Reflection
The farewells are quiet, careful not to disturb me. It must be me they're thinking of, because there's no one else in the apartment to bother. Soft words at the door, and then it shuts gently, and once more, it's just the two of us. These times are hardest for me, after his tutor leaves and before work begins. There's only an hour or two, really, but it seems like forever, as I listen to him moving around the apartment. Today, the footsteps are slow and measured, barely there at all. It's not surprising, really. He didn't sleep well last night, and woke hot. I sat by his bedside while he tossed and turned, listening to the way his breathing sped and wondering what was in those fevered dreams. He never talks about dreams, and I don't push. Really, we don't talk about much of anything.
Today's worse than usual. It's a free day for me, so I won't be going into work. Instead, I'll stay home and listen to his light footsteps, and eat with him. Eating with him is most dangerous. I keep our talk along a careful path, so that there's not a hint of impropriety, but it doesn't always work. He looks weak, and frail, but when he wants to know something, he's very good at getting what he wants. He thinks I humor him when I give in, but usually, I simply cannot say no. Maybe it's me who's really the weak one.
Normally, he cooks for us. He's good at it, and the kitchen is the one place where he really looks normal. Everywhere else, it's like he's already a ghost. But in the kitchen, he's king. On his bad days, though, I order in. I try to order things he's never tried. His face always lights up at the excitement of trying something different, even when he hates it. It's like he almost glows. The ones he really likes, he learns how to make. Tonight, I'm ordering in. As curious as he is to see what I get, he's a little angry at forcing me to order. He pouts like a little girl, and I simply smile and ruffle his hair.
I like touching his hair. It's darker than mine, because he's always inside, and so very soft. It falls to frame his face, and the way it rests, it really emphasizes his eyes. I muss it as many times as I can get away with. He keeps it too neat, and I like it better when it's just a little flyaway, so that he's got a bit of casualness to him. Besides, when I ruffle his hair, he smiles at me, and that smile is worth anything.
I'm done ordering once I've settled on two dishes he's never tried before. It's getting harder, now that we've lived together for a couple of months, to find things he's never experienced. I can usually tell by the gleam in his eyes, but I'm going to have to work harder in order to keep seeing that gleam. Once the ordering is done, I settle into the couch, listening to him chatter. He almost always talks about his lessons, which makes me smile, or his tutor, which brings an unwelcome stab of jealousy. If I had my way, Sakae would never see him again. But that's not my decision to make, and so I smile politely and nod. In my dreams, it is my name on his lips. But those are only my dreams.