26: Tears

Shyba—

Another day dawns as I watch with heavy eyes through the window. So much has been going on in my head I could not sleep at all. Everything that Jeremiah and Nicky said yesterday keeps running through my mind.

Even as I try to focus on my chores, I cannot quiet my thoughts. As much as I try to deny it, I know they are right. Reba needs to know the truth if she is going to allow me to stay here. Of course, there is always the chance she could reject me, but I have to be willing to accept that. I have allowed myself to enjoy staying here under false pretenses for too long.

Then again, it is possible she would be angry that I have kept it from her for so long already. My stomach twists and turns. How do I go about telling her? Where do I go if I can no longer stay here?

I have nothing.

I have no one.

I am alone.

Suddenly, it is as if I am being crushed, my chest tight and knees buckling. The shovel falls from my hand, and I stumble forward. What is happening? Why is it so hard to breathe?

“Shyba?” Jeremiah’s voice calls, but it is as if hearing it from far away.

He kneels before me and I cannot seem to find my voice, still trying to catch my breath. My hands tremble despite trying to control them.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re okay man. Just try to take deep breaths like I do.”

I glance up and he inhales, so I try to mimic him, though very raggedly. After a few tries, my chest starts to ease, and I feel like I can breathe easier. My gut burns though. What is wrong with me? This is so embarrassing!

“Good, good. Just keep breathing,” he says.

After another ragged breath I look up at him. “Wh-why… does this… happen? I did not… do this before…”

He is silent for a second. “Healing is a rough process. It hurts and it’s ugly, but we’ve got your back, okay?” he says.

His words are like a knife in my heart. “I-I… do not need to heal. I am…” for a moment the words do not want to form, “I am the one who caused so much pain.”

“What about the damage done to you?” he asks.

I am at a loss for words, my mind having gone blank. For a long moment we are silent, and my breathing has finally returned to normal.

“You wanna talk about what made you panic?” he asks.

Taking another breath, I sit up straight. “I know I have to tell Reba the truth,” I mutter. “But… if she is angry with me… If she fears me… I do not know what to do. I have nowhere to go. I have no one.”

“I understand the fear, but you’re not alone. If anything, you’ve got me and Nick,” he says. “But believe me. Once you tell her the truth, you’ll feel a lot better.”

He stands, offering his hand. For a moment I am frozen before slowly reaching up and letting him help me to my feet. He pats me on the back.

“Now forget about chores for the rest of the day and go rest. Read a book or something to calm down,” he says.

“I have to finish my work,” I say. “That is why Reba lets me stay here.”

“She will understand,” he says. “Just do me a favor and relax. You look like you can barely keep your eyes open.”

For a second, I am unsure what to think. He is serious though and I do not want to disrespect him. I nod and head back into the house, grabbing a glass of water before sitting in bed with my current book. After settling in, I once again allow myself to get lost in the story, not even realizing my worries are all but forgotten for a moment.

I hear a door shutting downstairs and suddenly I am upright, the book falling off my chest as I lose the page I was on. For a second, I am utterly lost, realizing it is now nighttime. How long was I asleep? I glance over at the clock, it showing to be almost midnight.

Then I hear a voice downstairs, Reba’s. My chest tightens and my stomach is once again turning. I know what I have to do, but I ended up having no time to prepare. How do I even bring this up?

Jeremiah’s voice carries from downstairs. Is everyone else asleep? I grab the glass to take it downstairs. On my way, I notice there is no light from beneath Kiara’s door. My chest eases a bit and I slowly head down the steps, hesitating on nearly each one. Reaching the bottom, my heart pounds harder and harder, my breath short.

I pull the hood further down over my head. Do I have to tell her tonight though? Could I not just wait? If I wait though, I will just keep using that excuse. The longer I wait, the worse it will get. If she kicks me out, I would rather it be now than later, right?

Taking a deep breath and clenching my fist, I step out of the shadows. They look over and Reba smiles. “Oh, hey there,” she says.

I nod once. “Mm,” I mutter and go to the sink to set my cup in.

“I bet you’re hungry since you missed supper.” Jeremiah asks. “Do you want us to warm you something up? Feel better after getting some rest?”

My stomach churns and I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, clenching my fists. “Ah… I am not hungry.”

Reba comes over to me, her brows arched. “Do you not feel well? You need to eat something at least.”

I just shake my head, staring at the floor. Come on! Just get it over with! The sooner the better.

“I ah…” I mutter and glance up at Jeremiah. I feel as if I could have another panic attack right here. Then I look at her and I can feel my hands trembling again. “I…”

Jeremiah comes closer. “It’s okay,” he says in the same gentle manner as before.

Taking a breath, I glance downward. “I need to… t-talk to you,” I tell her.

“Of course,” she says. “Let’s go into my office and we can talk, okay?”

I glance up the stairs, my heart pounding. “Ah…”

Jeremiah leans over. “How about the barn? No one can hear and I’ll stand watch outside. Okay?” he says quietly.

Slowly, I nod. Reba looks between the two of us, before laying eyes on me with a worried gaze. “Okay. Let me grab a flashlight.”

At that we head out to the barn and with each step I can feel my gut twisting tighter, my heart pounding harder. I still don’t know what to say, but there is no turning back now. I have to confess my sins and accept whatever comes after.

Jeremiah lets us into the barn, closing the door behind us. I glance around as the horses perk their heads up to look before going back to their slumber. It is so quiet I can hear my trembling breath.

I turn to look at Reba. “I ah… do not know how to start.”

She turns the lamp on, the area lit up in a soft orange glow. Then she looks at me with gentle eyes and comes closer. “Shyba… you…” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I know your past weighs heavily on you and I can only imagine what could have done so much damage. I wish there were more I could do to help you work through it, but I can’t do much until you tell me more of what happened.”

Her words form a weight on my chest. “What do you imagine?” I ask slowly.

Everything is quiet once again and she clasps her hands together. “I think you were a slave.”

It is like the wind is knocked out of me and I am gripping my arm.

She continues, “I think you were made to do something you regret every day. Something you are unable to come to terms with given that you are still too afraid to talk about it and it’s tearing you apart.”

Her words hit me like an arrow over and over and I lower my head.

“But I want you to consider these words I am about to tell you. You are not your past,” she says. “Whatever it was you did, you regret it. Do you know what that tells me? It shows that you have a good heart and that you are a good person.”

The knife in my heart twists and turns. If she knew the truth, would she say these things?

“Shyba, you are hard-working, kind and giving. So, I don’t believe for a second you are bad like you believe you are,” she tells me.

Everything is quiet for a long moment as I try to muster the words.

She pauses and looks down at the ground. “Listen,” she mutters and takes a deep breath, looking back up at me. “I know you’re running from someone. And… I know there is blood on your hands.”

My eyes widen, my heart seeming to stop. “H-how…?”

“When I started studying medicine, I was going to be a psychiatrist. I learned to look for the things people are saying with their behavior. You spend an unusually long time washing your hands, as if you can’t get them clean. You shy away from touch, especially when it comes to your hands as if you’re afraid you might get the other person dirty,” she says.

She continues, “You freeze up around topics of murder and killing. And I have noticed a couple times the sound of a gunshot from the TV sends you out of the room.”

Everything is silent for a moment as my mind whirls.

“You… killed someone?” she asks. “Is that why you left Japan?”

For a second, I am not sure how to respond. I could just let her believe that. It would be easier. Jeremiah would think I told her the whole truth. As I stare at her though, she gazes at me with wet eyes. She really is so concerned about me. She really cares.

How can I lie to her? What is this feeling? Why do I not want to disappoint her? Suddenly my chest is tight and my throat aches. I turn my head, heat in my eyes. I want her to keep smiling warmly at me, but what is the point if it’s from a lie?

Shaking my head, I drop to my knees. “I did not plan to leave Japan. I… was knocked out and sent away because I… was ordered to kill someone,” I tell her, my hands trembling. “Then I woke up here.”

I reach down, pulling up my sleeve, not being able to look at her as I speak. “I was taken when I was a child. They put this mark on my arm, taught me how to kill. Told me if I did not follow orders, I would suffer… and… So much of it is like looking through fog…”

“But since being here it gets more clear… and I realize more what I did… and I—” My throat clenches and my vision blurs even more. “I do not know what to do. I know I cannot fix it…”

My voice shakes as I talk. “I… k-killed so many people and I… do not even have a reason for it… I was just following orders and now I am one of Japan’s most wanted criminals. Before that meant nothing to me… I-I felt nothing for so long. But now that I realize what I did… It hurts… and I cannot sleep… I am terrified.”

“A-and I did not want to tell you because I was afraid of making you upset,” I mutter, my voice trembling. “I… sorry… I am sorry… for not telling you. I-I will leave if you want. I-I understand if you do not want me—”

I feel a hand on my arm, covering the brand and look up to see her gazing at me with tears dripping down her face. “You never have to go back,” she says, her voice thick with tears. “You’re safe here. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

My heart feels like it is being squeezed and the tears I had been fighting so hard bubble over. I quickly reach up, trying to wipe them away.

“S-sorry. Sorry,” I mutter, unable to stop them.

“It’s okay. Crying takes strength,” she says. “Before, you wouldn’t cry much at all, which honestly worried me a bit. This means your heart is getting stronger and you’re really starting to heal now. Cry as much as you want sweetie.”

It’s like her words cause a dam to burst and I am unable to stop the tears from flowing. My face is in my hands, and I gasp for breath as I sob. She pulls me into her arms and strokes my back. I can’t remember the last time my mother held me like this. Suddenly, I crave her embrace, to smell her expensive hinoki perfume again. Could I pretend just for a moment that Reba is my mother?

Before I realize it, my arms are around her, tears staining her shirt. She remains there, unmoving as I cry and cling to her as if I were small again. It feels like ages before I finally have no more tears and lean back up, trying to catch my breath.

At that, Jeremiah comes in, bringing a couple glasses of water. “Thought, y’all might need this.”

I gulp it down, not realizing how thirsty I had become. I suppose crying does take a lot.

“Feel better?” she asks, wiping her eyes.

“I feel… lighter,” I mutter.

“Good,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”

I am at a loss. “Why?”

“For telling me the truth. I know it took a lot of courage,” she says.

I pause. “How do I atone for this? I do not know what to do. If I go back, they will find me again. I cannot… I would rather die than go back to them.”

She lets out a breath. “It may take time to figure out what you can do and that’s okay. Just for right now continue living and try to be happy, because that is the best way to get back at the people who did this to you.”

My heart clenches. “I do not deserve to be happy. I took their lives. I took them away from people that cared about them.”

“So, you think you should atone by living in grief the rest of your life?” she asks, and I remain silent. “Shyba, that isn’t atonement. You are just running away and punishing yourself by doing that. Punishment is not the same as atonement.”

She continues, “I’m not saying that what you did is excusable, because regardless of whether or not you wanted to do it, people still died. This is an incredibly heavy burden you bear, and I wish there were more I could do to help, but the only thing I can really do is offer advice. Yes, you took their lives and there is no bringing them back, but…”

I am taken aback as more tears drip down her face. “Shyba your life was taken away too, don’t you see? You got taken from people that cared about you too, I’m sure. But you have a chance here and I want you to take it. I want you to find yourself and find happiness.”

My mind reels. “But I…”

“What is it you want?”

For a moment I am at a loss. “I… want to stay here and live with everyone. I want you to be proud of me.”

“You can stay here as long as you like and I am proud of you,” she says.

For a moment, my mind continues to whirl, and I stare at the ground. “I want to be better.”

“Better how?” she asks.

“A good person,” I mutter.

She smiles. “I think you’re a lot closer to that than you realize.”

As I gaze up at her I am at a loss for words. Then the silence is interrupted as my stomach growls loudly. I feel the heat across my face and Reba giggles, standing.

“Let’s go get you something to eat, okay?” she suggests, reaching down.

I nod and allow her to help me up. As we walk back to the house it is like I’m walking on air. It feels so surreal. I was so sure she would abandon me, but instead she took me into her arms. How I ended up with this family is such a mystery to me, but I am so incredibly grateful I did.

As Reba places a warm plate of chicken pasta before me at the table, I feel so calm. I cannot recall the last time I felt so at peace.

“Alright, I’m heading up to bed. Y’all have a good night,” Jeremiah says half-way yawning.

“Ah, Jeremiah,” I mutter, standing. He pauses, looking at me, and for a second I can’t find the words. “Thank you,” I say, bowing my head.

He smiles. “No big deal, bro,” he says. “Just eat up and get some rest. We’ve got work to do to make room for that foal tomorrow.”

I nod. “Y-yes,” I say. “Ah… if we go to eat burgers again… please allow me to pay.”

He cocks a brow. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Please,” I press. “Reba gives me allowance, but I do not know what to do with it… and I want to thank you and Nicky for helping me.”

He pauses for a second. “Okay. If it means that much to you then the next time we go, you can pay for it. Look forward to it,” he says and heads upstairs.

I nod once and something seems to spark within me. I hope we can go soon and sit at the bench by the water again. As I return to my seat, Reba sits adjacent to me, sipping at a cup of warm milk.

As I take a bite, I glance up at her. “Reba… you… will not tell anyone?” I ask. “I cannot be found.”

“Of course not,” she says. “And speaking of that… I think starting tomorrow we should set aside time to talk two or three times a week instead of one. I know there’s a lot you need to work through, so we will do so little by little. How does that sound?”

I nod slowly. I suppose she is right. My throat clenches a bit and I swallow. “Thank you,” I mutter, the weight of those words indescribable.