The Outcast

My name “Hikari” means “light” in Japanese.  I was the light of the party and popular in school especially with the boys. We were all required to wear uniforms to school at Higashi High School but wearing a uniform didn’t camouflage my hips and perky boobs. The boys wore navy blue pants, white shirts, and navy-blue ties.  Girls’ uniforms were black and navy-blue plaid, pleated skirts, with a crisp, white blouse, and a blue and black plaid vest. Some of the guys said that I could wear a sackcloth and still get noticed.

Elementary, Middle school, and High school were combined in one location.  Studies were very important to my parents; They were working class professionals at the local university. My parents instilled the need for a higher education in my younger sister Emi and I at an early age.   I had joined the debate and drama clubs which I thought would look good on my college applications.  Mom said if I didn’t fall below a 3.5 GPA, I could remain in the social activities.  Some of the senior boys started hanging around my locker asking if they could take me out on a date.   My parents told me that I couldn’t date until I was 16 and that I would have enough time to think about boys later.

When I turned 16, I couldn’t wait to start dating, get into a relationship, and have a boyfriend. That’s when I met Joe Chen.  Joe was a senior at my high school and he was on the track and field team; he had been training for the Olympics since he was 3 years old.  I felt sorry for him because he had dedicated his entire life to that goal.  His father had taken home a silver medal in the sport that he proudly displayed in a glass case and wanted his son to follow in his footsteps.  Joe practiced daily.  On some days when I was in between classes, I went to the field to watch him practice while I wrote in my journal. I thought he was oblivious to me being there.  One day he came up to the bleachers and asked me my name and if I enjoyed the sport.  We started off with a small conversation.  Our conversations were lasting longer and becoming more in depth as time went on.  Joe was so focused on his training so it took him a couple months  to ask me out.

I had no real quality time with Joe.  He was always training, doing homework, or working his part-time job at an athletic sports apparel store.  I didn’t know if I was wasting my time with Joe, even though I loved him I was always competing with his training.  There were other guys who had asked me out, even though I turned them down, Joe and I hadn’t discussed if we were exclusive or not.  I just knew that my life was so intertwined with his and I felt like I was losing my identity.  I didn’t know what I planned to do with my life. I had dropped out of all my extracurricular activities so I could be there to support Joe at his track meets.   When Joe started noticing other guys giving me attention, he became more attentive and “touchy feely”.  I loved the “new Joe” who would show PDA, was more spontaneous and displayed a more emotionally attached side.  The spontaneity was exhilarating especially during the lovemaking. Joe was becoming more balanced in his life. After a while Joe had said the “L” word to me, So I felt good about where our relationship was headed.  

I looked at the calendar.  There was a big red circle where I documented the dates of my period. My periods were usually like clockwork, and we had used protection the last time we did it.  I thought maybe my studies or my parents not wanting me to spend so much time with Joe elevated my stress level and threw my cycle off.  I would give it a couple more days to see what would happen, then I would talk to Joe about it. 

A couple of days passed and nothing.  Though I got extreme cramps and was miserable during my menstrual cycle, I wanted more than anything for my period to happen.  When it didn’t, I knew I had to talk to Joe.   I waited for the right moment, if there ever is one and talked to Joe about not getting my period. He looked stunned and asked if I had remembered to take my birth control.  I told him that this was just as much as his responsibility as mine and I started to cry.  Why do men always do that? He went to the corner drugstore and got me a couple pregnancy tests. He wanted to make sure that there were no false readings.  There was silence as I took the contents from the box, read the instructions, and went into the bathroom. I peed on the stick.  Now the waiting began.   Time stood still.  The clock’s ticking was amplified like the sound of my heart beating out of my chest. Joe said whatever the outcome, it was my decision.  My life changed, Joe’s didn’t.  He continued with training for the Olympics, I was in training for motherhood.   

It was my decision.  I was 16, unwed and pregnant.  Joe had given me money for an abortion, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I took the Number 12 bus to the Planned Partners clinic.  I got off the bus and there were a few protestors holding placards saying that anyone who had an abortion was a “murderer”, and signs that read “baby killer”.  I waited for the next bus, got on it and never went inside the clinic.  I knew the consequences of my actions but had no real sense of how difficult it would be raising my child without a support system.  

I waited as long as I could until my bump started showing and I couldn’t fasten my clothes any longer to break the news to my parents.   They yelled, screamed, and called me names until I couldn’t hold back the tears.  They told me I was a disgrace to the family and that from that point forward they disowned me and never wanted to see me again.  They said they only had one daughter now and that was Emi. I was devastated and had nowhere to go and no one to talk to.   My parents weren’t so cruel and heartless to throw me out on the street with nothing at least. I was grateful that they sent me away with my college fund money that I would have received when I turned 18 years old.  I didn’t care about college, I cared about survival.  I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I vowed to make a good life for me and my child.

The first thing I did was drop out of school before I really started showing.  I did not want anyone to know about my pregnancy and bring further shame to my family. I took some of the college funds and set it aside for a small studio or one bedroom apartment.  I would go apartment hunting, because I was tired of staying in the women’s shelter but was grateful for the roof over my head and not being out in the elements.    I found a cute studio apartment for $50,000 yen that I could afford.   I furnished it with the bare necessities from a neighborhood thrift store.  A  futon sofa, small kitchen table and pots and pans.   I bought a few plants and a throw rug to give the place more of a “homey” feel.  Yes, this was “home” for now.

Now I needed to get a job because the college funds would only last for so long with no income.  But I wondered who would hire a pregnant, 16-year-old with no skills.  The next morning, I got up, got dressed and started applying to all the grocery stores in the area that were close or within walking distance from my apartment.  To my surprise my first day out  job hunting I came across a grocery store with a “Help Wanted” sign.  I walked in and asked if I could see the manager about the open position.  The cashier told me I could wait there until she went to get the manager.  The manager was an older Asian woman with silver/gray hair pushed up in a bun.  She wore horn-rimmed glasses that were hanging from a chain. She asked me my name and could clearly see that I was pregnant.  She asked me when I was due, and I told her.   The manager, whose name was “Kanna” said that she would give me an opportunity to work as a cashier.  Kanna said that when she was in a simular situation, someone reached out to her and gave her a chance, so she would pay it forward to me.  She told me that I could start the next day.  I was excited and thankful.  It looked like things were falling into place.