“Thanks for letting me have this.” Emiko sat at Sayuri’s table, fingering one of their son’s old baby blankets that still had a bit of his dried-up spittle in the corner. Sayuri forced herself to drink more iced tea so she wouldn’t gag at the depressing thought that she would no longer have this precious piece of her son’s existence. “Seems weird to want a blanket so much, but feeling it in my hands makes me think that he’s not so far away from us.”

Sayuri wiped something away from her eye.

“Gomen,” Emiko apologized. “I know it’s harder for you.”

“You were his mother too.” Sayuri was the one who carried him, birthed him, and nursed him until he was old enough to feed himself, but Emiko had done her share of midnight feedings, changing diapers, and swinging their son around the living room while they pretended he was the fastest airplane in the world. Yuma always laughed so hard that Sayuri worried her son would throw up.

He only did once. On that blanket. No matter how many times Sayuri treated and washed it, that one little patch never came out. She had almost thrown it out back then. Now? She was losing it anyway.

This is the right thing to do. She still had most of his clothing and toys. All Emiko really had to remind her of their son’s existence were a few photos and a lock of his hair. Sayuri had a lock as well. Wasn’t it smart of them to do that when he was still alive? Back then, Sayuri thought it would be a nice reminder of her son’s babyhood. One day, he would be a grown man with a life of his own, and his old, silly mother would want to relive those days of holding her baby in her arms and being in complete awe that her humble body made such a thing.

“So how’s Hina?” Sayuri dropped honorifics from the name. She had no idea how to refer to the woman her ex now lived with.

Emiko folded up the blanket in her lap. “She’s doing fine. She’s at work right now.”

“At the factory, right?”

“Yes. She managed to get transferred to the day shift so we could have more time together.”

Sayuri bristled. She remembered a time in their relationship when Emiko worked the night shift for the railroad company. Trains that came into terminus with concerning issues were sent straight her way, and her job had been to get them back in running order before the lines started back up again. The day she was transferred to day shift was a gift from God.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the hospital the other day,” Emiko said. “We both had to work and couldn’t really get out of it.”

Sayuri shrugged, as if she hadn’t spent most of her hospital stay paranoid that nobody would be there to pick her up. “It’s fine. A friend managed to do it at the last minute.” She wasn’t sure if Miwa was a friend, but how else was Sayuri supposed to explain it? The woman who saved my life at the train station came to pick me up. Sayuri had done her due diligence in properly thanking Miwa for doing her job, but had it been enough? Was Sayuri doomed to forever be a nuisance to the other women around her?

She felt like that in her relationship with Emiko, too. It must have been true, if the woman Sayuri once loved so much was able to leave her for another woman so easily.

I don’t hold it against her. The death of our son ruined everything. Emiko had claimed it was too hard to be in this apartment, where there son had spent his whole life, but when Sayuri suggested they move to get away from the pain, Emiko had instead suggested that only she leave. Three months later, she was in the arms of factory-worker Hina Nakajima, a regular at the Shinjuku Ni-chome bar Emiko visited on Saturday nights. Sayuri never had the temperament for the bars. She preferred the ladies’ club she used to attend, before having a baby and the subsequent grief of his loss made her stop going.

“A friend, huh?” Emiko forced a flirtatious smile. “Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not.” That came out a little too forceful. “I mean, she’s just a friend. It’s not like… us. I mean, what we used to be. I mean…”

“It’s fine.” Emiko stood, blanket in her hands and drink half-finished. “I gotta get going. I promised Hina-chan I would take her out for dinner when she got off work.”

“Sou desu ka…” Sayuri remembered when one of her greatest pleasures was cooking dinner for her family. Her mother may have been disappointed in her daughter’s choices for love, but one thing she couldn’t fault Sayuri for was her homemaking skill. Sayuri had half a mind now to send her ex-partner off with a few handmade rice balls. They were your favorite. You always said I used umeboshi the best.

Sayuri hated how much she still pined after that old life as she followed Emiko to the door. Shoes slipped onto feet. Farewells were exchanged. Sayuri watched her boy’s baby blanket leave her life, probably forever. Another piece of him gone. Gone with a larger piece of Sayuri’s life, still dressed in the same denim jacket and worn-out T-shirts Emiko always wore.

The postman almost bumped into them.

“Sumimasen!” he said, carefully avoiding Emiko on her way by. The man in the Japan Post uniform only had eyes for Sayuri, whose name was emblazoned across the top of a small package in his hands. “Kasashima-san?”

Sayuri was too distracted to have seen Emiko go around the corner. “H… hai.”

The postman nodded as he handed over the package and offered a slip for Sayuri to sign. Once he had his pen back, he hopped onto his scooter and jetted down the street to the neighbor’s house.

Sayuri ducked back into her apartment with her package. As soon as the door was shut and the air conditioning enveloped her once more, Sayuri sat down at the kitchen table and studied the label.

“To Sayuri Kawashima-sama. From Miwa Ban.”

Sayuri’s eyes widened.

The contents of the package only made her widen her eyes more. When she saw the fine chocolates label, her heart stopped. When she realized it was a mixture of chocolates from around Japan, her mouth salivated – and her heart leaped up her throat.

A full box of gourmet chocolates. What in the world was this for? Had Miwa thought she owed Sayuri something for the model train set? That was a thank you gift for saving her life and taking her home from the hospital! This made them totally uneven again!

It didn’t help that chocolates were the universal language of flirtation. Or maybe that was Sayuri’s life experiences making her think Miwa was somehow flirting with her.

No… there’s no way she’s like that. And there’s no way she likes me… like that. Sayuri downed the last of her iced tea to get that lump through her throat.

There was no note. Of course there was no note. Miwa had done this to torture her, hadn’t she?

Sayuri helped herself to one of the chocolates and hoped she wasn’t losing her mind. Again.