B.L.T: Chapter 03

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When Kitazawa opened the front door, footsteps came from the back of the hallway. Just as he’d expected, his mother greeted him with the face of a demon.

“It’s almost nine o’clock! Where on earth have you been at this hour?”

Even an obvious lie was better than nothing.

“I was studying at the library.”

He peeled off his damp socks, still standing in his wet shoes.

“Don’t give me that.”

“It’s true.”

If he argued too much, it would only fuel her and the lecture would go on forever. He hung his head on purpose, putting on a show of remorse.

“You didn’t even want to go to remedial lessons, and now you expect me to believe you went to the library afterward? You were probably at the arcade or a friend’s place. I told you to come straight home after cram school.”

He let her scolding flow in one ear and out the other, keeping a solemn look on his face as he stepped into the hallway. His mother, more irritable and fussy than ever, was like a yappy little dog. If he changed clothes and went straight to the kitchen, she’d probably still be riding the anger high and keep chewing him out, so he went to the bath first. He gave himself a quick scrub and sank into the tub. Out of nowhere, he remembered how long they had held hands. Omiya’s fingers had been cold, probably from the rain, but still, so cold.

When he came out of the bath and entered the dining kitchen, his mother silently scooped rice into his bowl. Since he was trapped at the table to eat, she took the opportunity to sit next to him and mutter complaints. He wanted to watch TV while he ate, but saying so would probably double her anger, so he kept quiet.

Letting his eyes wander to block out the noise, Kitazawa noticed something in the living room beyond the dining kitchen: his father’s work bag tossed carelessly onto the sofa. His father was usually so busy that he came home past midnight; it was rare for him to be back around nine.

“So Dad’s home, huh.”

His mother blatantly ignored him. Even if she was angry, it was awfully rude.

“Dad’s home, isn’t he?”

“He went to Miyazaki.”

She spat the words out like a curse.

“What? No way. He said he’d wait to leave for Miyazaki until after my remedial classes were done.”

“You’re such a noisy child!”

The shout was so loud he flinched in his chair.

“It couldn’t be helped, he went off on his own. And you’re not going to Miyazaki this year. You’ve been playing around without studying, and now you’ve ended up in remedial classes. You’ll spend your summer vacation studying hard.”

“What? No! No way!”

Her palm slammed down on the table with a bang.

“You’ll do as you’re told. God, you make me so irritated.”

Still reeling from the shock of being left behind, Kitazawa got up from the table after only half-finishing his dinner.

“Eat properly! And don’t think you can come to the kitchen later for snacks, you won’t be getting any!”

Her shrill voice chased him up the stairs. He slammed his bedroom door shut. He was furious, at his hyper neurotic mother, and at his father who had left for Miyazaki without him. So furious that tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Kitazawa clenched his right hand. Slowly, deliberately. Remembering the feel of Omiya’s hand.

He truly wished both of those damn parents would just disappear.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It’s like being underwater here. The windows shut tight, the curtains drawn, the air conditioner humming. In the dim room, if I close my eyes and keep still, the occasional whoosh from the AC sounds almost like the ocean’s waves. It’s comfortable. Here, I’m free to do anything, sleep, play, watch TV, without anyone scolding me.

“So what do you do here all day?”

Omiya, just back from work, looked down at Kitazawa sprawled on the tatami and shrugged.

“Hey, let me stay over tonight.”

“You stayed over the night before last.”

“My place is boring.”

He glanced up at Omiya from under his lashes, and as always, the man turned his face away, unnaturally so.

“I don’t mind, but make sure you tell your mother.”

He said it like it was a hassle, but Kitazawa knew he was happy to have him here. His face softened, his mood lightened, whether the man himself realized it or not.

“Don’t your parents say anything about you staying here so often?”

As Omiya shrugged off his suit jacket, Kitazawa slowly sat up from the floor.

“They don’t care. Hey, lend me some underwear, pajamas, and a towel.”

Obediently, Omiya handed over everything he asked for. Lately, Kitazawa had been staying so often that those items had become a regular fixture in the apartment. Compared to the one at home, Omiya’s bath was small, and calling it clean would be generous, but somehow, it felt cozy. He ran the water himself and sang a little in the tub.

When he came out, towel drying his hair, Omiya was sitting at his desk, still in shirt and slacks, typing something into his computer. They switched places, Omiya heading for the bath as Kitazawa wandered over to peek at the open files scattered around the desk. Charts, graphs, tables, he couldn’t even guess what any of it was. The longer he stared, the more his head hurt, and he gave up, crawling under the covers. But hunger kept him awake. He got up, opened the fridge, nothing edible. So he waited impatiently for Omiya to come out.

“I’m hungry.”

He said it as the man emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Oh, right. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”

Murmuring, Omiya picked up his wallet.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Chocolate and chips.”

“All you want is junk food,” Omiya grumbled, heading out anyway.

While the man with the quick feet went shopping, Kitazawa lay on the floor and switched on the TV. Using Omiya was second nature by now, he thought of him as someone meant to be used. But nothing good was on, so he hooked up the game console. The cartridges in the basket were all old and unappealing; he gave up and tossed them aside.

He found himself thinking about home. Maybe they worried about him a little? His mother had stopped nagging lately. No matter how late he came home, or if he didn’t, she just said “oh” and left it at that. It felt less like she didn’t care, and more like she just didn’t see him anymore. Recently, she’d started going out at night, often coming home drunk past midnight. It had started after his father left for Miyazaki, maybe they’d had a huge fight before he left.

The sound of the door opening made Kitazawa sit up. Snacks had arrived. Omiya placed the convenience store bag in front of him. Like a starving child, he dove into it. Inside, he spotted a can of coffee and pulled it out.

“This is yours.”

“Yeah.”

Kitazawa couldn’t drink coffee. Sometimes even the smell made him feel sick. Omiya, on the other hand, loved the stuff, his apartment was stocked with a full set of coffee gear, from server to grinder. But ever since Kitazawa started coming over, he’d never seen any of it used.

Maybe noticing Kitazawa’s grimace at the canned coffee in his hand, Omiya hurried to explain.

“Iced coffee should be fine, right?”

“If I smell even a little of it, I hate it. If you drink it, we’re through.”

He rejected even the aroma. Faced with such stubbornness, Omiya gave up and put the coffee in the fridge.

Rummaging through the convenience store bag, Kitazawa realized the potato chips he’d asked for weren’t there. Instead, out came salad and rice balls.

“No chips.”

“You should eat some vegetables. You’re still growing.”

“I wanted chips.”

He was annoyed his request hadn’t been met, but hunger won out, and he ate the rice balls and salad anyway. Then he brushed his teeth, his own toothbrush had been kept here for a while now.

Once full, he crawled into Omiya’s bed. But sleep wouldn’t come, so he watched the man’s back as he sat at his desk. For a pervert, he did look kind of cool when he was working.

“Hey.”

“What?”

The back didn’t turn.

“Play with me.”

Omiya suddenly burst out laughing and glanced over his shoulder.

“Out of nowhere, you say something like that.”

Maybe “play with me” was weird. Embarrassed, Kitazawa spat, “Forget it,” and pulled the sheet over his head.

“What should we play, then?”

The voice came from right nearby. Kitazawa stayed stubbornly under the sheet. Through the fabric, he felt a light tap tap on his back, it felt oddly comforting, like being consoled.

“You’ve got it good. Every day’s a Sunday for you.”

“It’s summer break.”

Kitazawa peeked his face out from under the sheet.

“Same thing. A long break, and the freedom to use it however you want, I envy that. Go out and enjoy yourself while you can.”

Fingers crept closer, touching his bangs.

“Don’t touch me. You know I hate that.”

“Ah, sorry.”

Omiya withdrew his hand at once, gaze falling with a trace of sadness. Give him the slightest opening, and he’d touch Kitazawa. Why did he want to cling to another guy like that? He didn’t know, but he understood the pattern. Omiya was gay, and because he liked men, he wanted to touch them. Any man would do, it didn’t have to be him.

The thought stung. He was just using the man and his place, nothing more, so there was no reason to feel hurt.

“Do you like me?”

When he asked it straight, Omiya’s face reddened slightly.

“But it doesn’t have to be me, right? Any guy would do.”

Omiya hastily denied it.

“I don’t think just anyone would do.”

“Then… what do you like about me?”

Omiya raised his right hand, as if to hide his flushed face.

“When you like someone, you can’t just look them in the eye and list the reasons. Don’t tease me like that.”

This man liked him. That was why Kitazawa could be selfish all he wanted, and Omiya wouldn’t get angry, he’d forgive him. So that’s what being liked means, Kitazawa thought, strangely convinced.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The day after Kitazawa stayed over at Omiya’s apartment, there was no remedial class at school. In the morning, Omiya dropped him off near his house on the way to work. At eight a.m., the roads were jammed, and the car barely moved forward. A little before reaching his neighborhood, Kitazawa got out near the station and walked the rest of the way home.

He hadn’t called his mother yesterday to say he wouldn’t be coming back. He had a feeling that if they met face to face now, she would finally unleash a full, blown scolding. Wanting to slip back into his own room unnoticed, Kitazawa opened the front door as quietly as he could.

The first thing he saw were his father’s shoes. He had returned from Miyazaki. As he approached the dining room, his mother’s shrill voice cut through the air.

“Fine, just do whatever you want!”

He had never heard her sound so hysterical. A chill ran down his spine.

“Kazue, let’s talk this through,” his father’s calming voice said.

“No matter how much we talk, it won’t change the fact that we’re separating, will it? In that case, let’s just file the divorce papers already. That way you can hurry up and be with your new woman, wouldn’t that make you happy?”

His steps toward the stairs froze. Separating. His mother had definitely said that word.

From the narrow gap of the dining room door left ajar, Kitazawa peered inside.

“You must’ve seen this coming. We’ve been done for years now. The only reason we lasted this long was because of the kid, because of Masato…”

“Enough already, I don’t want to hear any more!”

His mother clamped both hands over her ears.

“Everyone can just do whatever they want!”

His parents were getting divorced, or close to it. Kitazawa couldn’t move from the spot outside that swamp of a dining room. He’d never thought they were close. But he also hadn’t thought things were so bad they would break apart. Sure, there had been times he wished they’d both just disappear, but he’d never really imagined a day when they actually would.

“About Masato’s custody,” his father began, “he’s still in junior high, so—”

“I’m not taking him.”

Kitazawa’s fingers twitched.

“You take care of him. That boy never listens to a word I say. Besides, I have no confidence in raising a child on my own from here on out. You and that woman of yours can look after him.”

“That’s a problem for me too,” his father retorted.

“She’s still young, and suddenly asking her to be the mother of a junior high boy… I think she’d hesitate. If possible, I’d prefer you, as his mother, to take care of him. Of course I’ll pay child support.”

“Absolutely not!” his mother shouted, throwing her arms wide.

“I want to live freely from now on, alone, without any restraints. I want to think only about my own life. You’re the one divorcing me for selfish reasons. In that case, the least you can do is take care of your own child.”

Words bounced back and forth like a ball: You take him. No, I won’t. I don’t want him either.

I see, Kitazawa thought. Neither of them wanted to take him. In this house, between these two people, he was nothing but an unwanted burden.

“Then you shouldn’t have had me in the first place.”

Neither of them heard his voice. Without going upstairs, Kitazawa headed straight for the front door. As he stepped over the threshold and out of the house, he swore to himself that he would never return.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was a summer sky. Blue, with the shimmering, heated air warping the scenery into a transparent blur. Even sitting on a bench in the shade of a tree in the park, sweat ran down his body, dripping from his forehead to his cheeks, from the back of his neck down his spine. A cicada cried from a nearby tree, its voice loud and grating, like a distant ringing in the ears.

He felt like he should be thinking about a lot of things, but nothing specific came to mind. Only that word kept looping in his head, unwanted. Unwanted, unwanted…

From the trash can across from him, an empty can stuck out. Surely he was no different from that. Something unwanted. Something discarded. Maybe it would be better if he just died. But he didn’t actually want to die. Sweat kept pouring down, stinging his eyes so sharply it hurt.

“Damn it…”

Kitazawa stood from the bench and kicked the trash can in front of him. He kicked, and kicked again, until his toes began to ache. Garbage scattered miserably across the ground. A middle-aged woman, watching from a distance, leaned toward the woman beside her and whispered something, her expression openly disgusted.

“Quit staring, you piece of shit,” he muttered.

Kicking at the scattered trash once more, Kitazawa began to walk. Wandering aimlessly, without any destination, he let himself be swept along by the flow of people. Before he knew it, he was inside the station. He wanted to go somewhere, but he didn’t know where.

And then, a poster tacked to the bulletin board caught his eye. A blue sky. A blue sea. A pure white beach. Kitazawa stopped there for a while, staring blankly at that blue ocean.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

A man in a business suit rushed into the run-down station. He scanned the area, and when he spotted Kitazawa, he strode toward him.

“What’s the matter, calling me out to a place like this all of a sudden?”

Kitazawa hung his head. After seeing the poster of the ocean at the station, he’d wanted to go to Miyazaki. But the reality was he didn’t have the kind of money to get there. Restless, he’d bought a ticket with the only coin he had, a five hundred yen piece, and ridden as far as it would take him. He’d ended up at this station, whose name he couldn’t even read. There was no sea here, nothing at all, just a faintly desolate station interior. The emptiness had made him feel so miserable he could cry. With nowhere else to turn, he’d called Omiya, clinging to the thought that someone might come.

“I’ll hear the reason in the car. I’ve got urgent work right now, something I absolutely can’t get away from,” Omiya said.

“No.” Kitazawa shook his head.

“Don’t be selfish at a time like this. It’s important work, and I can’t hand it off to someone else.”

“I don’t care about that.”

Omiya bit his lip lightly, glanced at his watch, and tapped his right foot in irritation.

“I could’ve ignored your call, you know. You have no idea how hard it is to leave work in the middle of a busy stretch like this. But I dropped everything just because you said ‘I want you to come.’ I came to get you, didn’t I? I don’t know what happened, but for now just get in the car. If we leave now, I can still make it back in time.”

He had just wanted to see someone. He didn’t want to be alone. He was in so much pain he could barely breathe, so desperate he couldn’t stand it, he wanted someone to listen. But this man was just talking about himself, rattling on about his own convenience.

“If work’s so damn important, then just go home. Go home, go home, go home!”

Omiya looked down at him with a severe expression. Kitazawa hadn’t called him out here to see a face like that.

“Fine, do whatever you want.”

Leaving those cold words behind, Omiya walked out of the station waiting room. Through the shimmering heat outside, his tall back gradually disappeared from sight. Kitazawa hiccupped with a sharp intake of breath. He hated the man who had left him behind. From the bottom of his heart, he hated the man who wouldn’t be kind to him at a time like this.

The tears that hadn’t fallen even when his parents had told him he was “unwanted” now poured down his face in streams. Why was it that just being abandoned by that man could make him cry this much? He had no money. No way to get anywhere. He couldn’t go home. He didn’t know where he should go, or even where he had to go.

“…Oi.”

He lifted his face. Through vision doubled with tears stood the man who should have been gone just moments ago.

“I’m the one who feels like crying.”

Sure enough, the man’s face looked on the verge of tears.

“I don’t understand what it is you’re trying to do.”

Kitazawa hated him, hated him for making him feel this miserable.

“If all you’re gonna do is complain, then just hurry back to your company. I don’t need your pity. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“It’s you who won’t tell me, isn’t it?”

Kitazawa hadn’t even said he wanted Omiya to know. The man had just been there with him, nothing more. To bring it up now was unfair.

“Hey.”

Red, eyed, Kitazawa looked straight at Omiya.

“Take me to Miyazaki.”

Omiya’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Take me to Miyazaki. I was planning to go there for summer break anyway. My grandma’s waiting for me, and I’m supposed to learn diving there. I’ll start over from there. If I do that, things will work out, definitely.”

Omiya let out a thin sigh.

“You’re telling me… to take you there?”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kitazawa had half-expected Omiya to dodge the request with something vague, but instead, the man entered “Miyazaki” into the car navigation system. Kitazawa watched his profile with a faint sense of disbelief, this man actually meant to take him. Estimated travel time: about seventeen hours. Kitazawa had always gone to Miyazaki by plane, so he hadn’t known how long it took by land.

After confirming the highway entrance, Omiya stopped at a gas station to fill the tank to the brim.

Without a word, the car climbed a large looping ramp and passed through the tollgate.

“You didn’t go home?” Omiya asked quietly.

“I did.”

Omiya kept looking at him.

“You went home, but you didn’t change your clothes?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“‘Pretty much’…?”

Kitazawa tapped the man’s shoulder with a DVD case.

“Enough. Just leave me alone.”

Omiya exhaled slowly.

“I ditched work without permission, and I’m even planning to take tomorrow off to go with you. And you still won’t tell me the reason?”

“Don’t say it like I owe you. I told you to go back, didn’t I?”

The man fell silent.

In the stillness of the car, Kitazawa sank deep into the seat and closed his eyes. Once they reached Miyazaki, his grandmother would be there. His cousin would teach him scuba diving. His usual, real summer break would begin. He wouldn’t think about his mother or father. He didn’t want to think about them.

“We’ll probably get there tomorrow around noon… no, maybe in the evening,” Omiya murmured.

“Mm…”

On both sides, the view was blocked by gray guardrails. He couldn’t tell where they were heading. Kitazawa kept his eyes fixed on the glaring, sweltering, looking sky ahead. He kept looking at the sky, and nothing else.

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