Lack of Recall

the second task set for Bedale savages 26/4

There were faces he knew he knew.  They were kind faces, faces he knew would know him, faces of people he thought he could have known for years. Faces of people who would be upset if he said anything that made them think he did not recognise them. 

But he should recognise them. He knew the faces. They were faces of people very important to him. He was sure some of the faces were faces of people he loved, he was probably related to some faces, or at the very least they were faces of people he really liked.  So many happy faces, faces communicating with each other and laughing. Faces calling out to other faces who were smiling back in a community of recognition.

Mike felt a mist was flowing in around him. The room was bright, white sheeting hung in silken folds from above.  The whole room was white, tablecloths, napkins, curtains, all white.  As he glanced around he was careful not to make eye contact, lest someone engaged with him.  It seemed familiar this room, safe, not like home but a very comfortable place to be.  A place he was sure was a nice place with nice things and nice people.  It was horribly scary.  He had no idea where he was, who the faces were, who he was, what was happening.  He tried not to scream then realised he was not able to scream, he had no control of his voice. 

He looked around him. He was standing, or leaning really, against an upright support which held garlands of white flowers. He was wearing a black suit.  There was noise.

The noise was words, he knew they made sense but he could not understand the words and he was hoping no one would ask him a question.  He was growing more scared now.  

The whole room was immediately familiar and unknown.  A chair was unoccupied beside him, draped in white cloth with a bow tied to each front leg.  It was a welcome support to him as he slid into it. He felt that his legs, his arms and his neck all needed to be thought about to make sure they each stayed where he wanted them to be.

A face looked directly at him and smiled. He did not want to upset it, so with a skill he didn’t know he had, he said “I’m sorry, I just have to go outside”

Not knowing how he did, he rose and walked through an opening behind him.  It was as if he knew the opening was there but he had no idea what was on the other side until he was there, in a field.  In the country.  Looking over pasture and valleys. 

Thick clover and tallish grasses waved in a breeze that tickled yellow and white meadow flowers to bobble in the green sward.  A crowded parking area was full of gleaming motors and a couple of large buses, and just to his right there was a bench taking advantage of the view.  He found himself sitting on the edge of it before he knew he had decided to sit.

The mental mist clouded rationality and prevented thought.  He was scared, more scared than he had ever been before.  But he could not remember before.  He could not remember himself.  He could not remember any thing that gave him a clue about where he was now. 

He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, wanted to understand.  He wanted help.  The smiling face from before, from inside the white room, the face he didn’t want to upset, was beside him again, it was a face he felt very strongly about, positively strongly, he really, really didn’t want to upset the face, he liked the face.  It sat next to him quietly, looking out to the view. It made some words and held his hand.  He loved that hand.  It was a familiar hand.  He made the effort to make his hand hold the hand with equal tenderness.  The face became closer with a smile and words, it kissed his cheek.   

"Did it all get a bit much for you Honey?" It said.

And with that, there was a slit in the mist, a gap of clarity, an arrow shaft of recognition and tears burst from Mike’s eyes as he recognised his wife. 

"Oh you huge sook" she said, pulling out an ever present tissue from her sleeve, she wiped his cheeks and rested her head against his chest.   

"It is so beautiful here, I am glad they chose it." She said, happy to sit in silence for a while, on this  bench, where they had sat so many years before.  Before the girls were born, before they were in love, before.

The mist had suddenly cleared, Mike had a flood of absolute joy he could not express.  He knew where he was, who he was, what was going on.  He knew. He Knew. He wanted to cry out in relief but he knew it would have no anchor in the reality of anybody else here, nobody else knew he had fallen into that awful memory vacuum.  He didn’t want to worry Helen.  Not now, not here.  He was Okay.  He was Okay. Okay. He put his arm around his wife and a small sob and a sigh escaped his control.  Helen lent into him a bit more and they sat a while, enjoying their dissimilar moments.

Mike resolved to himself to go to the doctor on Monday.

"Next week" he said, "I’ll have something to tell you"

"Oh yes? And what would that be?" she mumbled

"I won’t know till next week, you’ll have to wait"  

And Mike quietly fell into being very scared again.

KOINOBORI - 鯉のぼり

(The first task set for the Bedale Savages, April 2017)

Kenichi, peeked sideways from behind the old cherry tree at the end of the Minato-ku back street.  He strained his eyes into the shadows between the old timber and tile houses and shops. The old buildings crowded the narrow pavements. He knew Sanai and Yoshi would be lying in wait for him.  He had to make it to Sanai’s father’s noodle shop to win.  Kenichi made a break from cover to dash across the alley.  Made his way behind his house from where he had a line of sight to the noodle shop.  Just as he made it to the side of his home his mother slid open the shoji screen to welcome his father back from the office.  Kenichi was torn. He could see Sanai and Yoshi hiding in ambush but looking the other way.  He could see the shop and a path to a clear win. But his father was home.  It was a hard choice but Kenichi slipped off his street shoes and took his place beside his mother to welcome his dad home with respect.  

The three kids had formed an unlikely friendship as their families were quite disparate.  Sanai was the eldest of the three, destined to take over her father’s soba business as the only child.  Yoshi was from Nagasaki but lived with his aunt who ran a small ryokan for travellers to Tokyo.  The kids plotted gentle pranks and in their innocent play and terrorising soon formed ties with neighbours and between the families.  Ties that grew strongest between the three of them.

The pre teen years were marked by school holidays, national and local festivals like the taiko drum parade where the three of them once performed at the head of the troupe.  Childhood bonds are most fickle though and as years passed, if it wasn’t for returning home for traditional events, the childhood friendship would likely have waned, as travel and workloads encroached to pull them apart.
 

Thankfully though, the regular local reunions added to their weave of common experiences.  Friendships were flavoured by some sexual exploration between them and spiced by their tales of trysts with others.   In time, Sanai did actually take over her father’s soba shop and was growing it into a packaged soba company.  Yoshi became a popular manga artist.  Kenichi, as his father decreed, completed business studies at Kansai university and was working his way up a tedious corporate ladder.  In an increasingly westernised world he was now known as Ken-san.

Each of them were career focussed, but the pressure to settle and have families became strongest for Sanai and Ken.  The continuation of the family business was the driver in Sanai’s case, and for Ken, the demand of his parents for grandchildren.  In seeking a partner Sanai had enjoyed the pleasures of a few but sought in vain for communion.  Ken had sown oats, with a fortunate lack of productivity, but with no real intent to harvest a relationship. A partner could well demand a focus away from his career.  Yoshi, the hedonist, rejoiced under no such pressures.

At the end of Golden Week 2010 the three had met up once again in their old back street haunt.  The timber homes and shops of their childhood were now Homat apartments with shop front businesses.  The three met in a particular bar and were sitting relaxed, as among friends, Kenichi and Sanai's backs were to the window through which could be seen a red lantern marked in katakana as ‘Yoshi’s’.  The bar though was Yoshi's aunt’s, and named in honour of its slightly famous and occasional client.  Today, Yoshi sat opposite the others looking out, making his aunt most pleased.  It was the Shichi go san week and the bright Koinobori of local families were flying from balconies in the dank city breeze. 

‘You know,’ he mused,  ‘I was jealous of you two for having your family flags when we were kids’. 

Kenichi and Sanai followed his gaze out the window to see the brightly coloured carp and dragons moving slowly with the pulse of street air.

 ‘Yeah, said Kenichi, ‘my dad got me one so it nearly matched the size of his, I remember that’....  ‘But I never thought.  Your aunt never flew one for you did she?’

‘Nah, out of respect for my dead parents I suppose’

‘Oh, Yoshi, you must have felt a poor little thing,’ Sanai said with genuine feeling.

‘Well, I’m over it, but, yeah, I felt left out, the only one without a flag.’

‘I can imagine’ said Sanai ‘ I got really excited to see mine flying….Actually, funny, I was jealous too... Ken’s family had lots of flags, and mine, just the pink one for me’

Kenichi winced ‘Being the ichi-ban son is nothing to be jealous of.’

‘Try being an only child’ ..

‘Gawd, give it a rest you two, I was just saying...’

‘Okay.' 'Yeah, sorry’ chimed Sanai and Ken

‘So how are your love lives?’ asked Yoshi knowing the response.

Moans of derision and despair were followed with banter and laughs prior to a departure into a Roppongi night that was probably best forgotten.

As Ken reflected now, seven years on, it was that cocktail fuelled night in 2010 that was the start of the romance.  It was not an intended or even dreamt of connection they made.  But over the next few years, as the trio met up for their Tokyo family duties, the friendship turned stronger and to a genuine love. 

Life always throws curved balls and while Sanai desperately wanted a family the fact that Ken seemed unable to sire, and her soba business took her away so much, the unfulfilled ache in both Ken and Sanai had dragged at them.  Yoshi remained blissfully free of paternal urge but was compassionate to his two friend’s need.

Now it was 2017, Golden Week, the happy couple had moved to Nagasaki, a complete change from the previous year’s reunion where the union had been proclaimed.   Ken proudly hoisted a long pole with its spinning disk, windsocks of dragon tails, two large black koi, one pink, and a bright blue tiddler for their baby boy.   The wind filled the fish flags and Sanai giggled.

‘Well, that’s going to puzzle the neighbours’

‘Nah, they all know us.’ said Yoshi ‘And there is the four of us now.  Family.’ and he gave his partner a long, loving kiss. 

‘Oh, don’t do that Yosh’ said Ken, enjoying the embrace, ‘Sanai will get jealous.’