[story] 10:00 am
author: atsumi (atsumi)
email: suukasi [at] gmail.com
I have to see Ida off today, he says quietly in his mind as he awakens. He forces himself to open his eyes. The spring morning is tranquil, but he feels a bout of loneliness clinging to him. There is little energy in his body as he leaves the bed; his legs are weak, clumsy, and his mind is still drowsy from sleep. Hoping a little sunshine will wake him up, he parts his light red curtains.
The glare he receives in return hurts his eyes, and he winces at the pain that shoots through his head. He recovers in time before the door opens, and Ida walks in unannounced. She lingers at the entrance, looking around for him when she sees the empty bed. When she sees him clutching the curtains tightly in his hand and his eyes looking down and watering, she smiles with relief. "This is a pleasant surprise. You're awake already." Her voice is almost foreign to him. It's a clear bell-like sound; he remembers it differently.
He looks at her strangely for a moment. He can't identify her face. Was it always that pale? Ida. Ida. It's Ida, he reminds himself and he wrinkles his brow at his bewildering thoughts.
"What's wrong?" Her voice is laced with concern. He hears her footsteps coming toward him.
He looks up when he feels a hand settling on his shoulders, rubbing up and down to soothe him. He can feel the warmth radiating from her touch even through his pajama shirt. He smiles at her. "Nothing. The sun's just a bit too bright today is all."
Ida doesn't question him, but laughs and pats his back before retracting her hand. "Breakfast is ready when you are," she says in her strange voice. "I'll be downstairs." She leaves the room, and he stares after her.
His skin immediately longs for that warmth again.
At their mother's funeral, Ida cries. Not loud heavy sobs, but silent ones. They're even worse. He looks on with a pained expression, shedding no tears himself, but wishing he could be able to cry like her. He attempts to soothe her tears by awkwardly hugging her, but her tears pours out quicker. He's rewarded with a dark wet spot on his suit. It doesn't bother him; Ida's sudden burst of emotion bothers him.
Ida had never been an overly emotional child when they grew up. She was the older sibling, and she had believed she was the one to set the examples for him. Growing up, he had been the crybaby of the two. The scraped knees, that swollen ankle, and the countless bee stings had been soothed by her caring words and gentle attention. That was how he saw her.
But now she looks strangely small sitting next to him. Her face is raw and red because her hands wipes at her eyes constantly. As she attempts to wipe her eyes again, he stops her and hands his handkerchief to her. She lets out a choked sob and looks up at him. She looks younger today, he realizes. He remembers how she was the one who always gave him reassurance. She's now looking to him for words of comfort.
"It's going to be all right, Ida." The words feel foreign on his tongue and she looks at him for a moment before her eyes travel to their mother's casket. He sees the years fade from her twentysomething-year-old body.
"I'll take care of you in place of Mom." Her voice is small and trembling. "After all," she looks at him with dried eyes, and there was something missing he could not place. "We only have each other now."
"I told you we didn't have to arrive so early," Ida says jokingly. He's carrying her suitcase as they walk into the train station. As they walk through the doors, they both look at the departure times hanging overhead.
"That's strange," she mumbles. "The time for my departure is different."
"Delays probably," he replies. "It happens often these days."
Ida continues to look troubled as she compares her ticket and the departure time. "I think I'll go to the information desk," she decides. She points to a set of connected seats near the large windows overlooking the train tracks. "Can you wait over there for me?"
Her voice is faint as the travelers around them bustle about, but he nods and sits near a woman who is reading a magazine. Her face looks familiar, but he doesn't remember where he's seen her before. Her free hand taps her suitcase as she reads, and he wonders when he's been so attentive of such things. His seat faces the giant windows, and for a second, he can see his own reflection. The day seems to stay the same as he looks out the window. The sun's brightness has not once dimmed.
He jumps when Ida taps him on the shoulders. She has a cheerful face as she waves her ticket. "I'm leaving earlier than expected!" She exclaims enthusiastically. "I'm so glad I didn't have to wait two hours for the train."
Her face panics for a moment when she sees the woman sitting next to them staring at them curiously, but her smile quickly returns at his confusion. "I'm glad you could see me off," she says suddenly with a quiet voice. "I don't think I'll be coming home for a while though."
"Why?" he asks. Ida was just leaving for... He scrunches his brows. What was Ida leaving for again?
"It's a bit strange to say," she replies. "I have a really important job to finish. You understand, right?"
He starts to nod, but stops when he replays her answer in his mind.
"I'm just going for a short while, Nick," she replies cheerfully. "You understand, right?"
"I... understand...?" He repeats. His voice is barely a whisper, and Ida flashes him a questioning look.
Ida looks up and waves from escalator. He can see her from the giant windows. He smiles and returns her waves.
"-ick? Nick? Are you feeling all right?" Ida's voice cuts through his daydreams, and he looks up to see her worried face.
He shakes off his strange thoughts and smiles faintly to placate her worries. "I'm alright, Ida," he says shakily. "Just my nerves, I guess. I mean, you are about to leave."
Ida smiles her gentle smile and pats him on the back. "You'll be fine alone," she says soothingly. "I promise."
He is still uncertain, but her words are stronger than his fears. Everything will be all right.
A moment of silence passes them both before Ida speaks up. "Now, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Feel like buying some snacks for me?" Nick rolls his eyes at her requests but feels obliged to buy food for his sister one last time before she leaves. "Fine, I'll get the cookies you like so much," he jokes. "Who knows when I'll see you again anyway."
Ida looks at him with a gentle gaze, but there's something missing. "Thanks, Nick."
"No problem," he replies uncomfortably. "Just sit at my seat and wait for me. I'll be back soon."
As he walks to the snack store at station, he glances back to see the back of his sister's head. She is sitting perfectly still, and he can see her head turning slightly to look out the window. He cannot see her face.
When he returns to his seat with a small plastic bag in tow, Ida is nowhere in sight. The suitcase is still sitting where he left it, and there are no marks of her ever sitting on the seat. He sets down the bag and looks around to see if he can catch a glimpse of his sister
anywhere, but she's nowhere to be found.
"Nick? Excuse me, but are you Nick Fisher?" A woman's voice snaps him out of his search and he looks down to see the magazine lady staring up at him.
"Yes?" He replies with surprise.
"Oh, Nick," she says with emotion. She closes her magazine and stands up. Catching his hands, she shakes and pats them. He gives her a bewildered look and wonders what's she's doing.
"Oh, sweetheart," she says breathlessly. "Are you doing all right?"
"W-who are you?" He asks in confusion.
Her eyes widen and suddenly her face crumples down. She lets go of his hands. Her eyes stare into his own. A moment passes before the corners of her eyes soften. He doesn't understand.
"Don't you remember? We've met before! Edith? Edith Hatcher? At the funeral?" Her voice is almost a whisper. She sees him struggling to remember, and her expression is downcast when he shakes his head. "Oh, Nick..."
"Is something the matter, Ms. Hatcher?" He asks politely. At the funeral?, he thinks. Was she at mom's funeral?
"Nick, I'm sorry!" There are tears falling on her face now. Nick is alarmed, and he tries to apologize immediately. "Ida, my dear, Ida's death has affected you so!"
Nick looks at her in confusion once again. "Ida? Dead? How can she be? I just saw her, but she must have went to the bathroom after I left..."
"Nick," she continues. "She has been dead for two weeks!"
He tries to speak up. He tries to tell her that Ida is still here and waiting for him somewhere, but he can't. Nick stares at the tears on the old woman's cheeks, and time stops.
"The 10 a.m. train is boarding. I repeat, the 10 a.m. train is boarding."
"The 10 a.m. train is boarding, ladies and gentlemen. I repeat, the 10 a.m. train is boarding."
"Well Nick, I suppose this is goodbye," she says sadly. She stares at him, and her mouth opens to say something, but she quickly bites down, looking away. There is a moment of silence before she looks up again.
"Goodbye, Nick." She says for the final time and leaves.
His eyes widen. "Ida..." he whispers mournfully. "Id--"
email: suukasi [at] gmail.com
I have to see Ida off today, he says quietly in his mind as he awakens. He forces himself to open his eyes. The spring morning is tranquil, but he feels a bout of loneliness clinging to him. There is little energy in his body as he leaves the bed; his legs are weak, clumsy, and his mind is still drowsy from sleep. Hoping a little sunshine will wake him up, he parts his light red curtains.
The glare he receives in return hurts his eyes, and he winces at the pain that shoots through his head. He recovers in time before the door opens, and Ida walks in unannounced. She lingers at the entrance, looking around for him when she sees the empty bed. When she sees him clutching the curtains tightly in his hand and his eyes looking down and watering, she smiles with relief. "This is a pleasant surprise. You're awake already." Her voice is almost foreign to him. It's a clear bell-like sound; he remembers it differently.
He looks at her strangely for a moment. He can't identify her face. Was it always that pale? Ida. Ida. It's Ida, he reminds himself and he wrinkles his brow at his bewildering thoughts.
"What's wrong?" Her voice is laced with concern. He hears her footsteps coming toward him.
He looks up when he feels a hand settling on his shoulders, rubbing up and down to soothe him. He can feel the warmth radiating from her touch even through his pajama shirt. He smiles at her. "Nothing. The sun's just a bit too bright today is all."
Ida doesn't question him, but laughs and pats his back before retracting her hand. "Breakfast is ready when you are," she says in her strange voice. "I'll be downstairs." She leaves the room, and he stares after her.
His skin immediately longs for that warmth again.
At their mother's funeral, Ida cries. Not loud heavy sobs, but silent ones. They're even worse. He looks on with a pained expression, shedding no tears himself, but wishing he could be able to cry like her. He attempts to soothe her tears by awkwardly hugging her, but her tears pours out quicker. He's rewarded with a dark wet spot on his suit. It doesn't bother him; Ida's sudden burst of emotion bothers him.
Ida had never been an overly emotional child when they grew up. She was the older sibling, and she had believed she was the one to set the examples for him. Growing up, he had been the crybaby of the two. The scraped knees, that swollen ankle, and the countless bee stings had been soothed by her caring words and gentle attention. That was how he saw her.
But now she looks strangely small sitting next to him. Her face is raw and red because her hands wipes at her eyes constantly. As she attempts to wipe her eyes again, he stops her and hands his handkerchief to her. She lets out a choked sob and looks up at him. She looks younger today, he realizes. He remembers how she was the one who always gave him reassurance. She's now looking to him for words of comfort.
"It's going to be all right, Ida." The words feel foreign on his tongue and she looks at him for a moment before her eyes travel to their mother's casket. He sees the years fade from her twentysomething-year-old body.
"I'll take care of you in place of Mom." Her voice is small and trembling. "After all," she looks at him with dried eyes, and there was something missing he could not place. "We only have each other now."
"I told you we didn't have to arrive so early," Ida says jokingly. He's carrying her suitcase as they walk into the train station. As they walk through the doors, they both look at the departure times hanging overhead.
"That's strange," she mumbles. "The time for my departure is different."
"Delays probably," he replies. "It happens often these days."
Ida continues to look troubled as she compares her ticket and the departure time. "I think I'll go to the information desk," she decides. She points to a set of connected seats near the large windows overlooking the train tracks. "Can you wait over there for me?"
Her voice is faint as the travelers around them bustle about, but he nods and sits near a woman who is reading a magazine. Her face looks familiar, but he doesn't remember where he's seen her before. Her free hand taps her suitcase as she reads, and he wonders when he's been so attentive of such things. His seat faces the giant windows, and for a second, he can see his own reflection. The day seems to stay the same as he looks out the window. The sun's brightness has not once dimmed.
He jumps when Ida taps him on the shoulders. She has a cheerful face as she waves her ticket. "I'm leaving earlier than expected!" She exclaims enthusiastically. "I'm so glad I didn't have to wait two hours for the train."
Her face panics for a moment when she sees the woman sitting next to them staring at them curiously, but her smile quickly returns at his confusion. "I'm glad you could see me off," she says suddenly with a quiet voice. "I don't think I'll be coming home for a while though."
"Why?" he asks. Ida was just leaving for... He scrunches his brows. What was Ida leaving for again?
"It's a bit strange to say," she replies. "I have a really important job to finish. You understand, right?"
He starts to nod, but stops when he replays her answer in his mind.
"I'm just going for a short while, Nick," she replies cheerfully. "You understand, right?"
"I... understand...?" He repeats. His voice is barely a whisper, and Ida flashes him a questioning look.
Ida looks up and waves from escalator. He can see her from the giant windows. He smiles and returns her waves.
"-ick? Nick? Are you feeling all right?" Ida's voice cuts through his daydreams, and he looks up to see her worried face.
He shakes off his strange thoughts and smiles faintly to placate her worries. "I'm alright, Ida," he says shakily. "Just my nerves, I guess. I mean, you are about to leave."
Ida smiles her gentle smile and pats him on the back. "You'll be fine alone," she says soothingly. "I promise."
He is still uncertain, but her words are stronger than his fears. Everything will be all right.
A moment of silence passes them both before Ida speaks up. "Now, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Feel like buying some snacks for me?" Nick rolls his eyes at her requests but feels obliged to buy food for his sister one last time before she leaves. "Fine, I'll get the cookies you like so much," he jokes. "Who knows when I'll see you again anyway."
Ida looks at him with a gentle gaze, but there's something missing. "Thanks, Nick."
"No problem," he replies uncomfortably. "Just sit at my seat and wait for me. I'll be back soon."
As he walks to the snack store at station, he glances back to see the back of his sister's head. She is sitting perfectly still, and he can see her head turning slightly to look out the window. He cannot see her face.
When he returns to his seat with a small plastic bag in tow, Ida is nowhere in sight. The suitcase is still sitting where he left it, and there are no marks of her ever sitting on the seat. He sets down the bag and looks around to see if he can catch a glimpse of his sister
anywhere, but she's nowhere to be found.
"Nick? Excuse me, but are you Nick Fisher?" A woman's voice snaps him out of his search and he looks down to see the magazine lady staring up at him.
"Yes?" He replies with surprise.
"Oh, Nick," she says with emotion. She closes her magazine and stands up. Catching his hands, she shakes and pats them. He gives her a bewildered look and wonders what's she's doing.
"Oh, sweetheart," she says breathlessly. "Are you doing all right?"
"W-who are you?" He asks in confusion.
Her eyes widen and suddenly her face crumples down. She lets go of his hands. Her eyes stare into his own. A moment passes before the corners of her eyes soften. He doesn't understand.
"Don't you remember? We've met before! Edith? Edith Hatcher? At the funeral?" Her voice is almost a whisper. She sees him struggling to remember, and her expression is downcast when he shakes his head. "Oh, Nick..."
"Is something the matter, Ms. Hatcher?" He asks politely. At the funeral?, he thinks. Was she at mom's funeral?
"Nick, I'm sorry!" There are tears falling on her face now. Nick is alarmed, and he tries to apologize immediately. "Ida, my dear, Ida's death has affected you so!"
Nick looks at her in confusion once again. "Ida? Dead? How can she be? I just saw her, but she must have went to the bathroom after I left..."
"Nick," she continues. "She has been dead for two weeks!"
He tries to speak up. He tries to tell her that Ida is still here and waiting for him somewhere, but he can't. Nick stares at the tears on the old woman's cheeks, and time stops.
"The 10 a.m. train is boarding. I repeat, the 10 a.m. train is boarding."
"The 10 a.m. train is boarding, ladies and gentlemen. I repeat, the 10 a.m. train is boarding."
"Well Nick, I suppose this is goodbye," she says sadly. She stares at him, and her mouth opens to say something, but she quickly bites down, looking away. There is a moment of silence before she looks up again.
"Goodbye, Nick." She says for the final time and leaves.
His eyes widen. "Ida..." he whispers mournfully. "Id--"