Mrs. Kono

With a maelstrom still raging in my head, I retreat upstairs, back into Kit’s bedroom, hoping to catch a breather. 

The day after the court proceedings, I found myself walking into his room. I remember sitting at his bed, promising I’d get justice for him, that I’d do everything in my power to see to it that the guy who did that to him wouldn’t get off scot-free. 

My heart sank when the final ruling was given: “Not guilty by reason of insanity”. The jury’s response was unanimous. He certainly looked the part, too. His expression shifted not once throughout the entire thing, as if he were a vegetable (and I don’t think he was far off). It’s safe to say that by this point he was past the point of feeling. 

It gives me little comfort to know why he did what he did. The fact remains that he’d taken someone very important from me, and however much I wish for it, he’s not coming back. 

I settle into Kit’s room, making myself comfortable on his bed. 

So much of the news coverage in the days following the incident has been laser-focused on using this tragedy to reignite discussion on gun violence and gun control laws here. The news at this point is full of rallying cries from mayors and politicians in the area, speaking out about the need for tighter restrictions. It has been for the past few weeks.

It never works. I’ve seen the same song and dance before. There’s a big brouhaha in the first few weeks, then after that it dies down and nothing ever actually gets done. Not to mention, in all this discourse about firearms and legislation, I can’t help feeling that something else is lost. 

I don’t want him to be just a statistic. He was human…like all of us. 

I remember promising to myself that I’d never forget him for who he was to me, that I’d keep his memory alive. For the first time in a while, I decided I’d keep my mind preoccupied by helping him to tidy up his room. Picking the dirty clothes off his bedroom floor was akin to picking up the pieces of my own heart. It was…therapeutic. 

In fact, this entire room has sort of become a shrine of stability for me. I figured that, here, I could at least protect his memory in a tangible form. There’s still something here for me to preserve. In fact, it’s sort of become a ritual for me, to come in here every day, and lie down. Maybe, I can try to remember him just one more time…

I start hearing footsteps from behind the door.

Jax

It’s been upwards of twenty minutes, and Mrs. Kono still hasn’t returned. 

I’m starting to get concerned. What could she be doing, taking this much time upstairs?

One of the doors is slightly ajar, with sunlight seeping through the crack in the doorframe. I knock on the door gently a few times. “Are you alright, Mrs. Kono?” No response. I open the door, barely enough for me to enter. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. I was just worried about you…”

I find Mrs. Kono’s body hanging from the edge of a bed in the middle of the room. Her eyes seem to be…half-open? She’s definitely awake, but exhausted, and…delirious. “Hey, Jax? I think I may need a little while longer.” I heave a sigh of relief as I grab a seat from the table across me.

To pass the time, I examine the perimeter of the room. There’s a wooden bookshelf full of books, with some names I recognise. It looks like the book he was reading that day was “Lord of the Flies”? The walls are lined with space-themed posters. There’s one about the Voyager space probe overlooking the sky, and another one of a photo that I recognise as “Pale Blue Dot”. All the makings of a stereotypically nerdy bedroom.

I ask aloud, “So this is Kit’s room, huh?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Kono radiates a smile. “What do you think of it?”

These seemingly small, easily missable details serve to make the whole place feel just a little more…alive. I never knew Kit very well, but sitting here, peering into every little detail in his room…it’s like having an upfront conversation with him, or taking a deep look into his mind, into this little sanctuary that’s basically a microcosm of his interests.

“I like it.” I answer, while still scanning for more of these little details.

Part of the fun of being a journalist is in documenting and recording. And when you do that for long enough, you start seeing story in everything, from the cataclysmic to the serendipitous. You start to analyse everything around you, reading between the lines, seeing through layers of pretence and defence. And the best way to do so is to stop, for a moment, and observe. 

My style of journalism heavily borrows from that spirit of observation and analysis. That’s why I like interviewing people this way, when I can. For one, it’s more revealing of people’s raw feelings and emotions, having them speak in soliloquy rather than in conversation. When they feel like they’re in control of the narrative they will unknowingly end up revealing more than they would otherwise let on in conversation, not to mention it makes everything more profane and evocative. 

My phone is buzzing with messages, all from the journalism club. What are they so worked up about?

Iris: Are you done with your interview yet? We’re all waiting on you.

Lumi: i’m sure he’s workin’ on it :D

Iris: I’d be surprised if he even gets one foot in that door.

Jax: i’m doing it right now guys, calm down

Wade: would be nice if u told us b4 som1 got hysterical -_- 

Iris: Wade, I hope you know I take umbrage to this.

Wade: u sure do take offense to a lot ಠ_ಠ

Jax: are you guys arguing again istg

Iris: You take that back, Wade.

Wade: no :Þ

Lumi: i’ll keep ‘em under control (^_^;)

The journalism club may be a handful, but they’re really good at their job. And they’re about the only friends I have.

I look up from my phone, just in time to catch Mrs. Kono sitting up on Kit’s bed. I get ready to start recording as normal, when, out of the blue, Mrs. Kono raises a question, “How did you recognise…him?” And judging by the colour of her voice, I don’t think she’s talking about Kit. 

I start to sweat. I don’t know if the truth is what she wants to hear. But it’s what I owe her, at least.

Mrs. Kono

I’m not sure where I got that question from. It just…came out. I just couldn’t shake that instant of recognition on Jax’s face off my mind. 

I’m still not sure if more answers on that front will make me feel any better. It may provide a little more context…but what does it matter now?

I think Jax knows that too. He audibly sighs as he opens his mouth to speak. “I know it’s unbelievable, but…he used to be quite a popular guy. He had good grades. He was always smartly dressed. And he was well-liked by a lot of the school. On the surface, things were…okay.

“I’m still not sure what exactly it was that went wrong. Even looking at everything in retrospect, there are a myriad of ways that things could have gone downhill. The most likely thing I can think of is that it had something to do with loneliness and isolation. As popular as he was, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him land a proper friendship. It can really wreck your brain uncontrolled.”

Now that I think about it, one of the pieces of evidence shown in the court proceedings was a slip of paper that had been folded up and left on his desk. There was nothing on it, except for a paragraph of ranting, a manifesto about his bitter hatred for humanity, about how insincere and cruel humans could be. Could someone have found it in time, and perhaps realised that…he was not okay?

“Do you think…something could have been done?”

Jax sounds even more uncertain this time. From the sound of it, he probably isn’t the kind of guy who’s okay with leaving things unresolved. “I…don’t have an answer for that. In hindsight, there may have been small warning signs that could have been discovered if someone knew where to look. However, who was there to look for them? We don’t have a school counsellor. Haven’t had one since last school year. And many, many teachers are ill-equipped with the knowledge to look out for those warning signs. Not to mention that everyone has their own lives. We’re all fighting our own battles. Without a proper support system in place, it becomes so much easier for things to slip through the cracks.

“And frankly? I don’t think the what-if matters a lot now. It doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and left an imprint on…so many people. What matters to me is that something is done now to prevent it reoccuring in the future.”

Jax goes on to ramble about the current state of school morale, the gross mismanagement of the entire situation by the school administration in investing resources into increased security rather than a support network, as well as the press embargo imposed on him and the journalism club by the administration. It’s refreshing to hear him for once talk at length about where his interests lie, and his conviction towards amplifying the voices of people who perhaps need support the most—me included. 

I start to have an admiration for what Jax is doing, even though a part of me knows that it’s also putting him in a precarious position. How much thought has he given to just how much trouble what he’s doing could put him in?

“You’re really mature, you know that, Jax?”

We both share a laugh. “Doesn’t really help me much.”

Jax turns to face me again. “But enough about me. How do you feel about all this, right now, as we’re sitting here?” He makes it a point to emphasise “you”.

My mouth makes a series of “tchk” sounds as I find the right words for it. With all the time in the world to think, I don’t feel my heart racing like it has been the past few weeks thinking about everything. “I know it’s been a while, but…the pain still lingers. The world has ripped away…more than just something from me, a part of me itself. As it stands, there’s a huge Kit-shaped hole in my heart. And it hurts, not just because you know he’s gone, but also that he was once alive.

“Something that so many overlook is that…Kit had a life. He had feelings, emotions, aspirations of his own. He had passions and fortes, distinct from everyone else. And…that’s all gone. Until that day, it never occurred to me that human life could be so fragile.”

…

“I’m so sorry about that, Mrs. Kono. I’m not exactly good at giving advice, but…

“I know you’re struggling. A lot of people are. That much is undeniable. But we all still keep going despite the odds, or perhaps because of them. Even with the burdens we bear, we’re still living. Because that’s all we can do.”

What follows is a long period of silence as I ruminate on what he’d just said. There are no words, from Jax or from me. All I can feel is a few stray teardrops rolling like beads in a necklace down my cheeks. It stays this way for a while, even as the sun begins to dip down the horizon. It’s as if all time has stopped, the clocks have ceased their ticking, the world has stopped revolving…just for me. And I’m grateful for that one moment of bliss.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I feel so much better now.”

Jax beams the brightest smile I’ve seen him do since he showed up here. “You don’t need to. In fact, that’s exactly what I came here for.”

After typing furiously away at his phone, he gets up and heads out of Kit’s room. “I should make my leave now, Mrs. Kono. Thanks so much for the interview.”

I walk him to the door. “It’s no problem, really. And just so you know…you’re always welcome back here.” I wave him goodbye as his silhouette disappears into the dusk.

Ray

I walk, and walk, and walk, until I’m certain that there’s no one around me. I don’t look back as I bury myself into the music droning on in my ears.

I clutch the hardcover journal that Dr Denver gave me. “Record my thoughts, huh?” I mutter to myself, which I follow up with a sigh. How do I record thoughts that I barely know how to face or picture at all?

What would you give to forget the worst and remember the best of life itself? What would you do to either leave it all behind, or try to take it back? What would you do to escape the things that haunt you, and at the same time to face them again, like you used to be able to, before…

I’m so sorry, Dr Denver. I thought I was ready, but…

Argh! Why am I still trying to justify the workings of my own mind to myself? It happened, everything seems okay, so why am I still mulling over it?!

Before my thoughts get out of control, I grab earphones from my pocket, shoving them deep into my ears, before turning up the volume of the music I’m listening to. There. That should keep me busy.

This should’ve worked. It worked before, why isn’t it working now? I was hoping it would slice through the tangled web of consciousness, cut through the noise of…well…everything. Now…I can’t crank up the music enough to save myself. 

There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Why am I still running then…?

What am I doing anymore…?

My pace quickens as the sun starts to set. Don’t think about anything else for today. Turn your mind off to your surroundings, to everyone and everything around you. As long as you can find your way back home, everything will be okay—

Bam! A sharp wave of pain splashes through my forehead, as I collide head-on into someone else. Before I get to balance myself, the force of the collision sends me falling on my back.