Monday, June 30, 2008

全て受け止めて

When I wrote stories, I never tried very hard to sympathize with Tea. I cast her as the sweet, understanding girl, the one who may not have Markal's spark or Yugi's wisdom or Serenity's passion or Seto's intensity or Mai's intelligence or Joey's fire, but who's always there, taking what life gives her, trying to help out, trying to be a good person. I never paid much attention to her inner life.

But let's give it a shot now. Let's imagine how she felt when I ripped Yugi away from her. Let's picture her sitting in her living room, late at night, knowing she should be asleep but dreading the time of lying in bed before drifting out of consciousness, because she knows that conversations with Yugi will replay in her head, that she'll see again the distant look in his eyes and his smile that had nothing whatsoever to do with her. Flipping through the TV channels, wanting distraction and at the same time repulsed by the flippant happiness or overdone drama of the shows that flash by. Tracing her hands over the buttons on her cell phone, seized with an impulse to call Mai, perhaps...and say what? Everyone is so happy for Yugi, so happy that he's finally finding himself, finally walking with an extra bounce in his step, after years of confusion and guilt, of feeling convinced that the fault lay with him and he just didn't know how to make anyone happy. Because he couldn't make her happy. They had never been happy. So what could she say? That she wants Yugi back? But she doesn't. It never felt right and it never would. So what then? That if she can't have him, no one should? That he should spend his whole life regretting his sexual orientation because it keeps them from being together? Of course she doesn't want that. She doesn't want anything but what's happening. She puts the phone down. There's nothing she can say. She has no legitimate complaints.

Yet there must be something so painful, so frustrating, about being confronted with her exclusion from that side of his life. With the fact that someone else reaches a part of him that she can't. When they're together, and his eyes lock on her, his smile is just for her, then she can feel that it doesn't matter, that their friendship is independent of Markal, of everything, that it exists on its own terms. But then he'll mention Markal, or Markal will call him, or show up, and she's reminded of her second-place status. Second place in a race she doesn't want to win, she tells herself. And true as that is, it doesn't stop the jealousy. And we all know Tea; she would loathe herself for feelings that seemed to go against the interests of her friends. So on top of the pain she piles guilt and anger at herself.

Maybe her new boyfriend calls her now. Asks how she is. She can't hide the dejection in her voice, but she tells him she's just tired. She loves him. Things are going so well; he's romantic, gentle, insightful, artistic, and he looks at her with desire. Makes her feel beautiful and powerful. This has promise, real promise; she can already see their life together, the life she's always wanted. What can she say? She's feeling bad because Yugi is happy? A fresh wave of anger washes over her. Her feelings don't make sense; how can she feel jealous of Markal when she knows she wouldn't be happy with Yugi? How can she want him to have the best life possible, and want him to be heartbroken over her at the same time? She can't explain to anybody, can't ask for advice because she doesn't need any, there are no alternate paths to choose between.

But carrying these contradictions inside her head, I imagine, wears and wears on her. She doesn't want to be with Yugi, no, not in this universe, but she can't quite let go of the existance of another, one in which she's the person his eyes light up like that for. It wouldn't be a better world. She doesn't wish herself there if it meant giving up this life, this new relationship. But she feels loss. Wistfulness over possibilities that don't quite exist, things that can never quite happen. Who can she talk to? When everyone wants to give advice and there's none to be given? When she can't explain how she feels without sounding like a bad friend? Like she's not happy for him. She is happy for him. But it's not that simple. She wants someone to understand all this. She can't keep up a conversation with her boyfriend; she excuses herself to bed, tells him she loves him. It's not a lie, but she hates hiding her feelings from him. It's not her nature. But she has no choice. She hangs up.

Now she's alone again with the TV. She fights a sudden unhealthy impulse to call Yugi, to make him talk to her; if he sounds friendly enough, concerned enough, maybe she can fall asleep remembering how strong their friendship still is. If she lets him hear the sadness in her voice, maybe he'll say something sweet, something affectionate, that she can cling to to keep her perspective. But Yugi's probably asleep, or if not asleep, hanging out with Markal. She can't interrupt that; she has no right. So she heads to bed, and lies there, scolding herself, reasoning with herself, fighting with herself, until she finally tumbles into sleep.

Perhaps this is what a night in the life of Tea felt like, after Yugi left her. Oh she'll be okay; she'll have a good life. But maybe I should have thought more about the internal struggle I left her with. Because everyone's life is full of contradictions, unrealizable desires, wistfulness. Even when they're just the boring, kind, understanding one to whom no one gives much sympathy. Even when life is good, when you wouldn't change anything...it can still hurt, right?

It's the only possible song to quote from:

Stay free my misery,
手を伸ばせば感じる、その痛み両手で受け止めて。
Stay free your misery,
愛しさも憎しみを全て受け止めて、そのまま。
Stay free my misery...

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

空に願う

I would say it happens several times a months. Sometimes more. Sometimes twice in one day. That I glance at a digital clock and it says 12:34. I decided long ago that wishes made at 12:34 are more likely to come true than those made at 11:11, no matter what anyone else says. (And can it be a coincidence that in the past seven or eight years, I can remember only a small handful of instances of catching a clock saying 11:11?)

For years I knew exactly what to wish for: for someone to fall in love with me. Sure it's a cliched wish. But every crush I'd ever had had been the kind where the thought of actually talking to him, let alone -- horror of horrors! -- letting him have the slightest inkling that I felt anything other than benevelent indifference toward him made me want to shrink into a dark hole. I could only daydream of one day finding someone who made me feel comfortable, someone I could love without embarassment. Who didn't think I was too geeky, or too chubby, or dumb for liking Rescue Rangers and Gummi Bears and finding GCDs of large numbers for fun and listening to folk music and caring about correct use of the subjunctive and everything else that I would try to hide when I wanted to appear cool. I wished for it every time.

And it happened. And I still knew exactly what to wish for: I want this to be real, I want him to keep liking me, to keep loving me, to have a real future, together, forever. For this not to be a dream, not to fade. My wishes centered on him, every time.

And it's happening. It's still real, he still wants to be with me, still loves me. I can see our future together, and it feels right.

And now, when it's 12:34, I don't know what to wish for. Shouldn't there be anything you care about other than romance, you ask? Of course, but these wishes have always been reserved for that slice of my life; I could wish for my grandmother's hip surgery to go well, or for my brother to get into a good college, or for the Mets to stop losing, or for Obama to win...but I feel these things aren't in the jurisdiction of the spirits of 12:34.

I am writing this post because twenty-six minutes ago I glanced at the clock and again felt confusion. Because right now, my wishes contradict each other. I'm afraid of what I most want to wish for, because it's a wish I don't want to come true. And so far, all of my 12:34 wishes have come true.

That's a scary power when what I want isn't logically consistant.