Ichi's Interlude

I’m not sure how long I’d been talking. I kind of just let it all pour out of me like a monsoon. What I do know is that Mrs. Ichi listened to every word, nodding and looking at me with her little grin.

“I see. That does sound like a really difficult time, indeed. But at least you had good friends Like Sentaro and Aiko there to help you through it.” Mrs. Ichi stood up, walking to the edge of the rooftop with her hands folded behind her back as she gazed off into the distance.

“That’s exactly it. I had them there to help me through it. And now I don’t. Not that they’d help, but I don’t even have mom and dad to help me out now. I’m…alone.” I began to hyperventilate a bit, clenching hands around the chair I was sitting, pulsating waves of pain in my chest and lungs beginning to swell up again.

“Nonsense. Sometimes we think we’re alone, but we aren’t at all. Right before you moved into the building, my husband of 56 years passed away.” Ichi turned to face me, the smile on her face not wavering for a moment.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea…”

“So was I. I felt sorry for myself. I sat in the apartment and missed him for weeks and weeks. Of course, I still do even now. But shortly after, you moved in nextdoor. You’d bring me my mail sometimes back then. I wouldn’t even open the door. You’d knock, make sure I’m okay and tell me goodnight” Her smile got fuller and brighter as she envisioned it behind her eyes.

“I Know that doesn’t seem like much to you, but it meant the world to me. I started sitting outside to knit just so I could bump into you and talk a little. It seems like such a small step, but eventually it led to me going for walks, visiting a little flower shop down the street, and then… well, this!” She held up her arms to the garden and laughed a little. I looked out over the garden with her, the vibrant bell peppers and spring onions popping out against the gray concrete of the roof as if to wave hello.

“I could have sat inside and wilted, thinking the only person that I loved was gone now. And I probably would have. But you helped me see I still had something to live for. I understand what you’re feeling. Truly I do. But I promise you, if you can just try. Give your life a conscious effort, you’ll come to find you’re not alone at all, even when it feels that way. The way out for me was waiting one door down, and all I had to do was try.” I couldn’t explain why exactly, but I’d started tearing up again, but they were happy tears.

“Thank you, Ichi-san. Thank you.” I got up, and leaned down so I could wrap my arms around her.

“If you want to thank me for something, how about lunch? I have some miso soup and fresh garden salad I just made in the apartment. What do you say?” How could anyone say no to that face?

I held her arm and helped her stay steady as we slowly made our way down from the room and back to her apartment. I stood behind her and waited as she unlocked the door, leerily stepping in. The apartment was filled with hanging plants and candles, tacked up all over the walls were photos of Ichi-san and her husband. From what I could tell, they spanned several decades.

“Take a seat dear. I poured you some tea, the soup will just be a minute to warm up. You mind if I sneak another one of those cigarettes off of you, too?” Ichi handed me a tall glass of smooth brown barley tea, cool condensation forming on the glass.

“Yeah, sure. Here…” I grabbed my pack of seven stars and pulled one out for her, taking one for myself as well. I placed it between my teeth and reached into my pocket, pulling out my zippo lighter to ignite both of our cigarettes. We both sat down on some padded rocking chairs Ichi-san had in the corner of her living room, blissfully taking a few puffs each as the pot of soup she’d placed on the stovetop began to warm up and bubble gently.

“So then, Ren. What happens next?”