Seeing the bones on Skeletons

For the first time in several months, Makoto found himself at his mother’s doorstep.

Tatsuya never understood why Makoto still cared about their mother at all. The truth lies in a childish dream. One that shouldn't have to be dreamt at all. A single idea that sparked in his mind as a boy.

The pictures of happy families smiling in the frame before you take them out to put a picture of your own.

So here he was, at the same apartment that he and his brother had grown up in. He sighed, then knocked on the door and stepped back. He leaned against the railing, his legs stretched out and ankles crossed over each other.

Sometime after Tatsuya's visit and the hours he’d spent at work, he’d come to a decision. The only way to help him decide how to move forward was to look back.

His phone vibrated.

Hey! I’m home, how was work? :)

He saw the preview of the message on his lock screen before sliding it back into his pocket.

The door opened, and there was his mother. A short lady in an oversized t-shirt and second-hand capri pants. Many scraggles of her hair escaped the confines of the bun she'd fashioned at the back of her head. The wrinkles on her face were markings of age as well as years of smoking. “What is it Makoto?” She asked, a lit cigarette burning ash on the floor from between her fingers before she took another smoke of it.

Despite his mother turning their childhoods into a dumping ground, Makoto could give her that one victory. She always knew the difference between himself and Tatsuya.

“Hey, mom. Tatsuya came by to see you a few days ago, right?” He said, avoiding her question.

She nodded once, then went inside, leaving the door open for him to follow. “He barely said two words to me. Typical.”

Makoto took off his shoes at the doorway. The moment he saw the kitchen, a feeling of homesickness kicked him in the chest, but not for the place he was in. The memories he'd colored golden were all turning to a very real shade of steel. The peeling paint, the roaches on the walls, the cigarettes on the windowsill. It was all as he remembered and yet not at all.

Was the apartment always this small?

The only thing missing is dad's sake bottles.

This was in his childhood home, and all it did was make him miss Kimiko. Their life with two stray cats, a fish, and a world of ridiculousness that he looked forward to every day.

“He told me you saw the stream.” Makoto said, his voice much more subdued than when he was with either Kimiko or Tatsuya. He picked up a picture frame that was laying face down on the grungy kitchen, the glass cracked along the front. It was a photo of his mother, Tatsuya, and Makoto when the boys were no older than five. Tatsuya had a deerstalker cap on his head and a cheap magnifying glass. His clothes matched Makoto’s otherwise, an oversized second-hand t-shirt with a band on it that neither child could possibly care about. Makoto was sticking his tongue out with scrunched-up eyes and a lopsided smile. His mother smoked a cigarette. His father wasn’t photographed.

“The only thing that man was good for was takin’ photos of us.” His mother said as she put out her cigarette on a plain dish on the plastic table. She took the photo from Makoto and chuckled. “I loved that band. Perfect outfit for my two boys.” She decided, then put the photo back on the counter without setting it upright. The piled dishes in the sink clinked together as they shifted down. Makoto was sure there were bugs hiding away from the light.

He remembered sharing washing duties with Tatsuya. He remembered making a game out of it with Tatsu when he got creeped out by the critters. Makoto called it, "Bubble Bug Adventures".

“Yeah, I saw it. You and that girl are on the internet.” His mother said, wrapping back around to the topic he’d brought up. “It’s just you being stupid like always.”

Makoto chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, acting like she'd had even a glimmer of a playful tone when she hadn’t. “Ah-ha yeah. So, what do you think about Kimiko?”

“Like it matters what I think. You barely come around here anymore either.” She said. “Bet you don’t even know my name.”

Makoto drifted off toward his childhood bedroom. “Your name is Saya.” He said mindlessly as he opened the door and saw the tiny room that he and his brother shared. One bunkbed at the side of the room, a small window, and ragged clothes were strewn that had long lost their use.

“I thought I got rid of this damn thing.” His mother said, picking up the photo of her sonogram that had gotten shuffled with a bunch of old holiday cards. Two heads facing the opposite side of each other, back to back. “Worst day of my life.”

“I know, you’ve told me.” Makoto's voice was dull as he picked up a small plush mouse that he’d made for Tatsuya. It was his brother’s favorite cartoon as a kid, the little mouse detective. Tatsu wanted to be just like him, not realizing that it was actually based on another more well-known detective. Still, Makoto couldn’t help but smile. His brother really had made his dream come true after all these years.

“Two jobs your dad had to take."

He didn't even realize that his mother had been talking.

"We used to be so happy together before this mess.” She placed the sonogram back on the dresser with a firm push of her finger.

Makoto kept the plush mouse under his arm as he looked through the rest of their things. Many of his toys and extra gadgets were given to him by various boyfriends of his mother’s over the years.

“Oh, Jiro gave you that, remember? I’m tellin’ ya. No kids, and I woulda had myself a nice life. That man made money. He just got tired of fatherhood.” She said.

Maybe he got tired of you.

Usually, when she’d say these things, the same things she had for years, Makoto was immune. He’d make it all a fun joke, pretend that she had an odd sense of humor. He could spin anything bad until it made him dizzy enough to laugh. Now though, everything felt completely foreign to him. These were the same words he'd heard his entire life, except now, he had new ears to hear them as they really were.

Floating out in space with frozen artifacts of his past floating around him. He could see Kimiko in the spaceship calling for him to come back. Reaching out for him.

As he searched through his things, he realized that he’d kept very little from high school. He’d hated it just as much as Tatsuya did. At one point, Makoto did like a girl, though. The day she snuck him a note to say she liked him had been a ray of hope. Rather than the permanent ink of love he'd expected, it turned out to be as temporary as a design pressed with a sponge to skin.

“You’re a nice guy Makoto, but… how should I say it? You’re not… the kind of guy someone keeps around forever.”

She went off to college, with those words as her reason for breaking up with him.

And his father…? Well, that was something he just didn’t even want to think about.

But. Maybe he should.

Saya always did say that Makoto was too much like his father, so maybe he would have some insight.

“So you’re not going to say what you think of Kimiko, mom?” Makoto repeated, though he didn’t look at her when he said it. “I’d like to know.”

“That girl?” She scoffed. “She’s nothing special.”

You’re wrong.

He kept his defenses to himself despite his certainty. He knew that starting an argument with his mother would end up with the police being called. Her neighbors didn’t deserve to deal with that. They probably had enough of that as it was.

Makoto knelt down and picked up his old handheld console and kept it with him along with his old CD player headphone combo. Both gifts were bought from two separate boyfriends of his mother’s. Neither of which stayed in his life.

In fact… the only constant people in his life he realized, were Tatsuya or his mother. As she was one of those two people, he always made excuses for her. She shouldn't be held accountable since her father was a drunk who beat his wife and child. Saya was doing the best she could.

 Wasn't she?

It was their fault for being twins. She specifically said would have been able to afford one baby, not two. It was only natural that she'd neglect the identical pairs of pale blue eyes that stared at her. Two reasons that stole her life.

That's what he'd thought.

It took meeting someone like Kimiko, so opposite of any woman he’d ever met, to finally see the toxic cloud Saya spewed. Besides her cigarette smoke.

“Do you know where dad is?” Makoto asked.

“I don’t know.” She said. “Ask your brother. He’s the one who knows everything.” She said with a dramatic roll of her eyes, then left the room.

While she was gone, Makoto put his mementos in a beat-up birthday bag lying around and found one more to add to it. It was his journal as a kid.

Flipping to a random page, it read:

_____________

Dear Future Makoto,

What’s up my man?! I hope you’re doing totally awesome stuff. You probably have like ten girlfriends and fifty houses right?! Well don’t. Look, I know you’re gonna be super cool and stuff but listen. We should just focus on one super amazing girl. Quality over quantity. It’s kinda scary to think about though. What if that amazing girl is waaay too good for us? Well, let me tell you my plan. Uhh I forgot.

Oh wait I remembered.

….

I forgot again.

Just kidding I remembered!

Makoto of the present sighed heavily. Am I always this irritating? He thought.

Shoot I gotta make mom food I forgot it’s dinner time. I’ll be back.

Signed by the coolest Makoto!

_____________________

He turned the page.

_____________________

Dear Future Makoto,

I’m sorry I actually forgot the plan this time for real. But uhhh I’m sure you’ll figure it out right?

Gotta go!!

(faster than fast)

The swiftest Makoto!

_____________________

Makoto closed the book and put it in the birthday bag. He left the apartment without saying goodbye, not that his mother had noticed.

After a quick walk down the stairs to the street, he gave Tatsuya a call. His brother had told him before that he didn't know where their dad was, but Makoto was sure he must have some leads. Knowing Tatsu, he was likely not keen on giving false hope if he could help it. If their father wanted to be found, he would have been already.

By the end of their phone call, Tatsuya did give him a few leads, but they weren’t very good ones.

For the remainder of that night, Makoto was out chasing after those leads as best as he could. He didn’t even know what he’d do if he met him.

I’m going to go to bed now, okay? :) 
Let me know if you need anything, I don’t mind if it’s late.

Makoto had left a convenience store with something quick to eat when he got the text message. Once again he didn’t open it or reply before he slid the phone back into his pocket.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to respond, or that he didn’t appreciate her text. The issue was that he didn’t know what to say. Makoto wasn't up to explaining everything and he didn't want to lie to her to avoid it either. Plus, some haphazard response might just make her more worried. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

So then it was better to say nothing, right?