Blast to the Past: Sleeping it off [Episode 91272]

by Kevin Michael Schultz

Soun lay in his bed, staring at the familiar ceiling. His wife’s scent was still in the room, lingering in the dark like the ocean mist. Of course, the analogy was spoilt by the actual odor: it was the smell of drugs and sweat as much as anything else, but it was the strongest reminder he had of her last days. Perhaps the smell of the tide at midnight on Yokohama’s harbor, a small part of Soun’s brain thought, his eyes stinging. It has the right pungency, at least. Still, his mind was pulled in a different direction, just as the void at his side pulled him towards the center of the futon.

Her arrival had caused an unexpected delay, and dinner had been something of a delightful reprieve. The girls had certainly cheered up. At the least they had been temporarily been distracted. But dinner ended, and despite their protests, the girls had gone off to bed. Perhaps I ought to have made sure they had brushed their teeth. She had done that, before. Now, he wasn’t quite certain if they even had enough toothpaste to go around. The younger girl certainly seemed to know where things were, though. Perhaps she could pick some up, tomorrow. Their conversation after dinner had certainly been interesting, even if it had not compared to the shenanigans of her shape-changing demonstration. But that was in the past, and Soun had a tradition to uphold. In fact, he had been looking forward to it for some time now.

It wasn’t manly, it wasn’t fatherly, and it certainly wasn’t Japanese. But they came anyway, forcing their way from his body; it was an unspoken assumption, of a sort. He could feel another, leaving a trail of salt along his cheek. Just not in public. His eyes squeezed shut, as if that would keep his dishonor from freeing itself. In private, well, that’s a different story. No one can really say what goes on behind the screen, now, can they? But it was simply a delaying tactic, as another one came, dribbling and sliding, dropping and soaking into the mattress. His pillow smothered the accompanying sob, but a small part escaped to announce the complete destruction of his resolve.

He prayed that he would loose himself in the moment of his grief, a Zen blessing to counter his pain. Unfortunately, the digital alarm clock she had purchased kept him in constant awareness of time passing. And so, the digits continued to count, and Soun continued to cry, his daughters studiously ignoring the sounds emanating from their parent’s room.

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(Posted Mon, 29 Mar 2004 12:53)

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