Butterfly
Grief was like a noose. It tightened around your neck until all you saw was your vision going black around the edges. The struggle for air became too much, and unconsciousness granted you its bittersweet mercy.
The only difference was you woke up the next day to relive it all over again.
Tadashi knew exactly how that felt. He remembered that phone call with excruciating clarity. The call that turned his life upside-down. His parents were dead. It was like someone had kicked him in the stomach. Denial set in within seconds. No. The police officer was wrong. This was a case of mistaken identity. His parents were fine. They were alive. He had just seen them less than an hour ago at breakfast. The family of four were sitting at the kitchen table, just like they did every morning. They couldn't be gone.
~0~
A drunk driver. A teen, over twice the legal limit, speeding through a red light. It was a head-on collision. Death was instantaneous. They didn't feel a thing. At least that's what the official report said. The perpetrator escaped the wreckage with a sprained ankle. The media called it a tragic example of wrong place, wrong time. The accident served as a reminder of the horrific consequences of driving under the influence.
~0~
After the police officer had expressed his sincerest condolences, Tadashi hung up the phone. He sank to the floor, legs unable to support him. He buried his face in his hands, entire body trembling with quiet sobs. No, no, no. Please. No.
"'Dashi?"
Tadashi looked up. Hiro was standing there, his head tilted to side. "Why 'Dashi cry?" he had asked.
Without a word, Tadashi opened his arms to him. Hiro crawled into his lap, clapping his tiny hands on Tadashi's cheeks. "No cry, 'Dashi."
Tadashi sniffled, holding him close. How was he going to do this? How was he going to tell him?
~0~
Tadashi decided not to bring Hiro to the funeral. He didn't want his last memory of their parents to be two boxes in the ground. Sometimes he wondered if he made the right choice. Did he rob Hiro of the chance to say a final goodbye? That question was a constant ache in the back of his mind.
~0~
A few days later, they moved in with Aunt Cass. It was a temporary, but necessary change. Tadashi knew he couldn't afford to keep the house on his own. They had to find a smaller place. He needed to look for a job.
~0~
School was no longer a priority. Tadashi's sole concern was Hiro. Tadashi and Cass did their best to explain things so that he would understand. It didn't register. Hiro sat by the window for hours, waiting. Waiting to see their parents' car pull up. Waiting for them to take him out for ice cream and to the park. He cried almost every day when the sun set and they still didn't come home. Tadashi lost track of how many times he had to pull an inconsolable Hiro away from the window. He could do nothing but cradle him until his sobs finally quieted. Hiro was frightened and confused. The question he kept asking again and again broke Tadashi's heart. 'Did Mommy and Daddy leave because they don't love me anymore?' The change in his demeanor was immediate. Hiro was no longer a bubbly, spirited toddler. He became withdrawn, playing by himself in the corner more often than not. Tantrums and night terrors were a common occurrence. Hiro was so young. Too young to comprehend such a loss. Tadashi tried to put on a brave face. He needed to be strong for Hiro. But it was hard. There were many times when just existing seemed impossible.
~0~
Aunt Cass helped with the paperwork to establish him as Hiro's legal guardian. That was a fight. Social workers questioned whether Tadashi was the best person for Hiro to be with. Their reasoning being possible financial difficulties. They had the audacity to suggest that Hiro would be better off in foster care. Tadashi would be damned if he let that happen. He was grateful to the judge, who advocated on his behalf. "This child has experienced unimaginable tragedy," he had said. "The worst thing would be to separate him from his brother. Mr. Hamada has proven himself to be a responsible and conscientious caretaker. I have no doubt that he will always look out for Hiro's best interests."
With that battle behind them, the next thing was a job. Tadashi scoured the help wanted ads day and night. He hoped to find one that would be feasible to his situation. Eventually, he secured a position as a server at a nearby French restaurant. The hours were flexible with good pay. He sold the house and rented an apartment a few blocks from the Lucky Cat. Tadashi then enrolled Hiro in camp and signed up for summer classes for himself. Soon enough, they settled into a new routine. While Tadashi knew that they would never fully return to normalcy, he realized how crucial these little steps were in beginning to heal. Hiro started to smile more. When Tadashi picked him up from camp, there was no shortage of conversation. Hiro's animated retelling of all he'd seen and done occupied the drive home. For the first time since the accident, Tadashi began to see the light at the end of tunnel.
~0~
Now three months on, Tadashi wondered what his parents would say if they could see him. Would they be proud of him? He would give anything to be able to hug them one last time and tell them how much he loved and missed them. On rainy days when the sun finally broke through the clouds, he liked to imagine that that was their sign to him. That they were watching over him and Hiro, and, yes, they were so very proud of him. The thought helped lessen the painful grip around his heart. It wasn't much, but it made breathing a little easier.
~0~
Tadashi got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. Hiro was dozing. It was only a twenty minute ride, but then again, road trips always knocked him out. Hiro was a colicky baby, and a spin around the block was the only thing that could settle him down. Tadashi concluded soon enough that it was the hum of the engine that did the trick.
The older boy brushed his hand through the child's tangle of raven hair. "Hiro..." There was a singsong quality to his tone.
Hiro stirred, blinking himself awake. He stretched his arms out in either direction with a yawn. He glanced at Tadashi, eyes narrowed in response to the harsh sunlight.
"Hey, sleepyhead. We're here. You excited?"
A nod.
Tadashi unbuckled Hiro's seat belt and lifted him out. "Okay, hold my hand."
"Up," Hiro commanded, raising his arms in the air.
"What's the magic word?"
Hiro whined, almost sounding annoyed that he had to use manners. "Peeasee."
Tadashi chuckled. "Thank you. Upsy-daisy."
He balanced Hiro on his hip. "What do you want to see first?"
"Yions," Hiro said.
"Lions? Okay. We can go visit them first. Do you remember what sound a lion makes?"
Hiro scrunched up his nose and bent his fingers into a claw. "Rawr."
"Very good." Tadashi walked straight ahead, passing the sign that welcomed them.
San Fransokyo Zoo & Gardens
A recent rain spell had kept the pair cooped up for the better part of the week. It seemed like it would never end, but finally, everything cleared. Hiro had cabin fever, and Tadashi knew they both could use a good dose of fresh air and vitamin D.
"Good morning," the ticket clerk greeted them with a bright smile. "How are you today?"
"Good, thank you. Just one, please," Tadashi said, handing her the twenty-dollar bill. Money was tight now, so he was grateful for the zoo's 'Kids three and under get in free' policy.
"Here we go," she said, passing him the stub. "You know, you both came on a very special day. It's the grand opening of our new butterfly garden."
"Oh, wow. That sounds fun. Do you want to go look at the butterflies later, bud?"
Hiro shrugged, accompanied by a noncommittal grunt.
The ticket clerk giggled. "He is so adorable. What's your name, sweetie?"
"Hiwo," he answered, hiding his face in Tadashi's shirt.
"Hiro," she repeated. "Would you like a sticker, Hiro?" She held out a roll with designs of goofy, cartoon animals.
His eyes lit up at that. "Yeah."
"Alrighty. Let's see..." Carefully, she peeled a zebra from the glossy white paper and patted it down on the back of his hand. "There. Do you like it?"
"Mm-hm," he said, admiring his new gift.
"What do you say?" Tadashi asked.
"Thank you," he mumbled, shyness returning.
"You're quite welcome. Have fun today."
"Thanks again," Tadashi said. He took a map and continued along to the entrance. After handing in his ticket, they went in. Signs pointed in all directions towards different areas of the zoo. Ocean World, Insect Hall, Cat Land.
Tadashi unfolded the map with one hand, the other one occupied by an impatient Hiro. "Oh, boy." With small writing and colorful lines denoting various pathways, it was confusing, to say the least. "We said lions first, right, Hiro?"
"Uh-huh." He kicked his legs in eager anticipation.
"Okay. So... we're here," Tadashi said, focusing on the black star at the bottom of the map. "And the lion's den is to the east, right by the nature trail. I think I got it. Let's go."
After saying hello to the lions, they crossed the entire zoo to the aquarium tunnel. Inside, they watched fish, sharks, turtles and other marine life swim above their heads. Hiro never looked more fascinated. Tadashi swore the little boy's eyes tripled in size as he tried to take everything in. The next stop was the gorilla preserve. Then the panda sanctuary. And then the exotic bird aviary. An endless bundle of energy, Hiro darted to each exhibit without a moment's pause. Even the rising temperature and large crowds were no deterrent. Meanwhile, Tadashi struggled to keep up. I'm getting old, he mused, as Hiro tugged on his arm to get him to move faster.
Only the promise of ice cream was enough to get Hiro to settle down for a few minutes so they could rest. They sat at a table near one of the zoo's restaurants, Hiro with a drippy chocolate cone in his hand.
Tadashi reached over with a napkin and wiped Hiro's face. "It's all over your mouth, silly," he said, as Hiro squirmed. He leaned back in his seat. "Is it good?"
"Yeah," he said, swinging his legs back and forth. The ice cream continued to melt under the hot sun, little droplets falling onto his shorts.
"Be careful," Tadashi reminded him. "Don't get your new friend dirty." He gestured to the stuffed giraffe sitting in Hiro's lap.
When they stepped into the gift shop for a second to cool off, Hiro ran straight to the bin of toys. At first, Tadashi told him to put it back. Hiro already had enough stuffed animals to sink a ship. But Hiro wouldn't give up without a fight. When begging and whining didn't work, he employed a tactic that Tadashi knew he didn't have any immunity against: the Puppy Pout. Bottom lip trembling, wide brown eyes glistening with tears. Tadashi's personal kryptonite. Before he could stop it, Tadashi found himself at the register, depositing ten dollars into the cashier's palm.
"I won't," Hiro declared. He then dropped the cone on the table, the leftover ice cream leaking out. "My hands are sticky," he said, holding them out to show Tadashi.
"I see," Tadashi said with a small laugh. He stood and proceeded to clean the mess. "Don't worry. We'll go wash up, okay?"
The trip to the restroom complete, Tadashi studied the map a final time. "It's getting kind of late, bud," he told Hiro. "Just one more stop, and then we're going to head home. Where do you want to go?" He bent down to Hiro's level so he could look at the map. "We can see the eagles, the koalas, lemurs..."
"Butterfies," Hiro said. It was a decisive choice, like he'd been thinking about it for some time. He hugged his giraffe to his chest.
Tadashi smiled. "Butterflies it is. Come on."
Hiro grasped Tadashi's pinky to hold, and the two fell into step with each other.
Located on nearly four acres, the Kawaguchi Butterfly Garden was overflowing with lush greenery. Abundant foliage stretched as far as the eye could see. A vibrant assortment of flowers and plants made comfortable spaces for the butterflies to perch themselves and spin cocoons. There was a fork in the cobblestone walkway. That was helpful in accommodating the surge of people exploring the new attraction. Hand-painted wooden signs sprung up from the ground every few yards. Each one displayed a fact about butterflies.
Seeing that Hiro was starting to get tired, Tadashi carried him around on his shoulders so he could have a better view. They even spotted a chrysalis hanging from a branch. Dark green and plump, Hiro thought it was a fat jelly bean. Tadashi attempted to explain the metamorphosis process, but Hiro lost interest in the lesson rather quickly. Not one to pass up an educational opportunity, Tadashi switched methods. He began reading the signs staked into the ground aloud.
"'There are estimated to be fifteen to twenty thousand different species of butterflies,'" he told Hiro. "That's a lot, huh?"
"A lot," Hiro echoed.
"Hmm. Oh, wow. I didn't know that. It says here that butterflies taste with their feet. What do you think about that, bud?" He snickered as Hiro stuck out his tongue in disgust.
"'Dashi, want to get down," he said, pulling at Tadashi's hair.
"Ow. Ow, ow. Okay. Hang on. Do you wanna walk?"
"No."
"Didn't think so."
Taking a seat on a nearby bench, Tadashi lifted Hiro from his shoulders and sat him on his knee.
"'Dashi, what does that say?" Hiro pointed to another sign opposite them.
Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, Tadashi squinted. "Because of the transformation..." He froze, words trailing away as he finished the sentence in silence.
Because of the transformation they make during their lifetime, many cultures believe that the butterfly represents the souls of those who have departed.
He let out a soft gasp of surprise. That brought Tadashi back. Back to a time when they were still a family of three. Back to a time when, in his eyes, his parents were immortal.
Precocious and inquisitive as any child could be, nine-year-old Tadashi had been eager to learn more about his mother's family. The majority of them still lived in Japan, and he was interested in finding out everything he could about the relatives he hoped to meet one day.
Maemi found her photo album tucked away in her closet, and the two sat on the floor of the master bedroom.
"This is my older sister, Hatsu, and my younger brother, Kazuo," she said. "Your oba and oji. You don't remember, but they came to visit not long after you were born. I think you were about three months."
"I was?" Tadashi looked at the photo before him. The three siblings were standing in a line, his mother squished between a taller girl and a little boy who didn't seem much older than he was.
"Yeah. They would fight over who got to hold you more. They just adored you. You were their first nephew. Hatsu cried when we brought them to the airport because she didn't want to leave. I didn't want them too, either."
"We should go to Japan," Tadashi said. "So we can say hi to them again."
Maemi smiled. "Maybe we will someday. That would be fun, right?"
Tadashi nodded, making a secret wish right then and there that he and his parents could make that trip.
As they flipped through the book, Tadashi saw pictures that chronicled his mother's whole childhood. The house she grew up in, the schools she attended. All of her extended family together for special holidays and festivals.
"Who's that?" He tapped a portrait that took up a whole page. An elderly woman sat straight in a stiff wooden chair. Her hands were folded in her lap and her face was solemn, looking away from the camera. She had on a flowing kimono made of rich blue silk. She looked very elegant, Tadashi thought.
"That's my soba. My grandma. Your great-grandma. Her name was Satomi. She taught me so many things. How to do ikebana, origami, a traditional tea ceremony. She was also an incredible cook. Everything I know how to make, I learned from her. Onigiri, tonkatsu, shabu-shabu. Even your favorite: tempura."
"Yum."
"And I know she looks serious here," Maemi continued with a small laugh, "but she was one of the kindest people I knew. She had sixteen grandchildren, and she loved them all the same. She passed away when I was fourteen. I missed her so much, and I still do, but I'll never forget what she told me."
"What?" Tadashi asked, now intrigued.
"A couple weeks before she died, she said, 'When I'm gone, I want you to look for the butterflies. When you see one, know that it's me, watching over you.' After her funeral, I went outside, and right there by the flowers was the most beautiful butterfly I'd ever seen. I felt a lot better after that. I knew that even if I couldn't talk to her or hear her voice, she would always be with me. No matter what."
Maemi then touched her son's cheek. "You know, baby, I want to pass on what my grandma said to you. If there ever comes a time where Daddy or I can't be with you, I don't want you to be scared. We will always be in your heart, guiding you."
Tadashi didn't like where this was heading. "But, you're not leaving me... right?"
"No. But can you promise me that you'll remember what I told you?"
"Yes, Mama."
"'Dashi..."
Hiro's tiny voice broke Tadashi out his reverie. He glanced over and saw that Hiro was face-to-face with a Monarch butterfly. Its wings were bright orange with brown and white speckles. Hiro squealed, trying to shoo it away.
"It's okay," Tadashi assured. "She just wants to say hello. Stay really still, alright?"
Hiro followed his instructions, almost too well. He tensed up, as if willing the butterfly to move away. It didn't. Instead, the butterfly hovered closer and closer, until it decided that Hiro's nose was the perfect landing spot. Hiro flinched, and the insect darted away. But only for a moment. It returned, this time with a second butterfly following close behind. This one was smaller, but with a similar wing design.
The smaller one flitted over to Tadashi, settling on his hand. The larger one, however, went back to Hiro. It circled around him a few times before finally resting on the front of his shirt.
Tadashi sniffled, yet, he couldn't help but smile.
Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.