Lacrimo Crystallinus

I am not accustomed to being home alone, I realize with some degree of amusement. The house is almost silent without Momo or her husband moving about. Bao has never been loud, but when she is home, the atmosphere feels more like that of a home. I walk up the stairs from my part of the house and into the warmer ground level. Momo has always been a very pristine person, and the way she keeps her part of the house reflects that. I have yet to see her room, though. I stand in the kitchen idly, looking out the window at the gray-white sky.

The clicking of claws against the floor makes my head turn in surprise. The miniature dachshund wags her long, fan-like tail excitedly and bounds toward me across the wooden paneling. Momo has finally picked up Belle from the veterinarian service, which means that Mei is also hiding somewhere. I smile and reach my arms out to her. She sniffs at me and settles into the crook of my elbow, resting on my chest with both paws. I walk around the kitchen with her, gathering the ingredients to make breakfast when the doorbell rings. Belle looks up at me expectantly, as if I should assure her that it is an expected visitor. I carry her to the door and open it.

The visitor is unexpected and unwanted. I stare for a moment, letting it sink in for a moment. Belle squirms in my arms and I set her down. She scampers downstairs.

“Are you alone? We need to have a talk,” says a too-familiar voice. Before I can say anything, my visitor pushes past me and into the house.

**

“Satoru,” Bao calls from downstairs. I peek out from the hall separating my house from Momo’s.

“Yes?”

“Can you help me, please?”

I put down the brush. Mei looks at me dejectedly, pawing softly at the brush. I scratch her neck before making my way downstairs. Bao is bent over in one of my button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, her skinny arms straining as she tries to move one of the statues in our room. The shirt is buttoned down completely, but the shirt shows most of her thighs and a glimpse of her lacy underwear when she bends over. I smile and lift the statue for her. She quickly runs a rag across the stand to wipe the dust away. When I have replaced it, she smiles and thanks me.

For a moment, I see the future. This same situation. She is smiling happily at something so trivial, at a small kindness that hardly takes time or effort. She is no longer glowing with the vitality of youth. Now, she has the sophisticated beauty of a woman just past her prime. On the left and right of her mouth are small, nearly unnoticeable laugh lines. They fit her well rather than making her look old. Her face is still so beautiful and dear to me. My heart aches. And then the picture is gone. I release it with a sigh. But it stays with me, even when Bao stands on her toes to kiss my cheek and walks away to finish dusting the rest of the house.

She is amazing.

I return to Momo’s sitting room to finish grooming Mei only to find that she has abandoned the brush in the middle of the carpet. Just when I pick up the brush, she appears at the door leading down the hallway into the bedrooms. She meows loudly, taking her time getting to me. When she does, she curls up in my lap and purrs softly.

“Has the cat always been here?” Bao’s voice asks from the dining room. “I don’t remember seeing it here before.”

“She has been at a pet sitting center for a while and went to a veterinarian clinic to get vaccinations, but otherwise, she has been here for a long time. She went with the dachshund, Bella. I’m sure you must have seen her, too.”

“Yes, I had just a moment ago. She surprised me, but I think she has been hiding in Momo’s room all day.” I said nothing, recalling her reaction to my visitor from earlier. I swallow, trying to avoid the subject.

Mei steps across my thigh, wandering off into another room. I stand and follow Bao’s voice. She is dusting still. I wrap my arms around her from behind. Although I have long since memorized the curves and slopes of her body, it still thrills me and appeals to my appreciation for beauty. Bao is beautiful in every form of the word. She laughs softly and continues dusting despite my clinging to her. I kiss her neck to distract her, but instead, she playfully brushes my cheek with the dust rag. I bury my face into her shoulder.

“Satoru, stop that!” she says through a smile, pausing in her cleaning. “I’ll never get this house clean if you keep me prisoner.”

“It is clean enough, I think,” I say, squeezing her a little. “Don’t tell me you want to spend your night this way.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around my neck, her beautiful face very near. Her breath mingles with mine and I use one hand to brush that skin, so smooth and perfect that it nearly sings to me to be touched. Her eyes light up with mischief. “And just how do you think I should spend my night?”

I smile, brushing the hair from her eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

*****************************************************************************************

“Satoru,” Bao murmurs in her richer, post-sex voice. I open my eyes a little, feeling sated and a little drowsy. My body is tingling a little in remembered ecstasy. “What is your relationship like with your parents?”

How do I answer that? How do I tell her that they treated me as though I were shameful and unnatural, like a runt or leper? When I can think of an acceptable response, I feel as though it is too late for an attempt at normalcy. “I am not very close to them.”

“Is that why you never talk about them?” she asks innocently enough.

The subject of my parents brings back bad memories, as it always does. The scent of the ocean fills my lungs and I remember choking on it, feeling the burning as the salt stung my lungs. I think of the faces of people I’d never met before swimming in my memories, more clear to me than those of my own parents. I think of the thousands of times I’d spoken to them and they responded, of the looks I got when I recited their words to my parents. They were my ancestors, and they were dead. And I spoke to them as a child.

I will the thoughts away. “I suppose so.”

“I—I’m sorry,” she says in almost a whisper. “I was only curious why you never talked about them before.” I realize with a tinge of shame that I made her feel uncomfortable.

I force a smile and cup her face, eased by the feel of her soft skin under my fingertips. She is blushing, I realize. “There is nothing worth saying about them.” I relinquish her face and realize that I had sat up in the bed. Now, I lean back and let her head, which was on my chest, fall with me onto the pillows. I stroke her shoulder blade with a finger. “They were devout Catholics. Both were music teachers, and taught me enough about it to get me interested. Of course, a good deal of my interest was competitiveness.”

“So,” she said, looking up at me with big brown eyes, “are you saying that, without them, you might never have been a musician?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to say. There are a lot of ‘what if’s and ‘maybe’s. A great deal of my life has shaped me, not just my parents, but I think I understand what you are asking. I believe that they had a factor, but not a large one.”

“What about them, though? What are they like?”

I pause, unsure of how to describe them without sounding like a bitter, ungrateful child. “Strict. My parents were very clear in what they wanted me to do with my life and who they wanted me to be. I do not think they are all that pleased with what I became. And they are very religious, as I said.”

“You don’t seem religious, though. Was that something else that they didn’t quite drill into you?” she asks, smiling.

“You could say that,” I respond, laughing softly. “I don’t believe the same things they do, at least, not completely. Honestly, I would rather not think about those kinds of things.”

“I understand,” she says, bringing her face back down to my chest. Her lips press softly to my skin and I suppress the urge to make love to her again. She pauses and I take the time to force those feelings away. “Will I… Will I ever meet them?”

“I don’t know,” I say, trying not to make it sound as if I don’t want her to. “If you want to, I will invite them over sometime soon. Momo wants to see them, anyway. And I’m sure Tetsuo would be more than interested in meeting you.”

“Tetsuo?”

“My little brother.”

“I… see. I would love to meet them, but only if you want me to. I won’t force you into an awkward situation. You know them better than I do.”

“I don’t know about that. I haven’t spoken to my parents in some time. As I said, we aren’t on the best of terms, and they aren’t exactly delightful company.” I know she is hoping, and I can’t say no to her. “But I will try. For you.”

I can no longer hold back. I kiss her neck and feel her resolve melt. For the moment, I don’t have to think of my parents. She brings my face up to kiss my lips and I know that she isn’t thinking of them, either.