Going Home

"Surprise!"

And surprise indeed.

"Mom what are you doing here?" I said holding the door handle tightly.

"What do you mean? I am here to see my only son of course. I went to your school and you weren't there, so of course you had to be here. " She said.

I smiled, "Mother, there is no way you traveled four hundred kilometers from Hamamatsu just to see me."

"Ok ok, fine. I want you to come home for a bit. Talk to your father hang around with your sister only for a week." She said. Suddenly I realized what this was about.

Of course, she is here to take her unawakened son. Then go get hugs and ' it'll be okay' from the family. 

I caressed my chin. I did need a change of pace, " Alright. We leave tomorrow?"

"Don't be ridiculous. The train is super fast these days. We'll be there in an hour, pack quickly and get ready."

It is a bit abrupt to be honest. But since I don't seem to be in soup for not attending school I'll comply this once.

I spent the next hour on autopilot. Shower, brush teeth, change clothes, pack. Mom buzzed around like a tornado, tossing snacks into a bag, jabbering about clothes and the train schedule. I nodded and smiled in all the right places, though my mind was elsewhere.

When I stepped into the bathroom, I exhaled. Finally, a moment of privacy. I looked at the corner by the shower. Jerry was crumped up in the corner.

"Thank the gods," I muttered under my breath. "If he were anywhere else, Mom would have freaked out. I’d have to explain why there’s a skeleton in the apartment."

Once the bathroom routine was over, I padded out, dripping a little, Mom already fussing over the last-minute packing. “Hurry, Rei! The train won’t wait for us!” she shouted, tossing me my bag.

Breakfast was a blur. Mom somehow prepared a full spread like nothing had changed in the world, and I mechanically ate.

We made it to the train station with surprising efficiency. Mom marched through the crowds, tickets in hand, dragging me along like a general herding a reluctant soldier. I followed, bag slung over my shoulder, feeling both exposed and oddly calm. Jerry stayed put, still tucked away in the bathroom back at the apartment—but in my head, I imagined him giving me that judgmental skull-smirk.

The train was sleek, quiet except for the rhythmic clatter of wheels. Mom plopped herself beside me like she owned the entire carriage.

 I dropped my bag at my feet and stared out the window, pretending to scroll on my phone while thinking about Jerry.

Hours passed with Mom intermittently dozing off, jabbering, or poking me to see if I was awake. I tuned her out mostly, letting the hum of the train and the blur of fields outside lull me into a sort of meditative boredom.

Jerry would have complained, probably, if he could.

Finally, the train slowed. Hamamatsu. Mom stirred, stretching and rubbing her eyes. 

“We’re here!” she said brightly.

I grabbed my bag, standing up and feeling the sudden weight of reality. Stepping off the train, the familiar smells of the city hit, coffee, asphalt, and exhaust.

One week, I thought grimly.

We stepped onto the platform, leaving the train behind. The adventure, the weirdness, and the chaos of the past week could wait. For now, it was just me, Mom, and my little get away from my apartment.