Consequences of Comfort
Thanks, as always, to Feurox, for reading and suggestions and making me think about what I'm writing. What you're about to read is a much better story thanks to him.
Thanks to Naryzhud (NoticeMeOppai) for additional proofreading and feedback.
Thanks to Zee McZed for still more proofreading, and for introducing me to Katawa Shoujo lo those many years ago. Look what you started!
Consequences of Comfort
Misha didn’t realize anything was physically amiss until the night she threw up at dinner.
Psychologically, a lot of things were amiss. Shizune and Hisao, who had been her best friends up until recently, were like strangers to her. She barely spoke with either of them, except as demanded by the needs of in-class work. Sometimes while interpreting for Shizune she would get lost in the flow of conveying the teacher’s words, and forget that they weren’t on speaking terms any more. She’d smile at Shizune, who wouldn’t smile back, and her heart would break all over again.
Dinner was a quiet affair, as it had been for the past couple months. Nothing looked appetizing, so she’d just taken the first thing the cafeteria workers offered. The smell was worse than unappetizing, mildly repellant, but she forced herself to eat anyway. She’d skipped breakfast and lunch, in her desire to avoid being around other people, and she knew she needed to eat something.
She shoveled food into her mouth mechanically, trying not to taste it, and so she didn’t notice at first that her stomach was protesting the intrusion. She had finished a third of her meal before she realized that she was feeling flushed, and her mouth was watering excessively. Her stomach convulsed once, twice, then everything she’d just eaten came back up, filling her plate and tray in a disgusting stew.
“Yo, Misha, you all right?” Misha looked up from wiping her mouth, face flaming with embarrassment. Miki and Suzu stood next to her, looking concerned. Misha tried to ignore all the other staring faces around her and tried to smile back at them, but a sudden spasm of her stomach made her double over, struggling to keep the rest of her meal inside.
“Shit,” Miki said, and she hastily set her tray down on the table. She rubbed Misha’s back with her hand. “Hang in there, we’ll get you a nurse. Suzu?”
“On it,” Suzu replied, and walked off.
“I don’t need a nurse,” Misha protested weakly, embarrassed at the mess she’d made, and at being the unwelcome center of attention.
Miki snorted. “Well, you need something. Mouthwash, at the very least.”
Reminded, Misha suddenly became aware of just how wretched her mouth tasted, and how her throat burned from the bile in the vomit. As if it had been waiting for the attention, her stomach spasmed again, but this time, thankfully, nothing came up. She wanted to protest the involvement of a nurse, but given that Suzu had already left, it was probably unavoidable by now. She took her napkin from her lap and draped it over the spew on her tray, hiding the unappetizing mess from others. She took a cautious sip of her water, then stared at the floor as Miki continued to awkwardly rub her back. She didn’t look up to see if others were staring at her, although she was sure they were.
They only had to wait a couple of minutes before Suzu returned with the night-duty nurse, Nurse Ota, trailing behind her. Deciding that going along with her was easier than fighting and making a scene, Misha allowed herself to be escorted back to the nurses’ office. She muttered vague apologies and thanks to Miki and Suzu as she went. “No prob, you just feel better, all right?” Miki replied.
Nurse Ota settled her into a bed in the infirmary, gave her a small cup of water, and a warm washcloth to wipe her face and dab at the specks of vomit on her blouse. She checked Misha’s temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, then pulled out a clipboard full of questions.
“Have you been feeling ill today?” Nurse Ota asked.
Misha shook her head. She’d been unhappy and miserable, but not sick.
“Did you eat anything unusual for lunch?”
”No, just the usual,” she lied. She felt like the nurse wouldn’t approve of her skipping meals.
“Have you been sleeping all right?”
“Yes, fine.” If anything, she’d been sleeping to excess, avoiding her life.
“Have you thrown up recently?”
“No.”
“When was your last period?”
“It was…” Misha froze, thinking. It should have been three weeks ago. How had she missed that? Not that she hadn’t had a lot on her mind recently. “Three weeks ago,” she lied again.
Oh. A missed period, and nausea. She shut her eyes and shuddered. Oh, Misha Misha Misha, you’ve gone and done it now… she moaned to herself.
Ota ran down a handful of other routine questions, which Misha answered on autopilot.
“Given that you don’t have a fever, I don’t think it’s a flu, but it might be best if you spent the night here just in case.”
“Do I have to?” Misha asked. “I’m feeling much~ better.” Well, physically, anyway. Her mind was a jumble of static and terror. She wanted to return to her room and hide. Forever.
Ota regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “If you really feel up to it.”
Misha smiled her patented bright and cheery smile. “I’m fine. I’m sorry to have troubled you~! It was probably just something I ate.”
“Hmm. If we get any other cases of vomiting, I’ll check with the cafeteria, but yours is the only case so far.”
“Okay!” Misha endured a few more comments and suggestions from Nurse Ota, not really hearing anything, just nodding automatically. She fled the office as soon as she could, and headed back to her room. She did her best not to think of anything on the walk, afraid that if she stopped to think, she’d just drop where she was and curl up into a ball.
I can't be pregnant, she thought to herself miserably. I can’t be pregnant, Shicchan would never forgive me. It probably was just something I ate. Being late is just coincidental. I’ve never been this late before but it happens sometimes doesn't it? I think I heard that stress can make you late, so maybe that's it. Heaven knows my life has been stressful enough lately.
Her rationalizations gave her a slightly lighter heart as she headed into the dorm. She paused outside of the Shizune’s door and stared at it for a long moment. Then she sighed and continued on down the hallway to her own room.
I’m just late because of stress, she told herself again. That’s all. She refused to allow herself to consider any other possibility. She pulled out her textbooks and proceeded to bury herself in homework to keep herself from thinking.
While showering before class the next morning she discovered that the artificial strawberry scent of her hair conditioner revolted her. Has it always smelled so sickly sweet? Breathing through her mouth to escape the smell, she didn’t let the conditioner sit in her hair as long as she normally would have, rinsing it out almost immediately. I guess it’s a good thing my hair is shorter now, so I don’t need as much conditioner.
Once she was done in the shower, she stood at the sink to brush her teeth. For some reason, the strawberry flavored toothpaste didn’t bother her, which she supposed she should be grateful for. She rinsed and spat, then began to desultorily brush out her hair. She grimaced as she noticed that her roots were becoming evident, hints of brown at the base of the pink.
“Hey, Misha, you feeling better this morning?”
Misha looked in the mirror to see Suzu standing behind her, looking sleepily concerned. She was still in her nightshirt, looking like she was just about to start her morning routine. Misha took a deep breath and pasted her smile on her face. “Hey, Su-chan! Thank you for your help last night~! I’m fine, really.” She continued brushing out her hair, hoping that Suzu would accept that and leave her alone.
“You sure you don’t need to take the morning off?” Suzu asked.
“I’m sure. I’m allll better this morning~!” She shoved her brush back into her toiletries case, and turned to face Suzu directly.
Suzu looked dubious for a moment, her sleepy eyes narrowing in thought, but then she shrugged. “Well, good. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Miki and I were worried about you.”
Misha was touched by that concern. “Thanks~! I’m fine. It was just…just stress, I think.” She immediately regretted saying that, and wondered why she hadn’t blamed it on food poisoning.
Suzu looked surprised, then sympathetic. “Yeah. I get that. Things have been a little…rocky for you lately, haven’t they?”
Misha was momentarily surprised that Suzu had noticed. But then again, sitting in front of Shizune, she probably couldn’t miss it. Even if she did sleep through most of it. She smiled. “I’ll be okay~!” she assured Suzu.
Suzu gnawed her lower lip for a moment, regarding Misha, then she nodded and turned toward the showers. “Okay. See you in class.”
“Bye~!”
Breakfast proved to be a challenging soup of annoying smells, but she managed to choke down an innocuous piece of bread and plain, unflavored milk for sustenance. Walking into class, she ignored Shizune as she settled into her desk, and was grateful that Hisao had taken to slipping into class at the last possible minute ever since his break-up with Shizune.
Unfortunately, Shizune wasn’t ignoring her. She tapped Misha on the shoulder, and Misha reluctantly looked up at her former best friend. She almost reflexively smiled, but she stomped that down just in time. She’s so beautiful… Misha thought wistfully.
[Are you all right?] Shizune signed.
Misha gave her a confused look. Why is she worrying about me?
[I heard that you threw up in the cafeteria last night.]
Misha suppressed a grimace. The rumor mill must have been working overtime last night, if word of that had broken through the wall of silence surrounding Shizune. [I’m fine,] Misha replied shortly, hoping Shizune wouldn’t pursue the matter.
Shizune frowned. [Is it a flu? Should you be in class?] She reached out as if to lay her hand on Misha’s forehead to check her temperature, but Misha flinched away from the contact and Shizune dropped her hand.
Misha shook her head. [No, there’s no fever. I think it was just something I ate.] She tried to smile reassuringly at Shizune. [I’m fine now,] she said, hoping that repeatedly saying it might make it so.
Her smile must not have been as convincing as she’d hoped, because Shizune continued to look concerned. [If there’s anything I can do…]
Misha wanted to scream. Now? Now you want to help? She kept the scream locked behind her smile. [Thank you. I don’t need anything.]
Misha was fairly sure that she imagined the flicker of disappointment that passed across Shizune’s face at that, but then her face went cool and distant again. [Very well.] She turned back to her desk and began pulling out her textbook and notes for the first class of the day.
Misha managed to maintain her denial for another two weeks. That makes it two missed periods, now, she finally admitted to herself. Nausea of a different sort roiled her stomach at the thought. But I need to be sure. She didn’t want to go to Nurse with her suspicions—she was reasonably sure that the nursing staff would have to tell her parents such monumental news. So she headed out one afternoon after classes ended to buy a pregnancy test.
She didn’t want to buy it at the local drug store, where she might be seen by someone who knew her, so she rode the bus downtown into Sendai proper. Despite being far from school, she looked around herself nervously the whole time she was in the store, and piled a lot of other supplies into her shopping basket as camouflage. At least I can get some less stinky hair conditioner while I’m at it.
The checkout clerk didn’t even blink as she scanned the pregnancy test amidst all the other items Misha bought. The downside of having purchased so much stuff as camouflage was she then had to haul it all back to school. Her arms were aching by the time she got back, and she dropped the bags inside the door to her room and collapsed on her bed.
I don’t really need to do this, do I? she thought mournfully to herself. But she knew she did—if she didn’t do the test, didn’t know for absolute certain, she’d still keep trying to find ways to avoid thinking about things. She sighed, sat up, and dug the test kit out of the bag. She stared at the box for a moment before tearing it open and pulling out the instruction sheet. Yuck. I have to pee in a cup? She grimaced and looked at the tiny collection cup provided in the kit. I should wait to do this when no one else is around. It's going to sound strange if anybody else hears me peeing into a cup.
That rationalization allowed her to put things off until dinner time. While most everyone else was out of the dorm at dinner, she went to the bathroom and locked herself into a toilet stall. After peeing into the cup she dipped the test strip into her urine and looked at her watch. Ten minutes. Two pink lines will show up in ten minutes, or not at all.
Please don’t change…
It was less than five minutes before the test strip showed two dark pink lines. She stared numbly at the result, then tore open another test strip and repeated the process. Which also showed positive. I guess that’s why they include two tests in the box, she thought distractedly. For girls who want to be sure.
I’m pregnant.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected that result; deep down, she knew it was the most likely explanation for her symptoms. But still, having concrete proof hit her like a punch to the gut. She doubled over, still sitting on the toilet seat, and started to cry.
“Everything okay in there?” asked a voice outside the stall.
Misha jumped, and sat up quickly, stifling her sobs. “I’m f-f-fine.”
“That didn’t sound fine.” Misha recognized the voice as Miki’s.
“It’s just…” she floundered for an excuse. “Just some really bad cramps.”
“Aw, that sucks ass,” Miki commiserated. “You need me to get you some painkillers or something?”
“No. Thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“’K.”
Misha heard Miki go into another stall, and stopped listening. She looked back at the two pregnancy tests sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser. Still positive. She bundled everything back up in the shopping bag she’d brought them in, and exited the stall. Before washing her hands, she stuffed the bag into the trashcan, shoving it under other garbage to hide it.
Miki came back out as she was washing her hands. “You sure you don’t need any painkillers? I got some good stuff,” she offered as she started to wash her hand.
Misha smiled. “Thank you~! No, I’ve got what I need.”
“Hang in there. It’ll only last a few days, eh?”
Misha nodded. I wish. She fled the bathroom before her mask could crack, not wanting Miki to see her fear.
Once back in her room, she gave in to her terror, and curled up on her bed. She waited for tears to return, but none were forthcoming—she was too terrified for such simple displays of emotion.
I’m pregnant. She’d low-key suspected—dreaded—as much for weeks now, but having proof was difficult to deal with. I don’t even like boys that way, but the one single time I have sex with one… She shuddered, and wished she could turn back the clock, go back to the way things had been before. Back when Shiichan was still her friend. She wanted desperately to talk with Shiichan, to get her advice about what to do next, but that was impossible. Not only were they not talking these days, she was pregnant with Shizune’s ex-boyfriend’s baby. There’s no way she’d ever forgive me for that.
Misha played events over and over again in her mind, wondering how she’d ever messed things up so badly. If only I hadn’t gone to Hisao that evening. What had I been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking, she knew; not really. She’d been working on pure emotion, bleak and sad and despairing, and struggling to reach out and connect in some way, any way, with one of her few friends. I certainly picked the worst possible way to connect…
She tried to calm herself, think of her options. I could get an abortion. But she was pretty sure she couldn’t do that without her parents’ permission—she wasn’t twenty yet, still legally a child. The thought of going to her parents with this news was only slightly less terrifying than being pregnant.
But could I go through with an abortion, really? She rested a hand on her belly. She’d always wanted to be a mommy someday; being gay hadn’t changed that desire. As she got older, and more aware of the biological necessities, she’d just assumed that someday she’d find a sperm donor somehow. But I’d also figured I’d be a working adult. And maybe even have a girlfriend to help me. She sighed wistfully at the thought of having a girlfriend. It certainly won’t be Shiichan… That persistent fantasy was finally, truly, dead, destroyed by the baby in her belly.
It’s my baby. Mine alone. Not Hisao’s, not her parents’, not her hypothetical-someday-girlfriend’s or Shizune’s; it was all hers. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling above her bed, resolve filling her. I can’t kill an innocent baby, whose only sin was having an idiot like me for a mother. She tried to imagine herself holding a newborn. Raising a child. It was an intimidating responsibility, and yet, it was also appealing. I might never get another chance. She certainly never wanted to have another penis inside her ever again. She grimaced and clenched her thighs tight at the visceral memory of the sensation of Hisao moving inside her.
I don’t know how I’ll do this…but I’ll do it. Somehow. Other women have managed kids alone before me; I can do it too. It wasn’t a completely reassuring resolution, but it was enough to quell the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. I can do this, she repeated, trying to convince herself.
She wished she didn’t have to do it alone. She wished someone could tell her what to do. But she couldn’t talk to Nurse, couldn’t talk to Shizune. She briefly considered telling Hisao, then discarded the notion. He’s so…earnest. If I won’t have an abortion, he’ll want to marry me, to “make it right,” and I could never do that. The thought of being trapped in marriage, forever tied to someone she didn’t love, was even more off-putting than the thought of single motherhood.
For now…I’ll just keep moving forward.
Misha’s head felt thick and full of wool when her alarm went off the next morning. For a moment she wondered why she felt so terrible, then she remembered. I’m pregnant. She rolled over on her bed and stared bleakly at her desk. The framed photograph of herself, Lilly, and Shizune caught her eye, and she shuddered. I’m so sorry, Shicchan. She closed her eyes against incipient tears, and contemplated going back to sleep, to try and escape her life.
There’s no escaping this. It was no longer just her life, she reminded herself. I need to eat well, to take care of myself. Take care of the baby. She groaned and sat up. Move, she ordered herself. After a long reluctant moment, she did so, pulling on her bathrobe. She gathered up her toiletries and headed to the bathroom.
After she’d washed and brushed her teeth, she headed back to her room and slipped out of her bathrobe. She looked down at her naked body and ran a hand over her belly. I’m pregnant. It was still scary just to think that phrase. She grimaced and put on her bra. It felt tight, and she realized it had been feeling that way for a few days now. She sighed, and fastened the bra on its loosest hooks. I wonder when I’ll need to get new clothes? Her belly wasn’t noticeably different yet, though given how little she’d been eating lately, it could be that her belly fat was disappearing in pace with her swelling womb, keeping her at about the same size.
I need to know more, she realized. She only had an older sister, and so hadn’t lived through her mother’s other pregnancy. There’s so much I don’t know.
She finished getting dressed, then stared at her class notes and textbooks on her desk. I didn’t finish all of my homework last night. In the face of her other worries, that felt remarkably trivial.
No. I need to keep moving forward. Graduate. It’s the only way to get a good job. For…
For the baby.
Gritting her teeth, she shoved her books and notes into her book bag and headed out to face the day.
Misha was surprised to find that there were, in fact, several volumes on pregnancy and childbirth in the medical section of the library. And they all looked well read. I guess I’m not the first girl to make a mistake, she thought glumly. She grabbed a light novel to put on top of the stack and hide the covers, and took a few books to a table in the farthest corner of the library. The first volume proved to be more technical and clinical in nature, not so useful for her, but the second one was obviously written for mothers-to-be, broken into ten chapters, one per month of pregnancy plus the first month of life after birth. She placed her book bag in front of her on the table to prop up the book and hide its cover, and began to read.
Nausea…I know about that…overly sensitive to smells, yeah…constipation? Heartburn? Hemorrhoids? Cracked nipples? She grimaced as she discovered more and more of what she had to look forward to. Not everyone experiences all of these symptoms, she tried to reassure herself. She kept looking around nervously as she read, but no one was paying her, or her reading material, any attention. She pulled out her math notebook and flipped to the back to jot down a few notes as she read. Morning sickness shouldn’t last too much longer, thank goodness…the baby bump becomes noticeable at three to four months…baby starts kicking around five months…what are Braxton Hicks contractions?
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. There’s just so much I don’t know…
“Misha?”
Yuuko’s voice jerked Misha out of her weariness with a jolt of adrenaline. She looked up at the librarian, who was standing in front of her with an armload of books. “Yuuko! Hi~! What’s up?” she burbled, trying to hide her panic.
Yuuko gave her a nervous smile. “Are you okay? You’re sighing an awful lot.”
Misha smiled. “I’m just trying to keep up with my homework~! The end of the term is coming up waaay too fast!” She casually slid her notebook over the open book, hoping that Yuuko hadn’t noticed what she was reading. A quick glance reassured her that the novel was still sitting on top of the other books she’d gathered, spines not facing Yuuko.
“It always does,” Yuuko said sympathetically. “Are you applying to many universities?”
She had been planning to, before this…unexpected development. But now? Could she do university with a baby in tow? “A few,” she said evasively.
“Well, we’ve got literature for all the major universities, and a lot of the smaller ones, too. Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
Misha felt like her smile was going to crack, but she kept it going. I wish you could help me, she thought forlornly. “Thank you~!”
Yuuko nodded and turned away to reshelve the books in her arms. Misha blew out a covert sigh of relief, and double-checked that none of the incriminating book titles had been visible from where Yuuko had been standing. Safe.
She read for another hour or so before she began to feel overwhelmed. I don’t have to learn this all at once. She covertly returned the books to their places on the shelf, and headed downstairs for dinner. I need to eat, for the baby, even if I don’t feel like it. Between her intermittent nausea and her general lack of appetite it had been a few days since she’d had a full meal. She was grimly determined to do her best to eat at least half of tonight’s meal.
Misha kept to her promise to herself and kept moving forward, one day at a time. She went to classes, she slept, she ate three meals a day. That last was helped when the morning sickness faded, becoming just an occasional lurch of her stomach. Her sweet tooth, long her nemesis in her struggle with her weight, disappeared, and instead she found herself frequently going into town to the Dragon Eats restaurant for hot-and-sour soup. She’d never particularly liked hot-and-sour soup before, but now she found herself craving it, sometimes at odd hours of the night.
Class continued in the same manner it had for the past few months, with her only communicating with Shizune while interpreting for her. Although she still occasionally caught herself gazing at Shizune with admiration or longing, she found it easier to keep her emotional distance from her, the baby providing a natural barrier in her mind.
She kept herself from thinking about long-term implications of the pregnancy by doggedly focusing on the day-to-day aspects of her life. Final exams at the end of December and cramming for the upcoming Center Tests certainly helped distract her from her woes.
But then exams were over, and she had to return home for the holidays. The train ride from Yamaku to home was almost six hours, and she slept almost the whole way. The exhaustion from exams overcame her growing fear at the possibility of her parents discovering she was pregnant.
Misha paid the cab driver, then lugged her suitcases up the front steps to the house. Mama smiled at her as she opened the front door. “Welcome home, Misha!” She didn’t even wait for Misha to put down the suitcase before wrapping her in a hug, leaving Misha in the awkward position of wanting to hug her back, but not wanting to drop a suitcase on their toes. Eventually, her mother released her and stepped back, and Misha put down the case and unzipped her winter coat.
“Hi, Mama,” Misha said, trying to smile for her mother’s sake. She felt like she’d gotten pretty good at smiling convincingly while at Yamaku, so she thought her mother bought it. Her smile didn’t change, anyway. Her hands free, Misha returned the hug. It wasn’t until she had her mother in her arms that she realized just how much she’d needed a hug. She tried not to squeeze too tightly or hold on too long.
Breaking apart from this second embrace, her mother left her hands on Misha’s shoulders and looked her up and down, smiling. “You’re looking good, dear. I like the new haircut. Though I think you might have put on a little weight.” She reached down with one hand and playfully patted Misha’s stomach, then froze. Her hand remained on Misha’s stomach, which wasn’t soft and squishy like it used to be, but hard and round. “Misha…?” she whispered, her eyes going wide.
Misha twisted out of her mother’s embrace and turned to pull the second suitcase into the house before closing the front door. “Yes, they fed us well at Yamaku~!” she agreed cheerily as she took off her coat and boots, not looking at her mother. “Though I really missed your home cooking.” She looked around the living room, desperate to look anywhere but at Mama. “Oh, did you get a new TV?”
“Misha?” Mama asked again, a world of questions in that one word.
Misha picked up the suitcase she’d just put down, and headed down the hall to her old room, still not looking at her mother. “I’d better get my stuff put away.” She almost ran to her room, despite the almost twenty kilos of luggage in her arms.
Misha set the suitcase down next to her bed and looked around. The room was depressingly the same, looking like it had been decorated by a twelve-year-old with more enthusiasm and love of pink than good taste. Which was only appropriate, since that was the case. She still needed to go back and get the second suitcase, but that would mean going out to see Mama again. Something she wasn’t really ready for.
Her dithering was interrupted by her mother bringing her the second suitcase herself, short-circuiting both problems at once. “Here you go,” she said, setting it just inside the door, under a poster of Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus.
“Thank you, Mama,” Misha said with a smile. Though this one was apparently less convincing than the last one, because her mother didn’t smile back. “I’d better get unpacked.”
Mama didn’t take the hint. “Misha. Are you…is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Misha pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well, I’d love~ to have tonkatsu cutlets for dinner. The cafeteria just didn’t make it right~. Not like yours.” Though, truthfully, she didn’t think she could’ve eaten anything just then to save her life.
Mama gave her a brief smile of appreciation for the compliment, but she wasn’t deterred. “Misha…” She stared at her daughter, biting her lip, looking like she didn’t know how to proceed.
Misha stared at her, her fake smile slowly cracking, then she closed her eyes. Nerves made her stomach roil, and for a horrified moment she was afraid she might throw up, something she hadn’t done in weeks. She clamped her jaw tight, and dropped down onto the edge of the bed. She buried her face in her hands, and fought back the sudden tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She was afraid that if she started crying, she might not stop.
Misha heard her mother walk across the room, then felt the bed shift as she sat down beside her. She put an arm across Misha’s shoulders, and Misha released a shuddering gasp as she leaned into the warm maternal embrace. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, the feel and scent of her providing unexpected nostalgic comfort. “Oh, Mama,” Misha moaned. “I…I’m…” She shook her head, not wanting to put her woes into words. Not wanting to make them real.
“Shh, shh, dear heart,” Mama murmured. “It’s all right.”
“No,” Misha mumbled into her shoulder. “It’s not. Not really.” She took a deep breath to steel herself, then whispered, “Mama? I’m…pregnant.”
“Ah.” Just one sound, nothing more, neither surprised nor angry nor sad. Misha waited for a long moment for her to say something more, but her mother remained silent. The storm of disapproval, disappointment, or disgust that she’d been fearing didn’t seem to be forthcoming. Just, “Ah.”
“Mama?” Misha ask hesitantly, afraid.
Her mother let out a slow breath, then chuckled briefly. Misha wondered what she could possibly find funny about the situation. “What?”
“I was unhappy when you told us you were a lesbian, but I must admit I had at least taken some comfort in the knowledge that another girl couldn’t get you pregnant.”
Misha winced at that. “This…wasn’t a girl.”
At that her mother actually laughed. “I know, dear.”
Well, yes, of course. Misha felt embarrassed for having said something so patently obvious and stupid.
“So…you’ve changed your mind about boys?”
Misha sighed. “No. I’m still a lesbian.”
Her mother tensed up. “Then was it…” She paused, and swallowed. “Was it…your choice?” Her voice quavered a little, sounding fearful.
“Huh?”
“You weren’t…molested, were you? You chose to, ah, with a boy?”
“Oh!” Misha blushed as she realized her mother was wondering if she’d been raped. “No, it was my own stupid mistake.” She fought back the tears that came easier than usual these days. “Stupid stupid stupid Misha,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I…did what I did.” That wasn’t totally true, but she didn’t feel ready to go into those issues with her mother.
“Does he know? About you being…?”
Misha shook her head.
“Why not? Shouldn’t he take responsibility for this…child? For you?”
Misha twitched. That was the first time anyone had said “child” out loud about her situation. She bleakly considered her last couple of months at Yamaku, how she and Shizune and Hisao had all drifted apart. Slowly changing from the dynamic Student Council Trio into three strangers. “I don’t think he likes me very much any more,” Misha said softly.
“Did he like you when he got you pregnant?”
“Yes…?” she said hesitantly. At least, she’d thought he’d liked her then. She still wondered why he’d cheated on Shizune with her.
Why did I cheat on Shizune with him?
“Then shouldn’t he know?”
Misha shook her head. “No. This was…is…my mistake. I…pushed myself on him. He shouldn’t have to live with my stupidity.” Though he already was; she was certain that at least part of the reason Shizune had broken up with him was because of what she and Hisao had done.
“You…pushed yourself?” Mama sounded confused. “If you don’t like boys, then why would you…?”
Misha buried her head tighter against her mother’s shoulder, not wanting to look her in the eyes just now. “Can we talk about that later?” she asked. Like, maybe in a thousand years? “I’m…tired.”
“Hmm. Very well,” her mother said, in a tone of voice that implied she wasn’t going to let this slide too long. “I do have two questions, though.”
Misha sighed. “Yes?”
“What’s your due date?”
At least that one was easy. “Mid-July.”
“Okay, that gives us some time. And secondly, what do we tell your father?”
Misha’s stomach churned again at that question.
Misha waited until after dinner to break the news to her father. While her mother cleared away the dishes, she faced him across the table and told him.
He was not a terribly demonstrative man even at the best of times, but when she was done talking, his face went even more stony than usual. He stared flatly at Misha, and she squirmed under his regard.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered.
He stared at her for an ominously long moment, the only motion the muscles of his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. “First you told us you were a dyke, and now you’re knocked up?” Misha flinched. “The only reason I didn’t kick you out of the house back then is that your mother assured me that it was just a phase, a thing girls go through and that you’d outgrow it.” He scowled. “I didn’t think you’d outgrow it by screwing some boy and getting pregnant.”
“I didn’t outgrow it. I still prefer women.”
“How the hell can you say that when you’re pregnant?”
“That was…that was a mistake.”
He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, then he gave a sharp nod of agreement. “Mistake. Yes. Tomorrow you will go to the doctor with your mother and get rid of this ‘mistake.’”
“No,” whispered Misha.
“What was that?”
Misha swallowed hard, and said more loudly, “No, Papa. I will not get rid of this baby.”
“Shiina Mikado, you will get an abortion. This is not up for debate. You’ve brought enough shame on this family by not hiding your sexual deviancy; you’re not going to compound that shame by bringing a goddamn bastard into this family.”
“No, Papa.” Misha was trembling, but she stared at her father, willing him to hear her. “I don’t want to—I want to have this baby. Your grandchild.”
Her father sneered. “That’s no grandchild of mine, it’s a lump of cells that need to be gotten rid of before you humiliate this family even more.”
Misha shook her head, feeling nauseous with fear, but she found the courage to say, “No. I won’t”
“You’re a child yourself. You don’t get a say in this matter. Obviously I somehow failed you as a father, that you’d be so slutty as to get knocked up despite claiming you’re a dyke. But this ends now.”
“No.” Repetition made the word somewhat easier to say.
Her father just stared back at her, breathing heavily, before hissing quietly. “You will do as I say or you are no daughter of mine.”
And there it was. The moment Misha had been dreading ever since she’d come out to her parents. He’d not disowned her then, though it had felt like a near thing at the time. Only her mother’s intervention had prevented that, she was sure. Now, looking at her mother, she saw no help for her. Her mother was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, watching, bright-eyed with unshed tears, but she was not contradicting her husband, wasn’t supporting Misha this time.
She licked her lips, and had to try twice before she could speak. “That’s…your choice.”
The look he gave her shook her to the core. She’d seen her father looking annoyed, or mad, or frustrated with her, but never before had she seen him direct a look of such pure loathing and contempt at her. At his own daughter. “You’re right. It is my choice. Get out.”
Although she had been half expecting it, it still caught her off-guard. “What?”
“You’re no longer a member of this family. Get out of this house. You don’t belong here.”
“Dear…” Misha’s mother spoke for the first time. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“That’s not my concern.”
“What will the neighbors think, with our daughter standing in the street with her suitcase in the middle of the night?”
Misha’s father grimaced, then growled, “Fine. She can leave in the morning. But I don’t want to see her before I head to work.” He didn’t look at Misha as he rose from the table and stormed out of the dining room. As he left, he spat out over his shoulder, “Take everything you want with you. Everything else in that room is going to the dump tomorrow afternoon.”
“Papa,” Misha whispered to his retreating back as tears streamed down her face.
Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her. “I’m sorry.”
Not sorry enough to stand up to him, Misha thought, but she couldn’t blame her mother for that, not really. Her father was difficult to stand up to. She was amazed that she’d managed it herself, even if the results were less than she could have hoped for.
She wiped the tears from her face, then stood up straighter. I did stand up to him. I’m not going to lose this baby. She sighed and wearily stood up. “Excuse me, Mama. I guess I need to go pack.”
“I’ll help.”
Misha and her mother went back to her room. Misha looked around the room, filled with the mementos and detritus of her childhood, and despaired of ever packing everything she wanted into two suitcases. There were so many memories in so many things, from her middle school yearbook to the shells she’d picked up at the seashore to her swimming trophies to the poster of Sailors Neptune and Uranus. She felt a crushing weight of despair at having to lose all of her things, all of her past. To say nothing of her old picture books and stuffed animals and dolls, which she had hoped to pass on to her own child. She sat down on her desk chair with a thud and tried to figure out where to start. “There’s too much,” she moaned.
Her mother similarly looked around the room, and sighed. “I know you can’t take everything you want with you immediately. Pile anything you want to keep for later on top of your desk or dresser, and I’ll box them up to save for you.”
Misha felt her burden and despair lessen a little. “But where will you put them?”
“I’ll store them in the attic—your father never goes up there.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
She gave Misha a sad smile. “I’m sorry I can’t do more than that, but your father is impossible to budge when he gets like this.”
“I know. I know,” Misha said sadly. “Now I just need to figure out where to go. D’you think Miwako could put me up?”
Her mother chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then got up to close the door. Returning to Misha, she lowered her voice and said, “Your sister’s apartment is barely eight tatami mats large. Perhaps…you should ask your Grandmother Mikado for help.”
Misha frowned, confused. “Who? Papa’s mother? But…she’s dead.”
Her mother grimaced. “Dead to him, as he would put it, but no. She’s alive.”
“Oh.” Misha felt bewildered. “I…didn’t know that.”
“I know. But I think she might be willing to at least talk to you, maybe take you in for at least a few days.”
Misha shook her head, confused by the thought of having a relative she’d never known about. “Why would she do that? I mean, I’d be grateful, but I’ve never even met her.”
Her mother ran a hand through her hair and sighed. Her voice still almost a whisper, she said, “She might talk to you for the reason your father doesn’t talk to her. Your grandpapa…he wasn’t widowed, but divorced. She left him. For…another woman.”
Misha’s eyes went wide, and she voiced a quiet “Oh!” Suddenly her father’s intense dislike of her sexual orientation made a lot more sense.
“Let me see if I can dig up her phone number, and you can call her. Or, well, maybe I should call first, to introduce you. Oh, and actually, her last name is now Ogura; she returned to her maiden name after the divorce.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Just give me a few minutes. I’ve not talked to her in years. I’ll be right back.”
Her mother slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her, and Misha looked around her room. It was still depressing to think of how much she was about to lose, but now she could at least save the most important parts of her past. She got to work.
Her mother returned ten minutes later, phone in hand. She glanced at the large stack of books and toys and photos already piling up on Misha’s desk. She closed the room’s door behind her again and held out her phone. “Your grandmother would like to speak with you.”
Misha fought down a wave of nerves and accepted the proffered phone from her mother. She lifted it to her face and realized, I don’t even know what to call her. Baasan sounds too familiar for someone I’ve never met. She cleared her throat, and said, her voice a little high with tension, “Hello, Grandmother…Ogura? This is…this is Shiina Mikado.” She wasn’t sure why she introduced herself by her given name instead of her nickname, but the spontaneous decision felt right.
There was a short pause, then her grandmother said, “Hah. That’s the first time someone has ever called me Grandmother. I find that I rather like it.”
Misha felt reassured by that reaction.
“Your mother tells me you’re in a bit of a pickle.”
Misha fought down a slightly hysterical giggle. Pickle? “Yes, I’m afraid so. I…I know we’ve never met, and this is a lot to ask, but—”
“You’re welcome to stay here,” her grandmother cut her off before she could even ask.
“Oh. Oh.” Misha felt a huge knot in her stomach loosen, and before she could even say “thank you,” she began to cry, surprising herself. She hadn’t realized just how frightened she’d been of being kicked out onto the streets without resources until that was no longer a possibility.
Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steadying her, and Misha choked back her sobs enough to whisper, “Thank you.”
“Of course. I feel like I owe you that much, since I’m no doubt a large part of why your father hates lesbians so much.”
Perversely, Misha felt a need to defend her father as she wiped away her tears. “He didn’t kick me out when I came out to him. Just when I…when I told him I’m pregnant.”
“Rather, when you refused to end that pregnancy, according to your mother.”
“Yes.”
“That boy always was too focused on appearances,” her grandmother said sadly.
Misha fought down a nervous giggle at her father being called a “boy.”
“I live in Natori. Your family is still in Shibata, yes?”
“Yes. Wait, Natori, just south of Sendai?”
“Yes.”
Misha gave a disbelieving laugh. “I’m attending a school in west Sendai. We’re almost neighbors.”
“Hmm. Well, we can talk about that when you get here,” her grandmother said cryptically. “As I recall, it’s approximately a six hour train ride here. If you leave tomorrow morning, I can pick you up at the station tomorrow afternoon any time after one.”
“Yes, I just came in from Sendai this afternoon.” Misha suppressed a groan at the thought of retracing her route so soon. “I will call you when I leave to let you know my arrival time.”
“Good. I look forward to meeting you. How will I know you?”
“I’ll be easy to spot; I have short pink hair.”
“Pink.” Misha could all but hear her grandmother blinking on the other end of the phone line. “Well, yes, that is fairly distinctive. So unless I hear otherwise, I’ll meet you tomorrow at the station in the afternoon.”
“Yes. And thank you again, grandmother.”
Her grandmother chuckled. “I still like hearing that. I’ll look forward to meeting you then.”
Misha handed her mother’s phone back to her, an act which reminded her: “My phone. You’ve been paying for it—”
“I’ll continue to pay for it,” her mother assured her. “Your father leaves all the household finances to me; he won’t have to know. And I’ll…” She bit her lip for a moment, glancing furtively at the closed door, then continued, in an even softer voice, “I’ll continue to deposit your monthly allowance in your checking account. So you won’t be a complete burden on your grandmother.”
“Thank you.” Misha knew she couldn’t live on ten thousand yen a month, but at least it was something.
“Just don’t start making a lot of international phone calls,” her mother joked.
Misha smiled for a moment, but it faded at the reminder. There’s no way I’m going to be studying in America now. She sighed and shook her head.
“What?” her mother asked.
Misha looked around her room. “Just thinking about how much I still need to sort through.” She opened a desk drawer and peered glumly into it. That’s mostly junk. She shoved the drawer shut and looked back up at her mother. “Thank you for calling Grandmother for me.”
Her mother also sighed. “Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. You’re pregnant; you need to get your sleep.”
Misha blinked back sudden tears. That’s the first time she’s said anything supportive about my pregnancy. Though, admittedly, she was sometimes hard-pressed to find anything positive about it herself. Wordlessly, she nodded, and the two of them got to work.
Misha was weary and hungry by the time she arrived at the Natori train station late the following afternoon. Although she was past the morning sickness stage of her pregnancy, two consecutive days of erratic motion while riding on trains had upset her stomach again. She was struggling to keep down the water and dry rice crackers she’d forced herself to eat on the trip, the lovely bento that her mother had prepared for her sitting untouched in her backpack.
She pushed one suitcase in front of her and pulled the larger one behind her. She’d waited until most people had gotten off of the train to debark so she wouldn’t block everyone getting off, but that also meant there were no helpful strangers around to take one of the bags for her, like there had been when she’d gotten onto the train.
She succeeded in exiting the train just moments before it closed its doors and pulled away. She sighed, and looked around the platform. Most of the other passengers had already left, which meant that the slim older woman approaching her was easy to spot.
“Shiina?” asked the woman with a warm smile. She was dressed in a lovely dark red wool winter coat, with black slacks and sensible black shoes underneath.
Misha wondered again at her impulse to introduce herself to her grandmother by her given name instead of her nickname. Now was the time to amend that introduction, if she was going to do so. But she realized that she liked hearing herself addressed as Shiina. It felt like making a break from her past. I’ll be Shiina now. Mommy Shiina.
Shiina pulled herself upright and bowed deeply to her grandmother. “Grandmother Ogura. I am so very thankful for your kind hospitality.”
“Come now, dear, no need to be so formal with me. It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Here, let me take one of your bags.”
Shiina felt like she should carry her own luggage, but the simple fact was, she was exhausted and clumsy and had barely managed to get both of the bags off the train as it was. So she acquiesced with a quiet “Thank you,” and followed her grandmother out of the train station.
“After a full day of travel, I suspect you’re mostly ready to go to sleep, so we’ll head straight home. Kasumi has prepared a light supper, then you can collapse.”
“Kasumi?”
“My partner. Kasumi Miyata. We’ve been together for nearly thirty years now.”
“Oh, your girlfriend.”
Her grandmother snorted. “Referring to anyone my age as a girlfriend seems a trifle odd. I usually use the term ‘partner,’ though I think of her as my wife. Of course, she’s not, legally speaking, but…maybe someday.”
“That would be nice.”
They arrived at the car park, and Grandmother pulled out a key fob. A small car nearby chirped as its doors unlocked. They loaded the suitcases into the trunk and Shiina slid into the passenger seat with a deep and heartfelt sigh. I’m almost done with the traveling… “How long is it to your home?” she asked.
“About a half hour.” Her grandmother glanced at her and added, “You can just close your eyes and rest if you wish. Don’t feel like you have to entertain me.”
Shiina felt a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. She felt like she should talk with her grandmother, get to know her a bit, properly express her gratitude for saving her. But she’d had less than four hours of sleep last night and she’d been unable to sleep on the train. Physical exhaustion combined with the psychological exhaustion of being evicted from her childhood home to override her good manners. She murmured, “Thank you,” as her eyes drifted shut. She was asleep before the car left the parking lot.