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Tsumiki barely had any memories left of her mother. She rarely thought of the woman anymore. It had been over a decade since she had abandoned them and disappeared from her life forever. Her mother’s face was nothing but a blur in her memories. And yet… “Tsumiki?”
Megumi had been ready to accept that her mom was never coming back after the third day, Tsumiki had been more hopeful. Every morning she went to the calendar her mom kept on the fridge and marked another day off—keeping track of how many it had been since her mother had been gone. It took until day thirty-five for her to finally accept the truth. “Is that really you?”
She had cried that night—sobbing into her pillow until she tired herself out. Her mom had left them money, but she didn’t know what to do when it eventually ran out. She didn’t know how much the bills for their apartment cost, or how and where to pay them. There was very little she did know. “Who’s that Mommy? Do you know her?”
Somehow her and Megumi had figured things out, at least for a little bit. They were on month three when the little money they had started to get tight, and the bills really started to pile up. Tsumiki had spent every morning counting out the money they had and trying to plan what groceries they needed to buy. “She’s an old friend. Why don’t you go play for a while, Sayuri.”
A week before the money ran dry Satoru had shown up. Tsumiki had been nervous of the strange boy at first, but there had been little choice but to trust him. A week later they were in a new apartment, fully paid for by Satoru, closer to their school, and money was no longer an issue.
Of course, in the following years she continued to think about what had happened to her mother. Sometimes she wondered what had happened to Megumi’s father as well. She had told herself it didn’t matter anymore. They were gone, one way or another. Even if she lingered on it and ruminated on why they had left, she wouldn’t get any answers. She still had Megumi—he was her family. And now they had Satoru as well, no matter how strange and sporadic his presence was in their lives, he was still there in more ways than their parents had ever been.
Now, the acceptance that had come so easy to her before felt like bile in her throat as she watched a little girl with dark hair and hazel eyes run off towards the nearby playground. Her mother was still standing in front of the bench that Tsumiki was sitting on—her expression stuck in a mix of horror and surprise.
Even fourteen years later, she was able to recognize the blurry face from her memories as the woman in front of her. It was hard to have any doubts about the fact given how similar they looked. Tsumiki vaguely remembered she shared a strong resemblance to her mother from the precious few years before her mom had spent with her. She had been proud that she looked just like her mom, she had always wanted to style her hair in a braid like her mom had favored when she was a little girl.
“It really is you?” her mom breathed the words out like she still didn’t believe them. She took a small step forward, before seeming to think better of it and flinching back. “Do you recognise me, it’s—”
“I recognize you, Mom,” Tsumiki’s voice came out rougher than usual, likely a result of the lump that was stuck in her throat.
Her mother’s expression faltered at that, dropping to a grimace, “I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t want to see me, after…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“After you left us,” Tsumiki finished the sentence for her with a tired sigh, slumping back against the bench she was sitting on.
If anything, it was nice to know her mother was alive. As a kid she had convinced herself that her mother must have died, and that was the reason she hadn’t come back to them. A few years later she had felt bad about the fact she had thought such things. There was a part of her that she hated to acknowledge who would have preferred her mother being dead rather than the alternative—that she had really just abandoned them. That she hadn’t loved Tsumiki enough to stay with her.
A few years after she left, Tsumiki felt settled again. That frustration that had driven her to think of something so cruel had vanished. She had started to hope her mom was still out there and doing ok, even if that meant she had chosen to leave Tsumiki behind in order to do so.
Now, that acceptance she had come to terms with was challenged again. Not only was her mother standing in front of her, but she was with a little girl—one who had called her mom.
“I’m sorry,” her mother said in a choked voice, her eyes glancing askance from Tsumiki, unconsciously drifting towards the playground. “You must think I’m a horrible person, and an even worse mother.”
Tsumiki wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Was her mother asking for sympathy? Tsumiki wasn’t sure if she would be able to give her the response she wanted. She still held sympathy for her mother. She had seen her working ten hour days, meticulously counting the money every time she got paid, and crying to herself in her room some nights. The walls were thin in their old apartment, every noise carried.
Clearly her mother had problems of her own to deal with, but it was little comfort to Tsumiki during the months she spent terrified and alone. Those days spent watching as the money that was left to them slowly ran out, and wondering how she was supposed to keep her and Megumi alive once it finally did.
“I don’t think you’re a horrible person,” Tsumiki eventually found the words to answer. She didn’t think it was possible to sort people so definitively into categories such as ‘horrible’. And even if you could, she still felt it wasn’t her job to do so. Maybe it was a childish naivety still lingering inside her that wanted to believe her mother had some reason to never come back for her. Even after living twenty-one years on this Earth and knowing that sometimes people don’t have a good reason to do something, she still tried to give others the benefit of the doubt before assuming otherwise.
“No, no!” her mother said, waving her hands as she spoke. “You don’t have to lie. You have every right to hate me for how much I failed you as your mother.”
“I don’t hate you,” Tsumiki sighed, feeling as though she was the one comforting her mother, even though it should be the other way around given the circumstances.
“How could you not?” Her mother said with a self-deprecating shake of her head and tears in her eyes. “I left you all on your own. I just couldn’t take it anymore—all the work, the stress, isolation. I just needed to get away before it made me go insane,” she rambled on.
Tsumiki didn’t interrupt to say anything, most of it was stuff she already assumed. Even though she was young, she knew her mom wasn’t the most present parent to begin with—and it only became worse over the years. She would get home from work and collapse in her room with a miserable expression on her face. On her days off she had sometimes taken them to the park when she first married Toji. After a few months she stopped bothering. Her days away from work were spent smoking on the rickety metal terrace, or locked in her room. She would join them for meals at Tsumiki’s urging, but even then she rarely spoke, when she did it was usually because she was scolding them over something that had annoyed her. Tsumiki had thought her mom’s job was just stressing her out, so she made sure the house was as tidy as possible and every meal was cooked so she wouldn’t have to worry about chores when she got home.
As she got older and looked back on those days, she had realized that her efforts did little to help. Her mother wouldn’t eat some days unless Tsumiki cajoled her into it. She had always been upset—Tsumiki didn’t even remember what her smile looked like. The entirety of the last year her mother spent with them was done in misery.
Truthfully her mom had mentally left them long before she physically did, and as Tsumiki matured she found her own solace in understanding that her mother was dealing with things that Tsumiki didn’t have much power to fix. It wasn’t just because she was a bad daughter that her mother had left—at least that was what she told herself.
“I did plan to come back!” Her mother suddenly exclaimed, almost frantic as she tried to get Tsumiki to understand something she had already figured out by the time she was eight years old. “I even went back to my parents to ask for some financial support, but they were angry I had you out of wedlock, and they were even more mad to learn that my second husband left me with another child to care for. I swore I was never going to return there when I was pregnant with you, but I did to try and get us some stability. I did it for you kids, I tried—”
“Mom,” Tsumiki said, seeing the way her mom’s hands were shaking. “You don’t need to explain. I know things were hard on you.”
Things had been hard on her and Megumi too. Tsumiki knew she had a right to be mad about it, even if her mother had been struggling in her own right. She just didn’t see how her anger would change anything. It wasn’t as if it would make her feel better to simmer in resentment over the childhood that had been robbed from her. She didn’t want to waste her time being upset over the past—not when she had managed to find so much happiness in the life she was living now.
She had never known her biological father, her step-father had left them, and then her mother had followed suit. Despite that, Tsumiki had never lacked for family. Megumi had always been more than enough to fit that role in her life. She had friends who she could rely on. She had a partner who loved her and welcomed her into his own family. And, even if he was gone now, for a time she had Satoru. She never could quite figure out what he was to her and Megumi. He had saved them, there was no doubt about that, but he was often too busy to hang around for long. When he did, it felt more like she was interacting with another kid than an adult. He wasn’t a parent to them, but he was something else—something special. She hadn’t minded, Tsumiki had plenty of experience with parents, and none of them had ended well for her, she was happy with Satoru just being Satoru.
“No, please, Tsumiki, you have to let me explain. You have to know,” her mom begged. She paused to mumble to herself in a mournfully reminiscent voice—quiet enough Tsumiki knew it wasn’t necessarily for her to hear. “Oh, my good girl, always so forgiving.”
Tsumiki closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, unsure of why that one comment from her mom hurt more than anything else that had been revealed tonight. Her mom took a deep breath to prepare herself before speaking again. “I did come back—to the apartment,” she clarified.
That revelation was the first time Tsumiki was surprised by something her mother said. She stared at her and waited for her to elaborate. “You weren’t there. I asked around to see if anyone knew where you and Megumi had gone, but they all told me you hadn’t lived there for a few years. I wanted to fix things, that’s why I went looking for you. I knew I was far too late, but I was going to try anyway. And then you two weren’t there, and if I was a good mom I would have searched everywhere for you, but I—” she quickly wiped tears in her eyes, before continuing. “I gave up. I think a part of me hoped you two wouldn’t be there in the first place. I had only just managed to feel like I was a functioning person again, and I knew that if you were my responsibility again I’d just end up back where I started.”
Tsumiki took in her mother’s confession with a mix of emotions. Given that they hadn’t lived in that apartment for years by the time her mom returned, that must mean it was at least four or five since she left by the time she finally decided to check on them again. The money left to them would have run out a dozen times over and then some in that timespan. How did her mom expect the two of them to make it on their own?
We did, Tsumiki reminded herself. Even if they hadn’t had Satoru’s help, she would have found a way to make sure they survived. “We managed on our own,” Tsumiki said, feeling as though her mother needed to hear it. Even if she might not deserve it, she needed it, and Tsumiki was not cruel enough to withhold that information.
Her mom bit her lip until the skin turned white, as she nodded shakily, “I’m so glad.”
She didn’t ask Tsumiki how they made it on their own. A part of her wondered whether her mom was scared to ask and have definitive proof of how much they had struggled after she left. Tsumiki didn’t offer up any further explanation either, talking about Satoru and what he had done for them just opened a bag of worms that would be hard to explain.
After a few moments of awkward silence, her mother spoke again. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” Tsumiki answered without hesitation. “I’m happy.”
“Good, good,” Her mom mumbled, nodding along to her words. “And Megumi?”
Tsumiki smiled to herself, “Happy,” she answered. He had been through so much, and Tsumiki hadn’t been able to be there for him through a lot of it, but he had made it out the other side without her help. She was happy he had so many people around him now that he could rely on. When they were younger she had worried he wouldn’t give others the chance to know him like she did—to see how kind and selfish he was. When she had woken up from her coma she had learned her brother had a whole network of people like that around him now.
It was a relief to know she didn’t have to worry that he hadn’t been supported in the years she had been asleep.
The silence returned and Tsumiki shifted in her seat uncomfortably, feeling she needed to say something. “We’re both doing ok, if you were worrying about us, there’s no need to anymore,” she told her mom in a quiet voice.
Her mom made a choked sound, clearly sensing the distance behind the words. “Look, Tsumiki, I know I really messed up with you. I was young when I had you, and I definitely wasn’t ready to be a mom, and you were the one to suffer for it,” she sniffled. “But you deserve better, I should’ve done better with you. Even if I can’t change that, I can make up for it now—”
Tsumiki knew where this was going and she quickly glanced around the park, hoping to catch sight of the person she was waiting for. “Mommy!” the little girl from before exclaimed, her shouts drowning out her mother’s words as she ran over with a bright smile. “Are you done talking to your friend yet? We’re gonna be late to pick up Daddy from work?”
Her mom’s face fell for a moment before she put a strained smile on her face. “In a moment Sayuri,” she told the girl with a tired sigh. “And this is—”
Finally, Tsumiki perked up as she saw a familiar face walking her way. “I’m sorry for taking up your mommy’s time,” Tsumiki told the little girl with a soft smile as she noted the dirt staining her pant legs from playing. She couldn’t be older than five. “My friend is here, so I have to get going now.”
“Tsumiki,” her mother breathed out her name like a plea and Tsumiki’s heart clenched.
She managed to give her mom a tense smile, “I’m glad you found happiness too,” Tsumiki told her, even if her heart still ached with years of buried pain as she did.
When Tsumiki tried to leave, her mom grabbed her arm with a guilty expression. “Wait—” she fumbled in her pocket, pushing around keys and a pack of cigarettes until she came across what she was looking for.
She pulled out a pen and a paper wrapper to a piece of candy and quickly scribbled some numbers on it before offering it to Tsumiki. “Here. If you ever need anything— or you want to meet Sayuri properly…”
“What’s today?” Tsumiki asked at her mom’s sudden offer.
“Huh?” Her mom froze at the strange question. “It’s May 25th, why?”
Tsumiki reached out and took the wrapper from her mother’s hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied politely, which brought a relieved expression to her mother’s face.
Noritoshi had slowed as he approached them, clearly confused by who Tsumiki’s mom was and why things seemed so tense between them. Her mom still seemed a little confused by Tsumiki’s question from before, but she didn’t say anything as other than a brief goodbye as Tsumiki took her leave.
“Who was that?” Noritoshi asked her curiously as she walked over to join him.
“My mother,” she said with a sigh.
“What?” Nortoshi’s choked out response came immediately and his head whirled around to stare at the woman that Tsumiki had just walked away from.
He turned back to her with a troubled expression. “My parents can wait if you want to talk to her longer, there’s no need to rush.”
“It’s ok, I was ready to be done with the conversation long before you showed up,” Tsumiki sighed, toying with a loose strand of her hair in an effort to distract herself from the uncofmrotable feeling that talking about her mother always caused.
Noritoshi stared at her for a few moments before glancing back towards where her mom was still trying to wrangle her daughter to listen to her. “If you’re sure,” he said, seeming hesitant to bridge the topic with her, but also hesitant to leave things as they are now.
Tsumiki nodded quickly, “I’m sure,” she promised him.
“Ok,” her shoulders slumped in relief when Noritoshi accepted her decision without any further questioning.
He knew enough about her mother to know that it was a subject that Tsumiki didn’t like to settle on for long. Meeting the woman face to face again after so many years was emotionally draining, and Tsumiki wasn’t ready to unpack that conversation in the middle of the sidewalk at the park. She could talk to Noritoshi about it later, he’d no doubt bring it up again. And she would certainly need to mention it to Megumi, but for now she just wanted to enjoy her birthday without feeling like she was about to cry.
Noritoshi handed over the bouquet in his hands, quickly distracting her from her spiraling thoughts. She felt her smile widen the moment she took the bouquet of sunflowers and lilies from him. She cradled it in one arm, leaving a hand free so she could take Noritoshi’s hand.
“It’s so beautiful, thank you” she smiled brightly, examining the bouquet. There were some Zinnia flowers sparsped throughout the sunflowers and lilies—all her favorites.
“I’m glad. The employee at the floral shop looked at me strangely when I told her what I wanted. She asked if I wouldn’t just prefer some roses,” Noritoshi admitted bashfully. “I was worried they don’t pair as well as I hoped.”
“Well they were wrong, I think they go together wonderfully—both in meaning and in appearance,” Tsumiki reassured him.
“Happy birthday, Miki,” he told her softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before the two of them began walking towards the restaurant where they planned to have dinner.
Tsumiki grabbed the crumpled up wrapper with her mom’s phone number, which she had shoved in her pocket, and dropped it into a trash can as they passed. It felt like a weight was taken from her shoulders the moment she did. Part of her had wanted to wait and discuss with Megumi before getting rid of the number, but she already knew what his opinion on the matter would be anyway.
Her mom’s offer was one made out of lingering guilt more than the genuine desire to be present in their lives again—Tsumiki was sure of that. She had a new life where she seemed to be living comfortably, the last thing she probably wanted was a painful reminder of her past failures knocking at the door of her perfect new family.
Tsumiki had no desire to drag up bad memories any more than she already had either. She had her family. She was rich in love from the people around her. A clean break was the best thing for everyone involved. Even thinking it, Tsumiki knew it wasn’t as easy as she imagined it would be. No doubt she would be stuck thinking about her mother much more than she wanted in the upcoming weeks and months.
For tonight, she tried to forget about everything other than Noritoshi’s hand in hers and how wonderful her day had been up until that fated meeting in the park.
“Miki!” Narumi ducked under his mother’s arms to rush over and give her a tight hug once her and Noritoshi arrived outside the restaurant to meet up with his parents. She smiled as she squeezed him back tightly before letting go and allowing him to give Noritoshi a hug next.
“I think you’re becoming his favorite,” Noritoshi commented as he smiled softly at his little brother.
“He just doesn’t see me as often as he sees you,” Tsumiki pointed out with a small chuckle.
“Nope, Miki’s totally my favorite right now, it’s her birthday after all!” Narumi declared as he pushed his way to walk between the two of them.
Tsumiki grinned and gave Noritoshi a teasing smile, “You heard him, the birthday girl gets to be the favorite.”
“Yeah!” Narumi agreed readily, “Don’t worry Toshi, you’re still my favorite too!”
Noritoshi chuckled fondly, “Well, I’m glad I haven’t been completely ousted from your ranking.”
“Tsumiki,” Hasumi said fondly as she pulled Tsumiki into a tight embrace—mindful of not crushing the large bouquet still situated in the crook of her elbow. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen you, sweetheart. How have your studies been? You haven’t been working yourself too hard have you? Noritoshi has been treating you well?”
“Mother, at least let us get inside before you start grilling her with questions,” Noritoshi said fondly before accepting a hug from his mom as well.
Hasumi clicked her tongue, “Ok, ok, but you two need to come around more often.”
“They were over at the house last week, Honey,” Noritoshi’s step-father, Masayoshi, told her gently. “The kids are busy these days.”
“I’d love to stop by more often,” She promised Hasumi.
Noritoshi’s mom pinched her cheek affectionately, “Such a sweet girl, my son got so lucky with you.”
Tsumiki was surprised by the sudden comment and how kind it was, but she managed to nod in return anyway. She didn’t know why the remark almost brought tears to her eyes again, maybe it was the recent reminder of her own mother.
“You’ll have to bring your brother next time too, it’s about time I meet the boy we’ve heard so much about,” Masayoshi added as they entered the restaurant.
“He’s been wanting to meet you guys as well. Our schedules just haven’t matched up well until now. I spent the morning and afternoon with him, but he had a mission in the evening so he wasn’t able to come to dinner tonight,” she explained.
“Is he fighting the monsters like Toshi does?” Narumi grinned brightly, making a gesture like he was swinging an invisible sword.
Tsumiki nodded. She still worried for Megumi, especially after waking up from her coma to learn she had missed two years of his life where he had been getting into trouble without her. But he had grown a lot stronger than the scrappy kid she remembered from middle school. He was all grown-up now, sometimes it felt like even more than she was. Half a decade after waking up from her coma and she still felt like she was catching up for the years she missed.
“I’ll talk to him when he gets home and we’ll plan a time to visit,” She promised as they took their seats.
Hasumi might not be her mother, but it felt like the woman was more of one than she had ever had in her life. She had heard about her situation from Noritoshi and why she had to leave him as kid to escapet the clan that tormented her. Noritoshi had only reconnected with her in his teenage years. When she had encountered her mother today for a split second the thought that she could do the same had crossed her mind and just as quickly been discarded. Their situations simply hadn’t been the same. If things ever got hard again, Tsumiki had no doubt that her mother wouldn’t stick around. She was a survivor, and she knew when she had to cut her losses. Unfortunately Tsumiki had been one of those losses, and she didn’t think she could put herself in the position to risk going through that again. Tsumiki was happy with the family she had built for herself.