AIR by Caroline Allen

Author:Caroline Allen [Allen, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Booktrope Editions
Published: 2015-12-10T00:00:00+00:00

The house itself was a witness to the older Usui’s soul. But he gave up his spirit for what he thought was his duty. All these people thinking they were doing good, when in fact they were destroying themselves and hurting the rest of us.

“We die if we not strong. Whole nation must be strong.” Usui senior raised his voice. “It is life or death. We begin with children.”

The children would learn or he would beat it into them. We’d run enough stories in the Kaze. I couldn’t understand the harsh stories of Japanese teachers, beatings and more beatings until Shinji gave me a history lesson. Schools in Japan prior to World War II were military recruiting grounds, often with military personnel as teachers. It gave some context to the brutality. Who was I to judge? I’d had my own brutality with the nuns at Holy Cross.

I guess I thought other cultures would be better than what I grew up with. I was the opposite of ethnocentric. What did they call it? Xenocentric? I thought every culture had to be better than Missouri. Apparently, it just wasn’t true.

A white glow on the table beside me caught my eye. I reached for it. It was an origami crane. It was made by my Usui. I held it by the delicate wing, and my heart sang for him, for his spirit, for his desire to fly.

The elder Usui stood in front of me. I looked up. He said something hard and fast in Japanese. Shinji shook his head with grave disappointment. The mother rushed into the room.

Shinji said, “He know where he met you. He says from the mission. You know his son, Genji. He want to know real reason for you at his house.” Shinji’s shoulders slumped, as if someone had just dumped a bucket of shame on his head.

Usui senior towered above me. I scooted away and stood, still holding the paper bird. “Yes, I know Genji.”

“Why you here?” Usui senior’s face turned red. He had spittle on his chin.

“I’m friends with Genji. I’m sorry for the false pretenses. I just wanted to see…”

“Where he? You know where?”

The mother grabbed Shinji’s arm, frantically speaking in Japanese. Shinji translated for her. “Where is my son? Where is my son?”

“I saw him in Ohtemachi in Tokyo several weeks ago,” I said.

The mother ran toward the hallway, then ran back, as if she didn’t know if she should run to get her son, or wait to hear more.

I hurriedly added, “He’s not there anymore. He moved on. I went back several times.”

“What you mean? What this mean moved on?”

I swallowed. “He’s homeless.”

“Homeless?” the father barked. Shinji translated for the mother, who held her stomach, moaned and sunk to the floor.

“Homeless?” Usui senior spun around the room, looking upward. “Homeless?” He continued to spin, holding up his arms to the ceiling. “Homeless? Homeless?” Then his shoulders sank. “I am no home for my son?” He sat on the chair, defeated. His wife rocked back and forth on her heels.

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