Similarly Unique

A week had passed since the outing. I was too socially exhausted to do anything else, so I spent that time finishing my summer homework. I put down my pencil and leaned back in my chair to stretch.

"Finally done. I think all this work deserves a reward. I'll get a pie, it's better than stayin' in bed all day…again."

As dusk grew dominant in the sky, I left the orphanage to the pie shop – it was busier than usual.

I gazed at the line and thought, Hmm, should I come back another time?
I contemplated my decision for a few seconds.
No, I don't have anythin' else to do. I might as well get it to go and continue my solitary family time in my room.

I waited in line, with music in my earphones, for nearly half an hour. I went up to the male cashier and told him my standard order. He handed me the receipt quicker than usual, perhaps he already knew. As I was leaving the line, he unexpectedly grabbed my attention with small talk.

"Oh, by the way, the girl you usually sit with is at that table over there."
He pointed over the counter and my puzzled eyes were led to the back of a girl's head.

It was Ringomori.

I turned back to the cashier with a wrinkled forehead.
"Th-Thanks, for uh, lettin' me know."

The cashier seemed around my age, probably older, like a university student. He had a smirk on his face that suggested an inaccurate suspicion of my relationship with the girl.

My order was ready and he handed me the to-go bag. I was originally meant to leave, but I found myself flipping the script on Ringomori, becoming the one to approach the other.

"U-Um, m-may I sit here?" I asked.

She was taken aback, naturally, since she wasn't expecting me. After she confirmed my identity with her eyes, she nodded her approval.

"P-Pardon my intrusion," I requested as I sat down, placing the bag on the table. "I'm not disruptin' anythin' am I?"

With the corners of her lip pointed upwards, she said, "I'm watching tutorials on how to edit videos. I want to be more creative and add my own unique pizzazz to them."

"Sounds like you're keepin' yourself busy recently."

"Well, I've been wanting to do this for a while, now seemed like the right time. It's like they say, two of the best ways to treat depression are psychological therapy and lifestyle changes."

"Really? I might never treat mine then, since lifestyle changes are too much effort for me."

Her plate had already been cleaned and was ready to be thrown out. She also had a latte of some sort that was nearly empty. I figured she'd leave once she finished it.

She asked, "Don't you want to treat your depressive state?"

I shrank back in my seat at her sudden but innocuous question. I wasn't a person who liked to talk about my life, but seeing as she was the only person who was closely related to it, I saw no harm in telling her.

"Not really," I admitted. "I know I have all the resources to help me, and there's no reason not to take them, but my mind only thinks about how I don't have the luxury of lovin' advice about adult life from my parents. Orphanages don't teach anythin' and I know I'll waste a lot of my life tryin' to figure things out. I constantly think of things like that and it makes me dread my future, so why bother givin' myself false hope by helpin' my depression now, y'know?"

She placed her elbow on the table, propping up her chin.
"I understand that feeling. It loiters around the back of your mind and causes many sleepless nights, correct?"

"Exactly. In my time of deep unconsciousness, I was at peace because I felt nothing. Sometimes I think bein' brought back was a mistake."

"To anyone else, that would sound seriously morbid. You're lucky I know how you feel."

"Guess I'm thankful for that. Just out of curiosity, can I ask why you're tryin' so hard to treat yourself? N-Not that you're a fool for doin' so, I-I'm just…yeah."

Our eye contact faded so she could finish the remaining drops of her latte. I was beginning to worry that my question was, once again, too sensitive for a casual conversation. However, that regret had no time to linger as she reconnected with me.

"I was diagnosed when I entered the orphanage program at fourteen years old, but it felt like my depressed transition to my current life began when my father passed away when I was eight."

"It must've been hard to deal with that kind of negative development for half your life."

"It wasn't all bad at the start because I still had my mother. There was also another ray of light that diverted the shadows of despair away. Once that light and my parents were gone, there was nothing between me and my current state of mind. I always wondered why I was the only one who was healthy, sometimes I even contemplated joining my parents."

"Sounds seriously morbid," I jested.

She had been gradually looking down at the tabletop, and I was scanning around us to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our subjectively inappropriate conversation. For once, it was lucky that people cared only for themselves.

She continued, "Perhaps one reason for why I treat myself is because while my parents will never return, I want to find that ray of light that disappeared and rekindle it. Although it's been somewhat difficult."

"How so?" I asked, sincerity prominent in my voice.

"The older I get, the more I ask myself: Even if I found that light, would it be the same that illuminated my life all those years ago?"

I had no response for her besides a pathetic "I see."

She then placed a finger on her chin and slightly tilted her head to the left.
"Actually…hmm."

"What's up? Did you figure somethin' out?"

"No, I was trying to think of a better analogy, I don't like the 'light of my life' one I used. It seems too generic, don't you think?"

I didn't necessarily comprehend what she was talking about, but I had a general idea of how she wanted to create a new perspective on her life, something only she and I could understand.

"If you think of a new one, tell me. I'll let you know if it's better or not."

She proceeded to interlock her fingers and stretch her arms by leaning back in the chair. It was only then that I realized how deeply rooted I made the conversation.

"S-Sorry for bringin' up a memory like that."

She shook her head.
"It's okay. Something like this has only been told to Shizuko-sensei, and while he's an amazing therapist, it feels more fulfilling to tell you because you can understand firsthand how I feel. Oh…but if you don't want to hear about it, since it's so depressing…"

"Stop. I don't mind hearin' you out. We only got each other, right?"

It was true that I understood what she meant and how she felt. It felt a little nice to be the only one with that ability.

She took a good look around the shop and I followed; people entered and left the shop as they continued on with their lives. I was confused about what I was supposed to be looking at, whilst she appeared to be contemplating something.

Once she gathered her thoughts, she said, "Every person here has their own unique life, which may make them interesting in their own way. However, amongst everyone here, there's only two people that, while still having unique differences, share quite a similar life… They also just so happen to know each other. For me, I feel like being alike is actually better than being unique, because when we share our experiences, no one but us will understand them completely. We're alike to each other, but different to everyone else. In a strange way, it feels special."

That's when I knew it.

In the world around me – or rather, us – we were the only two in a boat. It became clear to me that we were both rowing with oars in our hands, just at different paces. We started off back-to-back, and maybe she turned to face me, but I hadn't yet. I knew it was finally time for me to meet her face-to-face and row at the same pace. That way, we could flow through a river that only we knew.

I hadn't known for sure, but perhaps that was why she approached me when I moved to her orphanage. Maybe there was another reason, I was curious to see if I would figure it out. But just for that day, I was satisfied with what she told me…or what I told her. In conclusion, what we told each other.