The Last Leaves Falling (10 page)

HI! (-:

What you doing?

Just looking at Masashi Ando’s art.

I <3 him!

I know; I’m acting on your recommendation. I can see why!

He’s like, a god of illustration or something; a guardian of art.

A disciple of Benzaiten?

Yes, exactly!

And you’d like to work with him?

Gosh, yes! Who wouldn’t?!? I mean, look at his work!

So you want to draw? As a career, I mean.

I HAVE to draw. Everything. Everything I see and hear and feel, my pencil wants to make a record.

Do you think that’s weird?

No!

I’m glad. Most people do :-/

I think of libraries and dusty lecture halls, and for a moment I can almost smell the books and chalk and rows of wooden desks.

I don’t think it’s weird at all.

15

BambooPanda:
Hiiii (-: How was school, everyone?

0100110101100101:
Hi Panda! Okay. How was your day?

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
We won, we won, we won!
Er, this. *grin*

MonkECMonkEDo:
Good thanks!

MonkECMonkEDo:
Whooooo!

BambooPanda:
Your team? Baseball?

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
YES! We played against the older class from another school, and we won. Wewonwewonwewon!

BambooPanda:
Congratulations! :)

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Well at least SOMEONE had a good day.

BambooPanda:
You didn’t, Shinigami?

MonkECMonkEDo:
Aww, what happened Shino?

ShinigamiFanBoy:
It just sucked. All day. Math test, which I forgot to study for.

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
That’s it? One math test? :/

BambooPanda:
Shhh, Baseball, what kind of attitude is that? Every test makes a difference!

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Well you know EXACTLY how to cheer a man up, Bamboo! Thanks! )’:

BambooPanda:
Oh no! I didn’t mean . . . What I mean is that I understand why you’re upset.

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
Tomorrow is another day, man. It’s not like you lost a game or something.

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Weeeell . . .

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
O_o you didn’t, right?!?!?!?!?

ShinigamiFanBoy:
*shrugs*

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
Tell me you didn’t!!!?!!!

BambooPanda:
Sheesh; boys! ;)

ShinigamiFanBoy:
Not baseball, no.

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
What other game IS there?

ShinigamiFanBoy:
It’s not even a game. But I definitely lost . . .

ShinigamiFanBoy:
There’s a girl, Yuri. She sits ahead of me in class.

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
Ahhh. Some other dude get there first?

ShinigamiFanBoy:
uh-huh

BaSeBaLlWiNs:
All sucks in love and war, my friend.

Hey Samurai!

Oh, hi!

Good day?

Yes. You?

Yeah, I guess so.

KyoToTeenz has become my refuge. After every day of tests and therapy, every history book that reminds me that my future is so short, every stifled conversation with my mother, I log in to the one place where wheelchairs and wishes are no more than a nightmare, and the old me still exists.

You guess?

Yeah.

Anything I can help with?

Oh it’s nothing really.

Are you sure?

Yeah, thanks. You already ARE helping actually. Talking with you cheers me up :)

I . . . thanks :)

Hahahahaha, I totally made you blush, huh?

No!

Uh-huh. Sure. ;)

No! I was just thinking the same thing, that’s all.

Awwww, well now you’ve made ME blush.

So, what am I distracting you from?

Oh, school stuff, preparing dinner, all the usual. You?

Just reading.

Do you like, spend all your time in a book?

No. I’m talking to you . . .

Apart from that?

Well ;)

(-:

I wish that I could stay online forever, like a character in one of MonkEC’s beloved manga series; that I never had to face the realities beyond the screen, but everything must end, and all too soon she says:

*sigh* my mother wants to know what I’ve learned at school today. I have to go. Sorry!

It’s okay, I’ll see you later. Bye!

Byeeee! xxx

16

“Thank you, Mama, this looks delicious.”

She stops bustling about the kitchen and sits down. “I’m glad.”

I take a moment to inhale the steam rising from my bowl—the sweetness of the rice and the saltiness of soy and onions, together with the fresh sea scent of white bream. “Mmmmm.”

Across the table, Mama does the same, then looks into my eyes and smiles.

“Read anything interesting today?” she asks.

“Not really.” I pull my dish closer and pick up the chopsticks. “I finished the books from the library yesterday.”

She hesitates, but I know what’s coming. “Will you come with me next time? Choose your own? We could go for dinner, too.”

“Maybe.”

We both know that I won’t.

“We could stop at the park if you like. Go when it’s quiet? The leaves are just starting to turn. You’d like it.”

I imagine the crunch of leaves beneath my tires, the rustling of branches overhead, the heavy smell of autumn air, and I am tempted. “Maybe.”

“That’s settled then. I don’t start work until late tomorrow. We’ll go then . . . It is not good for you to sit inside all day.”

“Mama!”

She sighs, “I know, I just wish . . .” She looks down at her dish, snatching up a piece of fish aggressively.

I
know
that she only wants what is best for me, but how can she—who will outlive me by so long—know what that is?

I lift a clump of rice up to my mouth. I chew, and swallow, and lift again. Chew, swallow, lift. But what appealed a minute ago drops like lead into my stomach as we eat in silence.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

She raises her gaze without lifting her head, and studies me. I bring more food up to my lips. “This is really good.” I force a smile before I pop the food into my mouth and chew.

She almost smiles back, but then her face clouds over and she stares, hard.

“Sora?” she says, slowly.

“Yes?”

“Are you . . . are you shaking?”

I lower my chopsticks, carefully placing them upon the table. Every grain of rice inside my stomach thrums with nerves, and I think I’m going to throw up.

I let my eyes meet hers and open my mouth to speak. But I cannot say it. I cannot break her heart again.

She nods, curtly. “How bad?”

“They don’t know,” I barely whisper.

“When were you going to tell me?”

I . . .

“Oh, Sora!” she cries, moving around behind me. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and presses her lips to the top of my head.

And then she straightens up and clears her dish away as though nothing has happened.

“Mama?”

“Yes?” she sniffs.

“It’ll be all right.”

•  •  •  •

“Do you need me to help with anything?” My mother picks up the pajamas, which are neatly folded on my pillow, shakes them out, and folds them up again.

She came in with my medications, and has been there since, for ten minutes at least, folding my clothes and watching me as I read.

“No, thanks.”

She glances at the pot of pills beside me. “You’re sure?”

Go. Away.

“Yes. I’m
fine
, Mama. No different than I was before dinner. I can manage.”

She is silent for a moment and then, “Okay. Call out if you need me, okay?”

I nod, putting my book facedown on the desk and turning to the computer. I press the power button and stare at the monitor as it warms up, fading in from black to gray to blue. I cannot look at her. I won’t.

She sighs a tight little sigh, and I hear her move toward the door.

I double-click the browser icon.

“Good night,” she says.

And I breathe a sigh of relief as the door slides closed behind her.

•  •  •  •

I log in, hoping MonkEC will be there with a smiley face, but she is nowhere to be seen.

I pick up the book I was reading,
A History of Fishing Patterns and Their Effects on the Sea of Japan
, but I cannot concentrate. All the figures float right through my brain and will not stick.

I turn back to the screen.

Contacts Online: 0

Still not there.

Idly, I click onto the general forum. At least their chatter will be easier to follow than the habits of yellowfin and sea bream.