Tick, Tick, Tick.
The clock goes. It's 5:27 PM.
According to Mrs. Ito's list of exercises, I created a schedule of lessons. Ushijima and I's first tutoring lesson begins at 5:30.
I've made sure twice this week that Mother won't be home tonight, she'll flip if she sees I have a guest. Especially when it's a boy.
I wanted to go to a library, but I couldn't risk being seen with my pills. I'm afraid of leaving home, afraid of passing out, afraid to face the world.
I've tidied my room and gotten rid of anything unusual or distracting, like my photos or posters. I tried. Practically dusted every inch and crevice of the room. Not to mention the printed passage, notes, file, papers, even extra papers for literature I got from the internet that are all sitting in groups on the desk.
I'm wearing baggy jeans and a blue t-shirt. Nothing special.
I take my evening dose of medication, hiding the bottles in my desk right after. I make some tea to make him feel welcome. It's the first time I have a proper guest without Mother's instructions. It sits on the side of the desk steaming.
Abruptly, the bell rings. Just in time. I hurriedly walk to the door, take a deep breath, and open it gently.
"Hello," he says.
"Welcome." Should I smile? Would that be a bit creepy?
He walks in, leaving his shoes by the door.
I can tell he is ready, the way his eyes don't look as exhausted. I put my hands together, the corners of my lips twist upwards. I say, pointing, "The restroom is down the hall, and the kitchen is over there if you'd like a snack. Make yourself at home!"
He nods slightly but I understand right away.
"Follow me."
We go up the stairs in pure silence. I open the door to my room, allowing him to enter first.
He walks in, still silent, and takes a seat. I sit next to him. I slowly pick up his tea cup and hand it to him.
"Oh, thank you."
He takes it and sips some, I can only nod.
The key to helping anyone improve is to start with a basic introduction to begin processing the topic. I begin,
"Before we start, I want to introduce you a bit more to understanding literature."
I continue, becoming more and more enthusiastic about it. He seems to pay more attention to my introduction.
"Understanding literature takes time and lots of inspection. You need to primarily look at the phrase itself. Whether it's a line of poetry or a story, you need to read thoroughly. After you read, you need to look for devices and identify their purpose."
I go on. He seems more relaxed after I give him this introduction.
"I'll give you an example. Let's say that you're reading a passage talking about someone that's recovering and they mention how that person will bloom."
I look around for something symbolic.
"There's a flower, a lavender. My favorite."
I point to the tied lavender bundle in the little white vase in the corner of my room. I reach for it and ask,
"What do you think it'll possibly mean?"
Completely puzzled, he says,
"I'm not sure."
"They are using the verb bloom to compare the person to a flower. Humans can't bloom. They can grow or recover. Do you know what I mean?" I continue. He nods.
"I've got the passage we're analyzing with Mrs. Ito and a bunch of other things to practice with. We'll go read them and analyze. Gradually, it'll get easier. If you don't understand something, tell me right away. Does that sound good?"
"Okay."
I smile at the feeling that races through my veins. It feels like time has stopped and taken a turn back to the past. It also feels like I waved goodbye to him a moment ago.
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I arrive at the given address to Takahashi's home. 5:29 PM, I read on my sports watch. I stand outside the door that reads 'Takahashi Family Residence.'
There's a metal gate, dark in color, with a short porch. There's a little flower bed. I go up the step. Wondering what I should say, I just ring the bell.
All I can muster up is a basic hello. She, on the other hand, is very welcoming. She's always been like that. Her blue shirt compliments her hair.
I leave my shoes at the door. She shows me the restroom and the kitchen, successfully making me feel at home.
We walk up the stairs and head to her room, taking our seats at her desk. It's clear she prepared very carefully for this lesson, she even made tea. It's very warm, like the smile she gives every now and then.
Green tea. I taste honey.
I look at her room, in just a glance, it really reflects her. The simplicity and neatness.
She begins speaking in an accustomed tone as she introduces me to the topic. That ordinary tone became extraordinarily enthusiastic.
Her passion towards literature is something I've never seen in anyone. She goes on and elaborates on the topic she can make a child understand. The way she gives a perfect example so effortlessly is enough to impress. It makes that spark in her eye grow. It's contagious. She even incorporates herself into it, she mentions that lavenders are her favorite flowers, like the ones in the small white vase.
"What do you think it'll possibly mean?"
I have no clue. I really don't.
"I'm not sure."
She explains it and I swear I see a glimmer in her eyes again. So entertaining, it makes her prettier, if I'm being honest with myself.
"If you don't understand something tell me right away. Does that sound good?" She reassures me so fondly.
"Okay."
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Author: p a s s i o n