Mistah Furafu sat at the edge of the bed, staring at him as he folded some of his suits in a mini suitcase meant for a girl’s doll. Still Mistah Furafu had been through thick and thin with him. He deserved a vacation as well.
“I even brought your surfboard,” Kei tells Furafu.
There is a knock at his shoji and he turns around to see his grandmother standing at the door frame. She smiles, her hair in an updo.
“Kei, are you getting ready?” she ask.
“Yes,” he replies.
“I heard talking dear,” she says sweetly.
“I was talking to Mistah Furafu,” he replies.
She only acknowledges him with a nod before saying, “You’ll love the Phillipines dear. You know your grandfather and I got married there.”
That’s why they were going to the Philippines in the first place for their anniversary. They wanted to show him where they got married. And he’s starting to think maybe they think it be good for him. They seem to be concerned for him as of late and he’s not so certain why. He didn’t mind his new school, in the quieter district. He didn’t mind his teachers. Problem was everyone found out what he tried to do. Now everyone avoids him like he’s a curse. They part from him like the tide from the bank.
Kei grabs Mistah Furafu.
“I made you new pajamas,” he tells Mistah Furafu, “You’ll like them, they are your favorite color.”
Did he pack everything? He had his sketchbook, he wanted to draw some beach scenes. He always liked to find something interesting to draw or something that catch his eyes. Most people passed by interesting scenes and didn’t notice the beautiful shapes and stories because they weren’t looking for them. Lightly stepping out of his bedroom, his home was oddly modern and oddly old as well. It was nothing like the apartment he use to live in the city with his mom and dad.
Some days he missed them. Other days he wanted to know why they made him live here with his grandparents. He didn’t hate his grandparents, just nothing changed much. The scenery might have. But not people’s impressions. They all wore fake smiles through the windows, but he heard the things kids parents whispered about him. Upon hearing his secret.
“I’m all packed,” he tells his grandfather reading a newspaper.
“That’s good, you’re reliable as always,” his grandfather tells him and smiles.
“I can help with dinner, where’s the list?” he ask, “I’ll pick up the stuff.”
“Money and list should be on the counter,” his grandfather pauses, “Kei, perhaps….you should leave Mistah Furafu home today when you do so.”
He knew it. Their growing concern. It isn’t that he couldn’t go without Mistah Furafu. It’s just that he didn’t want to. Kei lifts up the hood of his sweater, “Okay.” he says grabbing money and the grocery list on the counter.
Looking at the list, it looked like they were having okonomiyaki for dinner. Putting on his in the genkan, he leaves the house. The sun is beginning to set, turning the sky orange and purple. He liked when the sky looked like a watercolor painting. His new neighborhood was old, but not. Modern, but not. The city he now lived in was small, and not so busy. Which was good, but not. Everybody knew everybody and when he finally came to the corner store he saw a gang of bikes and a group of kids he goes to school with hanging out eating ice cream.
One of the kids, Futomi-kun notices him right away.
“Eh it’s weird kid,” Futomi-kun calls out for the rest of his friends to notice him.
He feels a bubbling sensation building in his gut and his heart rate is beginning to quicken in pace.
“I….am….not weird,” he mumbles trying to defend himself.
Futomi laughs and puts a hand to his ear, “Didn’t hear you.”
He tries to go into the store quickly, but Futomi stands in front of him.
“P..l...ease….move a...side,” he stutters, he can’t control his voice right now. He wants to sound tougher. Like he isn’t scared or nervous. But it doesn’t come out that way. Futomi just laughs.
“Ppppp,” Futomi mocks his stuttering while the other kids begin to snicker, he lightly shoves Kei back, “Ask me again. On your knees this time.”
Rest of the kids are watching and no adults as coming to the rescue. He’s trying to not to cry in front of Futomi, so he gets on his knees, with blurry watery vision, “Pl...ease…..ex...cuse...me Fu--tomi-kun.”
Futomi snickers, “Whatever, get up. You look pathetic like that.”
This whole entire situation would have been different if he had been allowed to bring Mistah Furafu. Tears began to roll down his face. He wasn’t supposed to cry in front of Futomi and the rest of the kids were merely mocking him now, rolling tears down their face. Futomi just scoffs, “Did I make you cry? You’re pathetic.”
He forgot about the task at hand and ran in the opposite direction. Why did he exist? When his mother and father didn’t even want him any more after what he had done. When the kids at school laughed at him like they do. Why was he so pathetic?
10.00am UTC+8/Monday; August 1, 2011 - NanaZuika Sugbu Beach Resort
Mactan Island, Cebu, PhilippinesThe trip hadn’t been all that it had been cracked up to be. Grandma and grandpa were upset the very beach they had married on were littered with people. It wasn’t always like this, his grandfather said, you could see the beach when we were young. Now all you can see are the heads of people. Still Kei didn’t mind, it meant getting away from school for a while. He dreaded going back actually. He was starting to feel sick with anxiety beginning build inside. His grandparents were off celebrating their anniversary, while he spent most of the time sketching. Staying by himself. He preferred to stay away from anyone his age.
He sat at the poolside, Mistah Furafu sitting on a pool chair.
“You were fantastic,” Kei tells Mistah Furafu looking at a picture of Mistah Furafu surfing with sunglasses, “Maybe we can get you to dive from there.”
He points to the high diving board.
“You’ll do fine, you’re so athletic,” he tells Furafu.
He moves to an empty page and begins to draw the pool, and the diving board. He hums to himself.
