Different Times, Different Lives

Twelve years Later

A wide-eyed Mara stared at the white ceiling of her bedroom. 

As if moving hadn’t been bothersome enough, her mother had to come to inspect the flat too. This was the last drop in her cup of patience. But she reluctantly admitted that this was her own fault; She had put this visit off for too long with poor excuses she knew could never fool her mother. If it hadn’t been for her father secretly warning her from the train station, they would’ve just showed up unannounced! She shivered at the thought. 

Her only reprieve was that it would be a day's visit. She would get to see her father too, who she actually missed. So there were some positives. But to top them all, and unlike many that suffered their mothers’ controlling scrutinies, Mara was thankful that she could not hear a word her mother said. She shook her head in helplessness. To think that at twenty-four years of age she would be relieved to be deaf, just to survive her mother’s audit on her newly rented flat. It was not something she would be keen to boast to anyone. 

She sighed for possibly the hundredth time and caressed Shiro’s furry head resting on her stomach. She had planned so much for this day. With her upcoming exhibition, she wanted nothing but isolation in her studio. She had even woken up at a decent hour, looking forward to a perfect day. She was one of those who loved taking advantage of a full day. Even Look out at the sunrise with a hot mug of coffee, planning her day. Or so she wished. In reality, she’d only been able to perform such a feat less than a handful of times in her adult life. Sleep was, after all, an essential part of a young adult and she loved it. Mara also loved being a morning person… but only sometimes. It was hard for a nocturnal painter. And the night was her friend; She had always done her best work at night. It was always a constant raging war between her wishes and her love. 

Being a working adult was hard! Yes, she considered herself one of the lucky ones: An outstanding Art graduate from Kanazawa University, with job offers from prestigious companies right after graduation, one of which was overseas. She had the luxury of refusing many so she could move to Tokyo and focus on her own projects. Still, she needed income, so she settled for some freelance illustrations for a large magazine in Shinjuku. This gave her all the freedom she needed. Now an independent and accomplished artist in her own right, even her uncompromising mother couldn’t wish for more. But of course, she always did. 

Now talks of marriage popped up out of nowhere. The sneaky introductions to family friends and their respective, very single sons. It was getting dangerous. Mara cringed. This was a negative from her mother’s visit. She had moved to Tokyo to get away from it all, but apparently, it was not far enough.

 Still, given her disability and her aversion to human interaction, she was secretly proud of herself. Who needed a husband when she had already accomplished one of her major dreams? Her art was alive and in people’s hearts; she still used the pseudonym Rha, but she had fans and followers who went out of their way to get her art; and her very first exhibition in Tokyo was about to happen. And she was going to be there, no longer as Rha, but just as Mara. She couldn’t have done without Haru’s support, she knew, and she would be forever grateful to him. His encouraging words rang in her mind: no matter what, her smile could never break the world, so she should just keep using it.

She still struggled with the smile part, but she was certainly making headway. 

Enough! She jolted herself. 

The stirring made Shiro jump with excitement. Perhaps breakfast was on his mind. She gave him another gentle caress and sat up. The day needed to be re-planned. But first, coffee, coffee, more coffee. Then some flash cleaning. She rubbed her eyes as she rubbed her thoughts away. There was still a lot to do, but nothing seemed to appeal. The bright rays of sunshine that broke through her blinds protested against her negative thoughts and teased her with the promise of a beautiful day in Tokyo. They clearly didn’t know her mother.

                                                                                             *

‘It’s small Otou-san, what did I say?!’ — Mrs Takeda exclaimed. — ‘Everything in Tokyo is small. They call this a city flat? But I mean, why is it shaped so oddly?? The bed is up there and there’s a ladder to get to it. A ladder! And the kitchen. There is nothing there! It’s just little counter-top. Is she supposed to live on Konbini food? Is this one of those they call ‘open-plan’ nowadays? How much is the rent in this place, anyway?’ 

Mara couldn’t hear, but she was an expert lip-reader. On purpose she avoided to look at her mother so not to allow any of the shrieking in.

Mr Takeda nodded and directed a reassuring smile at his daughter. Mara preferred to think that he too sometimes wished he were deaf. 

‘Mara!’ — Her mother called to attention, grabbing her arm. Mrs Takeda knew sign language, but she much preferred the sound of her own voice. — ‘Your room is your room! You need to make space for the bed properly. A Futon would’ve been much better, actually.’

Mara signed, ‘It is only temporary. I’ll move them later.’

‘Yes, but I mean, you could at least keep it tidy. Besides, I thought you said this flat had another room. Wasn’t that supposed to be your studio?’ Her mother narrowed her eyes, looking around as though she missed something so obvious.

Mara shrugged and moved toward her small kitchenette. ‘Shall I make us some tea?’ It was her weak attempt of an escape. 

‘Where are you making it? In that thing you call kitchen? Here take this.’ Her mother simply retorted and handed her the baked goods she had prepared neatly in a carrier box.

A deep, exaggerated sigh escaped Mara, her patience running very thin. 

‘I like it.’ — Mr Takeda added quietly before Mara could counter. It was enough to interrupt his wife’s ranting flow, but it did not spare him from the accusatory looks she threw him. — ‘I would only maybe add more plants, make it greener. It certainly has the space for it. Oka-san, you know how kids are today. Especially artist types like Mara. It’s only her first home. She has done well for herself.’

Mrs Takeda rolled her eyes, but she let it drop with one last note. ‘You two are impossible. Tell me, where is the bathroom?’ 

Mara busied herself with making the tea, stopping only to sign with her father. ‘Is the shop doing well?’ She smiled meekly.

‘Ah, well enough. The new youngster is doing well. We wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for him, but you know Okaa-san really… uh…’ — he paused as if searching for the right word. — ‘Okaa-san has trained him well.’ He finally nodded.

Mara’s smile vanished then and aggressively signed: ‘You mean she tortured him well?’  

Her father only gave a gentle smile. ‘Our customers miss you. Your cousins too. Riku-chan is always asking how long will you be until you come back.’

Mara’s expression softened. There was no accusation there. His calming demeanour always comforted her and took her back home and to her childhood. She knew he only missed her. She missed him too; their home; the greenery in their garden, and she dearly missed her rowdy cousins. They were the young siblings she never had. But she had to try this on her own. Her art had reached a level she had never dreamed of and she was now about to debut; to come out from the safety of her anonymity, from behind Rha. Not seen as Mara Takeda, the inward, deaf and awkward half-breed from Kanazawa, but just as Mara, the artist. She wanted, no, she needed to see how far she could go. 

Her quiet expression must’ve reflected her thoughts as her father said, ‘You did the right thing in coming here, Ma-chan. Yes, everyone misses you, but everyone supports you even more. Oka-san too, you know. In her own way. Everyone is looking forward to seeing more of your incredible art.’ His smile widened at the last as he nodded to himself. 

He knew her inside out. The sense of gratitude and love she felt for her father was overwhelming. He was always on her side, always her quiet but strongest supporter. She has never shown her appreciation and how much she counted on his support; not as she really wanted to. She would dedicate this exhibition to him. No matter the outcome, she would show him and thank him properly. 

With a timid smile, she gestured, ‘I better finish this tea before Oka-san comes back.’ 

Then the light above her front door flashed. It was the doorbell.