I winced. “I guess so.”
She grabbed my hand. “We’ll all be at the same school next year. Together. He applied early decision, too. It’s going to be fantastic.”
I tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “You’re really crazy about him, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Big time. He’s different, Sam. So mature. And his whole family adores you.”
“They don’t blame me for what happened?”
She shook her head. “Gosh no. They told me over and over again how grateful they were to you.”
I closed my eyes. His parents didn’t know the whole truth. If they had, they probably would despise me.
We walked to the hotel to get Jake. His face lit up as soon as he saw Sophie, and he linked his hand through hers. Sophie glowed around him, and the feeling was obviously mutual. Although it still shocked me to see his face, I slowly saw less of Dylan and more of Jake every time I looked at him.
“You must have grown six inches since the last time I saw you,” I said, and then slapped myself on my head. “I did it again. Yikes. I really need to stop channeling Mom.”
“Actually, you sounded more like Grandma that time,” said Sophie, laughing when I swatted her arm.
We walked around a bit, and I pointed out a few places, before we ended up at a shabu shabu restaurant for dinner.
“Shabu shabu is the sound the meat makes when it sizzles,” I explained, as we cooked slim slices of meat in a pot of boiling water in the center of the table. We had vegetables to cook the same way and lots of different dipping sauces.
After dinner, I asked if they wanted to take a walk. Sophie begged off, saying she was exhausted. Jake said he’d like to go with me, if that was okay. I eyed him suspiciously, knowing he probably wanted to talk and not sure if I felt quite ready for it.
We dropped Sophie off at my room and slowly meandered through the area surrounding the campus. He shoved his hands in his pockets, deep in thought.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me, Jake?”
He looked up at me in surprise. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
I nodded, leading him to a bench by the river. The weather, although slightly damp and chilly, carried the promise of a warm spring. A path snaked along the river, lit by black, wrought iron streetlamps. They looked old, like many things in Kyoto. The sound of Japanese music, a faint, discordant melody, reached our ears as we sat together in silence, each of us deep in thought. Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.
“This is from my brother. I read it first. I hope you don’t mind. He wasn’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “He wasn’t himself, and I thought I’d better check it first before giving it to you. As a favor to Dylan.”
“You did the right thing, Jake. Do you mind if I read it later?”
“Sure. I understand.” We sat, staring at the dark waters of the river, until he spoke again. “He wasn’t always like this. I remember the first time he got sick. Until then he was happy. Normal.”
“You mean the time a few years ago?”
“Way before that. In middle school. I think I’d just turned eight or nine. Before that he laughed. A lot. And he was so stinking smart. Probably the smartest guy I knew. He’d always been a bit of a worrier, but around eighth grade, something changed.”
“What happened?”
“Almost like someone turned off a switch somewhere deep inside him. He became…darker. The older he got, the worse it became. He spent lots of time locked in his room. Moody. Sad. When he finally got the help he needed, he went back to being my big brother again, sort of, but he was the shadow of the person he’d once been. And every time he got sick, he slipped away a bit farther.”
“I’m so sorry, Jake. And I probably made it so much worse.”
He looked at me in shock. “The time you came to our house was the happiest I’d seen him. In years. You were a gift, Sam.”
I put my head in my hands. “Oh, Jake. I wasn’t a gift. I was more like a curse. It’s all my fault.”
He stared at me a long moment. “You’ve got it all wrong. That’s part of the reason I came to Japan. Part of the reason my parents and your parents allowed me to come. Read that letter, Sam. My hotel is only a few blocks away. I can get there on my own. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He reached out and gave me an awkward pat on my shoulder. After he left, I stared at the river for a long time, the envelope from Dylan clutched in my hands. Whispered words from a dead guy. I didn’t know if I wanted to read them or not, but I felt I owed him that much at least.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the wrinkled piece of notebook paper. Dylan’s writing, usually so neat and precise, looked skewed. Strange. I held it up in the light of the streetlamp and slowly read his words, his final message to me.
Dear Sam,
Sweet as honey Sam. My Miss Barnes.
I tried so hard. I’m sorry. I wish I could have done better. Been better. I just couldn’t do it.
I faked being well for you. I wanted to be well for you. I wanted to be strong, but the dark thing inside me was stronger. Stronger than me. Stronger than my love for you. Stronger than anything.
Nothing could have stopped it. My parents tried. I tried. I know you tried, too. And when I think of Jake, I want to scream. He never gave up on me. No one did.
Thank you for trying to love me. I know you wanted to love me as much as I loved you. I saw it in your eyes. That is enough. You loved me enough. Really.
I don’t know if any of this makes any sense at all. It’s so hard to keep my thoughts straight. I want you to know something important.
I know what you’re like. This isn’t your fault. Blame me. Blame my illness. Blame anything you want, but don’t blame yourself.
You didn’t make me sick. You were the reason I wanted to be well.
Forgive me. Please.
Dylan
I folded the letter, stuck in carefully back into the envelope, and tucked it into my pocket. As the sad, mournful music floated across the water I sat there for hours and wept. There was nothing left to forgive.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I woke up early the next morning, leaving Sophie softly snoring on her futon, and went to see Mr. Ando. I found him sitting in the sun, dressed in warm robes. I didn’t know if he was meditating or snoozing, but he opened his eyes and gave me a bright smile as soon as he heard me approach.
“Sami-chan. Ohayo gozaimasu.”
I bowed. “Good morning, Ando-san. How are you?”
He lifted his face to the sun. “How could I not be well on such a day? The weather is so fine, isn’t it? But something troubles you. I see it on your face. Come and sit with me. Tell me about it.”
I sat down on the bench next to him. I told him about the note from Dylan, and about Sophie and Jake. He listened, nodding as I spoke.
“This is a good thing. Forgiveness. Have you forgiven him, Sam?”
I nibbled on my lip. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And neither did you.”
“I see that now. I guess.”
He laughed. “Do not guess. Know. Know it to be true.”
“Okay. Fine. I know it to be true.”
“Good job, Sami-chan. You have taken the first step on a long journey. It is time to move on, and now you have to find your ikigai.”
“My what?”
“Your ikigai. It is your reason for being. The reason you get up in the morning. Your passion. Your purpose. What you live for. My ikigai is this garden. When I wake up, I am happy because I know I can come to work here. This is my joy. My happiness. My contentment. Did you learn to be content yet?”
“Kind of. Sort of. The times I was most content was when I was with someone else. I think that must be wrong. I should find contentment on my own, not because of Thomas MacGregor.” I nearly spat out his name.
“Who is Thomas MacGregor?” He said it slowly, making it into tomasu maguragoru.
I sc
runched up my face, trying to find a way to explain Thomas to him without providing too many embarrassing details. It was complicated and confusing, but Mr. Ando just sat and listened as I rambled on and on and on. Even without the details, he seemed to grasp it. When I finally finished, he tilted his head to one side, his glasses sparkling in the sunlight.
“Aha. I know who Thomas MacGregor is,” he said softly.
“You do?” I frowned. “I’m sure you haven’t met him. How can you know him?”
Mr. Ando laughed. “Thomas MacGregor is your ikigai.”
I stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Finally, I realized the terrible truth. “Oh, no,” I said. “You’re right.”
I’d been so deep in my grief and guilt I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I’d made a terrible mistake, one that may have cost me everything. The chances of getting him back were slim to none, but I had to try. I had to find a way.
Thomas had been absolutely correct. I was a bampot.
I saw Thomas in class the next day, as I had just about every single day since the day I’d completely shredded his heart. His eyes seemed a bit glassy and his face looked pale. When we broke into pairs to work on our research projects, I eyed him with concern.
“Are you sick or just hung over?”
Kylie had told me Thomas had been staying out late and drinking a lot more than usual. Because of me. Because of what I’d done to him. He certainly looked the worse for wear this morning.
“None of your business.”
That was the most he’d said to me in two weeks. I frowned and felt his head. “You’re burning up.”
He gave me a dirty look. “I don’t get sick,” he said, and then sneezed. Loudly.
“Apparently, you do.”
By the end of class, he’d turned into a sneezing, shivering mess. I made him stop by and visit my good friend Nurse Kawada. She gave him medicine and strict orders to rest and drink plenty of fluids. I insisted on taking him back to his room.
“I told you, I’m not sick.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get in bed, you stubborn ox. I’ll make you some tea and toast.”
He growled at me, but probably felt too poorly to argue. He curled up on his futon as I puttered around in his kitchen. “Where’s Malcolm?”
“Having a hot time at a hot springs resort with a bunch of hot women. He asked me to go with him. I should have said yes.”
“You would have had a blast. You could have sneezed all over them.”
I managed to find lemon and honey in his cupboard and put some in his tea. When I brought it to him, he glared at me. “I like milk and sugar.”
“Too bad. You’re sick, so you get honey and lemon. The honey will soothe your throat, and the lemon has vitamin C in it. Shut up and drink up.”
He took a few sips and nibbled on his toast as well. “You can leave now.”
“Not until I’m sure you’re okay.”
“Why would you care?”
I ignored him and began to tidy up his room. It was a mess. He watched me shuffle around the room.
“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”
I shrugged. “Not really. My sister and Jake are away for the day, sightseeing.”
“So she came with a bloke then.”
I nodded. “Yep. Dylan’s brother.”
Thomas almost spilled his tea. “Oh, Christ.”
“Exactly. Sophie is dating Jake. Dylan’s brother. A bit of a shock, but I’m over it now. He’s a nice kid and they’re crazy about each other.”
“Good for them.” Thomas finished his tea, took his medicine, and curled up on the futon, his back to me. I’d been dismissed.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
His words were a soft grumble from under the pile of blankets. I tried not to let them hurt me. I’d said much worse to him, and he’d still kept trying. Until I’d slammed the door in his face, that is. Telling him the only night we’d spent together had been the worst night of my life probably hadn’t been the best idea. It served its purpose, though. I wanted to push him away from me, and that had done it. Now he wanted nothing to do with me.
I refused to give up. I went to the grocery store, bought some supplies, and knocked on his door a few hours later. If possible, he looked even worse than he had earlier.
“Bloody hell. What do you want now, woman?”
I pushed past him and into his kitchen. “I’m making you chicken soup.”
“Oh, for the love of…” The rest of what he intended to say was cut off by a loud sneeze. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and his eyes looked red and puffy.
“You are a miserable sick person,” I said with a laugh.
He didn’t find it funny. “Wait until you catch it. It’s what you deserve for harassing me like this.”
“I’m not harassing you. I’m helping you. Go back to bed.”
“I was in bed until you came banging on my door.”
“I’m here to help you.”
“I have a wee cold. I don’t need your help,” he said, but he staggered back to the futon and curled up on it. A small victory.
I couldn’t find the ingredients to make soup the way my mom did, but I bought broth, a roasted chicken, onions, carrots, and noodles. I checked on Thomas as it cooked. He snored softly in his bed, his face relaxed as he slept. He’d been angry every time he looked at me lately. I forgot what he looked like when he wasn’t frowning.
The soup turned out better than I expected, and it was easy to manage on the single burner in Thomas’ kitchen. I’d bought a loaf of fresh bread as well, and touched his shoulder to wake him when everything was ready.
He glared at me. “Why are you still here?”
“Your soup is ready,” I said, checking my phone. “My sister and Jake will be back soon. Is there anything else you need before I go?”
I handed him the bowl of soup and waited until he started eating. He didn’t say he liked it, but finished it quickly. When he asked for a refill, I knew it was another small victory.
I touched his forehead. He still felt warm, but I couldn’t tell because my hands were hot from cooking the soup. I leaned over and placed my lips against his forehead. Thomas pulled away from me in shock.
“What are you doing?”
I blinked in surprise. He looked furious. “Checking your temperature. My hands were hot, so…”
“Don’t do it again.” He went back to eating his soup, ignoring me completely.
I tried really hard not to cry. I deserved this. Every word. Every mean look. Every insult. But it still hurt.
“Okay then, bye.”
He didn’t say a word as I got up slowly, turned off the burner, put my shoes on and walked out the door.
Hana was in our room when I got back. I didn’t have to ask her how things had gone. She’d been crying.
“Are you okay?” She shook her head.
“It’s over. As I suspected. I don’t know why I’m so surprised.”
I sat down next to her on the futon. “You deserve better.”
She let out a shaky sigh. “I know. And what kind of creepy teacher dates his student?”
I laughed. “You’re right.”
I told her about Jake and Sophie, and then I tried to explain the situation with Thomas.
“I think I messed up. Big time. When Dylan died, I was so mad at him.”
“You were.” She thought about it a minute. “After my cousin was born, my aunt had postpartum depression, but it was weird. Usually, women feel disconnected from their babies when it happens. My aunt decided she hated her husband. Detested him. Couldn’t stand the sight of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but they ended up getting divorced. She never got over it.”
“That’s terrible.”
Hana nodded. “I know. When I saw the way you reacted to Dylan’s death, the way you got so mad at Thomas, it reminded me of her.”
“I guess it felt
better to blame him than to blame myself.”
“Who are you blaming now?”
I sighed. “No one. Jake brought me a letter, from Dylan. It’s part of the reason he came. He wanted to give it to me. He wanted to make sure I understood.”
“Understood what?”
I nibbled on my lower lip. “That Dylan didn’t die hating me. He didn’t kill himself because of me.”
“Wow. That’s some heavy baggage. No wonder you were such a mess.”
“Reading that letter changed everything. I never would have believed it if Dylan hadn’t told me himself, in his own words. He…absolved me. It was like a goodbye present.” I rested my head on her shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of me, Hana. You’ve been a great friend.”
She patted my hand. “It was my pleasure. So what are you going to do about Thomas?”
I shrugged. “Ganbaru.” Keep trying.
She rolled her eyes. “You are so freaking Japanese now. On the outside, you look all Irish or whatever, but inside you are pure Nihonjin.”
“What do you think I should do about Thomas?”
She thought about it. “You learned Japanese. Learn his language, I guess. He’s hurting right now. Figure out a way to communicate with him that he’ll understand.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “You are brilliant and amazing.”
“Uh, okay. Why?”
“I need to make him understand. And forgive me.” I grabbed the Gaelic dictionary from my bookshelf and pulled out my laptop. “I’m going to take your advice. I’m going to learn his language.”
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“I know, but you were right. This is exactly what I need to do. It’ll work. I’m sure of it.”
“You do realize that’s one of the hardest languages in the whole world. It has no consistent rules. It makes no sense.”
“Kind of like love?”
She paused, frowning. “I guess so. You have so much work to do, with your classes and the test for the Institute of Applied Linguistics. This is a phenomenal waste of time. Do you seriously plan to try to learn Gaelic on your own while in Japan?”
“Yep. At least enough to make him understand.”
Unconvinced, she shook her head. “Well, you know what I have to say to that?”
Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1) Page 12
