I never looked forward to my mother's quarterly trek to Japan. She heaped guilt upon me for never wanting to go with her. That doesn't mean I never did go; I did, one time, and that was all it took. The entire time I was in Iwate, all my aunts and uncles did was call me fat, to my face, behind my back, and to anyone who would listen. Why go back to Japan just to hear that again? No, thank you. No goodbyes were exchanged on the day when I dropped her off at the airport. Just see you later, make sure you eat, and don't forget to call your brother if you need help.
"Yeah, alright," I replied halfheartedly. We exchanged an obligatory hug, and Mom was on her way.
That was March 8th. The following day, I got into a terrible car accident that left me unconscious for a week because I fractured my ankle, my hip, and broke two ribs. When I finally came out of it, my brother was there and he brought me home. The meds must have been strong because, in between the haze of medication and the dull pain that racked my body, I periodically would wake up in the evenings to a single light in my room. I'd see my mom rummaging through my closet and my dresser drawers.
"Ma, what are you looking for?" I croaked.
"Iwate kara, no shashin," she replied, a bit annoyed. "Anata no eighteen sai-no tanjōbi."
"You didn't bring the pictures with you on the trip?" I asked. "Why even look for it now after the fact? That makes no sense!"
"Shizukani!" She hissed back.
"Me, be quiet? You're the one making all this racket! Can't you see I'm in pain!" I shot back. That's when I noticed that, coming out of the rain, she didn't even bother to dry off, and maybe shower and change. She'd go straight to my room and start rummaging. That night, my brother got home and checked on me first before getting cleaned up and preparing dinner.
"How you doin'?" He peeked his head in.
"I'm good. How was your day?" I asked.
"It was alright," he replied. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I tried to adjust myself to see him better.
"When you go to the bathroom on your crutches, do you sometimes not make it?" He was walking on eggshells with that question.
"No, I make it fine. Why?"
"Sometimes when I come here, the floor is wet," he said.
"Oh, that's Mom," I answered. "I guess it's been raining a lot lately, so when she gets home, she comes straight in here and starts rifling through my closet, looking for pictures from my eighteenth birthday in Iwate. She's soaking wet, every fucking time!"
He stared at me for a long while and then mumbled something about dinner being ready in an hour. After dinner, when Chad put all the dishes away, he came and sat next to me as I lay in my bed.
"Because of your medication, you were unconscious a lot," Chad began. "Today is March 15th. This video I'm going to show you happened on the 11th.
My mother, Rin Kikuchi, never returned from her trip to Japan. She was there on March 11th when the earthquake occurred, and after the tsunami arrived in Iwate. My aunties survived, but they said that when they ran out of the house, my mother insisted on returning inside to get photographs from my eighteenth birthday. Without warning, the onrushing water swept the home away. They never saw my mom after that. She was gone. Her body has never been recovered.
Enjoyed!!!
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