Short story selected for the 2010 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology
It was raining that night. A howling ambulance came to a stop with a screech. The door opened, and two paramedics got out. Their white canvas shoes splashed water on the wet street as they rushed to the back of the car and pulled out a stretcher with a plastic covering over it. It soon went sleek in the rain, lightning reflected on it. Together they wheeled the cart towards a throng of people standing about despite the rain, murmuring.
“…a hit and run, it seems…”
“…so young…”
“…died on impact…”
“…still wearing school uniform…”
“…the police.. notify the family…”
The stretcher came to a stop near a parked police car. Its hood lamp was on, blinking streak of light that turned everybody’s complexion blue. A young policeman with green raincoat sat in the car, talking over the radio. He got out to meet the chief, a sturdy man with long overcoat and dripping hat, striding towards the car.
“…called the family and asked them to meet us at the hospital. She was totaled, Sir, I’ve never seen anything like this.” The paramedics were zipping the bag when they walked over.
The chief raised a hand and the cart stopped beside him. He pulled the zipper down and parted the cover slightly. Lightning burst once more, this time reflected on a perfect smile upon the corpse’s lips. A drop of rain fell on the chief’s wristwatch and jumped on to the lips, moistening them. The chief closed the bag and shook his head.
It was a bright day, the sun rays bounced over the roofs of nearby buildings. The topmost of the school was deserted; no one usually went upstairs. But a girl has come there specially, waited, and a boy has answered her summon. He had just emerged from the door when the girl turned and smiled at him.
“Thank you for coming,” she started, and bowed. He just gave an awkward shrug. They were classmates, that’s all he knew, but he was curious at why he was called up here.
“I like you,” she said shyly, but loud enough for him to hear. “Please accept my feelings.” A hue of pink ran across her cheeks. Wisps of hair escaped from her ponytail and flowed with the wind. She bit her lower lip. The boy gaped at her and started scratching his non-itchy head.
“Err…” he stuttered.
She could see him fidgeting from her bent position. Suddenly she wanted to giggle. Instead, she stood straight, tilted her head to one side, and smiled.
“Don’t think about it,” she assured him, “I just want to be your friend.” It wasn’t her actual intention, but she’d compromise. She offered a hand for him to shake. “So, are we?” He relaxed and took it. “Sure.” They grinned, then he left, waving.
She let out a deep breath and laughed. There were butterflies in her tummy then, but she had let them go. She walked over to the railing, pulling her ponytail as she did. The sun felt comforting, she closed her eyes.
The door burst open to reveal four panting girls. They were loaded with lunch of milk cartons, soda and sandwiches. “Hina-chan!” they shouted. One of them gave Hina her lunchbox, covered in red and white polka-dot handkerchief. They picked a spot in the shade and sat down, opening their lunch.
“How was it?” they asked. She laughed at the question. “Yeah, I told him,” she said simply, and struggled with the knot of her bento. Her friends hold their breath. “We’re friends now,” she finished, and a choir of frustration rose among them.
“You pathetic! You’ve liked him since last year and now you’re just friends?” They scowled, but Hina just laughed.
“I only wanted to tell him how I feel,” she told them. She took an egg roll. “And I’m glad I did,” she said, and chewed, smiling triumphantly.
The same smile was pictured perfectly on the chief’s mind now. “Goodness,” he said, “how could she smile that peacefully?” The ambulance drove away. “Where are her things?” he asked his aide. “In my car, Sir.” When he opened the back door, the first thing he laid eyes on was the polka-dot handkerchief, bloody now, wrapped in a clear evidence plastic bag.
“You woke early.”
Hina turned and smiled. She was arranging egg rolls in her lunchbox. In it were already two nori-wrapped nigiris and vegetables tempura. At the corner of the simple kitchen, was a stove and a buzzing coffeemaker.
“I thought of helping you with breakfast,” said Hina, while Mom poured herself coffee. Mom took a swig and set the mug down, reaching for an apron. She put it on and started preparing rice congee. Hina rinsed her chopsticks, then dried them.
“How’s that math exam?” Mom asked, yawning. Her daughter hated math. “I could do well this time, Mom,” said Hina confidently. Mom frowned. “Really?” That was a first. “If the result came out as well as you said, I’ll buy you that hair band you liked so much.” Hina turned and gaped at her mom. “Just that?” Mom rolled her eyes, and flicked her daughter with wet vegetables. “Okay, okay. Also a new jacket.” Hina grinned.
She wrapped the chopsticks with tissue, slipped them in the lunch bundle, then carried it over to her rabbit schoolbag. Lovingly she stroked the drooping ear of the bunny.
The bunny was in another plastic, blood dripped from the tip of its ear. Its neck was torn. The chief ran his fingers along the tear, then pulled out a book. It was math, and a piece of paper stuck out from one corner. Eighty-seven was the mark on it.
“Great work, Hina,” said the teacher, and put the paper on Hina’s desk. Blushing, Hina folded the paper and slipped it carefully in her math book.
From another plastic, the chief pulled out a girl’s wallet and a crushed candy-on-a-stem with pink bow. The bow had been curled, but crinkled now, and spotted with dark red marks. The stem bent. He pulled the curl and let it go, then opened the wallet. A picture laid there, four faces smiled up at him; Dad, Mom, Hina, and a little boy. The boy had one tooth.
The baby sat in his chair, almost too big for it now, and was knocking his table with a spoon when a yawn interrupted. He yawned widely, exposing four teeth. Then he put the spoon in his mouth and sucked. Accidently the spoon fell down to the floor with a click. He stared at it over the side of his chair and reached. When he realized he couldn’t get it, he hiccupped and frowned. His eyes teared.
Hina tweaked the tip of Tatsu’s nose. “Halt,” she said. Pulling Tatsu into her arms, she pointed at their Mom flipping fried egg by the stove. “Look, Tat-chan. Ain’t Mom clever? Do it again, Mom, show Tat-chan how clever you are.”
“Ooo-kay,” said Mom. “Tat-chan, don’t close your eyes!” Flipped. The baby laughed, spoon forgotten. “You like it, huh, Tat-chan? Hurry and grow up quickly so you can do it yourself! Show Nee-chan how to do it for once.” Hina raised Tatsu high above her head, making the boy giggled even more. Morning sunlight found a twinkle in his eyes.
In the other room, was Dad. His hair still dripped water from the shower. On the desk were heaps of papers, an old suitcase and a clay pencil case. It was shaped by young hands, bearing the title ‘My Dad’s my Hero.’ Dad shoved a handful of papers into his bag. He grabbed his tie, and hurried to the kitchen.
When he entered, the atmosphere suddenly changed. Laughter ceased. Mom turned to the stove to resume cooking. Hina put Tatsu back in his chair and gave him his spoon.
Dad put his suitcase by his chair and went for coffee. Mom put the eggs on the table, then began ladling congee for everybody but herself. Hina shared her congee with Tatsu, who gurgled and kept knocking on the table. Dad took one of the eggs into his bowl and ate in silence.
Mom sat across Tatsu and stared into her mug. The baby started to reach for her with his spoon, while Hina finished her breakfast and stood to do the dishes. But she didn’t do it straight away. She stared at the window. There, she could see the reflection of the kitchen; she had seen it far too often now. She could also see the hurt in her eyes.
Tatsu knocked Dad’s coffee mug with his spoon and the spoon flew towards Mom. Without thinking, Mom caught it in midair. Dad froze. Tatsu clapped his pudgy hands. Then he blew raspberry at Dad. Silently, Hina smiled, and began soaping the dishes.
“Tat-chan said, he’s a witness of how clever Mom is at catching things. I believe, Dad is also clever, if he’d spend more time at home. I bet he wouldn’t drop a single one,” said Hina softly, washing a bowl.
Dad’s spoon froze in midair towards his mouth. Mom’s coffee simmered. Even Tatsu went silent. Then the ice was broken by his squeal.
Hina rinsed, and dried her hands. Then she shouldered her bunny-bag and her bento. She walked towards Tatsu, hugged him so tight he screamed then kissed him wetly on the cheek.
She tilted her head to one side and said, “See you tonight, Mom.” Mom was still holding the spoon with one hand, but managed to nod and gave a lopsided smile. Shyly, Hina wrapped her arms around Dad’s neck and whispered, “Have a great day at work, Dad.” Then she ran to the door and put on her shoes.
The front door was beside Dad’s study. Hina caught a glimpse of the paper-strewn room and her eyes teared. With clumsy fingers, she tried to tie her shoelaces to no avail. Back in the kitchen, Mom and Dad’s eyes locked. When Hina was sure she couldn’t hold her tears any longer, she heard Dad cleared his throat.
“Wanna walk together to the station?” Dad asked, eyes still on his wife. Hearing this, a lone tear slipped across Hina’s cheek. “S-sure,” she croaked. “I’ll wait outside.” Hina gripped the edge of her skirt tightly, casted one last glimpse at her father’s study, gritted her teeth, and slipped outside. She let the door opened slightly and listened intently to her parents.
Dad stood and put on his tie. Hesitantly, Mom stood too, and helped him. He stroke her with one finger and she caught the whole hand and pressed it to her cheek. “I’m sorry I was too busy,” he whispered, but loud enough for Hina to hear. “Let’s go to the beach this weekend.” Mom nodded. “The children will be delighted.” Then he kissed her softly. Outside, another tear rolled down Hina’s cheek. She knew now that her father had come to his senses. When he came out from the house, she threw him a wide smile. He was her hero after all.
A torn paper bag was also there, wet from the rain. When the chief pulled its content, it gave. Inside were bits from a big water cress.
At Grandpa Sei’s vegetable field, the water cress was a beauty. In the afternoon sun, Grandpa Sei sat in his wheelchair holding a sprinkler.
“Hina-chan, come play chess with Granny!”
“But you beat me all the time!”
“What about rubbing Grandpa’s back?”
“I’ll ask Grandpa Sei to make you some ointment!”
Grandpa Sei rolled his eyes, but his smile widened nevertheless. He watched Hina ran across the field to him. “Watering the field?” asked Hina. “I thought today’s gonna rain,” she sniffed the air. “Bah,” said Grandpa. “You spend too much time with that crazy fortuneteller at D block, you start to talk like her.” He wheeled and put the canister on the ground. “And why did you promise old Hiro another bottle of my ointment? You think I made them for free?”
Hina stifled a laugh. She linked her arms with Grandpa’s and winked. “So I’m fired?” Grandpa knocks her forehead and laughed. “Silly girl,” he grunted. “Before I’d fire you, I should begin to pay you salary.”
It’s been a few months now that Hina had worked in the field. Grandpa Sei acted as her superintendent, telling her what to do and how. He grew herbs and vegetables to share with his fellow friends in the nursing home. He made ointment, too, because he didn’t trust modern balm.
When the sun was low on the horizon, they stopped working. A nurse came bringing them chilled lemonade and they sat sipping it; Grandpa in his chair, Hina on the ground. One of the grannies was biding farewells to her son and grandchildren. Watching this, Grandpa Sei clutched his glass tightly.
“Grandpa,” she chided. The old man blinked his wet eyes. “We promised, no more sentimental scenes.” She kneeled by his chair and took his hand in hers. “I know,” he said hoarsely, “but I miss my grandson. It’s been four years since my daughter brought him here.” He took his hand out and clenched it. “I know when I was put here, I was being thrown away.”
“Grandpa,” again she chided. “Why should we ruin a day with sadness?” She hold both his hands now, gently rubbing them. “It’s a wonderful thing that we were given another day to life. Another day to feel the longing. We should be thankful. You told me that yourself, remember?”
She stood and walked towards the setting sun. “If the sun refuses to set at dusk, what would it be? Surely we won’t miss his warmth and loving light if he doesn’t .” When she turned to Grandpa, she was smiling, but he couldn’t see it; she shone so bright.
She took her glass of lemonade and clanked it with his. There was no need for words, no need for hugs. Especially no need for tears. The tilted head of the girl and the crinkled corners of the man’s eyes both sparked the same smile; they understood.
“By the way, Grandpa,” she said all of a sudden. “Thank you for teaching me math. I got a good mark,” she raised a V with her fingers. “Darn. I lost the bet,” he put down his glass and turned away from the field. “Go on, take all you want from my precious vegetables. I can’t see this..” he shook his head sadly. She laughed so hard, but she picked her prize anyway.
“That one, Grandpa,” she pointed. “I don’t care, take them all,” moaned Grandpa, “I’ll just plant some more.” He winked, “Better ones.” Hina puts her arms around his shoulder. “I’ll help you, Grandpa.”
The chief closed the door. “We’d better go to the hospital now. Her parents are probably waiting.” His aide opened the passenger seat for him and let himself behind the wheel, while raindrops continued to make puddles of water on the road.
Hina left the nursery home clutching the paper bag. After a while, she heard thunder, so she took out her jacket from her bunny-bag. The jacket was yellow, and torn by the elbow. When she picked up her belongings from the ground, she looked up and saw a white bird, flying home before the rain. One by one, raindrops fell down; first on her bunny’s nose then her forehead. She wore her hood and kept walking. Once she stopped in front of a children fashion store to look at a cute hooded jacket. A woman and her child got out from the store; the mother opened an umbrella while the child hold on to a goodie-bag. Then, they left holding hands. Hina also walked on.
The chief took Dad’s hand in a tight grip. Dad had an arm around Mom who was sobbing while holding Tatsu who was also crying. The younger policeman arrived with Hina’s belongings and hesitated by the door. Mom took one look at the bunny-bag and screamed, then dropped to the floor, bringing wailing Tatsu with her. Dad couldn’t control his tears either.
Hina stopped at the intersection and waited for the lights. It was raining quite heavily, it was hard to see things. Most people decided to wait before continuing on their way, but Hina wanted to get home before dinner. When the light came, she crossed. She was right in the middle of the road when a speeding car turned sharply and on towards her. There was a smiling-sun décor hanging by the rear-view mirror of the car, and it jingled wildly. Then it was only the sound of screeching tires and people screaming. The bunny-bag was facedown on the road, its contents scattered.
On one of the tables in a dark room, she laid. Covered with a rough blanket, the tip of her skirt hung from the table, dripping water to the floor. A nurse came in and turned on the lights. She took the blanket off and hung a label from the girl’s toe. It read “Hinata Shiratori.” The nurse put out the lights and closed the door behind her. Even in the dark, the smile was still there, ethereal and eternal.
Glossary:
Saigo no Egao: Eternal Smile
-chan: an endearment to call children in Japan
Nee-chan: elder sister
bento: lunchbox
nori: paper-shaped seaweed
nigiri: rice wrapped with nori
tempura: a style of Japanese cooking, where you coat food with flour and deep-fry them
About the Author:
Caecilia Xie is a 32 year old writer. She was born in the city of Bandung, Indonesia, but with Chinese origin. She used to be a journalist and then editor for Union of Catholic Asia News (UCA News) for about three years. She is currently working as a chef at her own café, Eledandore. When she gets home at night, before bed, she sits in front of her computer and writes. Usually only her friends read her works, but she did publish a short story in a local magazine. Together with her friends, she is trying her luck in comics industry, where she writes and they draw. Originally, Saigo no Egao was one of thier comic scripts, but when she decided to transform it into a short story, her friends told me to go for it.
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