A glance out of the window showed the sun melting into a red sky. The red soaked into the blue that still bordered the horizon and slowly turned it violet. Hanami watched the scene with an unchanging expression. Her thoughts first went with the birds that flew homewards and then drifted into another evening. That one was indigo and full of stars. He touched her cheek and she saw the light rings in his eyes. Something passed between them but wasn't acknowledged. At the memory, her heart beat uneasily, with a heaviness, a slight melancholy.
It was Yukino's hand on her desk that roused her from the unending stream of thoughts.
"Don't plan to go home?"Yukino asked.
Hanami rose, gathered her belongings and pushed them into the small space of her bag. When a book refused to fit in, she gave it an irritated shove. Yukino raised a brow. Hanami noticed the expression, but did not explain herself. The two bowed to the elderly math teacher still present in the staff room and stepped out.
A breeze blew in silence, raking along the papery petals of the cherry blossom trees on the grounds. A boy and a girl stood beneath one, giggling with the naivete that high schoolers possess. Hanami turned her gaze ahead. The shadow of the gates stretched and morphed with her own fading one and for one passing moment, it left hers imprisoned.
"You're quiet,"said Yukino.
Hanami pushed her hands into her pocket and shrugged her shoulders. "Just tired."
"Well, if tired makes you take out your anger on books, I suggest you take rest." Yukino gave her a smile- the kind that is meant to be sympathetic rather than affectionate-and went her way. Hanami watched her stride down the road until it turned at a bend and disappeared.
Yukino was in her thirties. With her heart broken thrice, she had given up on the 'business of dating and relationships that was more a risk than gain' and chose instead to be a loving owner of a parakeet that went by the name Ai. As she stepped down the road, Hanami tried to imagine herself in her position but couldn't. She wasn't strong on her own and needed people. That, she disliked the most about herself.
Lost in thought, she wandered down the road. She bought herself a steaming can of tea and aimlessly stood by the corner, watching people. An office man scratching his nose as he stood waving for a taxi, an old lady with her grandson who was far too enthusiastic for her slow steps, self conscious high school students, a young couple walking hand in hand. She listened in on their conversations, the sound of cars buzzing past, the echo in the train station and slowly but surely, the thoughts in her head stilled. Arata was right. It was freeing to lose oneself.
Grocery in hand, when Hanami walked out of the elevator, she found a woman standing near their apartment. Tall, slightly older, long hair. No one that she knew. She drew closer to the door and took out the keys. Hearing the jiggle of metal, the woman glanced at her. Both stared at each other for a second. Then Hanami ventured, "Are you looking for someone?"
"Yes,"said the woman, gaze taking her in from head to toe. "Doesn't Mr Arata Miyama live here?"
"Yes, he comes home late."
"...You know him?"
Hanami gained an annoyed flush in her cheek, tired of having to answer the same questions over and over. The door unlocked and so did the woman's expression.
"Oh, my bad. You just didn't seem like..."
"It's alright." Hanami motioned to the door. "Why don't you step in?"
"Oh, I hope I am not intruding."
With the woman sitting daintily on the sofa silence settled again, thin like the layer that stretched over the surface of milk tea. Over the rim of her cup, Hanami observed the graceful guest. A key chain attached to the woman's bag caught her eye.
"That's a cute little violin,"she said, trying to strike up a conversation. "It looks pretty."
The woman smiled. "It's supposed to be a cello. I'm a cellist."
"That's interesting." Hanami smiled back, trying to remember whether the man had ever mentioned a cellist. He hadn't. "I thought you were Arata's colleague,"she said.
"I am not. Now, I won't press on your time anymore. I have a favor to ask." She dug into her bag and held out a white envelope. "Would you pass this on to your husband?"
Hanami looked at the envelope questioningly.
"It's a cheque. He had lent me some money and I intend to return it back."
"Then would you like to wait? He'd be here in an hour or two. You could give it to him yourself."
She shook her head. "I'd rather not. I have somewhere to be."
Hanami nodded and received the envelope. Sweeping a hand over her skirt, the woman rose. "Now, if you'll excuse me. "
Placing the envelope on the coffee table, Hanami rose and walked Ayano to the door, watching the beautiful hair sway as the woman disappeared at the bend of the staircase. The very next moment, her eyes grew wide. She rushed out and peeped over the banister of the staircase catching the white of the woman's dress.
"Excuse me!"
The woman who was close to the last few steps looked up.
Hanami asked, "Your name...?"
A smile drew to her lips. "Ayano Nijima."
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Arata stepped to the door of their apartment, reached for the keys, then recalling something, took away the cigarette hanging between his lips. He pressed the burning end to the sole of his shoe. The bright orange flame turned gray and went off. He tossed the butt in his pocket-better than Hanami catching him with that 'tutting teacher' expression of hers.
When he stepped in, the house was cozily dark. The slightly warm toned darkness as opposed to the cold blue shadows of winter. He found her asleep on the couch. The television was left on as the only source of light in the room. He sighed, deposited his coat on the back of a chair and turned it off. A comfortable quietness descended. Thick and deep, except for the low, rhythmic breathing coming from the woman. Tugging the cuffs of his shirt, he stood by the head of the couch. His gaze flitted around the room. It struck him out of nowhere that she'd made changes to the apartment to accomodate them both. The coffee table shifted, the lamps were placed in different spots and the lights she'd put on for christmas were still stuck to the window. And he hadn't even noticed all these months.
Half amused, his gaze drew towards Hanami. Her face framed by wispy bangs was serene. A bit of drool glinted at the corner of her mouth threatening to dampen the pillow beneath. His eyes turned soft at the sight.
Arata knelt before her. Closer, he saw the tiny freckles dotting her cheek, lending that pale blush she always seemed to possess except when she flustered. Then the pink would blossom to a red. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb along the corner of her lips, rubbing away the wetness.
"What are you thinking of, hmm? You'll make a puddle here."
The lashes flickered. Arata withdrew his hand, but her eyes did not open. Instead, she turned away from him and curled into a ball. He sighed, brought her a blanket and covered her upto the chin. Satisfied that the woman wasn't cold, he warmed up the dinner she'd left and returned to sit by the couch instead of the dinner table. Halfway, he caught sight of the envelope on the coffee table.
Next evening, Hanami recieved an invitation from Arata. He spoke in the same dull tone as he had when he'd told her about the 'family summon'. This time it was a company function.
"What would I do there?"she asked, "I don't know anyone there. What if you disappear with one of your colleagues?"
"I won't. Just stand, smile and dance-- if we have to."
She grew even more opposed to the idea. "You know I can't dance if my life depended on it."
"I know. You've given me an example once." He gave her a caustic smile. "But I can't go alone now that the 'married' label is stuck to my head. It looks bad on me."
"I'm not sure about this..."
"I told you once I'll teach you. Maybe the time has come."
When she saw him rise, Hanami crossed her hands and leaned back in her chair. He offered her a hand.
She shook her head in a no.
He sighed. "It isn't too difficult. How about we give it a try?"
The words had no effect on Hanami. She cast her gaze to the floor, wishing he'd leave her alone.
"Alright, let's make a deal." Arata knelt before her. "You come with me, and I give you something you want."
That made her look up. Her dark eyes rested on him. She thought of the torn envelope in the waste basket and the cellist.
"Don't go back on your word,"she said, and placed a hand in his. "And don't make fun of me."
Arata nodded, lifting her up and out of the chair. For a passing moment, she saw a hint of an amused smile on his lips.
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