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“Thank you, Mrs. Shinonome.”
She watched as her son stepped out to join his friend on the porch. She waved from the door. “Ah, you’re so polite. Enjoy your practice and stay safe, okay?”
“Mhm, whatever, Mom.” She winced internally. Yes, her son was just a teenage boy who needed some space, but it seemed like every day, her children wanted to be as far from her as possible. Her son was always left the house to go to gigs or practices or shows with his street music group. Her daughter was always locking herself in her room, scribbling in her sketchbook or on her tablet, rarely ever coming out for any reason other than to get food or prepare for classes.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong as a parent, right? She gave her children space while also supporting, loving, and caring for them. She made sure that they knew what they needed to know and learn what they needed to learn. She respected their decisions and would try her absolute best for them not to take things too far.
Yes, some things were out of her control and sometimes the siblings would push themselves too hard. But they were always there for each other. And if not each other, their friends would be by their side.
Ah right, their friends.
Her eyes focused toward a blur of two-toned blue and bright orange hair off in the distance. The two boys seemed oddly close, though she supposed they were always like that since the day they started singing together. Her son’s smile always brightened whenever he talked about the other boy, and by the way his eyes shined whenever he saw the other, she could tell that the two were really close. She watched the two as they suddenly stopped walking, turning to face each other. A hand reached to touch a cheek, a different hand drifted to the back of a neck, heads were brought together like they were attracted by magnets.
Ah, maybe not just friends.
She closed the blinds to reflect. She supposed that her children were just around the age to be falling in love, but she didn’t think that either of them would get that far yet. But thinking about it now, her daughter also had some friends that she was particularly close to. First, there was that girl that she brought home to spend the night with before it rained. Then, there was that pink-haired girl who always seemed to be inviting her out to wherever. There was also that other girl in her little music group that came across as a nice soul who could make peace with her daughter’s hot-tempered personality. And none of them seemed half bad to be her daughter’s potential partner. The first girl would help her with her schoolwork, the second would always cheer her up, and the last girl would calm her fiery self down.
The woman remembered falling in love all those years ago. Meeting an interesting man on her way back from grocery shopping of all places. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Hah, in her early twenties yet still getting the groceries for her parents instead of for herself. For her whole life, she had been taught to cook, clean, and to do all the work in the house, “like the good wife she would be”. Once she graduated high school, she was eager to live out her dream of living herself, not relying on a man to be her source of income. Alas, her parents wouldn’t permit for her to move out, let alone get a job or go to college.
Juggling at least three plastic bags filled with ingredients to make a month’s worth of meals, she fumbled to grab the receipt from her cardigan pocket while standing, only to lose her resolve and resort to sitting on the nearest bench. Just as she fished out the receipt from her pocket, she heard a startling cough from the man sitting next to her. He had a sketchbook on his lap and a pencil in his hand.
“You’re in the way,” a firm voice said. Wow, not even an ‘excuse me’ or anything. One of the main reasons she never wanted to marry: men.
“Oh, my apologies sir. I didn’t mean to get in your way.” She tried her best to cover her annoyance with a sweet tone and her most genuine fake smile.
She could see the man wasn’t even bothering to sugarcoat anything about this encounter. His eyes appeared as annoyed as she felt, and he clearly wanted for her to move out of his way.
“Well you’re still in the way ma’am,” his tone felt mocking, like he knew she was putting on a mask of kindness and was copying her. Then, the man waved her off with his hand, as if she were some sort of pest.
It took all of her self control not to scoff at him, rip that sketchpad out of his hands, tear his drawing into pieces, smack him in the face with the grocery bag, and walk away like nothing happened. Instead, she got up with her three bags and receipt in hand and walked away.
Well, she walked away until she glanced at the man’s paper. On it was a very detailed drawing of the streets—the sun just setting, the buildings of various heights and sizes, the shops bustling with activity, the people filled with character. The illustration was oddly charming despite being unfinished, yet it perfectly captured the spirit of the town in just one frame. The woman couldn’t help but feel entranced by the drawing, looking back at the man in a new light. He had a talent for drawing, that was for sure, but it truly felt like art. Maybe he could see the beauty in this ugly world and reflect it elegantly on paper. The woman sighed and hoped she wouldn’t regret what she did next.
“Hey!” she yelled. “You wanna show me what else is in that pretty sketchbook of yours sometime?”
Over the next couple of months, she ended up not regretting her decision to call out to the man that day at all. The woman found herself spending longer “getting the groceries” than she used to, replacing finding more green, firm produce with finding a firm squeeze in her heart looking at greenery with the artist, Shinei. Shinei turned out to be a fine man, just as long as you didn’t mess around with the topic of his art or art in general. They’d spend time together just admiring the scenery or end up talking about whatever troubled them.
It was simple really. Shinei would usually draw, she would ramble off about her parents and their completely unreasonable future for her, and Shinei would explain how his art was never great in the eyes of other artists. They both understood each other through the shared experience of never meeting people’s expectations, no matter how hard they tried. And she felt herself falling. Falling in love and falling into the pit she had dug herself into.
“Where have you been.” It wasn’t a question nor was it an exclamation of worry. It was a demand.
She didn’t want to do this. She had an amazing day out with Shinei that she lost track of the time, spending the day going from place to place for Shinei’s inspiration. The only thing that would taint her mood would be her father learning who she’s been with.
She started up on dinner. “Groceries,” she said simply. Not smiling, not frowning, just flaming on internally.
“Your mother and I have something to discuss with you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Well, what are we even talking about?”
“Don’t use that tone on me young lady!”
“What tone?”
“God, I thought we raised you better than this.”
“At least you realized it was your fault I’m like this.”
“Don’t make me send you to your room!”
“Oh, what am I? A child?”
“That is enough from both of you!” She didn’t think there was ever a time where she was relieved by her mother’s voice.
She sighed and stopped chopping the carrots. Maybe if she married Shinei, she wouldn’t have to cook all the time. He would have a studio at home and cook while she could have a career as a news reporter or a saleswoman.
“We know.”
Huh? What are these old geezers talking about? Wait… “Pfft—! What are you talking about?” Not as confident as she wanted to sound, but good enough.
“We know about Shinei.”
…
Glass shattered into pieces. Black paint splashed onto the picture of her future. The jail around her tightened. Her plans for the future flushed down the drain.
What did she do to deserve this? She just wanted to live her life. Shinei’s name was the only name that didn’t feel like poison on her tongue. But once her parents had mentioned it just once, it started to feel bitter.
“How?” she managed to croak out.
“He asked for your hand in marriage.”
She almost fell to tears. She wasn’t sure if it was because her parents had found out Shinei loved her back before she did or because Shinei loved her enough to think of proposing. Shinei was kind enough to think of telling her parents he wanted to marry her, despite her long, extensive rants about how horrible they were. Now they could never be together and—
“Tell us more about this ‘Shinei’, would you?”
…what?
“Umm, well he’s an amazing artist…”
“Artist? Like a painter?” her mother inquired.
“Uh, yes. He also does sketches and colored pencil drawings. Anything really—”
Her father interrupted, “And does he make a lot of money from these drawings?”
“He earns some money from commissions and sometimes he gets cash from art competitions.” A lie. He rarely got cash prizes from competitions anymore.
Her father raised his eyebrows in suspicion. “So he doesn’t have a steady source of income?”
“…No?”
“You’re not getting married to this man.”
“What! Why?”
Her mother gave her fake smile. “Honey… We just want the best for you and—”
“No! You don’t want the best for me! I told you that I wanted to move out to go to college, that I wanted to learn work, to have a career, and you know what you did? You told me to forget those dreams and focus on ‘being a good housewife and mother’! How can you expect that from me if you can’t even be one yourself!”
“Young lady, I am losing my patience. If you don’t—”
“If I don’t what?” she started, her tone rising. “I am tired of following your rules and meeting your standards. I finally find someone I want to marry and you tell me I can’t. Why? Because you think I’m going to be the one to earn the money for my family? Because you want me to keep doing the work around here? What is it? Tell me!”
Her father stood up. “You know what? Pack your bags and get out of my house.”
“Good! I never wanted to be here anyway!” she said as she stormed to her room.
“You’re lucky I even let you pack—!”
And she was long gone before he could say her name.
She and Shinei eloped. It was just a small wedding at a small chapel. Some of their closest friends, none of their family. She couldn’t have been happier.
By then, Shinei was being recognized for his artistic abilities, winning lots of competitions, earning sums of money from various commissions, and even getting his own display at a section of an art museum. Shinei was getting close to being the most well-known artist in their area. His money allowed them to purchase a house for their soon-to-be-growing family.
As for her… She was trying her best to study at a community college, but traveling such a long distance while being pregnant with her first child was proving much difficulty.
In late April as the cherry blossoms fell from the trees, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. “Ena,” she named her. “A gift from God.” She had been thinking of a name ever since she found out she was pregnant.
“Why don’t you name it so it shares the same initial as your name?” Shinei asked one day while she was brainstorming names. “What about—?”
“Hold that thought,” she interrupted. “I haven’t thought of boy names yet.” In reality, she didn’t want her child’s name to match hers. She wanted her children to be whoever they wanted to be, not a reflection of who she was or longed to be.
Ena was quite the crier, making her get up and take care of her at the middle of the night. As Ena grew older, she spent more time around Shinei in his home studio, watching him draw and occasionally drawing with him. Ena was practically a mini-Shinei as a kid.
Ena also enjoyed playing around with Akito, her second child born in mid-November, when the orange-colored leaves matching their hair fell from the trees. Akito was a different case growing up. He liking going outdoors and playing soccer with his friends. Much more extroverted than his sister, but still had that hard-outer shell like the rest of his family.
And yet what was she doing? Still cooking and cleaning and caring for her children like her parents forced her. She wanted to run away, but she was still doing the same things as she was taught to do. Being the same person she was shaped to be. But how could she not? She was watching her kids grow right in front of her eyes. She was proud of them and she loved them. She just wanted to be there for them.
But they didn’t want her to be there.
Now, her children’s father had a studio away from home. He was working away on his projects there and was barely around. It was rare that she would wake up to anything but an empty bed. And when he was around, all he would do was argue with their daughter about how she wasn’t ready for the rigors of the art world. Or he would ask why their son is out so much and blame her for not caring enough. Or he would simply eat the dinner that she made wordlessly and leave again.
She learned to live with it. Her kids were in high school. They were teenagers. Their father was an artist who worked to hard and barely made an effort to be at home. She had a house, a husband, children, and food, so why wasn’t she happy?
The door bell rang. She felt tears running down her cheeks. When did she start crying? She wiped her face and stood up to get the door. Looks like her son was home earlier than usual. She’d have to be stronger for her children.
“How was practice?” she asked, letting him in. She noticed how his face looked redder than when he left.
“Uhh, we cut it short today. One of our teammates voices is still kind of sore.” He rushed up the stairs right after taking his shoes off. Because he was covering his face, he ended up tripping and falling a couple steps down. He locked himself up in his bedroom.
Leaving, running, covering up. Tripping, falling, and locking up. The concept seemed eerily familiar to her. She started crying once again. Her kids wouldn’t be able to hear her from down here. It’s not like they would care anyway.