I Remember (Hanako / Molly)
This was long enough to go in its own thread, but I don't want to clutter the page, and also, I don't want to seem like I'm infringing on the whole "Hanako's secretive past encounter" idea that the talented Total Destruction is currently exploring. This is literally an idea that came to me on my run yesterday, and seemed worthy of exploration. I rather like how it turned out, even if I'm still not quite sure if this story has any real purpose.
Part 1:
“Now there's something you don't see everyday.” I give the boy walking next to me a light jab in the ribs, gesturing to the scene playing out in the street. Florian looks over. He looks confused for a moment, but then a slow smile spreads across his face.
“Is that really Ikezawa? And Nakai?” He asks, stopping.
“It's not polite to stare.” I chide him jokingly, but I've stopped as well. Hanako looks like she wouldn't care if the entire world watched, and Hisao, well, he's got bigger things on his mind. Like the girl wrapping her arms around him, kissing him tenderly, in the middle of the street.
The two of them look so happy together, so earnest. I feel like the pair of young lovers in front of us are outshining the sun right now, I can't tear my eyes away. The other people around us watch, or glance at them and then look away, but it's a sweet scene, no one can deny.
“Now who's staring?” Florian says dryly, glancing down at me.
“I'm glad.” I say softly, a wide smile on my face. They've broken the kiss, but Hanako stays there, holding on to Hisao for all she's worth. Not like she's afraid for once, not like she's scared, but because she wants to, and she doesn't care what anyone else thinks. It's... it's...
“I'm really glad.” I say to no one in particular.
“Molly?” My friend prods me gently, and I tear my gaze away.
“You okay?” Florian asks. I give him a quick nod, right, right, can't stand around here forever.
“Yup. Let's go, we still have a little more shopping to do.” With that, we leave the young lovers behind us, continuing through the streets of the small town.
“I don't see why you need me to help you shop for a gift for Takashi.” Florian grumbles, but he doesn't mean it.
“Would you rather I be buying something for you?” I wink at him, and he rolls his eyes. We go back a ways, this kind of talk is normal for us by now. Florian isn't quite the type who's interested in the ladies, so he never gets worked up about jabs like that.
“Do you know her? Ikezawa?” He asks, shifting gears.
“Hmm. Not really. We're in the same class, but...” I shrug and then frown, studying the street signs. I know that shop was around here somewhe--
“But I remember something. First year, right? You two were spending a lot of time together.” Florian wears an expression of dull curiosity, he isn't trying to pry or looking for gossip or anything like that, just trying to connect the dots. He's like that.
It's been a long time since I've thought about back then, about that year, when I first met Hanako. I mean, not really 'met', we'd had class together before, but when I first actually got to know her. When she let me see just a little bit of who she really was.
What she really was.
“Molly.” Florian speaks up again, and I realize I had gotten distracted. “Or should I call you Molls?”
I laugh, my train of thought successfully switched over. Only Takashi calls me that and he knows it, it's kind of a silly thing but I enjoy it. He's a mixed bag, that guy. You have to take the good with the bad, but I like the overall picture. And the pictures that he paints aren't bad, either.
Takashi is complicated, but he's not... he's not nearly as complicated as some people. My thoughts begin to return to Hanako. Takashi's got issues, yeah. But there isn't... there isn't some deep, deep hurt lying underneath the surface. He's fairly straightforward, most of the time, even if that doesn't always work in his favor. I smile at the memories we've made together over the course of the school year. I rub my right hand, the mark is almost completely gone now, the last, most visible memory of my brief time spent with Hanako, two years ago.
I'm really glad she's happy. I'm really glad she found someone who she could open up to, who could help her with her pains. I don't think ill of her at all, my hand was an accident, so I told everyone and so I still believe.
She deserves to be happy. She deserves someone like Hisao, he turned out to be a pretty good guy after all. And Takashi might be a jerk sometimes, but he's a pretty good guy too, underneath it all. So it all worked out.
I flash Florian a smile, and we continue on our way, talking about eachother's plans for summer break.
It was cold January evening, the wind outside was howling and the student body had been doing the same, urging the teachers to crank up the heat in the dorms. They had complied, but seemed determined to up the thermostat one degree at a time, which is why I was still there, in the main building. They keep it nice and warm during the winter, probably because it's where the staff spend most of their time.
Outside the music room, snow was piling up in ever mounting stacks of white. I would say that at least I don't have to worry about getting frostbitten toes anymore, but the cold travels straight up my metal prosthetics and chills my legs, unless I wear especially thick boots. Nah, I wasn't going out. I was staying here. I was playing my violin, I was forgetting all about my legs, or lack thereof. I moved my hands, my fingers gliding across the strings, I lost myself in the sweet, rich sound. Somewhere along the way, my eyes glossed over, and I didn't even bother reading the music from the page in front of me, I knew it by heart. And where the song would stop, I continued, I echoed bits and pieces, I added a new melody, I didn't stop. The song was beautiful, it was warm and serene and elegant, and I, I was almost like that too.
I was pretty good, I'd been playing for a few years now, the violin in my hands was a present from my mother. I wasn't the best, there was a girl in my class who could outplay me any day of the week, but I, I was going to get better. See, people didn't really stare here, they were used to it, they'd seen far worse than me. But when I went home to visit my family, people, they always looked. They always stared, and nobody was ever brave enough to ask questions, so they probably made something up.
I didn't want people to stare at me, not, not because of my legs, the thin metal prosthetics that connect the ends of my knees to my shoes. I wished they'd look beyond them, I wished they'd look at me. I just wanted to be a normal girl, I'd rather be pretty, I'd rather be liked. But outside Yamaku, people didn't see a pretty girl with carefully braided hair and a bright smile they, they saw my legs. What was left of them.
So I wanted to be better. I wanted to be so good with my violin that when I played, people would close their eyes. They wouldn't see me, they wouldn't see anything, they would get lost in the melody, get swept away by the music. And they wouldn't pity me.
They wouldn’t pity me.
They'd be jealous.
Somewhere along the line I had stopped playing, I guess I got too distracted. Heavy thoughts. Motivation is nice, motivation is what everyone needs, but I wanted to stay on the positive side, there was no need to dwell on things like that. I should--
I glanced up, suddenly realizing that I wasn't alone. The door to the music room was open ever so slightly, and a face was just barely visible. I thought I could make out the familiar dark hair, half a face hidden behind it.
The girl retreated out of sight as our gazes met, but I stood up, gently laying down my violin.
“Wait, come back.” I called, I thought I knew who it was. “Please.”
There was nothing for a few moments, and then I could just barely make out the tiniest echo of footsteps. The figure reappeared, looking at me warily.
“Hanako, right? Ikezawa?” I asked softly, trying not to scare her off. We were in the same class, but we'd never... well, I didn't really know if anyone had ever really talked to her. She didn't really spend that much time in class at all, to be honest.
“Y-y-yes.” She replied, clearly forcing the words out. What little of her I could see looked desperate for this conversation to be stillborn.
I focused my attention on her left eye. I was sure, no, I knew that she didn't want people staring at her either. At least I can cover up my injuries with enough effort, but she...
Everyone could tell that she was hurt. That she still hurt.
I had no doubt that her life had been very different from mine. But maybe we were alike, maybe, maybe she might be willing to talk to me. Something about her, it was kind of intriguing.
“What brings you around here?” I gave her a gentle smile, still focusing on the unscarred portion of her face. To my knowledge, she wasn't in any clubs, she didn't really have any friends.
“I'm s-sorry.” She mumbled, still perched on the other side of the door. “I h-heard you playing a-and, I... I...” She trailed off.
“Did you like it?” I was smiling earnestly now. When people told me that I was good it felt nice, but when people told me that my playing relaxed them, or made them feel better, that was the best kind of praise. Not that I was fishing for compliments, I just wanted to keep her here, I just wanted to talk to her a little more. She was probably going to throw a fit and flee any moment, but maybe...
“It's b-b-beautiful.” Hanako stammered softly. I couldn't help but grin.
“I can play another song, I know a few even better ones.” I motioned to the rows of seats all around me. “Want to sit down?”
Hanako's eyes widened in horror, the band room was usually so full of people and often, so full of noise, it must have been a place of terror for her. But there was no one here now, just me, and now, her.
“I c-couldn't, I... I...” Uh oh.
“I h-have to...” Here we go...
“Go do something, right?” My smile began to fade. I was enjoying playing by myself, but now I really wouldn't mind the company. In the wake of Christmas, everyone else seemed to have found someone to be with, but not me. This year was an unlucky one, I guess, and there was no one in my life at the time. Sure I had some close friends, but they didn't fill that space, you know? They couldn't soothe that ache. And besides, they all seemed to have someone, anyway.
It was cold outside. It was cold inside. I guess I was just tired of being cold.
Hanako looked me right in the eye, her terror seeming to fade for a moment, and in her shadowy face, I saw a glimmer of myself. Of sadness.
“R-right.” She said, sounding regretful. And then she was gone.
Just like that. Oh well, I... wait.
“You can come back again, you know!” I called after her. I walked over to the door, but the hallway was empty, and it was cold. I closed the door, knowing that I wouldn't be seeing any more of Hanako that day.
She didn't come to class the next day, and the day after that, when she finally did, she acted like I didn't exist. There wasn't much that I could do about it, I knew that if I tried to walk up and talk to her she would shut down and make her escape and then probably miss a few more days of class.
So I went back to the usual, and I kept playing my violin, almost every day, in the music room all by myself. And eventually, I had another visitor. This time, I managed to coax her inside, and Hanako sat, hands clasped together tightly in her lap, as I played for her. I chose something simple, something soothing, my hands moving in slow, steady waves.
She only stayed for a little while, but before she left, she thanked me, in her squeaky little voice. It was kind of cute. And it was nice to have someone to play for. Never once did she look at my legs.
A few days after that, she came again, and soon, she was a regular occurrence. I began picking out songs that I thought she would like, but after a few weeks, she surprised me.
It took her a full five minutes to get the question out. She looked like she wanted to bolt the whole time, she couldn't look me in the eye. I might have strained my ear trying to make out her request.
“Can you teach me to play?” She asked. Well, it was punctuated by stammering and stuttering, and only a few words came at a time. But that was the gist of it.
I had never taught anyone else much of anything before, I was nowhere near our music instructor, I wasn't even the best violin player in the class. But I reached forward, slowly, carefully, taking Hanako's hand. Left hand, I wanted to take her right hand, the scars didn't bother me. She was beautiful, how could she not know that? She was a work of art, forged in pain and... and fire. But still standing. Still breathing, and she wanted to learn to play violin? I was smiling like an idiot.
“I can certainly try.” I replied, looking her right in the eyes. Both of them.
Hanako's face lit up, for some reason, she really wanted to learn to play. And then she thanked me and promptly ran out of the room, but still, it was an improvement over her first visit.
Part 2:
I managed to secure an extra violin from storage, a dusty, basic model, but it would do for a beginner. And then I continued living life as normal, Hanako still didn't talk to me in class, I don't know if she was ready for something like that. It was a week before she visited me in the music room again, every previous day I had sat there and waited, and played, and... yearned. I liked playing for her, I liked being around her, I... it felt good. It felt good, having someone want to be there and just listen to me, knowing that, for whatever reason, she enjoyed my playing. I found myself wanting to be around her more, wanting to learn more about her, but I was scared of asking too much of her and forcing her to end her visits.
I missed Hanako, and seeing her every day in class, or at least, on the days she came, and never being able to talk to her, it kind of hurt. I didn't want her to be scared, I didn't want to change her and make her into someone else, someone who could do normal things like talk and laugh and joke with friends in class. I just didn't want to pretend that we were strangers, I wanted to do stupid things like help her with her homework, make her feel... make her feel pretty. Wanted. Loved?
Was it love?
I don't know.
I still don't know, even now. I certainly didn't then.
I wanted to make her feel the way I want to feel. I kind of thought we might be alike, maybe we both just wanted to be normal, accepted. I tried to accept her, what little of her I knew, what little she was willing to show me. I wanted to get to know her better.
And I did, when she finally came back. She held the violin I gave her like it was made of molten metal, her hands trembled as I showed her how to adjust the strings. Her first note was something painful and screeching, she looked like she wanted to pass out. I thought she was going to. But she stayed, she kept trying, at least for a little bit. And then when she starting making excuses about how she had to take care of other things, I told her it was all right. I started playing again, and she sat there and listened, looking terrified, looking desperate. But she stayed. For a while, at least.
At our snail's pace, it took a long time for her to improve. But she was getting better. I showed her the basics, I borrowed beginner's books and asked the music teacher for advice, I gently and quietly pulled her out of her shell, but...
But... she wasn't ready for that. Ready to open up, ready to have someone accept her? Did she not want someone to? Did she...
She didn't. I realize that, now. She didn't feel like she deserved it. She didn't feel like she deserved anything.
The last time I ever saw her play, and the last time Hanako ever spoke to me, was a few months after she had begun visiting me. She had really started to grow as a musician, but all I had really learned about her personally was that her mother used to play the violin. It took me three days to get that little jewel of information out of her. I had told her about my family, I would even have told her about how I lost my legs, if it got her to open up to me. But there was never time, even as we crawled along, she was never ready for something like that.
I wanted her to be. I wanted to open up to her, I dreamed about her doing the same with me. I didn't, I didn't really want her physically, although she didn't repulse me, it just wasn't that kind of attraction. I just wanted to be next to her, I just wanted to coax a smile to her lips. I cherished every moment that I ever even came close.
But I think her story would have dwarfed mine. Because, as I found out, Hanako was still filled with pain. A lot, a lot. So much.
We were first years. Summer vacation wasn't too far away, and even then, we still hadn't done anything more than play together in the music room. It was enough for me. It was enough for her, or so I thought. But as time crept on, she began to grow more nervous, more afraid, even though she had started to let her guard down, even the tiniest bit, around me.
It was like a storm was brewing. In the years to come, I would find out that she always barricaded herself inside her room, at that time, during that month. I still don't know why. But I can guess.
We were sitting there, in the music room together. Hanako had started to grow brave, or something close to it, and she was playing more and more difficult pieces. She had finally gotten the point where she was able to play with emotion and passion, and I was overjoyed, but...
But she was finally able to show me something else as well.
It started innocently, she was playing, for me, for herself, and was doing pretty good at it, too. I watched her with bright eyes, marveling at her progress, how far she'd come in the few months. By this point, I was sure she was practicing on her own, but I never heard any whispers or rumors of her playing in the dorms, so she must have been good at covering her tracks.
Anyway. It was a long piece, she looked so entranced that I reached over and turned the pages for her, she didn't even seem to notice. It wasn't an easy piece either, she missed a handful of notes, skipped a rest here, missed an allegro there. But she was really into it, she was playing with all her heart. I was so proud. Until she started to struggle.
Not with the music. Not with the notes. She began playing faster, her fingers tense, her knuckles white.
“Hanako?” I asked. Something was wrong, I could feel it.
She didn't respond, she stared at the pages before her with wide eyes, her bow jerking back and forth, flashing across the strings. Her playing grew louder, it grew faster. She started shaking.
“Hanako, stop.” I stood up, taking a hesitant step towards her. This was an emotional piece, maybe I shouldn't have let her choose it. It was raw, I sometimes played it on nights when my lower legs forgot that they weren't there any more. Playing helped drive away the physical pain for me, but for her...
“Hanako!” I had to shout over the sheer volume of her playing by now. Her... her mouth was bleeding, she was biting her lip, her hands dancing back and forth madly, it would be incredible if she didn't look like she was tearing herself apart with every second that passed.
She was crying by that point, a steady stream of tears running down her face, but she didn't slow down, I don't think she could. I was crying too, but not for the same reasons as her. The notes that filled the air were beautiful, they were harsh and brilliant and filled with so much raw pain, I don't think she was even looking at the page anymore, she just played, she just flowed and overflowed and hurt.
“Stop!” I screamed, I couldn't see her like this anymore. I stepped forward, I reached for the violin--
There was a sharp twang. Hanako had broken one of the strings in her anguish, it swung forward, it all happened so fast. Her song died in an instant.
One moment, I'm trying to calm her down, I'm trying to make her stop, the next, I'm cradling my hand, staring at a deep gash that was oozing blood. It poured out, it fell to the floor.
Hanako is watching me now, eyes open even wider than before in sheer, abject terror.
I quickly looked from my hand to her, and I knew where my priorities lay. After all, I'd already lost two limbs, this was nothing.
“Hanako, it's okay. Really, it's-” But she cuts me off, we were first years, she was so small back then, we both were. The girl in front of me just let out this horrified wail, every bit as pained as the song that had just ended. She was white as a sheet, her eyes darting from my hand to my face.
“Hanako, please.” Please don't run away, I wanted to say. Please don't leave me alone. I don't even remember if my hand hurt that much, yeah it bled a lot, but all I could think about was how much I didn't want to lose the evenings we spent together, playing for her, showing her how to do the same for me. Slowly seeing more and more of the girl who spent all her time hiding from everyone.
But she had come out of the shadows too quickly. She had shown too much, she hurt too much, and a few months of my company wasn't enough to change that.
“I'm s-s-sorry.” Hanako cried, her face drenched in tears. I don't know if I ever really loved her. But I know seeing her like that broke my heart.
She stared at the violin in her hands like it was a snake about to bite her, or maybe worse, about to bite me again. She almost threw it into the nearest chair, and then bolted for the door.
“Hanako, don't!” I almost screamed, but she was gone. She was gone.
I stayed there for a little while. I sank to my knees, I cried. Not for me, not for me at all, I had done more than enough crying for my own sake in the past. I cried for her, I cried for what we could have had, I cried for the person she might have been if something hadn't swallowed her whole and drenched her heart in pain and regret... and guilt.
I cried until I was starting to feel dizzy from all the blood I was losing. And then I limped my way to the nurse's office.
That was our first year at Yamaku, for both of us. She never came back to the music room. She hasn't spoken to me since, I broke down and tried to find her in the hallways, but she was either too fast for me or turned and ran when she spotted me. I tried to talk to her in class, but she stared straight ahead, retreated somewhere inside herself, and then was absent the next few days.
I cried a lot, after that. And with my hand all bandaged up, I couldn't even play the violin for a month. But I didn't blame her, I never hated Hanako for it. I told the nurse that I had snapped the string myself, I told my friends that I had just gotten stupid. That I had just made a mistake.
I thought a lot about what I could have done differently, if I could have stopped her from trying to burn the whole world down with her song of pain and anguish. But no matter what, I knew.
I knew I couldn't help her. Even if I could possibly understand how she felt, she wouldn't let me. Hurting me was just another thing she added to her list of things to feel guilty about, and she almost didn't even look at me for the next two years.
But there she was, standing in the street, her arms around a boy. Around Hisao. She was so different from the terrified little thing I had grown to know back then. She was so happy. And I was so happy for her.
I couldn't be the one to open her heart, I couldn't be the one to heal the wounds that no one could see. For a long time I wished that I could be, I wished for someone I could help and nurture and then, when they were ready, I would let them help me too.
I'm so glad she found Hisao. And I'm glad that I found Takashi, too. We may have never had a moment quite like that, no wild, blind passion, our relationship is a bit more quiet. I still don't know if I would call it love, what I have with him. But I think it's getting there. I want it to get there. I think it just might. He makes me happy, he's a jerk, and he's frustrating, but he hurts too. And so do I.
As I continue to walk through the streets with Florian, my mind drifts back to that brief time I spent with Hanako, those years ago. Even with how things ended, those are warm memories to me. Maybe, maybe before we graduate, we'll both have the strength to find out if they were for her too. Maybe she'll be able to talk to me now. Maybe she'll be able to accept that I don't blame her, that it wasn't her fault.
I hope so. I think so. I really want that to be the case.
I rub my hand again, only the tiniest bit of a scar left to remind me of the girl who had so many more.
Artwork by
Drawbro, by request:
The first time that I saw your head 'round the door, as mine stopped working.
"I Remember" is a song by Damien Rice.
