Memorial(67)

She asked where we were, and I told her that it’d happened in the apartment, we’d both been sleeping.

Good, she said.

Good, I said.

So it could’ve been worse, said Ma.

I opened my mouth, and a dry sound came out.



* * *





Listen to me, she said. You stay with him. You don’t need to call anyone else. Call someone if you need help, but I’ll take care of the rest. The important thing is to stay with him, while you can.

You won’t get this moment again, she said. Do you hear me? This is the last time you’ll get to do this, and you’ll wonder why you were thinking about so many other things. I’m telling you this because I know. Do you understand?

I understand.

Are you sure? she asked, in Japanese. Michael?

I am, I said, in Japanese. I’m okay.

Good, said Ma. I’ll take care of everything else.



* * *





When my mother hung up, I stared at my father.

I lay down beside him and put my hand on his chest.

His arm was loose, and I swung it over mine. I lay there, in my father’s arms, for ten minutes, fifteen, until there was banging on the door, yelling for me to let them in.



* * *




? ? ?

Ma handled all of the arrangements that she could on her end. She contacted his family, his sister, and that sister’s side of the family. Taro dealt with the authorities. But it turned out that Eiju, the prince of chaos, had laid everything else out.

There was a plan for where he wanted to be cremated and what he wanted done with his ashes afterward. A third to his family in Kyushu. A third spread out in Osaka. A third for his son, if he wanted them, and if not, those could go just about anywhere.

Everything was handled. All I had to do was deal with it.



* * *





Kunihiko manned the bar. He didn’t even ask.

Just tell me when you’re good again, he said. I’ll be here.

Yeah, I said.

Don’t rush back, he said. As much time as you need.

Yeah, I said.



* * *





Taro walked me through all the paperwork, all the administrative tasks. Natsue walked me through everything else. She said she didn’t want to see the body, didn’t need to. She’d known Eiju well enough.



* * *





I didn’t have to sign the bar over for six months, like he’d said. The rent was paid up until then. After that, I could keep the lease going or turn it over.



* * *





You’ll make money either way, said Natsue.

That doesn’t matter, I said.

Natsue was polite enough not to respond immediately, but then she did.

Of course it matters, she said. He’s gone. But you’re still here.



* * *




? ? ?

Eiju didn’t want a ceremony at the temple or any of that shit, so there wasn’t a ceremony. He explicitly wanted everything to go on as normal.



* * *





There was a thing at the bar, and Kunihiko hosted it, but I told him I wasn’t going, not to expect me, and I didn’t disappoint.



* * *





That night was my first alone in the apartment. Tan showed up with a bag of convenience store food.

When I asked how he’d found me, he said Kunihiko told him.

We ate karaage and rice on the sofa, sipping beer, not talking about much. When I asked about his mother, Tan told me she was doing fine. He talked about his job. He talked about the weather. He talked and talked to fill the void, and he didn’t ask what my plans were, or where I planned on going, or what I planned on doing, and when Tan stopped talking, I said, I’ll be gone for a little while.

Okay, said Tan.



* * *





Before he left, he put a hand on my face and gave it a scratch.

He said, I’ll see you later.

Yeah, I said.

Yeah? said Tan.

I think so, I said. Yes.

Okay.

Okay.



* * *





I booked my flight.



* * *





I called my mother.



* * *





I texted Ben.



* * *





I sat in Eiju’s apartment. I took all of him into my nose. I held him in my body, and I tried not to exhale, I tried not to push back out again. My father had left a second time. My father had tried to stay. My father hadn’t tried to stay. It wasn’t his fault. It was his fault. My father wasn’t coming back. My father wasn’t coming back.



* * *




? ? ?

But, a few days beforehand, I was riffling around his bedroom’s cabinet. I’d been looking for loose yen or a pencil or not much of anything, sifting through the shit my father’d accumulated over years in this apartment. He hadn’t stepped through that room in at least a week, stuck to the living room couch at the end. I’d brought out all of his clothes to make things easier on him. Folded them up within reach. Sat outside the bath while he washed himself and shut my ears as he cried. And it was in a drawer that I found a photo of the two of us.