Mom

It was so much a room as it was a holding cell.

A clock ticked away- the universal mark of a slow-going day.

The teacher’s room had nothing to write home about since there was nothing to write about. A bank of computers, seats, cramped office space- that’s it. A small box in a small school.

Within the small box were three people. Two distressed; one mortified. I’m one of them, though it wasn’t calculus to distinguish which is which.

My emotional turbulence has tapered off, believe it or not. I felt as if all my muscles had been wrung from the inside out. But I couldn’t say the same for Kenkichi. Poor guy had his head on his knees. A look of abject dejection.

I shrunk back in my seat. I derailed our good start.

But was it my fault, though? No. I don’t know whose fault it was, but it wasn’t mine. That I’m resolute.

I don’t care what I am. It was a sojourn to the bathroom. The plugging of the menstrual flow. I wouldn’t blame someone for barging in the wrong room if blood gushed out their testies.

But even so.

I don’t know if I could come to terms with… whatever this was. It was still vague, like a statement up in airs. My emotions were well flushed out of my system, but my mind was still intact. It was swirling with thoughts good and bad, thoughts that conflicted, thoughts that cried out.

But I’ll take this a step at a time. The landing at the top won’t grow a pair of legs and run off.

Take it a step at a time and wait till it sorts itself out.

In the end, I’m sure I’ll be alright. Hell, I’m sure I’m alright now.

But this wasn’t the end. And he wasn’t alright.

Mr. Todou, a man drawn with age, was sitting before us; one hand on his glasses, the other on a document. We were separated by a desk set in the middle, as would an interrogation. He sat in silence. Or perhaps in anticipation.

Then he steepled his fingers the way prissy men pushing forty does.

If we were to get expelled; well, I’ll cry and remain in hysterics until the decision’s nullified.

If I were to get expelled; well, okay. That’s within the realm of reason.

But even so, Kenkichi was still distraught. If he bends his head lower, I think he’ll snap his own neck- or crack his ribcage, probably. It was impressive he could hold that position sitting on a chair.

Would nudging him be discourteous of me? I’ll never know. I’ll let him stay that way. Poking tigers was and still is a bad idea.

You’ll even get papercuts from paper tigers, after all.

Was that clever?

As if in cue, Mr. Todou gave me a cough. It was a cough that presaged a series of questions- the one TV detectives employ. He pushed up his glasses and unclogged his throat.

“So,” he said, eyeing us down, “Which one of yous’ want to rattle on first?”

Kenkichi remained in his burrow.

I spoke in his stead.

“H-he doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“So it’s just yous’, then?”

“I-I suppose. But it was an honest mistake.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Honest or intentional?”

“H-honest. I don’t know what came over me.”

“He has a penchant for barging into bathrooms,” Kenkichi interjected, head still on his knees.

I cast my gaze sideways. My teeth sank down my lips.

He climbed his way out of his burrow and scrubbed his face. “It’s his… recurring confusion. I could testify it’s an honest mistake.”

Mr. Todou considered that for a moment. I could see the cogs wheeling around his head.

“So,” he finally said, “Yous’ be standin’ round’ women’s bathrooms and see a guy barging in, right? Then yous’ be registerin’ that it was, indeed, a guy barging in, and your first instinct is to stand still and file that out for later?”

Kenkichi’s eyes widened. “No-no, he barged in the men’s bathroom. I was in it. I swear on my life.”

Mr. Todou flicked his gaze at me. “That’s pretty weird, kid. You be targetin’ both sexes, huh? This might be dire after all.”

Kenkichi slapped his brow. I smiled tightly.

“And why the hell is yous’ smilin’?”

“I don’t know what to do from here.”

“Well, first thing in order is to call your parents. Sit tight.”

Wait. No. No times twenty. “I refuse.”

“Yous’ refusin’?” he asked incredulously.

“I-I’ll do anything but.”

An elbow banged against my shoulder. Kenkichi was eyeing me down. It was a look that said, “Just do what he says.”

But I won’t comply. It was a hill I’m content to die on. I gave him a nod of assurance and he settled back on his seat. He gave me another look. Now it said,
“Don’t screw this up.”

I nodded vaguely. I stuck out my thumb afterward.

I had enough on my plate. I don’t want to add mom and dad into it.

I’ll do it once I get home. But this wasn’t home.

School never was.

I’ll do it later.

I’ll gather my thoughts and do it later. For now, decline. Insubordination could be a virtue, for all I knew.

“Hello, is this the Fujita residence? Yes… No… Uh-huh…This is Mr. Todou, your son’s homeroom teacher.”

…

***

Mom was silent on our ride home.

But I knew what she felt.

I always knew what she felt.

It was an undercurrent. But it’s almost palpable.

The pang of disappointment was another thing I’m good at discerning.

But she won’t let it show, let alone let it out. She curbed the words as soon as she forms them. She’s good at that, and sometimes, though I’m ashamed to admit this, I’m grateful for it.

Still, I wish she would show it once in a while. Harbored emotions will keep piling up. It would never abate. And once you overload, shit happens.

Irreversible shit happens.

It would prove healthy for her to let loose.

It could serve as a slap back to reality, as they say.

A slap I wouldn’t mind being at the receiving end of.

I had it easy sometimes; it would do you well not to remember I ever said this.

Mom negotiated a left turn and gunned the engine; the speedometer blasting through sixty. I buckled my seatbelt before I was thrown off my seat; my train of thought dismantled as I did so.

Hurtling forward and  shattering the windshield was something I didn’t look forward to. No  time to overthink.

“Mom.”

“Yes, Misaki?”

“Sl-slow down, please.”

She eased the grip on the pedal and the car slowed a tad- cruising, I guess. The car was cruising on the avenue. It was virtually empty on a weekday morning.

A weekday morning, the first day of my three-day suspension.

Suspension from school feels… liberating. It feels as though I’m a rebel, you get me? A derelict dweller. Or another cool moniker a punk band would dub themselves as so.

But they were all a misnomer in the eyes of my mom.

I am a pervert.

That was it. The word ‘pervert’ was branded on my forehead with permanent ink. I could make a case for myself, but the evidence against my own were undisputable.

I hated the word. It sounds off. It sounds awkward to inject in a sentence. Like, why does it need to be there? Why can’t we drop it from the dictionary?

Why is the word so much worse now that I’m a boy?

Was it an inherent effect that boys burden? Or was the irritation exclusively mine? Do girls feel this way as well? I don’t know.

I’m foreign to myself. 

My link with other girls was a vagina between my legs. That’s it. Nothing else seems to match. Nothing else seems to be familiar.

I need to ask Kenkichi about this. Or perhaps Kizuki. But both seemed to be uninformed on the subject of… lovemaking. They just give off this air, or this ambience of virginity, you know?

Cherry boys, as they say. Bonafide boys of the cherry persuasion.

I hung my head above my knees. I lapsed into deep thought. Again.

I always thought boys were simple creatures. Give them food and shelter and company and they’ll be content. But was it that simple? I don’t know. I’ll never know. I’ll never know anything, for that matter. I said to ascertain is to venture above and beyond, but thi-

“Misaki, are you alright back there?”

I snapped my head up “Yeah, mom. I-I’m alright.”

“No, you’re not.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

I picked at my bed hair “No, I’m fine, really.”

“No, no. You’re showing the signs, sweetheart. The droopy head; the furrowing of the brows. That’s a hallmark of yours. I could see it from a mile away.”

“M- I’m not overthinking!”

“Okay, then where are we?”

My eyes flicked from side to side “We’re in the, um, avenue?”

“So there are four roads in an avenue? Are you sure we’re not past the intersection?”

I couldn’t see where she was getting at “…No?”

She let out a bray of laughter “Oh, you crack me up sometimes. When you get lost in your thoughts you get lost here as well. All sense of direction is just gone. You only see what’s in front of you and what’s inside your head. Everything else you push away.”

“And that’s not a good thing?”

She twisted her head “Never.”

I scratched my cheek “Even now?”

She swiveled her head back “I can’t even imagine you entering the girls’ room, let alone snoop into one. It has to be a mistake. I mean, you can’t even talk to them without trembling all over. There must’ve been an earthquake then. Hah!”

No offense taken.

But.

“Talk to girls?”

“What about it, dear?”

“So I’m a boy, right?”

I could see her eyes narrowing on the rear-view mirror “What do you mean?”

“When I was born, when you gave birth to me, I am, indeed, a boy, right?”

She raised her gaze a tad “I can’t see why not.”

“Do I have any childhood friends?”

“No, you said it yourself.”

“Am I effeminate in any way, shape, or form?”

“Honey, I don’t know how thi-“

“Please, mom.”

She sighed “Well, I worry sometimes; seeing as how you like boys. I found out about the pinup, you know. The one with the lean men with particolored hair, baring their midsection for all to see. And your books, goodness, those books of yours. How could anyone even think of those posi-“

"Okay, mom, I caught the point."

"But even so, I don't mind. Just keep the smut to yourself and contemplate about your future. Think it hard. I won't meddle with your affairs. It's just... it's gotten extreme. Mind dialing it down a bit?"

"Yeah, mom. T-they're there only for reference."

Three day suspension.

Mom thinks I'm a boy.

I think I’ve ascertained enough. 

It was time to endure.