by John Shors
Careful not to wake her father, Mattie moved out of bed. She unzipped his immense traveling backpack, picked out her jeans and an old soccer T-shirt, and dressed. Upon entering the miniature bathroom, she slid shut the door and turned on the light. Her hair, which fell well below her shoulders, was a tangled mess. She picked up a plastic hotel comb and began to pull at the knots. Within seconds, she was reminded of how her mother had brushed her hair. They’d sit outside when the weather was nice and look for things for Mattie to sketch. And as they looked, her mother would run a damp comb through Mattie’s hair until each strand was untwisted from its neighbor.
Mattie gazed into the mirror, longing to glimpse her mother behind her, but seeing only the white bathroom wall. Her eyes started to tear and she set down the comb, turning from her reflection. She didn’t want to see herself standing alone, crying in a strange place, and so she left the bathroom. Noticing that her father was still asleep, Mattie opened her blue backpack—a smaller version of what he carried. She removed a piece of paper the size of a playing card, which she’d drawn on several years before. Her sketch was done in colored pencils and showed a little girl in a dress holding hands with her mother. Mattie had written “I love you, Mommy” beneath the image. Her mother had taken the drawing to a store and had it laminated. She’d carried it with her until she’d become ill. Then it had lain on a table beside her hospital bed. Mattie had kept the picture ever since her mother’s death. Sometimes she put it under her pillow. Sometimes she used it as a bookmark. It was never far from her.
Thinking about the happy faces on her drawing, Mattie looked around the stark room and began to cry. With her forefinger, she traced the outline of her mother, trying to remember how she had looked with a comb in her hand. But instead of seeing her mother’s comforting grin, Mattie saw her in the hospital bed, with tubes running into her nose and wrists. Her mother’s face was pale and pained, her arms thin and weak. And her smile was a mirage, containing neither joy nor hope, but suffering, sorrow, and despair.
Mattie didn’t want to remember her mother in the hospital bed, to think about her steady decline, how her strength vanished, how the light faded from her eyes when painkillers were pumped into her system. Continuing to stare at the picture she’d drawn, she sought to recall her mother during a happy time—when they went camping or played Monopoly. But no matter how hard Mattie sought to remember those moments, she always ended up picturing her mother at the end, with the tubes in her nose.
Pressing the picture against her lips, Mattie closed her eyes, unable to stop crying, tears racing down her cheeks, falling near a stain on her soccer shirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if her mother were giving her a hug. Rocking back and forth, she wept, still trying to imagine her mother during joyful times.
Suddenly her father knelt before her, pulling her close, kissing the tears on her cheeks. “Sssh,” he said softly. “It’s all right now.”
“No.”
“Let me hold you.”
“It’s not all right.”
“I’m here.”
“But, Daddy . . . I can’t remember. I don’t want to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“Her face. I only remember the tubes. At the end.”
Ian kissed her forehead, her eyes. He silently assailed himself for letting Mattie see Kate during her last day. That had been a mistake. Mattie had wanted to say good-bye but had erupted in tears at the sight of Kate’s nearly lifeless body. It hadn’t been a farewell, but a session of horrors for everyone present. The tubes and needles were the instruments of a torturer.
“I don’t want to think about her like that anymore,” Mattie added, still clinging to her drawing.
“Easy on, luv,” Ian said. “Easy on.”
“I can’t think like that!”
“And you don’t have to,” he replied, wiping away her tears, lifting her onto his lap.
“But that’s all I see! She’s in the bed, with the tubes, and her eyes are so red and tired.”
Ian held her close to his chest, trying not to let his own misery surface, wounded by the sight of his weeping daughter. Nothing hurt him more than the spectacle of Mattie in tears. A young heart, he often thought, shouldn’t endure such pain—better that he take her pain and somehow make it his own. But he didn’t know how to steal her misery, and so he continued to simply hold and comfort her.
“Let me show you something,” he said, lifting her, stepping toward the desk where his wallet lay. He sat down on one of the steel stools and opened the wallet, sorting through it until he produced a dog-eared photo of Kate lying on their hammock. He’d taken the photo just a few weeks before Mattie was born, and Kate’s belly rose from beneath her sundress. Her face, in so many ways like Mattie’s, was dominated by a wide smile. Her eyes were locked on Ian, and her hands cradled her belly.
Ian handed the photo to Mattie. “Your mum loved being pregnant with you. Most of her friends, to be honest, weren’t so keen on the experience. But she adored it.”
“She did?”
“She fancied your kicks, which were so strong. That’s why I nicknamed you ‘Roo.’ I’d seen so many kangaroos down in Oz. And you reminded me of them.”
“But, Daddy, I don’t remember Mommy looking like that. Looking so happy. All I see are the tubes.”
“You have to try and—”
“I do try.”
Ian kissed her forehead, his thumb making its back-and-forth motion on a BlackBerry that he no longer carried. His stomach ached as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He wished he knew what to say, the way Kate had always seemed to. “Sometimes that happens to me,” he said, kissing Mattie again. “I see those tubes. But then I take out this photo, and I look at it, and then that’s how I remember her.”
“You do?”
“I remember how, on that day, she was knackered and needed a rest. It was a warm spring day. A real beaut. And I got out the hammock, put it on our little deck, and she lay down for a spell of reading. I surprised her with the camera, and when she smiled and wrapped her arms around you, I took the shot. And whenever I want to remember what she was really like, I take out that photo and have a good gander.”
“But I don’t have a—”
“Take that one, luv. We’ll tape it to the back of your drawing. That way you can look at them both.”
Mattie shook her head. “But then you won’t have it.”
“We’ll share it, Roo. You and me. Like everything else.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not a bit.”
She hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Sorry for waking you up. I was cold. And that bed’s too hard. I can’t sleep on it.”
“No worries, luv, about waking me up. I needed to get off my backside anyway. I’m going to take you on an adventure today. A real Captain Cook.”
“Promise?”
“Absobloodylutely.”
“Should I bring my pencils?”
“Aye, aye, First Mate,” he replied, kissing her on the forehead and standing up, drained from the acting, wondering if either of them could manage this trip, wishing that Kate hadn’t sent them on it. He went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and thought about Mattie’s tears and shudders. He had to make her laugh today, he told himself time and time again, his eyes tightly shut, his fists squeezing so hard that his fingernails left imprints on his palms. If she didn’t laugh, then he would have failed her once again. She needed him, needed to hope for better days, even if he could not.
Turning on the shower, he tried to keep his own tears at bay until the water fell on him. When it did, he leaned against the tiled wall, his strength ebbing, flowing down the drain, disappearing from light. For a while it felt as if he were drowning, suffocating in a millimeter of water. He longed for help, but no one could help him. He yearned for tomorrow, yet the day had just begun. His every plea seemed to rebound from the nearby walls, to reenter him unanswered. Cursing himself for once working like a
madman, for being gone so much of Mattie’s life, he wondered how he might meet her needs and repress her fears. He wanted to lift her above the muck and misery of life but felt incapable of such a task. To lift her, he had to be a part of her, as Kate had been. But he didn’t feel a part of her. Sometimes she was like a foreign language on his tongue.
Afraid that Mattie might knock, he willed himself to stand up straight, his legs trembling, his fingers reaching for the soap. He started to hum, pretending to sing, bubbles forming on his skin. He scrubbed harder, as if soap might purge him of memories, of failings, of weakness.
Thinking more about Mattie, about what she needed from him, he continued to scrub and hum, formulating a plan. Today he would make her laugh. That was a start.
AFTER A LATE BREAKFAST AND AN HOUR of studying Mattie’s math workbook, adding fractions, Ian and Mattie left the hotel. They were dressed the same, in colorful T-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes. He wore a green and black baseball cap that she and her mother had bought for him during a trip to the Statue of Liberty. He had braided Mattie’s long hair, and secured the ends with purple bands.
Stepping out of the lobby was like moving into a flooded river. The wide sidewalk appeared incapable of holding any more people. Businessmen and businesswomen wearing dark suits walked briskly, inches from one another. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry, most carrying umbrellas even though the sky was only partly cloudy. Many of the pedestrians headed toward a discreetly marked subway entrance, vanishing into it like water being sucked down a drain. The water was without end.
“Ready, First Mate, for our walkabout?” Ian asked, holding Mattie’s hand, determined to put a smile on her face and keep it there.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Then let’s have a go at it.”
He led her forward, noticing that she practically disappeared into the people around her. Mattie wasn’t used to walking alongside hundreds of others. If Ian moved too quickly, she bumped into the people in front of her. If he slowed down a little, her heels were stepped on. She looked up at him, her face flushed, and without a word he bent down, lifted her up, and set her on his shoulders. “There you go, luv,” he said, heading toward the subway entrance. “It’s time you had a proper view.”
The stairway, perhaps twenty feet wide, seemed ready to burst from the presence of so many people. Ian had to stoop with Mattie atop him, which caused his back to ache. But he wasn’t about to put her down. “How’s my lookout?” he asked, wondering how far down they would descend.
“It’s a lot better up here.”
“I reckon you’ll be ready to trade places in a tick. Just let me know when.”
“No way, Captain.”
They finally reached the bottom of the stairs, emerging into an underground world. Mattie gasped, having never seen anything like it. She might as well have been Alice falling into the rabbit’s hole, for she found herself in the middle of a subterranean city. Though the ceiling was only about twelve feet high, this city stretched as far as she could see. There were restaurants, banks, shops, movie theaters, and what she thought was a supermarket. And the people—she spied tens of thousands of them: schoolchildren in blue-and-white uniforms, college students wearing fashionable attire, and legions of businesspeople.
“I feel like an ant in an anthill,” Mattie said, as Ian walked steadily.
“You reckon? I don’t think even ants are jammed together like this. See those numbers ahead?”
She looked into the distance and noticed a row of numbers that ran from one to forty. “What are they for?”
“Well, each of those stairways leads to a train platform. And each of those trains is going somewhere different in the city. I want you to pick a number. We’ll get on that train and see where it takes us.”
“Any number? Are you sure?”
“Ever met an Aussie who wasn’t sure about everything?”
Mattie smiled. “Mommy would have liked this.”
“She did like it. She invented the game.”
“Twenty-three. Let’s take number twenty-three.”
“Twenty-three it is,” Ian replied, walking toward the number. He descended a flight of stairs, emerging into another level, this one full of platforms and trains. Platform number twenty-three was crowded with people. “Our train must be almost here.”
“Why?”
“Look at all these blokes. They’re waiting for it, all in their own little worlds.” Ian moved to a large electric sign that displayed a departure schedule. The information was written in both Japanese and English. After glancing at their platform number on the schedule, he found the next departure time and then looked at a digital clock. “I’ll wager you an ice-cream cone to a kiss that our train will be here in about . . . two minutes and five seconds.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way,” Ian replied, moving to the middle of the platform.
Mattie looked into the distant tunnel, unsure what to expect. “Aren’t trains late here? They’re always late at home.”
“If I remember right, which is less likely than catching a two-headed cockatoo, this station serves three or four million people a day. It’s the busiest in the world. And you don’t get three million people somewhere by being late.”
She pointed to a light that appeared in the tunnel. “Is that it?”
“I reckon.”
A blast of warm wind preceded the train, which pulled quietly alongside the platform. Dozens of doors simultaneously opened in front of orderly rows of people.
“You’d best do some hopping here, Roo,” Ian said, setting her on the ground. They followed the people ahead of them and crammed into a gleaming train car. An automated voice came on, making an announcement as the doors closed. The train moved forward, rushing past the platform, darting into a tunnel. “You picked an express train,” Ian said. “A real cheetah. Grab hold of that pole beside you.”
Mattie watched as the train flew past another group of platforms and into a new tunnel. The scenery alternated between tunnels and other underground stations for a few minutes before the train abruptly emerged into the light, rising on top of an elevated rail system. Dozens of skyscrapers passed by the windows as if they were fence posts along a highway, blurring as they came and went. Mattie saw thousands of people walking on pedestrian bridges that seemed to float above the streets. Electronic billboards the size of mansions blinked and changed colors. Another train flew past in the opposite direction, seemingly inches from their windows. Just as Mattie was growing used to the view of the city, the train descended underground, passing a few more stations before finally coming to a smooth stop.
“Should we hop off here and explore?” Ian asked.
“Let’s hop.”
The automated voice announced the station name as the doors all opened. The majority of the passengers got off, and Mattie and Ian joined the exodus. This underground station, while not as large as the one where they had boarded, was still immense and featured a variety of shops and restaurants. Ian held Mattie’s hand and walked toward an exit gate, inserting their train passes into a machine, which prompted a pair of small plastic doors to open. Ian led Mattie forward, retrieved their passes, and followed a stairway up, emerging onto the sidewalk near a busy street. Cars, buses, motorcycles, and a surface train rumbled past. People were everywhere.
Mattie and Ian started moving down the sidewalk, passing a life-sized bronze statue of a samurai. A group of schoolchildren approached, many of them holding hands. The children appeared to be Mattie’s age, and were led by a middle-aged woman.
“Fancy meeting some new friends?” Ian asked, seeing an opportunity to make Mattie smile, believing that she’d enjoy an exchange with some local children.
“What?”
He grinned and approached the group. “G’day, lads and lasses,” he said, waving.
At first the children stepped back, unsure what to think of this tall stranger. The woman leading the group nodded and bowed slightly. “May I
help you?” she asked.
“Ah, your English is lovely,” Ian replied. “You make me sound like it’s my second language, or maybe even my third. Are you their teacher?”
The woman bowed again as students began to giggle behind her. “Yes, I am their English teacher. Are you lost?”
Ian looked at Mattie, reminded of having such conversations years ago. “Well, not exactly. But we’re wondering what we might do around here. Is Tokyo Disneyland nearby? Or an aquarium? Or maybe we can watch a good sumo match?”
The teacher, dressed in a uniform similar to her students’, suppressed a laugh. “Tokyo Disneyland? Here? I am so sorry, but you are on the wrong end of the city.”
“I must have had my map upside down.”
“Unfortunately, there are not activities for tourists in this area,” she said. “I am sorry that I cannot help you.”
Ian shrugged, winking at Mattie, wanting to surprise her, to make her focus on something new. “I used to teach English in Kyoto,” he said to the teacher. “For two wonderful years. How about my daughter and I go back to your school with you and help teach your class? We’ll all have heaps of fun, I promise.”
Mattie shook her head. “Daddy, don’t be silly.”
The woman glanced at her students and then back at Ian. “You would like to help me? Teach English?”
“I enjoy teaching,” he replied, smiling at a girl who was staring at him. “In Kyoto I taught elementary school students, and students at the uni. They were all lovely. And I reckon that my daughter, Mattie, would fancy helping out. She led us here, after all.”
“And you would really like to teach my students?”
“Sure thing.”
The teacher looked again at her students, who nodded and giggled. “I am Akiko,” she said. “And if you would like, you may come to our school with us. Please follow me.”
