(Izumi Okoma Point of View)
______________
Even if the world keeps turning
And 'til my days here on Earth fade away
I'll live with my regret, but I swear that I'll never forget
The arms that always made me feel at home...
..........
I strum the strings on my guitar while testing my tune. Every sound reverberating from the acoustic instrument sends shivers down my body; it is a euphoria that I am feeling. I can even feel my feet tapping to the beat while I practice once more.
But something strikes my nerves at the following melody.
I put a stop to plucking the cords and gaze at the empty closet, staring back at me like an abyss. Upon looking inside, I discern the extra clothes covering my father's guitar. The string instrument has been nestling inside for aeons ago.
The light leaf hovers from the window and touches my face. But I pay it no mind and continue thinking to myself. My hands are motionless, touching the strings. I gape my mouth and realise that I miss a sentence.
"Hmm, something does not feel right," I tell myself and resume making the music.
A notebook lies beside me as I perch with my guitar. The tone runs through my ears while I write and think of the lyrics inside my head. Every time I ponder about a sentence, I scribble it on my pad. I have progressed a little, but I think I am close to finishing this track. I just need to find the motivation to complete my work.
I listen once more to my recorded voice and perceive the audio that I find captivating in my ears. The chirping of a flock and the beeping sounds of automobiles disrupt the sound, but not enough to ruin the music. My head sways back and forth upon hearing the words from the song. However, the music abruptly halts, telling me I have not added a few lyrics in the lines.
A knock on the door alerts me from my seat. I stand up, walk towards the ingress, and twist the knob open, revealing my father standing on the other side.
"I brought you some snacks." My dad says.
In his hands are two Kraken-sized honey butter chips, just the way I like it. He jiggles the container and waves it in my face. The slit on the bag lets the airflow outside, allowing me to smell the rich flavour of artificial honey. Dad sits beside me and continues swaying the bag.
"How is your progress, son?" He asks.
I look at my guitar and answer, "I am working on it."
With a smile, dad tears the extra chips open and offers one to me. The one with the narrow cut is for him as he chugs the contents down to his throat. A refreshing smile surfaces from his eyes while my dad looks at the old guitar.
He stands up and goes for the old guitar. Upon picking the instrument, dad strums the song that he sang to my mum when she was still alive. Although she is not physically with us, we can still feel her guiding our lives.
After a few minutes of listening to his music, dad returns the guitar from the shelf. He brushes off the obvious dirt resting on the body and blows a gust of wind with all his might. His lips almost touch the lower bout, but dad continues puffing out air from his lips. The particles eventually flutter away, but the instrument is still rusty as ever.
"That song is beautiful." I exclaim.
My father closes his eyes and replies, "Just like your mother."
"Well, enough with the drama. Let's have you study the guitar some more since you have joined a club recently, right?"
I nod my head at his comment. Dad looks at me and grins, as if showing the world how proud he is to have me. We only have each other to support and live our days.
My father freed his schedule to meet me for today. He should have had a check-up with the doctor this afternoon, but requested it to move on a sooner date. Dad explained to the medical staff he wanted to spend time alone with me. I heard all his conversations last week in the dining room.
I can see the exhausted look in his eyes as he points his finger at each string he teaches me. Every time I do it correctly, dad praises me and brushes my hair. It is a good thing that I have already learned myriads of videos from the internet to receive these praises.
We conclude our exercise when the clock finally hits six in the evening. With the beeping sound of the alarm, the two of us head towards the room. We eat together as a family while watching a sports series on the television screen. Dad also has his interest in those shows, so I might as well watch it with him.
Dad talks about the trends and sports that he usually watches when I am not around. He remembers all the players, tournaments, and even the clips that he watches on the internet. I cannot believe that my overaged dad knows how to use a computer more than me.
I explain to him all my adventures in my new international school in return. I also told him that the two former officers elected me as the chairperson of the school. There is little that I can do and know about the position, but Byakko encouraged me to take the seat since she saw potential inside me.
That sly fox knew too well to control all the officers in the student council. Only Nickson and Yuki must have been fighting for the presidency, which I do not know not until now. They were the only students competitive enough to fight for the position.
I know since the two of them are the talk of the town.
"Maybe she is into you, son! You charmed her with your face!" Dad says, and chuckles at his comment.
After a few minutes, we hit the sack and called it a night.
The morning comes crashing through the window. I can hear nothing inside the house. My father, who is usually rowdy during the day, is not making a sound. And then I remember. He has an appointment with the doctor today.
He never lets me visit him in the hospital. Dad always tells me to stay out of the building, and learning about his sickness is not prominent for me to know. Since my dad hides the documents damn well, I have no other choice but to leave my life with that secrecy.
"Keep your secrets," I tell myself and slide the council door open.
I am a bit early going to school since our schedule differs from the non-officer students. We can attend any classes that we want as long as we can listen to and take part in the questions provided by the professors. We also need to present ourselves inside the council room and do our tasks around nine in the morning. Compared to the regular students, our schedules are free as officers in the school.
Three people greet my eyes as I push the gates open. I see Nickson working with the mountain of files on his desk. Roxanne is roaming around the room, talking to the phone while stamping the documents related to the school festival. Yuki has already finished doing her job and excuses herself to go to the drama club. The others have yet to arrive in the room.
"Uhm, excuse me. Do you have the papers for the recruits of the committee?" I ask Nickson.
The Korean exchange student locks eyes with me while gripping the documents tighter in his hands. Within a few seconds, Nickson averts his gaze and slides the drawer open. He hands the sheets over to my waiting hands without uttering a word.
I bow my head and leave his vicinity.
"I know he is hot, but why the stern attitude? Geez," I exclaim.
A tired sigh escapes from my mouth as I glare at the cursed papers before me. If these documents could talk, I would have tossed them out of the window and burned them into ashes. I want to see them perish for giving me such responsibilities.
I complete my part early and exit the room. It is strenuous to be inside a group of silent people, clicking and punching their desks like feral animals. The beat is outrageous in my eardrums, so I have to leave the room.
As I wander around the classroom halls, I hear the conversation of two girls gossiping with each other.
"Do you want to visit and hang out inside the light music club?"
"Yeah, of course! I heard a handsome British-Japanese exchange student was leading the band."
The conversation goes on as the two of them rush to the recognisable corridors towards my club room.
"Who are they talking about?" I ask myself while I follow their trail.