Your Touch Before Oblivion

Kaho wasn’t in the next week’s ikebana class either. Occasionally, she and Shuhei would cross paths in the facility and would be forced to interact. Group activities and meals were easy enough to stay separated. Shuhei had even given up on his morning coffee routine so that Kaho could have her time alone by the fire. But when the stray moments arose when they were alone, passing in a hallway, or finding one another in a quiet room where no one else was present, both of them found it difficult to look each other in the eye.

It was as though they were aware that both wanted to say something else, but had together decided against it for their own well-being. Still, not seeing her in ikebana class felt unfair. Shuhei rightfully feared she’d bowed out on his behalf. Ikebana had given them both joy- it would be unjust for him to keep it to himself. So when Shuhei found Kaho observing the most recent arrangements on the hallway displays, he could not stop himself from softly waving to get her attention.

Since it was so early and Kaho had assumed she would be alone, she didn’t have her phone. Shuhei pantomimed typing, asking her if she did. When she shook her head, he accepted and simply pointed at the flowers, then to Kaho, then turned his palms upwards in question.

All Kaho could do was shake her head, then point her own finger from the flowers to Shuhei.

He understood. Just like he’d feared, she was giving ikebana to him. Her curiosity for the arrangements right then hinted that she still wanted to participate. Shuhei raised his hands, asking Kaho to remain where she was while he made his way to a nearby workroom. There, he found a notepad and a pen.

While he was away, Kaho closed her eyes and inhaled. She wasn’t going to run away from him like a princess fleeing a swooning prince. No matter what they were feeling, they were still in this facility together and thus far it had not objectively been awkward. Painful, yes, but not awkward. If she were to slight him now, that would change things. More importantly, she didn’t want to leave that spot. Something simple and genuine in her chest asked her to stay and wait for him, even as parts of her better judgment said not to.

When Shuhei returned, Kaho saw the pad and pencil and couldn’t help but smile. He was writing as he walked.

“Did you stop coming to ikebana because of me? Because of the other night? If so, I sincerely apologize. Please do not stop attending on my behalf. I’ll move. You can sit with someone else.”

Usually, his conversations were more back and forth. But he wanted to give her as much clarity as possible from the beginning. If this was because of him, he would do what he could to create a remedy.

Kaho read his note, and her brow pulled upward with a cautious pause.

She wanted to be honest. Though they’d said very little to one another over these many weeks, she’d always felt like she could be sincere with him, and it felt like he was being sincere with her. That didn’t need to stop, so she spoke truthfully.

“I was confused by what I felt. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You have been very kind to me. I didn’t want to take ikebana away from you if you were going to feel weird with me around. And I know that we need to focus on ourselves most of all while we’re here. I was afraid of being a distraction.”

He left the notepad her in her hands. Without thinking, he simply stepped close to her and turned his body to be beside hers as he lowered his head to read. After he read her response, he shook his head before slowly taking the notepad. His smallest finger accidentally grazed along the top of her thumb as he retrieved the pen.

He wanted to be honest as well.

“I was confused too. And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. I’m sorry if anything I’ve done was too forward or of poor taste. But please, if you enjoy ikebana, keep coming to class. Or, I hope you pick it up after I am gone next week.”

He finally said it. All this time, a faint curiosity had drifted in Kaho’s mind, leaving her wondering how long their paths would cross. Now, she had her answer. Reading his written confirmation was simultaneously a relief and a fist to the liver. Heaviness sank into her knees and stomach as she accepted that they had mere days left together.

As Kaho worked through that truth, she suddenly regretted that time she’d spent away from the one person who had been open and sincere with her.

“When do you leave?”

“Wednesday.”

They had six days left. Just as March was beginning, Shuhei would depart her life, like a winter chill slowly fading as Springtime drifted across the valleys.

Words built in Kaho’s throat and hands, and she dared to write them.

“I’ll miss you.”

Silence pulled his lips apart as though he wanted to audibly say something but stopped himself. Then his left hand slowly rose. Trembles caused his cautious fingers to bend with hesitation as they neared the curves of her palm and wrist. His eyes lifted to hers as they narrowed and softened. He waited for her permission. When she understood his request, her head dipped forward barely a centimeter.

With that consent, his palm came to rest over her hand as the other hand slowly slid the pen from her grip. Her focus never broke from his somber face as he looked down to write his reply.

“I will too. Please come to ikebana this last time. I’d like to make an arrangement together if you would as well.”

Blushing warmth filled Kaho’s cheeks as she luxuriated in the sensation of his skin against hers. His palm was smooth and broad. Small scars decorated three of his knuckles at the point where ligaments met joints. Without shoe soles giving her a boost, she was barely even with his chest. Kaho’s free hand rose to retrieve the pen for her response, but she decided against it.

Instead, her answer was to simply let the edges of her fingertips meet the bandage on his arm as she nodded once more.

They would share one more class together. Then, he would be gone.