Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [62]
“Still…”
“You wouldn’t understand, Satoru.”
Uncle Lou’s face went pale. His lips were trembling. Akira lifted his travel bag. Wataru stared at it; he couldn’t think of anything else to do. His father’s hand clutching the bag. The light shining dully off his fingernails as he turned to walk toward the door.
“Take care of Wataru for me, Satoru,” Akira said, his voice no longer trembling.
“You can’t ask me to do that,” Uncle Lou said stubbornly. “You can’t just ask someone to take care of your life. I won’t do it for you, that’s for sure.”
Akira Mitani quietly looked back at his son. “Take care of your mother for me, Wataru.”
Then he walked, his slippers scuffing on the carpet.
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
Why am I not stopping him? Wataru thought to himself. Why am I not running after him, grabbing him, crying for him to stay?
Because, Wataru realized, it’s no use. His father was not one to change his mind once it had been set. In the Mitani household, what his father said was law, writ in stone. His conclusions were decisions, and his decisions were final. No amount of weeping or pleading could hope to overturn them. That lesson had been imprinted on every cell of Wataru’s body. Being selfish would get him nowhere.
Selfish? Am I being selfish?
Wataru stood from the sofa and ran to the door. Akira was putting on his shoes. His back was turned.
“Dad.”
At the sound of Wataru’s voice, Akira stiffened.
“Are you leaving me and Mom?”
For a moment, Akira paused. His hand clutching the shoehorn looked white.
Then he went back to putting on his shoes. He put the shoehorn back on top of the shoebox. Then, back still turned, he spoke. “Even if I divorced your mother, I’m still your father, Wataru. Nothing will change that, no matter where I go.”
“But you are leaving us?” Wataru said again. Why does my voice sound so weak? Why can’t I talk louder? Why can’t I say something more persuasive? “You’re leaving me and Mom.”
Akira Mitani opened the door. “I’m sorry, Wataru.”
And then he left.
Wataru stood there, watching the door swing shut. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were dry. His stomach ached like he had to go to the bathroom, but was holding it in.
Uncle Lou silently walked up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” There were tears in his voice. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought you home. You should’ve stayed with me at the hotel. I was wrong. I’m sorry, Wataru. I’m sorry.”
I’m still sleeping. This is all a dream. I’m still in the haunted building, under those rickety stairs, amidst the scraps of concrete and the dust, hung over a railing, asleep. My uncle will find me and drag me out, then Mr. Daimatsu will show up, and they’ll take me to Mr. Daimatsu’s house.
I’m sleeping. When I wake up, everything will be like it was before.
Wataru repeated those words to himself over and over, like a spell—a spell powerful enough to defeat the most fearsome monster. A spell to drive all enemies away. A spell to make the monsters vanish.
No. You’re wrong. Spells won’t work. I’m not asleep. This is reality. This is happening right before my eyes.
Pain welled up from deep inside. What was that spell the wizard used, the one to turn back time? What words did he say? I should’ve remembered them. I want to use them now.
“Uncle Lou,” Wataru said quietly, feeling his uncle’s warmth against his back. “Did you know? Did you know Dad would be leaving tonight?”
His uncle breathed a ragged breath before answering. “Not until that phone call.”
That’s why he had been so frazzled, even though Wataru had only fallen asleep.
“It’s terrible,” his uncle muttered. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe he would lay this on you.”
Wataru turned silently, and fell into his uncle’s arms. Hanging on to him for dear life, he cried and cried.
No matter how confused, how tired, or how sad, every night has its morning. When he opened his eyes, the morning sun shone harsh against Wataru’s face.
He’d fallen asleep with his uncle in the living room. Uncle Lou, too