Okurimono

“I was wondering if you wanted to visit Okurimono for the holidays.”

Okurimono. The seaside restaurant belonged to his mother’s side of the family, passed down from generation to generation, or so Takumi liked to imagine. He didn’t really know much about his relatives on the matrilineal line. For seventeen years, his father had never given him reason to want to.

“At least one of you must go,” his father now said, speaking from the other side of Takumi’s laptop. He clutched his hands together, a gesture of pleading to match the sheen in his eyes. 

For weeks, this topic had only been tossed in between texts, as if his father was throwing an idea to wind, testing to see if it would take flight and soar. On his own part, Takumi had done his best to ignore him, scrolling past, pretending not to see whenever it was brought up. Isami—who found the whole thing rather humorous—deflected in his own way, maliciously teasing until their father dropped the subject on his own and moved on to something else.

But now, a call. A meeting to discuss things. A negotiation.

With only a week left till the school term came to a close, Takumi supposed his father was growing desperate. He exchanged a quick, knowing look with Isami.

A sly grin crossed Isami’s face. He smiled down at their father’s sheepish face, framed in the rectangle of Takumi’s screen. “You aren’t worried that by sending one of us, you’ll come across as obvious?”

Promptly, their father blushed. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.”

“You aren’t a subtle man, dad. You really aren’t.”

Their old man huffed, averting his gaze to something neither of them could see. Takumi assumed it was to the view provided by the curved bay windows of his office, throwing the early light of the rising Italian sun into the room. It was the only interesting thing to look at in the old boring box he knew his father’s office to be. The man spent most of his life working in the kitchen located below, and his office reflected that. Save for a few family photographs, and a cabinet embellished with accolades of Trattoria Aldini’s achievements, the only reason to visit his father’s office was for the picture those bay windows overlooked.

Right next to Trattoria Aldini was a park, a spot of green grass and slatted benches and rusty swings that had made up the majority of his and Isami’s childhood. They had learnt to ride their bikes there, training on four wheels around the park’s trails forged by friction. Most of their outdoor birthday parties had taken place on picnic blankets, spread out over the grass carpet, where they’d shared the birthday cakes they’d made for the rest of their friends. Takumi had once fallen in and out of love in that park, both times under a sky of stars, dandelions tickling his neck, one hand full of a boy’s whose heart would never beat for him the same way.

He’d always thought it was a silly thing, to call a location a home. To Takumi, home should have been anywhere. It should have been the other side of the screen, and it should have been this bedroom he temporarily resided in at Totsuki Boarding school. Wherever his father and brother was, that’s where he belonged, right? Yet time after time, Takumi’s heart always returned to the park. To Trattoria Aldini, the family restaurant that would one day be his. To Italia, the country that knew him and at least accepted him for all he was.

A wave of homesickness washed over him.

As far as he was concerned, his contribution to the negotiation had been stressed enough, though he hadn’t said anything else after their greetings. The only reason he was even still sat down was because he was trying to borrow time, eager for something else to do instead of thinking about the school’s next timetabled activity. 

He leaned back on his chair, eyeing the clock on the top of his bedroom door: in ten minutes, it would be midday, and as per Totsuki Academy weekend traditions, the mingling restrictions between the girls and the boys were lifted. To mark the last weekend of the term, a dance had been planned. For a six hour window, all of Totsuki would be in the entertainment hall, mingling.

He listened to his brother and father hash it out, a familiar coil of anxiety making his stomach tighten. 

“I’m just trying to be a good co-parent,” his father was insisting. “It would mean the world to your mother to spend time with you guys.”

“Just be honest,” Isami said. “You know, we’ll be much more open to being exploited if you let us feel like we are in on the secret.”

Their old man looked back at them, affronted. “I am not using you.”

Isami ignored that. “I’m down with helping you get back with Mom. But only if you ask.”

“I— I have no interest in ‘getting back’ with that woman!” Their father stood up, unable to limit his outburst just by sitting. His face was steadily growing red, a sharp contrast to his moustache and grey streaked brown hair. Takumi bit back a smile, amused by this odd rendition of what he too looked like when he was caught in the truth. At least now he knew where he inherited his flair for dramatics from. “She is your mother, and she wants to reconnect. I’m just playing my part in helping her out, there are no ulterior motives.”

“Did she ask you to do this?” Isami leaned in. “Specifically.”

Of course not. Takumi rolled his eyes. She never cared, she doesn’t care. Why start now?

Their father’s pause was telling. “Well, she implied that she would love to see you guys the last time we chatted. It was in between the lines, she was practically begging me to ask you guys!”

“Chatting now, are we?” Isami teased. 

“About you two! We don’t talk about anything else, but you two!”

“If you say so.”

“I am saying so. Remember that you are talking to your father, Isami.”

Isami waved that away, with a flick of his hand. “I know who you are. And I know that it’s not like you to do nice things for no reason.”

Their father sighed. “Aren’t I allowed to support the mother of my children, despite her obvious shortcomings? If she wants to bond with you guys, then—”

“Why do you care?”

Takumi blinked, surprised at the volume of his words. He had meant to mumble it, something for Isami’s ears only to catch on so he could lead the conversation that way. He hadn’t planned the rise in his voice, the way anger laced his tone.

Isami faltered, halfway through his response. He cast a glance at Takumi, brows raised. “Uh…”

Takumi caught his father’s eye on the screen, cursing under his breath at the silence falling in the room. This was why he hadn’t wanted to say anything in the first place. He fumbled for something to save face, opening his mouth again to say something to brush it off. But nothing came up. With a click, his mouth shut again into a thin line.

A scrapping sound emanated from the computer, their father taking his seat again. His hands lifted to form a steeple under his nose, brown eyes fixed on Takumi. There was a faint smile on his face, akin to relief. 

“Isami, can I speak to your brother alone?”

“But—”

“We’ll have our own chat later, I promise.”

Isami looked between the two of them twice more, before relenting. Mumbling a reluctant ‘fine’ under his breath, he stood up from his seat and pushed the chair in. 

He grasped Takumi’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’ll see you at the hall in a few, right?”

Takumi hesitated. “Sure.”

Isami’s arm grew heavy on his arm. “It will be fun. You’ll regret not saying goodbye.”

Their eyes met. Perhaps if his father wasn’t there, he would have started an argument. But perhaps that was why Isami had said it in front of their old man, too. Takumi gave in. “One hour.”

Isami nodded, then threw a wave towards the screen. “Bye, dad! I’ll call you tonight.”

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him as he bounded down the floor to his own dorm room to get ready. Takumi listened to his footsteps, looking at the clock, wishing he was anywhere else.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, he broke first. “Well?”

His father smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

Takumi sighed, deflecting. “I already told you, I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m not going to Okurimono, not if it means staying in Japan.”

“I’m talking about the issue with your mother.”

He stiffened. “She’s not my mother. She’s a stranger.”

“You don’t mean that.”

An irrational irritation bloomed in his chest. “A year ago, you were saying the same thing. So, don’t tell me what I mean and what I don’t.”

With a sigh, his father began. “Look, I understand why you might harbour certain feelings of dislike towards your mother—”

“Not my mom.”

“—I know I probably played a hand in that by encouraging it.”

“You didn’t have to encourage it, she did all that by herself.”

“But, that was my mistake. Regardless of my reasons, that doesn’t mean she deserved to be villainized in your eyes.” His father held his gaze. “Despite everything, she does try to be a good person.”

Takumi narrowed his eyes. “You sound brainwashed.”

“I’m being sincere!”

“No, you are being nice. And Isami’s right, you wouldn’t unless you had other motives.” Whilst Isami had delusions of romance, Takumi knew otherwise. “Are we broke? Do we need her money? Are you trying to sweet-talk her into giving you a couple million?”

“This is real life, Takumi. Not a soap opera.”

“Then someone better be dying.” 

His father opened his mouth, then closed it again. His steepled hands fell away from his face, and folded over the table. Suddenly, he seemed to look as old as he was, his face falling into a look of resignation. 

Takumi blinked. “What?”

It was a long time before his father said anything again. “The doctors say she’s still got some years left.” A pause. “Around five to six years.”

Takumi breathed in sharply. That wasn’t long. He gripped his pants, mouth dry. He was at a loss of what to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.”

His father barked out a short laugh. “Sorry? What are you sorry for, is it your fault?” He grimaced, wiping at his face with a wrinkly hand. “Fuck, I’m bad at this.”

 The quiet enveloped them, awkward and uncomfortable. Not because they had nothing to say, but because all that he could say felt wrong in the air between them. It wasn’t his fault that she was dying, so why did he have to do anything about it? Why did he have to visit her? Why did it take death coming in between them for her to realise that he was even worth getting to know? She’d had seventeen years to try before. 

He mumbled something underneath his breath. His father’s brows rose. “What?”

“I said, you shouldn’t be apologising for her either.”

His father sighed, frowning. “Look, I’m not going to say your mother goes about things the best way. But her heart is in the right place.” He paused, chewing his lip. “I think you should go to Okurimono.”

Takumi’s heart tightened. “I—”

The school siren blared, drowning out anything he could have said. He waited until it stopped ringing, before grabbing the edge of his laptop. “I’ve got to go.”

“Takumi wait,” his father said. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

He faltered. “The school’s throwing a par—”

“Give her the chance to make that apology.”

“Goodbye Dad.” He slammed the laptop shut, before his father could get another word in. Heart thudding in his throat, he shut his eyes and ran over the conversation. Then, he banished it, erasing it from his head. This felt too much, too big for him to deal with.