If... (05)

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Who would in a situation like mine? It might also be that the Ishikawas put me to bed early. All lights were out by 9 o’clock. Although I could remember no shit, there is one thing I know, by instinct: that nobody sleeps this early, not even children. I tossed around in bed, wide awake. My mind was restless, disturbed. The same things kept going through my mind. Who am I? Where am I? Why? The more I tried to recall, the harder my throbbings became. It might only be some mild pounds I felt on the back of my head, nevertheless, irritating enough not to be ignored. And to stop it, I must stop thinking. I tried to think of something else, nothing else. I turned to look at the windows. The linen curtains were half-drawn, moonlight coming in made the room slightly illuminated. And when the wind came, the curtains flapped, casting random shadows on the walls, and at times the floor even looked like it was dancing along.

I looked at the door, remembering how a lady had appeared before disappearing. She was the first person I saw, the first input on my mind, which was now void and empty and eager to be filled with new memories. I had not see her again until now. Ishikawa said she is his daughter. He has two daughters: Kei and her. And she is the younger one. I met Kei over dinner. She cooked and served us and ate little herself. But I did not see Rika. Did she not have her dinner? Maybe like Kei, she ate little and had left before I turned up; maybe she had no appetite and missed her dinner completely. Even so, I thought I would see her around the house after dinner, but she was no where to be seen. Strangely, as I lay in bed now, I found myself suddenly curious about her. She had a drawing quality about her; she just seemed mysterious and elusive.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall little I could make of her features. Her hair is long, straight and black. Her body, petite. Her dress, long, almost touching the floor. Her moves, nimble as she was gone as quick as she had come. And I smiled, not knowing why. No, I knew why, but that would be later.



The next day, I woke up forgetting how I had fallen asleep. The room now looked bright, and my heart sank when I saw how everything still look the same. I was hoping that after a night’s sleep, I would wake up to find myself in another room, my own room, and things had not changed, and what had happened, my loss of memory, my presence in a strange place, were all but a bad dream. But I was not dreaming. For the first time, I felt fear. I tried not to think about it.

I got up to leave the room and walked the only passage I knew around the house, toward the dining place. I didn’t know what I was expecting but I was feeling quite hungry and was hoping for some food. And when I entered and saw plates of food on the table, I broke into a smile. So glad was I to see food I had not notice at once that Ishikawa was seated around the table.

“Good morning,” he said as he looked up.
“Good morning,” I said back.
“Slept well?” he asked.
“Yes,“ I said and nodded, as perfunctorily as he had asked.
“Good, join me. Your food is getting cold.”

So I sat down and ate. Unlike the night before, we did not talk as we ate. But I knew he was watching me, the same way he had watched me before, surreptitiously yet not very clever. I almost laughed and had to bite my lips and swallow my food.

“You seem hungry,” he said.
I lowered my chopsticks and said, “Yes, I do. Sorry. If you think I eat too much.”
“No, not the least. Should I get Kei to bring you more food?”
“I’m fine with what’s on my plate,” I said.

We started to talk. Inevitably we got back to that topic, my topic. I say so now that when a person loses her memory, it does not mean that she loses her ability to think. I turned suddenly to Ishikawa and said, “I wish to go to the authorities. I’m sure they can help me, will try to help me.”

Ishikawa’s eyes widened considerably and he shifted his face away, hoping to hide it. For the nonce, I felt he was hiding something, that he might not be the good person I first thought him of. He cleared his throat, sat upright and braced himself. And then he spoke.

He said many things. So many things that even by recalling them now, I felt myself getting queasy. He raised questions and provided the answers himself. Most importantly, he said I was found without any forms of identification. I had no idea at first what he was hinting at. I told him “since I’m a citizen, they will have my data.” He shook his head and said I did not look local. It was preposterous. I could speak Japanese I almost argued. But he had his way of talking me out of it. He had his own set of theories, which was interesting enough to make a good drama from. And when he was finished, I was exhausted from listening.

Illegal immigrant! Goodness me. Which part of me looks so? Even though he had been convincing, I could not help but notice his eyes darting when he was speaking. He had behaved so suspiciously, I had conjured my own theories about him. Maybe he knew what happened to me. Maybe he was responsible for what happened to me. Maybe he lied. Maybe I was kidnapped and held captive and lost my memory through a freak accident and so he came up with this tale to continue me to stay; and if I were to insist and leave for the authorities, he would walk free of his crimes. Because his motives were so clear, all his words point to one thing: he didn’t want me to leave, he wanted me to stay.

If that was so, then maybe, just maybe, he knew…