Dearest 14
girl
ryo
When I was younger, the park was always one of the places I enjoyed visiting the most. There, I could run around, play soccer - even chase butterflies if I wanted to. My mother would sit on a park bench and call me over when it was time for me to eat my obento, and she'd wipe my face whenever tomato sauce attacked my cheeks and chin. Then my father would come pick us up, and I would be content; carefree; happy.
The park I was now at was completely empty. No running children, no dogs, no retired couples... nothing. Exactly how I was feeling. Nothing.
A patter of footsteps grew louder from my right and I flicked my gaze over to the source. A boy, looking no older than six, was staring at me, his round, black eyes so full of curiousity it was unnerving. I loooked down at his feet and found that his sandals were nothing more than tatters of leather held together by string.
"Hey kid," I greeted gruffly.
The boy tilted his head to one side, before reaching out to hug my waist, his face nuzzling into my thigh. I stared at the top of his head, unable to comprehend what to do.
"... daddy," the boy gurgled, his grip tightening.
I rolled my eyes.
"Do you have a name?"
"... Hanazawa Miura..."
"Miura chan, you can't randomly hug people and call them daddy."
Miura lifted his gaze up to meet mine, his bottom lip trembling.
"... why?"
Fighting a grin, I swung the boy onto my back so that he was sitting on my shoulders. Miura laughed, the air filling with his voice.
"They might have rabies."
"... Miura?"
I turned around to see a young woman holding onto shopping bags, her fringe falling into her eyes as she called out to the boy.
"I'm sorry, was he bothering you?" she asked politely, glaring at the boy on my shoulders.
I shook my head. She smiled tightly and motioned for Miura to return to her side. Miura pouted.
"But he's daddy!"
"Miura!"
I sighed and squatted so that Miura could slide off my back. Grumbling, the boy shuffled away from me.
"Now say sorry," the girl ordered.
"... sorry mister."
I patted Miura's head.
"No problem. Be a good boy and listen to your sister, okay?"
Miura stared at me.
"Sister?"
"Eh?"
"... she's my mommy."
"EH?"
"... He left me when I fell pregnant. Miura, put the milk in the fridge, okay?"
My mouth was still wide open as I helped her unload her groceries in her apartment.
"Miura doesn't know who his father is, so he's set on finding him. Me? I don't even want to see that bastard ever again."
"... How old is Miura?" I managed to choke out.
"This year? Five."
She looked as me as I struggled to breathe.
"I'm 20."
I ended up staying for dinner at Kana's house, and gradually learnt more about her life, as she did with mine.
"So you're bisexual?"
"That'd be right."
Miura looked up from his food.
"Mommy? What's bisexual?"
"Doraemon is on television. Finish your food and you can go watch it."
Miura spilt half his miso soup down his shirt as he scampered to where the television set was. I was impressed.
"Smooth."
"Thank you."
I was given the couch to sleep on and as the other two fell asleep, I cradled my phone halves. The truth was, I was enjoying this life. I could see myself living with Kana and Miura, and the image was peaceful. I'd find a job and pay her rent, and play father to Miura. Kana had said something at dinner that struck me, and it was because of that, that I didn't want to go back to Tokyo.
"People might see it as running away, but who are they to know that I wasn't just starting something new? I mean, when I got kicked out of the house, I could have easily given Miura away and my family would have taken me back, but that wasn't even a choice. It was a sick, sick sort of comprimise and it was impossible to agree. Miura is my child - my only son, and that's that. So I 'ran away' to find my own apartment, job and courage at the age of 15. Damn hard, but I did it. And it feels good. And I wouldn't change a thing."
... but I missed him.