Left Behind

Day three of university was…well I did not attend day three. I’d woken up in the morning with the worst of headaches, Hiroshi chuckled like a hyena as he left me to drown in my hangover. I pleaded him to take notes for me in class, and he dashed out of our room without a confirmation. The rest of the morning, I stayed indoors, recoiling from the blistering sunlight like a vampire of the night. My hero, Mister Takahashi, brought me medication once again.

“Don’t drink every night, or else you’ll be on the next plane home when your grades come out from the university, kiddo.” He said with a laughter in his voice.

“Damn that…Hiroshi…” I said as I fell back into a slumber.

The turn of the afternoon came when I had finally awoken. My headache had subsided, and I felt new again. I made the promise to myself to never accept any more alcohol from Hiroshi. I waddled downstairs to clean myself in the bathrooms, and I noticed Misako sat in the kitchen table, making a dish of some kind. I was surprised to see her back in the house so early in the day.

“Hey Ishihara…” I said yawning.

“W-what are you doing up?” She asked stutteringly.

“Isn’t it like, the afternoon? I slept all day.”

“I know.”

“What’re you making, soup?”

I walked up to inspect whatever she was making. It was a greenish tint, it did not look appetising, I pitied whoever had to eat that, hopefully not her.

“W-who cares what I made?” She said with a snap in her voice.

From the front door, in appeared Missus Takahashi, she wore her cooking apron and carried leeks in hand. She did not notice me at first as she spoke:

“Misako, did you finish making the soup for David?” She asked. Then she saw me standing in the hallway.

I turned my head to look at Misako.

“Is that…for me?” I asked Misako.

She turned away from me to hide her face, I could not see her expression.

“We were making an old wives-tale home recipe to cure your hangover.” Missus Takahashi exclaimed, “But it seems you’re up now.”

“And you’re helping, Ishihara?” I asked her.

She nodded in confirmation. I wondered why she would do that for me.

“I mean, I cannot say no to food, I’m starving.” I spoke.

I accepted the bowl, digging in. The flavours were, unique, to say the least. But I imagined they would have worked their magic if I were a drunkard. I struggled to swallow down the last of it, but I had to, as Misako inspected me finish the entire bowl.

“It’s good, thank you.” I said, fibbing.

Misako then slid a stack of paper on the table, I could still not see her expression.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Notes…from class.” She said.

“Oh, Hiroshi did these?” I asked.

She shook her head. I took a closer look at the notes, they were in a very formal handwriting, one that was neat and tidy. I knew Hiroshi would never have been able to make those kinds of notes.

‘Wait…she wrote these notes for me? Am I dreaming?’ I asked myself internally.

“T-thank you, Ishihara.” I said, grabbing the stack of paper.

Without another word, the green-haired girl wheeled herself into her room. I did not know what I did, but I was somewhat thankful she didn’t hate me.

“See?” Missus Takahashi instigated.

“What?” I asked her, confused.

“Ahhh, too young to understand…” She remarked.

I went through the events of the past three days in my head. Two identical pocket watches, a wheelchair-bound girl that lied about knowing Hiroshi, the girl having the same interests as me. Pieces of a puzzle to which I did not know the answer. Then, I remembered that I could find Hiroshi’s cell phone number on the fridge, in case I needed his assistance.

I walked over to the fridge but found no note of phone numbers there. I turned to Missus Takahashi in confusion:

“Miss, where is the note with all of our dorm-mate phone numbers?” I asked her.

“What are you talking about, my boy?” She answered as she cleaned my dish.

“Ishihara said she got my phone number from the note on the fridge. Where is it?”

“We don’t have a list of cell phone numbers, my boy. Some people have privacy issues, so we never put each other’s phone numbers up on the fridge, or anywhere else.”

“WHAT?” I yelled.

‘WHAT IS GOING ON?’ My brain ringed.

One incident after another, before I could think further, Hiroshi made an entrance into the house.

“Pal! You’re awake! Look, I made you notes!” He said yelling at the top of his voice.

Hiroshi held a single piece of paper, on it was written: “NEED MORE BEER.”