lillian.”
I ignore my lungs begging for a breath, or my heart that is trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“
Liiiillian.”
I need to get out.
“Lilly!”
I jump out of the bed I wake up from in a panic and bang my head against someone. Whoever it is, I hear them fall backwards on the floor and groan in pain.
“ARGH!” I recognize this voice instantly. It’s Hisao, and he’s in agony. “L-lilly… H-help m-
HNNGH”
Oh god, what have I done?! I hit him in the chest, didn’t I?
I rush to his side and take his hand. He squeezes on it like his life depended on it, his other hand clutching at his chest with all his strength. I press my ear to his abdomen, and I can hear his irregular heartbeat going haywire.
“H-help m-me plea-
AHHH.”
I need to call an ambulance. I need to get him help. Where's the phone? Where in the room are we?
Don’t panic, Lilly. You still can help him. I remember Mrs. Nakai picking the phone during our dinner yesterday to answer a call. It’s in the living room. All I need to do is make my way there and find it.
Yes, that’s the plan. Find a wall, search for the exit, follow the corridor downstairs and call someon-
Hisao goes quiet, and he stops moving in my arms. His grip on my hand rapidly relaxes, and he lets go.
“Hisao. Stay with me.”
No answer. I place my hand on his chest and feel nothing.
“Hisao, please. Don’t leave me.”
I cup his face in my hand, and he feels so, so cold.
“Please stay with me, I need you!”
His body is motionless. The boy who was full of life talking about our future together is now silent.
“P-please don’t go! I-I’m so so sorry! Please come back!” I bury my face on his neck, and tears begin pour out. I feel so impotent, so small and weak.
“I’m so, so sorry.”
His body begins to become lighter, and my hands begin to sink into his chest as he disappears. He feels light as a feather, and the only thing I’m left holding are flower petals, while the rest float away from my grasp.
I can’t let him disappear like everything else. I desperately try to keep him together for as long as I can, but it’s futile. I stand up and begin to chase for the lost petals soaring through the air. I’m stopped by someone placing a hand on my chest and pushing me away, making me fall on my back.
“
Poor thing. He might have lived so see another day, if it had been someone else. Maybe they could have helped him. But not you”
I begin to crawl backwards, attempting to get away.
“STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
“
Don’t worry, Lillian. You’ll wake up soon enough, and go back to putting on a show and dance for everyone. Enjoy wearing that mask as long as you want, it won’t change how things are bound to end.”
“
My biggest regret is that when it happens for real, I won’t be there to see your reaction once you realize what you’ve done.”
Lilly?
A voice calls out from no particular direction.
“
It seems that it's time to wake up, Lillian. Don’t worry, I’ll be right here when you get back.”
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“Lilly?” Hisao gently shakes me awake as he calls for my name.I wake up for the second time, this time on his bed, with him at my side.
How do I know this is real?
I sit up and desperately shake my head to kickstart my senses.
“Right, you might be a bit confused. I carried you upstairs after you fell asleep on the sofa, it’s nearly midnight. I hope you had a good nap?”
Not one bit. I’ve never experienced a nightmare of such intensity and nature, it felt way too real. So real that I am not entirely convinced that I’m awake.
“My parents called a minute ago, they just got out of work and should be here in about an hour or so. Are you still up for playing chef?”
I discretely pinch myself, something I’ve read people do to distinguish dreams from reality. I do it a few more times for good measure, and let the events that just occurred sink in. I take a deep breath and push everything out of my head.
“Lilly, are you ok?” a subtle tone of concern underlying his words. It is then that I realised that I haven’t spoken a single word since I woke up.
“Hisao.”
After what happened back in my nightmare, I can’t get enough of his voice. It meant nothing, it wasn’t real. Nothing more than a bad dream.
I wrap my arms around him and press my cheek to his, feeling his warmth. He’s right here, and he’s fine.
“Did you have a nightmare or something?”
I pull away and nod, offering a gentle smile to let him know that I’m all right now. “Yes, but I’m awake now. That’s all that matters.”
She’s gone, and Hisao’s here. She can’t get me here. I’m safe, at least for now, but I find myself scared of going back to sleep.
Don’t worry, I’ll be right here when you get back.
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