Mika's Daily Worries

“Mika…” I heard the sound through the door. “Mika!” My mom somehow managed to speak loudly while whispering. “You’re going to be late to the University if you don’t wake up now.”

“Uhhh, I got it Mom,” I answered with a groan. I saw my mom smiling as I rubbed my eyes open and slowly rose from bed. It was a warm day, I could already feel it. I went to my closet and picked out some light clothes that my mom had washed and organized for me. It was her way of caring for me, despite being gone for most of the day.

“Don’t forget you work at the bakery tonight,” she said as she hurriedly put on her shoes and opened the door.

“Got it, got it,” I answered unenthusiastically. She always reminded me of everything, not in a controlling way, but in a kind one. Even then, sometimes it could be annoying if she did it too much.

“Oh and brush your hair properly. Your bangs and ponytails are always a mess,” she said as she closed the door. That one got to me somewhat, but I didn’t let it upset me. I finished my breakfast, and went to my small room to pick up my things for school. My guitar was in the corner. Even if I didn’t get to continue studying music, I’m just glad it is still with me, as old as it is. I looked at it for a couple of seconds and smiled, gaining confidence before I made my way outside and started my day.

It was a humid, warm summer in Tokyo again. No amount of shade helped with the humid heat and I knew I was going to be a sweaty mess by the time I got to school. But still, with a light backpack and moving through air conditioned tunnels, I managed to limit the impact the weather had on my looks. Not that anyone cared; aboard the trains I took, and in my classrooms, nobody really noticed me. If they did notice me, it was some whispered comments about my odd appearance, like my hair color. They think I can’t hear them, and most people try to keep to themselves, but when it does happen, I can hear them. Maybe all the years of music training had improved my hearing. I just had to pretend they never got to me.

It surprised me how quickly I got used to the city life, the same old scenery, the same old commute. Where I grew up there were far less people, far less trains and buildings. But eventually everything still feels the same.

The buildings flashed by as I made my way to school aboard the train. I slipped my way into a corner seat and played a rhythm game on my phone. I kept messing up the song in the same section until I ran out of tries, and that unfortunately soured my day. Perhaps I should’ve tried something easier. It’s a very nagging feeling, wanting to give up whenever the smallest things start going wrong. Maybe I wanted an easy win in a game, to stave the fear of failure off. Maybe I’ve become numb to all this, because deep down I’m afraid everything I’ve done, everything my mom has done for me, will fail. I don’t want to let that happen. I cannot let it happen.

I managed to get through my school day, got a cheap lunch, studied in the library and headed to my part time job. I was lucky to work at a local bakery close to home. The scent of freshly baked bread had become comfortable to me. My job consisted of smiling and carrying baked goods while daydreaming. Eventually, I got back home, tired.

“Long day?” asked my mom, who was still busy in the kitchen.

“A little bit.” I answered with a smile, I never wanted her to worry. I was feeling a bit off that day, so I decided maybe I’d pick up my guitar and sing a bit to unwind. I went to my room, changed and started heading out.

“You’re still doing the uniform thing?” My mother asked, concerned.

“Yeah Mom, nobody really bothers me like this.”

“But what if… something happens to you.” Her worries came through in her voice.

“You know there’s only older folk around here, I can outrun them all!” I answered with a smile.

“You sure you don’t want me to rent you a studio so you can practice?” My mother was still concerned.

“We can’t afford it Mom… you know that.” I gave her my honest answer. Realistically, we could but…

“You sure? If we stretch the budget a bit…”

“Mom, it’s already tight.” The reality of the situation is that I felt bad. We would both be working hard for me to have a small booth to practice, but I know I would never be able to pay her back. It was hard for me to find joy in music with that thought weighing on my mind.

So instead of that I would head outside, guitar on my back, with my old school uniform so nobody could recognize me. I sang in the small park close by, into a wall covered by plants. I know nobody is there at that time of the day. I think the plants absorb a lot of the sound, too. I only have to deal with the occasional passerby that will quickly forget me while I practice, looking up chords and lyrics on my phone. But maybe a part of me wants to be noticed. Maybe I want someone to stop and tell me something and that’s why I don’t take my mom’s offer. I’m a mess, at the same time that I want to be noticed, I also do so much to avoid being noticed.

That day a strange person overheard me practicing. I wasn’t very familiar with that song and my voice grew nervous and I started making mistakes. Maybe the weight of the day was getting to me. I was tired, both in body and heart; that is no way to sing. My voice was shaky and when I stopped, I noticed the person, a man… No, a boy, a young man? He left some money in my case.

He was quite an odd person, but he probably thought the same of me. I refused to be paid for such a bad performance. I also never imagined the first person paying for my music would be in a situation like this. I got up and talked to him directly. I fumbled the conversation. I was overcome by emotion, all the weight of the city and my fears and anxieties about music showed up in an explosive way. He was unlucky he got caught in the blast.

As for the boy, he was rude, and unfortunately very attractive. He was only slightly taller than me and seemed quite fashionable. At the same time, he seemed to care about someone he never met and went out of his way to answer the questions I had, questions I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have gone there that night. I was full of doubts and emotions. I shouldn’t have said all the things I did. All my worries got amplified by the starless, moonlit night. When I left that park and the interaction, I was extremely embarrassed. I headed back home earlier due to that unexpected encounter. My mother was there to welcome me back home.

“Mika you’re home early, did you practice as much as you wanted?” she asked, somewhat concerned, but always loving.

“Yeah Mom!” I answered with a smile, but my smile didn’t fool her.

“Anything wrong?” My mom’s concern cracked me easily. I know I must’ve looked a little sad, because her next attempt was trying to cheer me up.

“Why don’t you pick up some discount sushi takeout from the station tomorrow. I know you like their tuna and it’s discounted at that time.” My mom’s smile, unlike mine, was authentic. I took the bribe.

“Sure!” Maybe I’m easy to cheer up, or maybe I just like food that much, but it worked. This time, my smile registered as honest to her. “I’ll even pay with this, look! Someone liked my music!” I showed her the money I had gotten from the strange boy at the park.

“Mika, where did you get a 10,000 yen bill?” She asked surprised.

“Ten… THOUSAND?” I dropped my keys and could feel myself blushing as I answered in disbelief. I almost scrambled out the door when I realized the boy was probably long gone. I buried my face in my hands in embarrassment. My mom asked about what had happened and I explained, leaving out details of the conversation or anything that would worry her. As a result, she just laughed.

“Well, make sure to pay him back next time.” My mom seemed amused at the situation. Her reaction eased my nerves. I couldn’t help but laugh a little about it myself.

“That’s so embarrassing… I will make sure, next time,” I said, but that only made my mom laugh some more. I decided to head to sleep early, and maybe try to shake off everything that had happened that day. It’ll be better after a sleep or two.