Day 4: Part I

The chirping of birds. My eyes flickered open. Tatami mats. The wallpaper of mountains. It really was like a dream, laying on the futon under two sheets. It was surprisingly cold that morning. I tossed around in the sheets, wanting that awakening doze to last a little longer, the ruffle from my legs like a lullaby.

The house was quiet. I did not know the time, nor if anyone else was awake. It would be a nice change of pace to enjoy the brief solitude. I rolled off the mats, changed my clothes, and started down the hall to the vanity and began my skincare routine. As I washed my face, I wondered if could see the town in its true form in the morning sunlight. Maybe I had gotten up early enough to see the sunrise. Early spring sunrise. That was the start of Sean’s haiku. Except, I thought it was sad when I heard it, not at all like I felt that morning. I really don’t get it.

The front door opened to a mist hovering over the sky, like the whiskers of a Japanese dragon. The thick white quickly swirled in front of distant mountains, gradually laying bare the slopes and spines. I stepped outside onto a thin street with an erosion barrier no more than three paces at its side. The barrier came up above my waist. It was topped with thin and long strands of grass and dotted with flowers a deep orange. It supported the ground for an electric railroad track. The overhead lines seemed to entwine with the power lines from the village to the right. To the left, the street ascended to a bridge that crossed the river.

I followed the road towards the town and, not too far, there was a small right turn towards the riverbed. A car was parked there though I didn’t see anyone else around. Across the river was another half of the town and the mountains surrounding it like a crown. The clouds were steadily unveiling the peaks from the bottom up. It reminded me of that famous painting, which at the time I could not recall the name for I had only seen it once four years prior to that moment in a textbook, but I know the name now: The Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog. Except, instead of proudly looking down, I stood meekly below and watched the fog go.

Once the green peaks slit open a light blue sky, I decided I’d get a canned coffee from a vending machine. There were none around, so I walked deeper into town but the street felt longer and less direct. I gave up before reaching the station, convinced that the night before we must have turned down a corridor, and walked back.

Her house was the last one on the street. It wasn’t extravagant architecturally, it was modest in the way that most of these kinds of homes were with varying shades of light and dark browns, though it was still quite large. I pulled at the door. It wouldn’t budge. “Come on,” I couldn’t help but speak. “Am I really that weak?” I tried again. And again. No use. I took a step back. “Oh my gosh. I’m locked out!” I must’ve forgotten to close the door and his grandma must’ve locked it! I was stranded, abandoned, and ostracized into a countryside on the other side of the whole wide world. The only way to signal them would be to obnoxiously bang on the door. I’d rather sit and wait. I’m deluding myself. It’s gotta be unlocked. I tried again. “Crap!”

The car from the riverbed drove up behind me, its tire’s crackling over the gravel. I pressed my back up against the door to let it pass. Not that there wasn’t enough space, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. When I did this, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that there was another house up the road.

I was at the wrong home.

I jumped into the road, looking at the door. I could see the headlines now. Foreigner caught breaking into the house of a poor, unsuspecting, volatile, vulnerable, innocent, and elderly woman. Immediately deported. Local inn owner’s grandson arrested as associate. Also the world exploded. I dashed to the other house. The door was unlocked as I’d left it. I opened and shut it behind me. The familiar ganken. I caught my breath.

Sean’s grandmother came around the corner. She started speaking to me, and with Sean still asleep, I had no idea how to proceed. From her gestures, I surmised she asked why I was outside. “Uhh. Vending machine,” I said, waving my arms to outline a rectangle. “Coffee.” I cupped one hand in the other like a can and pretended to drink it. “Buy.” I pretended to put a yen coin into a machine, then select an item, and retrieve it from the bottom. She spoke again. I knew she asked a question because her sentence ended with a “ka,” a grammar point that Sean had taught me, and I knew that it vaguely involved coffee because I recognized the word, it being the same. I assume she was asking if I liked coffee or if I found some or something. I wasn’t sure. “Hai,” I said.

She nodded her head a few times and gestured for me to come, so I took off my shoes and followed her. She led me back to the room. I was more than happy to be under house arrest unless accompanied by an escort. That seemed safest.