Once You Were My Friend

February 2024 (Four Months Later)

In the afternoon, Ichika had prepared a lovely lunch for the two of them. The table was adorned with fresh flowers from the supermarket in a slim vase and a bowl of nikujaga steamed in front of Nami's face. Although parts of her felt the need to move out from home, moments like these shared with her mother were irreplaceable - to the point of scowling at her past self for creating distance in her earlier twenties. She couldn't help but think about how nice their lives could have been if it were only the two of them. Takeshi was upstairs in his study, as usual. He picked and chose when he decided to be present; a luxury Ichika couldn't afford. Even as they existed like this, her contact with her father remained minimal. She thought she'd feel compassionate since his recent health battles, but he remained the same. Spending time with her mother like this was always a chance to reconnect, even if they didn't speak to each other much.

          She was spooning a piece of potato with the braised meat and let it melt in her mouth as it warmed her stomach. The windows were frosted despite the sun being out just a couple of hours ago. Everything outside looked still and a shade of grey, the garden bed only beginning to regrow in time for spring.

          "How is it?" Ichika asked, taking a sip of green tea and placed the cup down back onto its saucer. Ichika used these cups rarely and often in rotation with her other collection of ceramics. This one was always Nami's favourite. The set itself wasn't anything special; mostly white with a thin lining of powder pink on the rim of the cups.

          "It's delicious, thank you for cooking this for us."

          "Good, that's good." Ichika then looked out the window for a second, tracing the bold trees and dewy blades of the grass with nostalgia. "The cold always reminds me of home," Ichika said. She often spoke like this - sentences that didn't require any added thoughts or comments; a mere thought spoken aloud for her daughter to hear. Nami would smile and make up her own conclusions as to why Ichika spoke in this manner. She would think it was because she didn't spend a lot of time on her own as a young woman. Her marriage to Takeshi was something that robbed Ichika of her youth, and other things as well. But they were her parents and some things were unexplained, and forced into an acceptance of reality.

          "You're very happy today."

          Nami knitted her brows for a second and shook her head, "I don't know what that means."

          Ichika shrugged, pressing her lips into a thin smile as the corners of her eyes crinkled and in that mere gesture, Nami could see a mirror of herself. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

          The laugh that left Nami's lips was sardonic and terse. This was a common thing with mothers, specifically Asian mothers; happiness was synonymous with a romantic partner and with a male one at that. Success comes in the form of marriage and wealth, everything else is secondary or below that. It was unfathomable to be content on her own. Happiness must come with reason: a contractual exchange. This line of thinking had taken Nami some time to grow out of. She knew now there was no need to attach her recent content with life to something or someone. But these conversations were pointless with parents, in her experience at least. Although she had felt closer to her mother over the years, conversations would remain at a certain surface level. Nami could talk about the reasons she wasn't looking for a relationship and the problematic associations of equating happiness to a man, but her mother wouldn't feel inclined to understand. Ichika herself wasn't happy in her own marriage, yet these ideals continued to be a moral compass of her life.

          "I was already married before your age."

          "I'm aware." Nami knew this wasn't something to be impressed by although it came across innocuously as Ichika was merely stating a fact. Takeshi was twenty years her senior and Ichika was a hostess at a gentlemen's club. Like most men of that generation and that realm of overworked business men, Takeshi had to have her as if Ichika would be a redeeming quality of his boring life. Women were a commodity and accessorised - to complete a societal hierarchy dictated by men, for men. He married her within a fortnight with his charms and money. Money for a beautiful country orphaned girl was a simple solution for her family. But in the end, he treated her badly anyway. Nami had accepted some of these behaviours she had inherited, some unexplained, and some disassociated to her. She didn't have to be like her parents. She could be her own person. She often thought about whether she would be friends with her mother had they met at the same age and the question would remain answerless.