What I Learned With You

Rows of vases and containers lined the simple tables. White tablecloths were accented with subtle pearl runners. Name plaques were printed with creator and composition details. Scents of blossoms mixed with summertime’s languid humidity. Crowds of family members, friends, and curious guests all walked among the dozens of ikebana arrangements. Kaho stood by a table that showed three of her four submissions. Sayane was there with her, invited as a friend and translator.

The exhibition formally reached it's opening time, and a subtle dryness built in Kaho’s throat as she scanned the room. A shawl covered her shoulders and arms. It complemented her yellow evening dress and her new yellow hearing aids. Both ears were now accented, but neither aid was activated. They were purely decorative.

After the attack, she’d had to cut her hair almost to a bob, save for some simple volume that blended into her bangs. If her ears were going to be exposed, she figured it was best to accent them functionally.

Guests approached and bowed. Many were silent: content to merely take in the visuals and make their own inferences. Some gave simple remarks on the beauty of the designs. When Sayane translated their words and Kaho’s response, some would widen their eyes ever so slightly or reply with a subtle ‘Oh!’ before continuing their comments.

“Only one person started speaking louder,” Sayane signed with a grin.

Kaho chuckled to herself.

“Ah, yes, the unknown cure to deafness: just be louder,” Kaho signed.

She took a moment to appreciate the realization that she wasn’t uncomfortable with Sayane being there signing and drawing attention to them. It was subtle, and came without sparks or deep revelations, but Kaho did find herself grateful that the presumed spotlight of being Deaf had either dimmed for her nerves, or was never really as bright and othering as she’d thought.

Minutes passed, and the dryness in her mouth joined with ill-defined shivers as her eyes scanned the room and door.

Sayane noticed Kaho’s looks and gently touched her hand.

“He’ll be here,” she signed.

Kaho nodded and glanced at her arrangements.

Shuhei was there. He had not yet made it in the building because he had pulled into the garage at the same point as Kaho’s parents and their security guard.

They almost didn’t recognize him at first, until her mother saw the remnant bruises on his face. He stood his ground and waited for them to approach.

“Kaho invited me…” he said.

“We know,” was all her father replied.

Shuhei took that as their acknowledgement that this wasn’t going to cause any issues, so he dared to walk with them.

“You look very handsome,” her mother said as they neared the door.

“For her. I wanted to for her,” he replied as the guard opened the door and the smells of flowers greeted them.

Inaudible sounds of dozens of quiet conversations blended into hazy notes of life. A quiet ambient piano mix was playing on the overhead sound system. Colors greeted them at every turn.

Then she was there, incandescent and smiling a nervous smile.

His lips trembled, and he quietly rushed to her.

He had trimmed his hair down to a buzz cut, removing all of the color. His suit was brown, and he had a floral pocket square. Fading bruises were still there, but they were no longer raised.

Kaho’s hands rose to him as she blinked away tears. His fingers met hers, and he stopped.

Bodies passed like debris in a current. Whatever sound remained burned away into nothing more than a hum. He only smelled her perfume. She only felt his touch and saw his lightened eyes.

“Your hair. You look so beautiful,” Shuhei said as he signed most of the words.

Sayane watched and approved, knowing Kaho caught everything.

Kaho replied in sign as her lip quivered before turning upwards.

“Yours too. You didn’t tell me you were cutting it off,” Sayane said.

His hands rubbed along his head, and short strands pulled back then fell into their correct angles.

“Yeah, I just decided that this morning,” he smiled.

The edges of reality slowly faded back into focus.

“You look so good. I’m so proud of you,” Shuhei added without ever looking away from Kaho.

Her eyes stayed on him as she signed.

“I’m so proud of you, too. You’re so beautiful. I missed you, so badly,” she signed as she blinked glistening moisture away.

“My makeup…” she laughed as she motioned to her face.

Shuhei laughed and nodded.

Awkward, wondrous nerves flickered and shouted within their bodies. Her parents had already stepped to the table and were observing the arrangements. Her mother glanced at the name plaque and looked up at the two young people, who were still standing there smiling with one another.

Shuhei finally looked away from her and turned to view her displays. Kaho blushed as he read the first card.

“What I Learned With You: Stillness”

Two trunks of bamboo grass rose from a base of smoke tree tufts. Their height was offset by the muted, contained wisps of grey and brown. Behind each stalk of bamboo was a dead branch. White petals were pulled from flowers, lying at the base of the smoke tree billows.

Shuhei immediately understood. It was them in Nikko that Winter. Though they were separated and on their own paths at that time, they were still in the same container, barren and waiting to be remade.

His hand reached for hers without noticing. Together, they walked around the container to see it from different perspectives. He noticed that this container was merely a simple black plastic basin, just like what they’d started with.

She’d even made his branch taller.

It was calming, yet somber. There was a muted deadness to it, and Shuhei couldn’t help but marvel at how far he and she had come since then. Neither was barren anymore.

The second arrangement waited for them.

“What I Learned With You: The Importance of Breath”

When they approached from the right, there was no major focal point. Kaho was giving the viewer time to process the emptiness, just as they had both had to do within themselves. Nothing needed to be placed there, it was simply emptiness, and that was okay. Ma was not a negative thing, it was simply negative space.

An extension of bulrush rose upwards to give the arrangement its tail. Two muted flowers were tucked in the lower center, where they were both angled outwards.

This container was kintsugi. Gold lines of repaired cracks streaked along the bottom, and a simple golden thread ran along the apple branches that bent upwards and out of the container, signifying the journey’s continuation into new realms.

They reached the end of the table and looked upon the third arrangement.

“What I Learned With You: Peace”

Two matching containers were placed beside one another. Gold thread weaved between them and bound to the patches of small yellow chrysanthemums, which splayed out horizontally in the same direction. Each container was earthen, brown, and ceramic. Their water levels were high, giving the arrangement a placid, calm sensation as reflections floated on the surface of the stillness. Pampas grass rose and folded into curved arches.

Shuhei found himself lingering for a moment, allowing himself to luxuriate in the pleasantness and lightness of the image. Doing so brought him memories of their first class together, when tears, awkward glances, and harsh winter foliage first introduced them to so many new moments.

That day, she had cried and seemed miserable. He was half dead and vacuous. Now, they were slowly waking from the coma of drifting, and a warmth was filling their hearts just like the summer sun filled the air.

Kaho inhaled and squeezed his hand, pointing him towards one last arrangement that was in a more prominent section of the room.

It was elevated on a podium, along with two other arrangements from other students.

“What I Learned With You: Growth”

This was the most vibrant and massive arrangement of all. A tall gray vase curved like a shell, opening to a large mouth that sang out dozens of blooms of different flowers. It wasn’t overwhelming or voluminous; it was simply vast. Strands of gold burst out like sparkler embers that fell vine-like down the side of the basin.

White hydrangeas anchored the base in their dense vibrance, as tufts of other colorful flowers burst out from the base. Large, deeply lobed green leaves hoisted them from the bottom, giving everything a weight and stability. Two branches of mulberry rose upwards and wrapped together as they reached for the heavens. The golden thread intertwined itself between the branches before coming to a knotted bow just beneath two small leaves.

Motion and line told the story of strength and softness. There was a beauty to the explosion of texture and color at the base. It felt as though all of that energy was buttressing and propelling the two limbs, not competing with them.

That night at the snow festival, when she was lit by the candlelight, she may have been the most beautiful thing to have ever existed.

They had learned so much together. Not just from one another, but from themselves and with each other. Lessons had been shared equally, along with pain and hope.

Back then, they were shattered. They were barren and alone. Bloomless, cold, and hollowed. They had broken themselves and been broken by life’s stinging isolation. Bit by bit, the deadness fell away. Parts of pain were pruned or mended. They thought they would never see one another again. After Nikko, both had faced the potential of falling back into the emptiness from before. But then they found one another again.

And everything changed.

A solitary tear ran down Shuhei’s face.

“Thank you,” he signed.

“For everything.”

Kaho’s eyes were filled and reflective as she repeated the same gestures.

“Thank you. For everything.”

They barely spoke for the rest of the night. Kaho returned to her table with Sayane, where she continued to engage with curious guests. Shuhei made his way through the rest of the displays, savoring every second and image he could, in case it would be the last for some time.

Her parents kept their distance from him. He saw them speaking with her and Sayane a few times, but for the most part, they were simply in the background. Two more hours passed, and the event ended.

The music stopped, and the crowds began to thin. Goodbyes were shared by numerous parties, and within minutes, almost everyone was gone.

“I stay to help clean up,” Kaho explained to Shuhei as Sayane smiled and bid them farewell.

“I’ll see you around,” Sayane said as she exited.

The first three arrangements were taken to be loaded into her parents’ sedan. Once that was done, her mother and father awkwardly paused beside the two of them. A simple throat clearing from her father announced he wished to say something more, but instead, all he could do was politely bow to Shuhei, then sign to Kaho that they would see her at home.

Other students moved to and from the space, taking their arrangements away. Kaho and Shuhei were left alone for the briefest of moments. She held up a finger in pause as she reached into her clutch to retrieve his notebook.

“I wrote you so many things,” she wrote on the last page.

“The book is filled,” Shuhei smiled with a somber smile.

Maybe her parents would never approve. Running away felt doomed and too forced. Maybe they were never meant to be permanent. Maybe they were candles that lit one another for the time needed, then they faded. Maybe they were flowers that were beautiful and vibrant, arriving after the bitterness of Winter, then fading when Autumn arrived. Maybe they were wabi sabi. Neither wanted that, but in that moment, both of them felt it without speaking it into existence.

“I love you. Forever.” Kaho wrote as the lines reached the bottom of the page.

Sniffs sounded out across the silent room. Shuhei tried to steady himself, but his tears returned as well.

“I love you so much. Forever.”

He returned the notebook to his back pocket and the two of them embraced. There among the flowers, they allowed themselves one last moment of perfect togetherness, just in case.

Their lips met for a final kiss, and then they said farewell.

She led him to the door and locked it behind him. Reflections on the pane cut between them as he turned to leave.

Kaho watched him until he disappeared around the corner. Then she collapsed onto the floor.

The unbearable weight of kind fulfillment ripped at Shuhei’s throat and he felt that he wanted to scream out or weep. Instead, he simply continued walking until he reached the garage.

That was where he found Kaho’s parents waiting for him.