31: Dreams

Kiara—

His words weigh heavy on my heart. I look over, noticing the darkness in his eyes as he gazes at the ground as though not seeing it. For a moment that feels like hours we sit in silence. My mind and body feel so heavy. Everything is so surreal.

“Kiara?” he mutters, looking up at me with arched brows. His gaze shows more concern than I had ever seen on his face. I had never seen him as upset as he was earlier when he thought I was going to jump.

The knot in my throat is nearly unbearable. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, tears welling up again.

“You do not have to apologize. I…” He glances down at the ground clenching his fists. “I know the pain you feel.”

For a second, I stare at him. My chest tightens, noticing the look in his eyes. I know he’s telling the truth and the thought pierces my heart.

He looks up at me. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes… but my ankle,” I mutter. “I don’t think I can walk on it.”

He glances up at me, our eyes locking, and he seems to tense a bit before nodding once. Then he turns, kneeling with his back to me. “Can you climb up?”

“What? B-but you don’t like being touched s-so—”

“It is fine. You should not walk so I will carry you,” he says.

I hesitate, but he’s right. As my hands rest on his shoulders, he braces. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.

Slowly, I get up onto his back and he pulls my legs up, tucking his arms under my knees before standing. As he walks, we remain silent for a bit and I find myself enjoying the soothing motion of his steps, the slight sway. I never noticed how wide his shoulders are. I guess because he stays hunched over all the time. If it weren’t for the circumstances, this would be kind of romantic.

Wait, what am I thinking?

My chest tightens and for a second it’s like the world stops. As my mind reels, we make it back home. Sugar is out in the yard grazing. When she sees me, she runs up, rubbing her face against my arm as an apology.

He takes me up to my room, setting me on my bed before bringing an ice pack for my ankle. “I will be back after I take Sugar to the barn,” he says before leaving again.

After a while he brings up some sandwiches, eating lunch with me. He even stays with me while I watch TV, reading one of the books he got from the library. I guess he’s afraid to leave me alone. Then again, having him near is comforting. When did I start feeling like this?

Later, Jeremiah helps me down the stairs for supper. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I realize they had made my favorite chicken spaghetti.

Seeing my face, Mama smiles. “It was Shyba’s idea. He called before I came home and asked if we could make it. He said he wanted to cheer you up.”

Tears flood my eyes and I glance at him as he sits in the chair next to me. “Thank you,” I murmur.

He glances up and nods, remaining silent. After supper, Jeremiah takes me back up to my room. As I watch TV it’s like I don’t even hear what the characters are saying. My mind races with everything that happened today.

There is a knock at my door. “Yes?”

The door opens and my heart twinges. What in the world? Shyba carries two mugs and upon seeing me pauses.

“I thought you might like hot chocolate,” he mutters and glances down. “I think I prepared it right. It ah… may be too hot.” He kicks the door closed and comes over, handing one to me.

For a second, I am stunned. “Oh.”

I take the mug and stare at it for a moment. First, asking to make my favorite food and now this. I don’t know what to think.

“Thank you,” I say, looking back at him. “You’re really kind. I like that.”

My heart leaps into my throat. What did I just say? Oh god.

He is silent, sitting down next to me and gazes at the ground as though not seeing it. “There are many people who disagree with you.”

“Well, they’re not here,” I say, and his eyes widen before looking at me. “Seriously though, thank you Shyba. For everything.”

He is silent for a long moment, so I continue, “Speaking of… How did you know my favorite food is chicken spaghetti?”

“You always are excited when we have it,” he says, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Oh,” I mutter before taking a drink.

He pays that much attention? Then something strikes me. I don’t know his favorite food. Then again, I guess it’s hard to decipher when he hardly smiles. Now that I think about it, I don’t know much of anything about him.

“What’s your favorite food?” I ask.

He pauses. “I do not have one.”

“There has to be something that makes you extra happy to eat,” I say.

“Extra happy…” he mutters, his gaze becoming distant. “I like everything I have tried here. I do not know if one makes me more happy.”

“Oh, okay,” I mutter, unsure what to say. This isn’t getting anywhere. I still want to know something though. “Well, what about… when you were little? What was your favorite food then?”

He is silent for a moment. “Why do you want to know?”

Did I cross a line? “Um… Well, I just… want to know more about you,” I mutter. “I realized I don’t know a whole lot about you.” I want to know things other people don’t.

He stares at me for a second before taking another sip. “When I was little, I liked hamburger.”

“Really? I was expecting something a bit more… Japanese,” I say, giggling. “Okay, what about, uh… What is your favorite English word so far?”

Once again, he seems surprised. “Eto… ‘savor’.”

“Why that one?” I ask.

“It is the new one I learned. And I like the meaning,” he says then looks over to me. “Do you have a favorite kanji?”

“Hmm,” I mutter thinking. He has helped me learn a lot even though I’m a bit slow at it. “I like the one for ‘sakura’. It’s so pretty. It even looks like it has petals on it, so it’s easy to remember too.”

He nods. “Mm.”

I take a swig and glance over at him. What else? “Um…” I mutter, my heart pounding. “C-can I ask a selfish question?”

He turns, looking at me with a raised brow. “Okay.”

“Um… Well, since I told you something I never told anybody before, will you tell me something you never told anyone? I-I just want to know something about you that only I know,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks flush. “If that’s okay.”

For a moment he is silent, his eyes wide. “Ah,” he murmurs and looks away. “I do not know what that would be.”

“It doesn’t have to be anything crazy important,” I say.

He brings his finger up to his lip, thinking. My mind goes over several questions, wanting to know more. I want to know as much as possible. But I know he still has his impenetrable walls up. Is it selfish of me to hope I can get through?

“It could be…” I mutter. “Oh! What did you want to be when you were a child? I wanted to be a nurse like Mama was, but when I realized how stressful that would be the appeal wore off. Then I wanted to be a botanist then a veterinarian. Then something else… Oh, a pilot.”

He lowers his hand, staring at the floor. “It is stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s not and even if it is, you were a kid, so that’s kind of a given sometimes. I mean, Nicky wanted to be a robot.”

He lets out a small sigh. “I… wanted to be a teacher.”

I can feel my eyes light up. “That’s actually a really cool dream. Why would you think it’s stupid? What made you want to be a teacher?” I ask. I quickly realize I’m asking too many questions and clench my mouth shut.

He turns his head toward me a bit. “I had a teacher who was really kind, Hamada-Sensei. He had a son, Ryosuke, and we were friends. Many times, I get picked up late from school. Sensei and Ryo would wait with me. We talked a lot, and he sometimes bring ice cream for us as we played. I wanted to be like him,” he says and sighs. “But I am the furthest thing from a teacher now.”

For a moment I watch as his distant eyes look to the past, the blue light from the television seeming to enhance the crimson in his irises. “What do you mean? You are a teacher,” I say, and he looks at me with arched brows. “You’ve been teaching me Japanese, right? And you’re really good at it too!”

He stares at me for a long moment before quickly turning back to the television. I watch as he tries to wipe his eyes inconspicuously and my heart clenches.

“Shyba,” I mutter. “I’m really happy we met and got to be friends. You’re the first true friend I’ve had and I… I want to be there for you like you have been for me. I’ve got your back too, okay?”

I look up and he stares at me for a second, before nodding. “I am happy we are friends too.”

Then I notice something that makes me lose my breath for a moment. There on his lips is a gentle smile. Normally, you have to squint to even see, but it’s as plain as day right here in front of me.

“I have another selfish request,” I mutter, my cheeks warm.

“What is it?”

“Will you stay here with me? Just till I fall asleep?” I ask and look up at him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He pauses before nodding. “I will stay.”

I finish the last of my hot chocolate, setting the mug on my nightstand and lay down. Shyba sits on the floor in front of the bed to watch TV and I watch the blue light dance across his hair. For a long while all is silent, and I can feel sleep pulling me away. However, I stay awake, some childish part of me hoping he won’t leave if I stay up.

The events of today run through my mind once again. I can’t help but wonder so much about him. How much pain has the color of his eyes caused? I want to be a comfort to him like he has been for me, but what do I do?

As I am just about to drift off, the TV goes silent, the only light coming from my dim fairy lights above. He stands before gently pulling the blanket over my shoulders. Then I hear the door softly open, before closing. With warm cheeks and my heart thumping in my ear, I gently slip away.

After a rather long and quiet ride to the cemetery we all walk through the lines of headstones, Jeremiah holding me up as I limp.

We stop before a headstone about three feet tall with the words, “Paul McRae - Loving husband, father and friend.” Then beneath all of that, “Believe you can and you’re halfway there.”

There are already flowers lying beside it. Hank got here before us.

Mama steps up first, kneeling and setting a small bouquet of daisies on the gravestone. “Hi Paul, I brought the flowers you gave to me on our first date. Our family grew again. It was a rocky start, but things are good now. I think you would like Shyba. He’s a good kid with a good heart.”

I glance over to Shyba, but his face is emotionless as usual.

She continues, “Anyway, we are doing well, so don’t worry. I…” Tears form in her eyes. “I’ll keep working hard.” My heart aches more and more.

After her, Jeremiah steps up. He sets a can of beer down. “Hey Dad, I got the truck working again. Took me a bit, but it’s good now. The horses are doing good too. Stormy’s gonna foal in the winter,” he says.

He rubs at his neck, his face becoming a bit red. “Oh, and there’s this girl at the vet. Her name is Maddie and she’s awful cute. I still haven’t worked up the courage to ask her out yet… but I know what you would tell me, so I’m gonna believe and just do it.”

Nicky steps up, putting down a single white rose. “Hi Dad… um… I never really know what to say, but I’ve been doing alright. Had a rough patch there for a bit, but I’m good again now. I’ve got Mama and everyone here still taking care of me,” he says.

“I uh… I only have another year left until I get my bachelor’s in computer science. I still don’t really know what I want to do after that though. I guess I’ll try to find work online.” He adjusts his glasses. “Anyway, I’ll be alright no matter what I decide. I have you and everyone else to thank for that… I… miss our talks and the advice you would give me…”

Next the twins go up, setting down a couple of drawings for him. Then they tell him about school and the friends they’ve made. They still don’t really know what to say though, never having really known him. The thought makes my heart wrench and tears well up.

They step away and I stare at the stone for a moment, my heart feeling as though someone is squeezing it with all their might. I go over and kneel, placing a red rose down. For a moment that seems to last several, I try to find the words. I had never been able to speak when we would come here.

“Dad… I brought you a rose… from the bushes we planted together. They’re really pretty and smell nice. I’ve been taking good care of them,” I mutter. “I…”

I take a deep breath, my throat aching and the tears rolling down my face. “I’m sorry Dad… I… I wish I could see you again,” I whisper. “I miss you… a-and I want to thank you for everything you did for me… You’re my hero.”

My fists clench and once again, I take a deep breath. “I’m going to be okay. I’ll keep working hard and I’ll try to be brave and kind like you.”

Slowly, I stand, and Mama holds me, stroking my head. We all are about to leave when Shyba goes before the grave and kneels. After taking out a bottle of water from his hoodie pocket, he pours water over each of his hands. Then he wipes the dust off of the headstone with a rag he must’ve brought from the house and brushes away the stray leaves. He douses the rag with the rest of the water before wiping the headstone down quickly and thoughtfully.

Then he removes his sunglasses and sits back on his legs. With his back straight, he presses his palms together before himself, closing his eyes. We all watch as he silently pays his respects, and I can’t help but wonder what he may be saying in his prayer.

Translations:

Paying respects at a grave in Japan – Traditionally, when visiting a Japanese grave the visitor(s) will cleanse their hands with water before entering the graveyard. It is also customary to cleanse the gravestone as well with the water to show respect for the deceased and their family. However, in Shyba’s case he improvises to the best of his ability. A prayer is also given, usually to tell the deceased about any news regarding relatives, as well as praying for the deceased to essentially have a good afterlife.