Aika - Not A Friend

He’s getting too friendly with me…

I avoided him like he was a natural disaster, a contagious disease, a walking reminder that some people are born made of light.

I scheduled my breaks around him. Timed my cleaning around him. Studied the pattern of his church group like it was a military operation.

If I saw the tip of his shoulder through the café window, I pivoted and walked the long route around the counter. If he looked up from his Bible, I looked at the ceiling. If he came near the espresso machine, I suddenly remembered a toilet that needed scrubbing.

I avoided him so hard I deserved a medal. Or a trophy. Some sort of certificate of achievement. But the problem was, he didn’t get the hint. Or maybe he got the hint and just didn’t believe in hints.

Every time I passed by, he greeted me with a soft wave. Every tray I carried, he hurried to move chairs out of my path. Every Japanese phrase he used, he paused, waiting for my reaction like a puppy seeking approval. He treated me like a friend. And that was a problem.

Because being treated kindly is dangerous. Kindness makes people like me forget the rules.

Don’t rely. Don’t trust. Don’t get close. Don’t hope.

Hope is expensive. I can’t afford it.

*****

A storm passed by and hit three villages down severely. Relentless flooding eventually brought about a huge landslide. Homes were lost. Families shattered. Children displaced.

The church was sending volunteers. Naturally, the café, being church-sponsored, sent us too. Miho-san informed me early in the morning.

‘Aika-chan, dear, come. We’ll help deliver meals and books for the little ones.’

Kids. My chest stirred painfully. I used to love performing for children. They were the only audience that didn’t want anything from me except joy.

‘Okay,’ I responded with deep hesitation. I guess have to put a bandaid on my heart.

We drove out in a van packed with supplies. Blankets, tea, warm meals, crayons, old storybooks. The travel took two hours and I slept for most of it. It’s good I did. Seeing the devastation a natural calamity could do, would only make me extremely unhappy.

We arrived at a local gymnasium that had been converted into a temporary shelter. It was loud and chaotic. Children clung to their parents. Parents clung to hope. I took a deep breath, steeled my heart, and took  a step in. 

I can be useful. I can help.

After handing out supplies, I noticed one little girl sat alone the whole time. Her knees pulled to her chest. I asked the adults around and I was informed they were still looking for them. I didn’t think my heart could sink any more lower.

‘Hi,’ I said softly as I crouched beside her.

She didn’t answer. Just stared at her shoes. 

I held out a small bag of crackers. ‘Want some?’

She took it silently. Her lip trembled. Mine did too, after looking at this little girl trying her best to appear stronger. I noticed she was wearing a shirt from one of older Enka singer.

 Without thinking, I began humming a simple tune from that era. Something gentle for this little child. Something from an old idol concert, a song I used to sing for children who were sick or anxious.

Her shoulders relaxed. Slowly, she leaned her head against my arm. I kept humming. More children came. Within minutes, I had a small circle of little ones sitting in front of me, watching me like quiet sparrows.

‘Do you want a story?’ I asked.

They nodded. So I opened a picture book and began reading aloud, pacing the voices, adding silly sound effects. Children giggled. Adults smiled weakly. The atmospheresoftened.

In the middle of my singing, a warm chord harmonized and flowed through the gymnasium. I looked up to see Caleb stood behind me with a guitar in hand. His eyes were gentle, as usual. His smile was soft but steady. He looked like he was also sad for the general situation but was just doing the best he could. I couldn’t shoo him. Well, not in front of the kids anyways. 

He strummed again. I was speechless. He matched my song with perfect pitch and timing. We were singing together before I knew it. No rehearsals, just straight into a duet. I led the melody. He wove harmonies under it, lifting it like a supporting hand.

The children swayed. Some clapped. A little boy fell asleep with his head on my knee. I didn’t know where to look. At the children. At my hands. At him. 

Our eyes met once more. He watched me the way people watch sunsets. Not intensely, not greedily, just with quiet awe. I looked away fast before my heart could react. But I think I was too late.

As the outreach wrapped up, the head priest, Father Ishida, approached us. He placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

‘A word?’

Caleb nodded. I stepped back politely. However, the gymnasium was cramped. And his voice was not quiet.

‘Thatcher-kun,’ the priest said gently, ‘your presence today was a blessing. Amen. But, be careful.’

‘Careful?’ Caleb repeated. His brows gently drew together.

Father Ishida glanced at me. My entire spine froze.

‘People notice things,’ he murmured. ‘You are a candidate for bishophood. Your behavior must remain above speculation.’

Caleb blinked furiously. Confused and probably a bit exasperated. ‘T-there is nothing inappropriate!‘

‘Of course,’ the priest said quickly. ‘But a young woman like her… and a young man like you… People may misunderstand. Especially when you sing together. Especially when your harmonies sound…’

He hesitated. ‘…intimate.’

My lungs stopped working. I looked at the floor. My throat tightened painfully. 

Here it is. Reality. My reality. I stepped back, bowing quickly.

‘I’ll go help with loading the van,’ I whispered as I fled.

Outside, the air was cold. I leaned against the side of the van, breathing hard.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did I sing? Why did I hum? Why did I let myself be pulled into something warm? This is exactly what happens. Every time. Every time I get close to someone good, someone kind, someone gentle, I ruin them. Their lives get harder. Their reputation cracks. Their peace dissolves.

I clenched my fists. 

Don’t let him near you. Don’t let him be your friend. Don’t let him think you can be anything except a burden.

I breathed shakily as I tried to fight back tears. Then the van door opened. Caleb stepped in, looking for me. He found me on the other side, slumped on the ground. Apparent concern etched across his face. 

‘Aika,’ he called out.

I turned away. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not,’ he said softly.

His voice was gentle, but steady enough to ground me.

‘Please don’t listen to Father Ishida,’ he said quietly. ‘He didn’t mean—‘

‘He’s right,’ I cut him off. ‘He’s completely right. You’re… you. And I’m…’

Broken. Ruined. Used. Stained.

I swallowed hard. ‘You shouldn’t sit near me,’ I whispered. ‘Not sing with me. Not treat me like …like a friend.’

He stepped back carefully. He didn’t look offended. He studied my face as I studied his. He sensed something in me. He responded in the worst way he possibly could. 

‘Aika, I already see you as a friend.’

Tears stung my eyes. I looked away fast.

‘Please,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t.’

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t pressure me. He simply stood quietly beside me, like a warm lantern placed gently on the ground instead of in my hands.

‘Alright,’ he said softly. ‘I won’t call you my friend.’

Relief and sadness pulled in opposite directions inside me.

He added, ‘But I’ll pray you let me earn it someday.’

I covered my trembling breath. I feel so alone… I just want someone on my side… Someone who won’t be hurt by being beside me.

I turned my face towards the clouds so he wouldn’t see the tears slip out anyway.