“Do you really believe that?”
“Of course. The cranes at the Kyoiku Hakubutsukan have shown us the follies of the world beyond the door. A village such as ours could never exist in such chaos. The blinding lights of that world have hidden all their stars. The Shiikuin may notcome here, but every villager is grateful for their service. Who else would collect and keep the birds?”
Another gong sounded, more thunderous than the first, charging the air with an energy Keishin could feel in his bones. The villagers raised their kites over their shoulders, and row after row they ran into the field, trying to catch the wind. Keishin watched them coax their kites higher. The kites glowed as they climbed, and for a moment, Keishin thought that they had caught fire. One by one, they rose into the sky, flying higher than any conceivable string could let them. More than a hundred kites twinkled against the canvas of night, diving and swirling, forming constellations Keishin longed to name. And when every kite had found its place, the villagers cut their strings, leaving Keishin to stand beneath a sparkling canopy of an entire world’s hopes. “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Keishin said, craning his neck to take it all in.
“Ah.” Fumiko smiled. “You do not have children?”
“No, I don’t. Why do you ask?”
“Because if you had children, then this sky would only be the second most beautiful thing you would have seen,” Fumiko said. “This is something that you and Hana will understand when you become parents.”
“Hana isn’t…I mean we aren’t…uh…”
“I’m sorry. Please forgive this old woman for her foolish tongue. I did not realize that there were no children written over your and your wife’s skin. But we must trust the map the Horishi has given us.”
“Uh…yes.” Keishin nodded. “We must.”
“Some people are simply not fated to have children. Like me.”
Keishin frowned. “But you have children. We met them at your home.”
“They are my sister’s. When she died, I raised them and loved them as my own. And they have loved me,” Fumiko said. “As much as they could. There were many nights when they lay next to me and cried for their real mother until they fell asleep. Even though the stars lit up the village’s sky, those were the darkest nights I ever had. And yet, I could not help but feel that I deserved it.”
“Deserved it?”
“I had sent up a hope that had no place among the stars. I hoped for children even if there was no trace of a single child’s name on my skin. When my sister’s children were placed in my care, I could not help but feel that somehow, I had stolen her fate.” Fumiko looked up at the sky. “There is no greater misery than holding in your arms something that you know is not truly yours. In the worst of times, I thought that I would have preferred to have traded places with my sister.”
“Why?”
“Because death is kind and swift. Longing is a life sentence. But of course, things are better now and I—”
“ ‘A life sentence.’ ” Keishin repeated Fumiko’s words, not realizing he had said them out loud.
“Did you say something?” Fumiko asked.
“I…I’m sorry. I need to go.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Tuna Casserole, a Blue Tie, and a Stranger in a Box
If he had passed away in Japan, he would have been dressed in white. But Keishin’s father had died thousands of miles from his old home, and in this place, the dead wore suits that made them look as though they were dressed for a job interview.
Keishin’s father had never worn a suit in his life, and his stepmother had spent hours at the sales rack trying to choose between a gray suit with a black tie or a pinstripe suit with a blue one. If she had asked for Keishin’s opinion, he would have told her that it didn’t matter. The man in the coffin was going to look like a stranger either way. Cancer had made a feast of his father, gnawing at him until all that was left was skin and bones. His stepmother finally selected the pinstripe and blue tie option when the sales clerk told her that it was an additional 20 percent off. The other thing that appeared to be on sale that week was tuna. After the fourth tuna casserole from one of their neighbors had been squeezed into the refrigerator, Keishin was almost certain that by the end of the week, he was going to sprout gills.
Keishin picked at his third tuna casserole dinner in a row, counting down the forkfuls until he could dive into the latest book he had borrowed from the library, a yellowing copy of Stephen Hawking’sA Brief History of Time.
“You don’t have to finish it,” his stepmother said without looking up from her own untouched plate.
Keishin stared at her, trying to process what he had just heard. Those words had never been uttered in their home when his father was alive. Hearing them might have killed him faster than his cancer had. His father loved many things about his new homeland, but the amount of food that he saw thrown away each day at the restaurant he worked in made him gnash his teeth.
“I’ll finish it.” Keishin shoved a forkful of the tasteless casserole into his mouth.
“Things don’t have to stay the same,” his stepmother said. “If you don’t want them to.”
Keishin swallowed without chewing. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she said. “I know that you have tried your best to accept me as your new mother when your father and I got married. I appreciated that. Truly. But your father is gone now. You don’t have to pretend for his sake or mine. I would rather that we be honest with each other than polite. Perhaps, that way, we can even learn to be friends.”
