Flash
I just wrote this story. It's one I've been wanting to write for a long time. It's a rough draft, so I'm looking for feedback and advice. I'm considering adding more to the story, like writing the same major event from different perspectives. Perhaps one from the pilot, and one from another person in the city. Then I'd connect them together in a short story, which is a series of "Flash fiction" entitled Flash, which I think fits with the theme of the story. Any advice is welcome and appreciated!
The clicking of Hisako’s heels on the sidewalk sounded like the ticks of a clock. I’m late, she thought, and with each step I’m reminded how quickly time passes. There goes one moment-click-and another. If I don’t hurry, he’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll find out where I’ve really been.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. Her family was too important to lose.
Of course, her family hadn’t been so important that it kept her home at night, in bed with her
husband. Wasn’t so important earlier tonight when Nao was blowing her mind.
She reached her driveway, took a moment to regain her composure, and smoothed her hair. “I was working late,” she whispered to herself. “The tea ceremony has to be perfect, and the last kama boiled up too flavorless. We had to stay late and boil another for our final party.”
Assured by her story, she opened the front door. Her husband was a hunched shadow on the floor. He spoke before she could. “What brings my dear wife home so late?”
“Darling Yoshito, I missed you. I apologize. The last kama was bland, so-“
“What kind of tea was boiling?” he interrupted.
“Why we were serving,” she stammered, thoughts whirring, “ahh, a Matcha. All the customers come for our Matcha.”
In the dark she saw his silhouette stand, shift towards her. She heard his voice, dark and angry, say, “You smell like sweat.”
“I hurried home, dear Yoshito,” she said, stumbling back. Could he smell her fear? Could he smell Nao’s love, still buzzing in her insides?
Would he chastise her? Beat her until she showed remorse? No. She smiled a little, knowing the darkness would hide her secret expression. She was protected by the new life within her. Yoshito’s child. He would not harm her while she carried his baby.
Regardless, when Yoshito reached out, she flinched like a child afraid of punishment. But he just pulled her close. “Our country is at war, and my wife wanders the streets after dark. With our child inside her.” He embraced her. “You don’t need your job anymore. Mine is enough to support our home. Stay home and be a mother and a wife.”
I could change now, walk a different road, she realized. I could stop risking my family, stop seeing Nao each night.
He offered again, “Why don’t you just stay home?”
Something in his tone of voice made her hair bristle. Then it hit her: Yoshito already knows! He knows, and right now he’s offering me the opportunity to stop, no questions asked, no forgiveness required.
The sudden roar of planes overhead rattled her thoughts. Hisako hated the noise of the Allies, shredding the quiet calm while she tried to sleep each night, or tearing through the peace of her tea ceremonies.
“The war, darling,” Yoshito murmured soothingly. He must have felt her muscles tense up. “Don’t worry, the fight isn’t near us.”
She stood with him in the dark for a few silent moments, listening as the howling engines shrank into the horizon. The war was frightening. Wouldn’t it be wise to stay safe behind the barricade of her husband and home? She could be like the small child growing inside her, warm and protected, invulnerable to the fear in the outside world.
Her heart pumped wildly, pulsing fear through her veins. A metallic taste rose in her throat, the flavor of fear and danger. The taste made her long for Nao’s love, bare and vulnerable beneath silk covers and shadows. If she hid in her home, a part of her would die. She would miss the tang of freedom and risk.
Hisako finally looked up at her husband, making her eyes gentle. “My sweet husband, always wanting to protect me. When this baby is born, I will stay home and be a mother. But until then, please, let me work and save money for our child.”
She could see the pain in his eyes. She would utter a prayer for him tonight. Because heaven help her, she was not yet strong enough to be the wife he needed.
The next morning Hisako woke up startled, the sound of angry dragons bellowing in her ears. She sat up quickly, gasping. Airplanes, she thought. Only airplanes.
Anxiety chewed on her gut. Her mind was foggy with sleep, but through the clouds she felt something terribly amiss. The baby! She jerked her hand down to feel her stomach, as if to touch the life inside her. Yushiko! Eyes wide, she rolled quickly to face Yushiko, but he was gone. That was it, she realized as her thoughts cleared. Yushiko normally woke her up with a kiss, but this morning he seemed to have already gone to work.
She stood, echoes of anxiety still whispering in her mind. Something still felt wrong. She felt-no, she somehow knew-she would lose someone important today.
Yushiko.
No, she realized. Her premonition was unspecific. She would lose someone, but that someone may not be Yushiko. She may also lose Nao. Or perhaps today her mother would die. Or a dear friend. Or….
Hisako felt her muscles seize-what if she lost her baby? What if her baby was dying inside her, some horrible karmic punishment for consistently choosing Nao over her family?
I can choose. I can choose right now who I’ll lose. But today, I will lose somebody I love.
Suddenly the fear didn’t taste so tangy-sweet.
She floated numbly towards her wardrobe and touched the silk of her finest kimono, so smooth it felt like liquid. If she must say goodbye, she would do it beautifully.
First, she pulled a scroll from her desk, painting an elegant calligraphy note for her husband. Rolling the delicate paper, she tied it with a fine ribbon and left it on his pillow.
Then, rather than go to work, she began the long walk to Nao’s home. She stroked her stomach as she walked, crooning lullabies to sooth her baby-and the aching fear within.
The air felt strange today, like the memory of a sickly smell. Drifting conversations, like floating cherry blossoms, caught her attention, then wafted away. Two women gossiped about their husbands. A young mother scolded her child. A group of men argued about politics, the war and the Americans. Cars hummed past. Five girls in matching school uniforms giggled on their way to classes. Daily life. Somehow it had always seemed dull before, but now Hisako found herself wishing it would never end.
Soon she found herself at Nao’s door. Trembling from adrenaline, she knocked. Nao answered, his expression of surprise rapidly turning into happiness.
“Hisako-san!” he grinned, moving to embrace her. He clearly believed she had come needing affection.
“Nao-san,” she whispered, the sight of his face stealing her courage. “Nao-san,” she whispered again, but her voice failed.
He stood over her, smiling and admiring her appearance. “Your kimono is lovely. Have you come here as my geisha today?”
Still silenced by her own pain, she shook her head. She placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him, trying to memorize this last moment with him. Finally, she kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed.
Secretly, she hoped he had memorized the moment as well, so that he would never forget her.
Then she walked away, listening to the many conversations on the street as she passed.
Yoshito will find my note by the time I get home. She looked up at the sun. He would be home for lunch very soon. But she was in no hurry this time. There was no more risk.
The roar of planes bound for battle shook window panes. She looked up and the sight made her heart tremble. Instinctively, she covered her stomach with her hands. Conversations stopped suddenly as people on the streets squinted to see into the skies. A strange black dot hovered far above them.
Somehow Hisako knew Yushiko would never receive her letter.
The roar of the planes was drowned out by the eruption of noise all around her. Her eardrums blew, dropping her into silence. But she could still see the noiseless screams of the gossiping ladies and giggling schoolgirls. And she could still feel the heat of the explosion as it tore off her skin.
Goodbye, Nao. Goodbye, Yushiko.
.
The clicking of Hisako’s heels on the sidewalk sounded like the ticks of a clock. I’m late, she thought, and with each step I’m reminded how quickly time passes. There goes one moment-click-and another. If I don’t hurry, he’ll know something’s wrong. He’ll find out where I’ve really been.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. Her family was too important to lose.
Of course, her family hadn’t been so important that it kept her home at night, in bed with her
husband. Wasn’t so important earlier tonight when Nao was blowing her mind.
She reached her driveway, took a moment to regain her composure, and smoothed her hair. “I was working late,” she whispered to herself. “The tea ceremony has to be perfect, and the last kama boiled up too flavorless. We had to stay late and boil another for our final party.”
Assured by her story, she opened the front door. Her husband was a hunched shadow on the floor. He spoke before she could. “What brings my dear wife home so late?”
“Darling Yoshito, I missed you. I apologize. The last kama was bland, so-“
“What kind of tea was boiling?” he interrupted.
“Why we were serving,” she stammered, thoughts whirring, “ahh, a Matcha. All the customers come for our Matcha.”
In the dark she saw his silhouette stand, shift towards her. She heard his voice, dark and angry, say, “You smell like sweat.”
“I hurried home, dear Yoshito,” she said, stumbling back. Could he smell her fear? Could he smell Nao’s love, still buzzing in her insides?
Would he chastise her? Beat her until she showed remorse? No. She smiled a little, knowing the darkness would hide her secret expression. She was protected by the new life within her. Yoshito’s child. He would not harm her while she carried his baby.
Regardless, when Yoshito reached out, she flinched like a child afraid of punishment. But he just pulled her close. “Our country is at war, and my wife wanders the streets after dark. With our child inside her.” He embraced her. “You don’t need your job anymore. Mine is enough to support our home. Stay home and be a mother and a wife.”
I could change now, walk a different road, she realized. I could stop risking my family, stop seeing Nao each night.
He offered again, “Why don’t you just stay home?”
Something in his tone of voice made her hair bristle. Then it hit her: Yoshito already knows! He knows, and right now he’s offering me the opportunity to stop, no questions asked, no forgiveness required.
The sudden roar of planes overhead rattled her thoughts. Hisako hated the noise of the Allies, shredding the quiet calm while she tried to sleep each night, or tearing through the peace of her tea ceremonies.
“The war, darling,” Yoshito murmured soothingly. He must have felt her muscles tense up. “Don’t worry, the fight isn’t near us.”
She stood with him in the dark for a few silent moments, listening as the howling engines shrank into the horizon. The war was frightening. Wouldn’t it be wise to stay safe behind the barricade of her husband and home? She could be like the small child growing inside her, warm and protected, invulnerable to the fear in the outside world.
Her heart pumped wildly, pulsing fear through her veins. A metallic taste rose in her throat, the flavor of fear and danger. The taste made her long for Nao’s love, bare and vulnerable beneath silk covers and shadows. If she hid in her home, a part of her would die. She would miss the tang of freedom and risk.
Hisako finally looked up at her husband, making her eyes gentle. “My sweet husband, always wanting to protect me. When this baby is born, I will stay home and be a mother. But until then, please, let me work and save money for our child.”
She could see the pain in his eyes. She would utter a prayer for him tonight. Because heaven help her, she was not yet strong enough to be the wife he needed.
The next morning Hisako woke up startled, the sound of angry dragons bellowing in her ears. She sat up quickly, gasping. Airplanes, she thought. Only airplanes.
Anxiety chewed on her gut. Her mind was foggy with sleep, but through the clouds she felt something terribly amiss. The baby! She jerked her hand down to feel her stomach, as if to touch the life inside her. Yushiko! Eyes wide, she rolled quickly to face Yushiko, but he was gone. That was it, she realized as her thoughts cleared. Yushiko normally woke her up with a kiss, but this morning he seemed to have already gone to work.
She stood, echoes of anxiety still whispering in her mind. Something still felt wrong. She felt-no, she somehow knew-she would lose someone important today.
Yushiko.
No, she realized. Her premonition was unspecific. She would lose someone, but that someone may not be Yushiko. She may also lose Nao. Or perhaps today her mother would die. Or a dear friend. Or….
Hisako felt her muscles seize-what if she lost her baby? What if her baby was dying inside her, some horrible karmic punishment for consistently choosing Nao over her family?
I can choose. I can choose right now who I’ll lose. But today, I will lose somebody I love.
Suddenly the fear didn’t taste so tangy-sweet.
She floated numbly towards her wardrobe and touched the silk of her finest kimono, so smooth it felt like liquid. If she must say goodbye, she would do it beautifully.
First, she pulled a scroll from her desk, painting an elegant calligraphy note for her husband. Rolling the delicate paper, she tied it with a fine ribbon and left it on his pillow.
Then, rather than go to work, she began the long walk to Nao’s home. She stroked her stomach as she walked, crooning lullabies to sooth her baby-and the aching fear within.
The air felt strange today, like the memory of a sickly smell. Drifting conversations, like floating cherry blossoms, caught her attention, then wafted away. Two women gossiped about their husbands. A young mother scolded her child. A group of men argued about politics, the war and the Americans. Cars hummed past. Five girls in matching school uniforms giggled on their way to classes. Daily life. Somehow it had always seemed dull before, but now Hisako found herself wishing it would never end.
Soon she found herself at Nao’s door. Trembling from adrenaline, she knocked. Nao answered, his expression of surprise rapidly turning into happiness.
“Hisako-san!” he grinned, moving to embrace her. He clearly believed she had come needing affection.
“Nao-san,” she whispered, the sight of his face stealing her courage. “Nao-san,” she whispered again, but her voice failed.
He stood over her, smiling and admiring her appearance. “Your kimono is lovely. Have you come here as my geisha today?”
Still silenced by her own pain, she shook her head. She placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him, trying to memorize this last moment with him. Finally, she kissed him. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed.
Secretly, she hoped he had memorized the moment as well, so that he would never forget her.
Then she walked away, listening to the many conversations on the street as she passed.
Yoshito will find my note by the time I get home. She looked up at the sun. He would be home for lunch very soon. But she was in no hurry this time. There was no more risk.
The roar of planes bound for battle shook window panes. She looked up and the sight made her heart tremble. Instinctively, she covered her stomach with her hands. Conversations stopped suddenly as people on the streets squinted to see into the skies. A strange black dot hovered far above them.
Somehow Hisako knew Yushiko would never receive her letter.
The roar of the planes was drowned out by the eruption of noise all around her. Her eardrums blew, dropping her into silence. But she could still see the noiseless screams of the gossiping ladies and giggling schoolgirls. And she could still feel the heat of the explosion as it tore off her skin.
Goodbye, Nao. Goodbye, Yushiko.
.