(no subject)
It had been over a week now. Over a week since she’d found O-Ren’s hut empty, and over a week since she’d decided to end things with Tim. And even though there had been several times during that week that Bridget thought that maybe, just maybe she’d over reacted and just hadn’t run into O-Ren, it was pretty much all set in stone now.
She’d kept to herself, replacing trips to the rec room and beach with hanging about her room, avoiding people whenever she went off to get food. Perhaps one of the worst things of it all was that Dixon hadn’t even noticed that things had changed. Not that she expected him to, of course, but knowing that he wouldn’t even miss her made it all the more difficult.
But the truth of the matter was, all of O-Ren’s things were still out in her hut, and although Bridget wasn’t quite sure whether or not she could handle it all just yet, she couldn’t leave everything out there forever. The idea of someone else rooting through her things, and treating them like they were nothing was worse than the idea of them collecting dust.
So she fed and changed Dixon, got him dressed, packed up a lunch and a few other things in a bag and headed back out to the jungle. Back to the empty hut. She felt her stomach drop as she entered, something clenching somewhere behind her heart as she entered, and after setting Dixon down on his blanket, got to work sorting things out.
The half-finished poem on the desk was carefully folded in half, then in half again, and pocketed. The cold tea-discarded so that she could wash out the tea set when she got back to the compound.
Eventually, she got to O-Ren’s trunk of kimono, and could even recall so long ago when O-Ren had gotten it. She opened it up and began to look through the garments, finding that she could remember an occasion that she’d seen O-Ren in almost all of them- looking graceful and poised. And even that day in the kitchen when Bridget’s perception of O-Ren changed completely. When she became completely human in her eyes.
Reaching at the bottom of the trunk, Bridget was slightly surprised when her hands brushed against paper instead of fabric. There were letters. She recognized a few of the names on them, but nothing stuck until she saw one with her son’s name written in O-Ren’s hand writing.
Dixon,
If I am gone, it is my selfish wish that it is before you can remember my face, so that you will not know that I have left you. Know that though your godmother has done terrible things in her life, the events that led to this letter were the good things in her life.
I loved you from the moment I felt you kick in your mother's stomach. Take care of her, for you are her pride and her joy.
O-Ren Ishii
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. But before she had time to think of what to do, what to think, her eye caught the one underneath it. The one with her own name handwritten. Struggling to keep her hands from shaking, she started to read.
Bridget Jones (my Bridget),
Please know I am not writing this out of melancholy. Today I walked along the beach, and when I turned, the ocean was swallowing my footprints. I am not religious enough to believe this is the story of life, but it was a reminder of the impermanence of this place.
I arrived here and I was still proud and cold; you were so strange to me, a funny tropical bird flitting about. I came to know you as warm and impractical and though I made you nervous, you didn't run away. I fell in love too late, or maybe too soon. I can't tell.
If I have gone, I did not choose to leave. Too many people have left you here, and I wish there was a way to make you see that it is the cruelty of fate and not something in you. Not you, not you.
After all, it's because of you that I've had someone to love, known the love of someone else-- known the touch of someone who loves me. That in itself is more than I ever dreamed of on cold nights in Tokyo. You have been a gift I never believed I deserved. I hold the frustration of not being with you in exactly the way I wanted, that's true, but when years pass and time fades this place, that will not be my memory. My memory will be of drinking tea with you, in a warm, sunlit place.
I told you once that suki da, I love you. There is a more archaic phrase that people rarely use. Ai for love, and shiteru for I am doing. It is love that makes a journey, that is moving and always. It is not 'I love you' but 'I am loving you'.
Aishiteru. Aishiteru.
O-Ren Ishii
Stunned completely silent, one hand over her mouth, her eyes welled up and the letter blurred.
“…oh god.” She said aloud, not knowing what else to say or do with herself. She wiped her eyes and read it once more, feeling completely overwhelmed, a sort of disbelieving look on her face. Her hands were shaking. O-Ren hadn’t blamed her. After everything that had happened, and all the times that she’d cocked up. After practically breaking O-Ren’s heart, she had still loved her.
Bridget folded the letter in half, unable to move, hardly able to think straight.
How much time had they wasted? Being silly and trying to figure things out? Even if it all had meant that they’d never end up together as lovers, hadn’t it taken them over a year to get there? To the point where things between them weren’t shrouded over with lies and feeling awkward.
…and I’ve done the same thing again.
This place wasn’t permanent. Bridget thought that she knew that better than a lot of people around. And even if she was somehow cursed and it was all her fault - not a completely farfetched accusation, considering that she’d been a man three times in the past year- Tim hadn’t done anything to deserve what she’d done to him. And Dixon hadn’t done anything to deserve her cutting out one of his chances at happiness as well.
She looked down at him from where he was on the floor.
“I’ve made a horrible mistake.” She told him, and was answered by an infant-type squeal which undoubtedly meant “Yes, mummy, you’ve been a complete and utter fuckwit. In fact, I think you may have surpassed many ex-boyfriends with your display of fuckwittage over the past week. So stop being silly and go find Tim because I quite like him. Also, I’d like lunch and a new nappy.”
She folded the letter over and put it in her pocket before packing up all of Dixon’s things again, trying to straighten out her thoughts.
“I’m going to drop you off with a sitter for a bit, alright?” She said to Dixon as she gathered him in her arms, and he gurgled back something which probably meant: “You’d better hurry, or they’ll be all out of juice.”
Once she’d dropped him off, she set off to find Tim. Bridget wasn’t about to make this same mistake again. She was going to set her life straight once and for all. Even if it was taking place on an unpredictable tropical island in the middle of nowhere.
She’d kept to herself, replacing trips to the rec room and beach with hanging about her room, avoiding people whenever she went off to get food. Perhaps one of the worst things of it all was that Dixon hadn’t even noticed that things had changed. Not that she expected him to, of course, but knowing that he wouldn’t even miss her made it all the more difficult.
But the truth of the matter was, all of O-Ren’s things were still out in her hut, and although Bridget wasn’t quite sure whether or not she could handle it all just yet, she couldn’t leave everything out there forever. The idea of someone else rooting through her things, and treating them like they were nothing was worse than the idea of them collecting dust.
So she fed and changed Dixon, got him dressed, packed up a lunch and a few other things in a bag and headed back out to the jungle. Back to the empty hut. She felt her stomach drop as she entered, something clenching somewhere behind her heart as she entered, and after setting Dixon down on his blanket, got to work sorting things out.
The half-finished poem on the desk was carefully folded in half, then in half again, and pocketed. The cold tea-discarded so that she could wash out the tea set when she got back to the compound.
Eventually, she got to O-Ren’s trunk of kimono, and could even recall so long ago when O-Ren had gotten it. She opened it up and began to look through the garments, finding that she could remember an occasion that she’d seen O-Ren in almost all of them- looking graceful and poised. And even that day in the kitchen when Bridget’s perception of O-Ren changed completely. When she became completely human in her eyes.
Reaching at the bottom of the trunk, Bridget was slightly surprised when her hands brushed against paper instead of fabric. There were letters. She recognized a few of the names on them, but nothing stuck until she saw one with her son’s name written in O-Ren’s hand writing.
Dixon,
If I am gone, it is my selfish wish that it is before you can remember my face, so that you will not know that I have left you. Know that though your godmother has done terrible things in her life, the events that led to this letter were the good things in her life.
I loved you from the moment I felt you kick in your mother's stomach. Take care of her, for you are her pride and her joy.
O-Ren Ishii
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. But before she had time to think of what to do, what to think, her eye caught the one underneath it. The one with her own name handwritten. Struggling to keep her hands from shaking, she started to read.
Bridget Jones (my Bridget),
Please know I am not writing this out of melancholy. Today I walked along the beach, and when I turned, the ocean was swallowing my footprints. I am not religious enough to believe this is the story of life, but it was a reminder of the impermanence of this place.
I arrived here and I was still proud and cold; you were so strange to me, a funny tropical bird flitting about. I came to know you as warm and impractical and though I made you nervous, you didn't run away. I fell in love too late, or maybe too soon. I can't tell.
If I have gone, I did not choose to leave. Too many people have left you here, and I wish there was a way to make you see that it is the cruelty of fate and not something in you. Not you, not you.
After all, it's because of you that I've had someone to love, known the love of someone else-- known the touch of someone who loves me. That in itself is more than I ever dreamed of on cold nights in Tokyo. You have been a gift I never believed I deserved. I hold the frustration of not being with you in exactly the way I wanted, that's true, but when years pass and time fades this place, that will not be my memory. My memory will be of drinking tea with you, in a warm, sunlit place.
I told you once that suki da, I love you. There is a more archaic phrase that people rarely use. Ai for love, and shiteru for I am doing. It is love that makes a journey, that is moving and always. It is not 'I love you' but 'I am loving you'.
Aishiteru. Aishiteru.
O-Ren Ishii
Stunned completely silent, one hand over her mouth, her eyes welled up and the letter blurred.
“…oh god.” She said aloud, not knowing what else to say or do with herself. She wiped her eyes and read it once more, feeling completely overwhelmed, a sort of disbelieving look on her face. Her hands were shaking. O-Ren hadn’t blamed her. After everything that had happened, and all the times that she’d cocked up. After practically breaking O-Ren’s heart, she had still loved her.
Bridget folded the letter in half, unable to move, hardly able to think straight.
How much time had they wasted? Being silly and trying to figure things out? Even if it all had meant that they’d never end up together as lovers, hadn’t it taken them over a year to get there? To the point where things between them weren’t shrouded over with lies and feeling awkward.
…and I’ve done the same thing again.
This place wasn’t permanent. Bridget thought that she knew that better than a lot of people around. And even if she was somehow cursed and it was all her fault - not a completely farfetched accusation, considering that she’d been a man three times in the past year- Tim hadn’t done anything to deserve what she’d done to him. And Dixon hadn’t done anything to deserve her cutting out one of his chances at happiness as well.
She looked down at him from where he was on the floor.
“I’ve made a horrible mistake.” She told him, and was answered by an infant-type squeal which undoubtedly meant “Yes, mummy, you’ve been a complete and utter fuckwit. In fact, I think you may have surpassed many ex-boyfriends with your display of fuckwittage over the past week. So stop being silly and go find Tim because I quite like him. Also, I’d like lunch and a new nappy.”
She folded the letter over and put it in her pocket before packing up all of Dixon’s things again, trying to straighten out her thoughts.
“I’m going to drop you off with a sitter for a bit, alright?” She said to Dixon as she gathered him in her arms, and he gurgled back something which probably meant: “You’d better hurry, or they’ll be all out of juice.”
Once she’d dropped him off, she set off to find Tim. Bridget wasn’t about to make this same mistake again. She was going to set her life straight once and for all. Even if it was taking place on an unpredictable tropical island in the middle of nowhere.