Amazing Grace: Take a Picture By: Masked Maiden July, 2002 Tokyo, Japan Minato-ku District To her, life was nothing but a collection of frozen memories under translucent barriers. Pictures. They were scattered all over the top of her maple dresser in shiny silver frames, some big, some small. There was a scarlet red tapestry under them, the tassels falling off the sides. Photographs and a couple of drawings created by children's hands - her beautiful, precious, frozen memories. The very first photograph showed a young woman nineteen years of age gently cradling her newborn daughter. Her long, raven black hair was damp with sweat and matted behind her ears. There was an intense exhaustion etched on her complexion, but a smile from ear to ear was upon her face as she gazed lovingly at her baby. That feeling... to be a new mother... It was the best feeling in the world. The next photograph was of a four-year-old boy wearing a white and blue soccer uniform. He sat on the grassy soccer field, his folded arms and chin resting on the black and white ball in his lap. He was anything but clean. If she remembered correctly, the picture was taken after practice one afternoon. It had rained earlier that morning. Her little boy and his friend found a mud puddle and "accidentally" played in it until she came to pick them up. There was a photograph right beside it taken just a few months later. It showed the same little boy with his baby sister. The small infant lay on the couch, fast asleep. Her brother was right beside her, asleep as well, with his arm loosely around her. He had always been protective of her. One of the pictures at the end of the dresser was of just her and her husband. It had been taken only a month after they were married. They stood next to each other, holding each other close. So very close - like there was a red ribbon tied around them, a ribbon no one could ever cut. All the pictures were about the same. There were mostly pictures of her, her husband, and their children. But her very favorite picture was the one in the center of the dresser. It was a portrait of the once happy family. A close friend of the family had taken the picture during a trip to the park. Her husband was leaning on a cherry tree. In one arm was their baby girl. His other arm was wrapped around his wife's shoulders. Their oldest daughter, who was in her preteen years at the time, stood beside her father. Their five-year-old son stood right beside her mother, tightly hugging her leg. She had her hand upon the back of his neck, ticking him to get him to smile. It worked too. That was the last picture ever taken of them together. So then, where was the young woman in those memories? She was gone. Or at least, she wanted to be gone. She had been replaced by the older reflection in the mirror. The reflection showed her after twenty years of aging; however, she held twice as many years of grief and pain inside her heart. Her long, raven hair was now turning gray. She had to wear glasses now, and she was beginning to notice a few wrinkled that were beginning to show. But during those long years, nothing had changed her dark chocolate brown eyes. They were the only features that had stayed youthful. Yet the sorrow had captured that youth as well. For some reason on that particular day, it was hard for her to face her own image. To even look at it reminded her of her failures. She noticed how pale she looked. She saw the dark bags under her eyes. Her body was physically and emotionally tired, even after sleeping in late. There was a sense of feeling small and inadequate. She felt as is she was locked up in a small room and the walls were closing in on her. The woman looked down, away from her reflection, and opened her jewelry box. She took out a bottle of pills that she kept well hidden from her loved ones. She popped the lid off and took out a handful of those pills. Five, six, seven, eight... More was great! It was still an overdose. Since her existence her entire world had been shattered and taken away from her piece by piece. In a blink of an eye she had lost her loving husband and her little boy. They were snatched away and taken to heaven after that fatal accident twenty years ago. She took every single one of those pills in her hand and washed them down with a glass of red wine. The best thing for her to do was to just end it all. ~*~*~ There are times when a person experiences a premonition. Whether it is to prepare her for an upcoming death, great fortune ahead, or to warn her about the paths that should not be treaded upon, the premonition held valuable information. That information proves to be, at times, a blessed Godsend. Godsend? A Godsend was something wonderful and miraculous. Was the premonition of a dark future such a Godsend? Perhaps... At least the person knew what to expect... Premonitions weren't always a dream. Sometimes they were a feeling deep down inside of a person - a feeling in their gut that told her something wasn't right. Her daughter had that feeling. She knew something was wrong, and she knew it had to be her mother. All morning long and throughout the beginning to the afternoon, her mother had not answered her phone or any of the messages left on her answering machine. Her friends thought she was paranoid. So did her older sister. There was no need to worry about their mother in such a manner. But she knew better, especially since the first phone call she made was to the high school her mother worked at. The secretary in the office answered, as usual, and informed her about her mother's absence - she never came into work that day. When she told her sister this, her sister said, "That is kind of weird. Did Oka-san call in sick?" "Well, yeah, but Mama was fine last night." "If you want my opinion, Oka-san turned the ringer off the phone and is trying to get some sleep. But if you're that worried about her, I suppose it can't hurt to check on her." That's what I'm going to do, she thought. She fumbled around the passenger seat of her car while keeping her eyes on the road. She grabbed her cell phone and called her uncle. He would most likely be in his office at the church, where he had ministered for nearly twenty-five years. It took her uncle longer than usual to answer the phone, meaning she had interrupted one of his meetings with someone from the congregation, or someone who was looking for a church to go to, or anyone that needed spiritual advice... She didn't know, and she really didn't care. Right now her mother was more important than any other soul on the face of the Earth. "Pastor Chiba speaking," her uncle said. "Uncle Akio, it's me," she said. "Have you heard from Mama today?" "I'm sorry, I haven't. The last time I talked to her was last night. Is something wrong?" "I don't know! I mean, I know, but I don't know what. I found out she never showed up for any of her classes and she's not returning any of my messages." "You sound like you're on your cell phone. Are you on your way to her house now?" "Yes. I thought I'd check on her and see what's wrong." "Call me the moment you find out. I'm praying for you." You always are, she said to herself. "Thanks, and I will call you back. Bye, Uncle Akio." "Goodbye, dear." Soon after, she pulled into the driveway of her childhood home - a two- story house in the suburbs of Minato-ku, Tokyo, built sometime in the 1970s. She got out of the car and with a bolt of urgency ran to the front door. With her copy of the key she went inside. "Mama?" No answer from her mother. That's what she expected. The television in the living room had been left on. The sound of the afternoon news droned in the background. There was a half-empty cup of herbal tea sitting on the coffee table in the front of sofa. Were those some kind of signs? Maybe One-chan's right, she thought. Maybe she's just sick and didn't want to answer the phone. The thought was a comforting one, but deep down she knew there was more to it. She took off her shoes before walking into the living room. She found the remote control and turned the television off. The stairs leading to the other floor caught her attention. "Mama, I know you're home. Your car is in the driveway. Please say something!" Again, there was no answer from her mother. Her fear was ready to overtake her. "Please, Mama... if this is some kind of joke then it's rotten! Now come on. Answer me!" The rope of instinct pulled her toward the stairs after the third time wasn't the charm. She climbed upstairs and walked to her mother's bedroom with hesitance and with fear... Did she really want to know? The door was closed. She opened it a crack and peeked inside. Her mother lay on the floor, barely conscious. "MAMA!" Her daughter's scream must have caught her attention. It broke the invisible barrier she was trapped inside. She groaned, wanting to speak but unable to... who knew the effects of an overdose would be so painful? Her groans were almost a blessing in disguise for her daughter. At least she knew her mother was alive. She knelt down beside her mother and placed her hand upon her cheek. The older woman seemed to respond to the soft touch. She tried to look up, but was unable to move her head of her eyes. It didn't matter. Her daughter got a good look at her mother's eyes and saw how glassy they appeared. She began to wonder... "Mama, what happened?" she asked. She spoke with a slurred voice that was hard to make out. "Just leave me alone..." Her daughter saw the medication bottle clasped in her mother's clenched fist. She took it from her grasp and stared at it. Anger she didn't desire to feel consumed her. What was her mother thinking?! When she and her sister were little and when their brother was alive, they remember their mother teaching them right from wrong. Why did she have to go against her own words? "Mama, what did you do?!" When her mother didn't answer her, she feared she was unconscious. "Mama, don't! Onegai... try to stay awake." Her coaxing was to no avail. The only sounds her mother now made were rhythmic, faint breathing. Something had to be done before she made no sound, no movement, and had no chance for recovery at all. She got up and scrambled for the nearest phone, almost tripping over her own feet. There was any time to waste. ~*~*~ Mizuno Ami found it... amusing. Furuhata Motoki found it... hilarious! "Shouldn't we do something about this?" she asked. "This is a Kodak moment!" Motoki said. "I should get a camera and take a picture of this!" Ami shook her head. "It's not nice to find humor in other people's faults. Poor Mamoru-san... he's been on call all day..." "I still want a picture of this." Chiba Mamoru was asleep on the worn out couch that was sitting in the corner of the doctor's lounge. The sprawled out position that took up the entire couch, the snoring that sounded like two lumberjacks cutting logs... Motoki and Ami wondered if he had been taking sleeping lessons (instead of love lessons) from his fiancée. It was humorous in its own fashion to see him lying there. One hand was behind his head, which was resting on the armrest. The other hand was simply touching the cold floor. He had one leg elevated on the other armrest and his other leg on the coffee table. His white coat was his blanket. His jet-black hair was unkempt. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days. The harsh honesty of it all was that Mamoru hadn't shaved in days. Nor had he been home in days. Two days to be in fact. He left home for work Tuesday morning. It was now Thursday evening. "Shouldn't we wake him up?" asked Ami. Motoki nodded as he moseyed in the doctor's lounge. His whole body language just screamed "mischievous." "Yeah," he said. "I think we should." He bent over the sleeping Mamoru and whispered in a high pitched voice, "Mamo-chan..." Ami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. He was having a little too much fun... Mamoru responded unconsciously. "Not now, Usako..." It was all Motoki could do to keep himself from falling over laughing. It was too easy! "I have this confession to make. I've fallen in love with Motoki Onii- chan... so I can't marry you. Gomen nasai." Mamoru snapped out of his state of slumber and sat straight up. "What do you mean...?!" He stopped in mid-sentence and took a long, hard look at his surroundings. He realized he had been had and threw his coat in Motoki's face. "That's not funny!" Motoki sat down on the coffee table and did his best to contain his laughter, but he couldn't help himself. He laughed so hard his sides were beginning to ache. Mamoru's white lab coat was still over his face. "That, that... that was the most funniest thing I have ever seen!" More laughter. "You, you should have seen the look on your face!" Mamoru turned the only other sane person in the room. "What time is it?" he asked Ami. Ami looked at her wristwatch. "It's about fifteen minutes past two o'clock." "Oh, thank you God... I can go home." "Weren't you supposed to go home nine o'clock this morning. Don't tell me you took someone's shift again." "I had to. No one else on duty would take Itochu-sensei's shift. So I got stuck with it. About an hour ago I decided to crash in here for a couple of minutes... some much for 'a couple of minutes.'" Motoki had calm down and took away the coat from his face. He threw it back to Mamoru, who reluctantly caught it. "If you keep this up," said Motoki, "you're going to fall down dead from sleep deprivation. Either that or your love life is going to fizzle out." Mamoru grimaced. "Please, don't remind me... it has fizzled. I can't remember the last time I spent a whole day or night with Usako without interruptions from work." He remembered he had promised to take Usagi out to dinner the night before. It had become one of the many promises he had to break. Of course, she said she understood and was not that disappointed. But Mamoru knew his Usako better than that. She was more heartbroken than she would ever admit, to him or to any of her friends. It tore him up inside to make her sad. What was he going to do? "Maybe you should consider taking a part-time shift," Ami suggested. "What this man needs is some time off!" said Motoki. "Take a vacation and go somewhere with Usagi-chan for a few days." "You know that's not a bad idea," Mamoru agreed. "I haven't taken a vacation in a while. Maybe I can see Usako for more than... what? Four hours a week? One hour? I lost count a week ago." "Take some time off, Mamoru-san," said Ami. "It shouldn't be too hard to find a replacement for you." "That's right," said Motoki. "I'll even take a day or two from your schedule. All for the sake of Mamoru having enough time to score." This time both Ami and Mamoru threw their coats at Motoki. He grumbled and he dropped them to the ground, muttering something along the lines of, "I'm not a laundry basket..." "You did ask for it, though," Ami said. The two doctors and the one resident left the doctor's lounge. Mamoru took out his cell phone as they walked to the elevators. "You calling Usagi-chan?" Ami asked. "Yeah," Mamoru said. "I'm going to ask her if she can come pick me up. I have a feeling if I drive I'll fall asleep at the wheel." "I'll take you home," Motoki said. "That way you can surprise Usagi- chan with your arrival." "No... I think I'll call her." "Why should you? It's out of Usagi-chan's way to come here to pick you up. Just hang with me through my last patient and I'll take you home." Mamoru gave in and put his cell phone back in his coat pocket. "Fine, you win." The elevator doors opened. The three stepped in and went down to the fourth floor. Ami would stay behind in the elevator and go down to the ground floor, where the nearest exit out of Tokyo Memorial Hospital was just a few meters away. "Who's your patient?" Ami asked. "Did you hear about the suicide victim that was brought in today?" he asked. "I heard there was a suicide victim, but nothing else. Who is it?" "Chiba Megumi, age fifty-one, attempted suicide with an overdose of prescription medication. Eyebrows rose, especially Mamoru's. "Chiba Megumi?" he retorted. "Uh-huh," Motoki said. "Her daughter stopped by her house this afternoon around noontime and found her lying on the floor barely conscious. When the paramedics arrived she had gone into a comatose state. I asked her daughter if she was on any medication. She said her mother took a type of barbiturate. Guess what we found in the blood test? An overdose of barbiturates." "You kidding? What type of barbiturate was it?" "An anti-psychotic. She previously suffered from cases of insomnia due to reoccurring flashbacks, which were probably caused by post-traumatic stress. She takes the anti-psychotic to suppress her REM sleep. That takes away the flashbacks and gives her a good night's sleep." "Partially," said Ami. "A person isn't able to function properly without some REM sleep." "How much was the overdose?" Mamoru asked. "Five hundred milligrams," Motoki replied. The numbers made both Mamoru and Ami whistle. That was a very lethal dosage. They were surprised it hadn't killed her. The elevator doors opened as it reached the fourth floor. The second floor consisted mostly of patient rooms and the intensive care unit. Mamoru and Motoki said their farewells to Ami as the doors closed once again. The two doctors walked down the hallways of patient rooms until they came to the doors leading to the ICU. Motoki pressed the blue handicap button built into the wall. The two solid wooden doors opened and they walked inside. "You said something about Chiba-san being diagnosed with PTS," said Mamoru. "Do you know why?" Motoki nodded. "Yes, I do. When I asked her daughter if she knew of any reasons her mother would have committed suicide, she told me that her father and older brother were killed in a car accident. About six years after that her mother was diagnosed with a 'mild' case of PTS. If something like that doesn't give a person PTS, I don't know what else could. "I contacted Chiba-san's sister in Bunkyo-ku. She's on her way. Her daughter is still here, and I believed she contacted her sister and uncle. He's here as well." Motoki stared at Mamoru. "Now listen to me, Mamoru. You've been here longer than the paint on the walls. So try to be like that paint and stay in the background. I'll just tell her family you're a college assisting me for the evening." Mamoru was reluctant to agree, but he did. "Got it." "Here we are." They stopped in front of patient room number 234. Motoki softly tapped on the door and quickly slid into the room, Mamoru following behind him. The young lady and her uncle turned their attention to them. The young lady was twenty years of age, meaning she was five years younger than Mamoru. She stood at five feet and seven inches. Her hair, originally black as the darkness, had been bleached and highlighted to where it was the color of a reddish brown. The sunglasses on top of her head kept some of the tresses away from her chocolate brown eyes. She dressed casually, wearing a pair of faded flare blue jeans and a white, knitted, sleeveless turtleneck. She was holding her mother's hand, showing in a physically sense that she was there for her. Her eyes were red from crying so much. Who could blame her? Her uncle appeared to be in his mid forties, yet he was much older. He was in his early fifties, already over the hill as so many put it. White streaks were beginning to show in his silver-gray hair. Behind his thin-brimmed glasses were two piercing blue eyes that were immune to the aging process the rest of his body had gone through. It was like child was trapped in a man's body. He was much taller than his niece, roughly six foot three. He dressed more conservative like, wearing a gray suit minus the coat with a burgundy necktie that was loosened. He stood at the end of his sister-in-law's bed, pity and concern in his eyes. He was lost in thought again, as if he were praying... Then there was the patient. A fragile and pale porcelain doll tucked under the bed sheets with care, in fear that she would break into a million pieces. Her long black and gray hair was pulled back and draped by her side, tied in a ponytail. Tubes of all kinds were everywhere and they were connected to her. Her dark chocolate eyes gave no sign of life. (Due to the poetic rendition of the movies, most people thought a person's eyes were closed when they were in a coma. That was false.) Motoki bowed and introduced himself to the elder in the room. "I'm Furuhata Motoki-sensei. I talked to your niece earlier this afternoon concerning your sister-in-law, Chiba-san. Your name?" The elder didn't take his eyes off his sister-in-law when he answered. "Chiba Akio," he said. Mamoru wasn't surprised by the man's name. Obviously, if Chiba Megumi were his sister-in-law, he would have the same surname. She could have gone back to her maiden name after her husband died, but that proved not to be the case. What caught Mamoru's attention was the young lady sitting by her mother's side. He lost interest in what Motoki was saying and stared at her from the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but notice the facial similarities they both possessed. Granted they weren't identical, but there were some similarities. Her eye color was different. Her hair color was different only because she had it highlighted. Mamoru wouldn't be surprised if her real hair color were the same as his. It was strange. Who is she, he asked himself. Why do we look similar? It's as if she were like... Like a sister, perhaps? No. His parents were dead. He had no more living relatives. Usagi was his only family. Soon they would be married and would have a family of their own someday. Akio turned to Mamoru. "And you are...?" "Chiba Mamoru-sensei," he replied. "I'm assisting Furuhata-sensei for the remainder of this evening." The young lady, Sakura, looked up for a brief moment. Did he say Chiba Mamoru, she asked herself. "Oh, sorry," Akio apologized. I didn't know." Sakura asked, "Is she going to be all right?" "Hopefully," Motoki said. "We'll keep her on a respirator and on oxygen until her vital signs are more stabilized. The barbiturates could have caused damage to the kidneys, so she will be put on dialysis. That will remove the poison from her bloodstream before more or any damage is done. It all goes accordingly, she should recover. However, she had to wake up first." "How long could that take?" "Could be days, weeks, even months. Sometimes it's a whole year before a comatose patient regains consciousness. As strange as it may sound, it's all up to your mother is she wants to wake up or not. Even in a coma state, a person can make the decision whether to live or not. It's been known that people in a coma can hear what's going on around them. Some even dream. My advice to you is to talk to her, try to hold a conversation with her. Just tell her you're here for her. That's the best medicine everyone can prescribed to her." Sakura and Akio nodded, realizing that, and too well. ~*~*~ It began to rain outside. Dark clouds veiled the warm sun and soon released little pearls of water to the earth. The pitter-patter of the raindrops soothed the hectic city - like a remedy for an illness. That is, if one chose to listen to it. Mamoru closed the car door behind him and waved goodbye to Motoki. "Thanks," he said. "Anytime," Motoki replied. "I'll pick you up tomorrow so you can get your car." "All right." They said goodbye and Motoki drove away, heading home to his wife. When he got to his apartment, Mamoru plopped down on the couch and reached for the telephone. He decided to called his fiancée and inform her that he was finally home... for the rest of the week and for half of next week. Vacation was probably his favorite word of the hour. Usagi picked up the phone on the second ring. "Hai, Tsukino Usagi speaking." "Hey, honey, I'm home," he said. Mamoru had to smile. Even hearing her voice over the phone reminded him how beautiful she was, how wonderful she was, and how undeserved of her love he was. God, he loved her so much. He missed her terribly. The moments in between seeing her angelic face and kissing her honey lips were too many and too long. That was all going to change starting that Thursday. It was evident there was a smile on Usagi's face. "Mamo-chan! Oh, I missed you. Are you coming home any time soon?" "I'm home right now. I got off of work about twenty minutes ago and Motoki brought me home." "Does that mean you haven't slept any at all?" "I got an hour nap before Motoki woke me up." "Mamo-chan, shouldn't you be in bed asleep instead of talking to me?" Mamoru gave a lopsided smile. "You mean you didn't want me to call you and tell you I was home?" "Well... maybe I did. But you should go to bed." "I will, I promise. Now I have something to tell you." "What is it?" "I got the rest of this week and half of next week off." There was a pause. "You what?" Usagi asked, disbelieving. "What? You don't want me to spend any time with you? Because if you don't I can go back to the hospital and change it..." Usagi interrupted him "Don't do that! It's just that you never take a day off. I know next week's your birthday, but I know that's not the reason. So what's the special occasion?" He could just imagine seeing Usagi's captivating blue eyes fill up with curiosity, and her face showing an expression of anticipation. "I miss my wonderful fiancée, whom I love very dearly, and I would love to get away and spend some time with her before the next ice age emerges. No interruptions, no job to worry about, nothing. Just you and me... alone." Usagi smiled. "Good answer," she said. "Now go to bed. I don't want a sleepy fiancé tomorrow." "Yes, ma'am... what are we doing tomorrow?" "We have to go and pick out the wedding cake." "Usako, I don't care what that cake looks like. As long as it's what you want." And within reason, he said to himself. Your father is only paying for just so much of this wedding. "You're still going... and for the rest of the day, I'm all yours." "Can't we just skip the cake meeting so I can have you all day?" "No, but that's a nice thought. I'll see you tomorrow, Mamo-chan." "All right." "I love you." "Love you, too." Mamoru hung up the phone and slugged towards the bathroom. He shaved and took a quick, hot shower, feeling refreshed afterwards. Layers of fatigue were washed away. But fatigue still overtook him. That fatigue took him to his bedroom, where he soon fell asleep. He wouldn't wake up until the next morning. ~*~*~ Quiet as the silence, the five-year-old boy peeked through the crack of his parents' bedroom door and hoped his mother was still up. He knew his father wasn't home yet. Some nights his job required him to work later than usual, sometimes way into the night. But it was his mother who he really wanted to see. To his relief, she was awake. All the lights were out, except for a soft glow coming from the lamp on the bed stand. His mother was sitting in bed with a book in her lap. It was a comfort to the little boy to hear the turning of the thin pages and his mother's voice in the night's silence. "Mama..." His mother looked away from her book and closed it. She turned her full attention to the child's eyes peeking inside the bedroom. "Hey, Blue Eyes. How come you're still up?" She spoke with such a soothing and gentle and loving voice - a motherly voice. The little boy crept into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed besides his mother. He did his best to bury himself in her nightgown, wanting to feel a sense of safety and security. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, brushing a few stray strands of black hair away from his eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was wrong. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asked. He nodded. "Would you like to talk about it?" He shook his head. "Oh, Mamoru..." She picked her little boy up and placed him in her lap. "Do you mean to tell me your dream was too nasty for you to tell me?" "Yes," he said, finally speaking. "Nothing's bad enough to not tell your papa and me. You can tell us anything." He fidgeted in her lap as he tried to decide whether he wanted to ask her or not. "Are you and Papa gonna die?" Something tugged the heartstrings inside her soul. A strict look of hopelessness, sorrow, and pain was etched on her face. How could a sweet child ask such a serious and morbid question? "No, sweetie, of course not. Why would you think something like that?" "I heard you and Papa talking. He said that... he was going to." "And then you dreamed about it." "Mm-hmm." The young mother hugged her son tightly and kissed him gently on the cheek. "You shouldn't think about something like that, okay? Papa and I are going to be here for along, long time. No one's going anywhere. We love you too much to ever leave you." His father overheard the conversation from the other side of the door. He heard his little boy's question, and felt as low as a person could ever feel. The radio on his alarm clock came on at six thirty. Mamoru slept through the low volume music for almost two hours. It was the first time he had slept late in months - the first time he ever had to, to be honest. He sat up and held his head in his hands. Memories of his dream still lingered. "Why did I dream that...?" No answer came to him, although he began to think it was an old memory coming back to him in his subconscious. Mamoru remembered nothing pertaining to his childhood before he was six years of age. Was this dream really a memory? Was he beginning to remember his past? After twenty years? The doorbell rang. Mamoru groaned inwardly. He knew it wasn't his Usako. Usagi had his spare key and would have barged in with a bright smile and a kiss for him. Why couldn't it be her instead of someone else? He got out of bed. There was a pair of jogging pants on the floor from a couple days before that he forgot to pick up. He put them on and walked to the door. He said, "I'm coming," when the doorbell rang for the second time. When he answered the door, he was surprised to find Motoki. He shouldn't have been surprised though. Motoki eyes went up and down slowly, going over Mamoru's attire. "You're gonna wear that?" he asked. "Well you woke me up. I didn't have time to change." "Us people with jobs just get no respect from you bums. I took time out of my schedule just so you could get your car and this is the thanks I get?" "Shut up and wait here." "I'm not even welcomed inside?" "Nope!" Mamoru went to his bedroom and came back wearing a white cotton shirt and a pair of gray khakis. He grabbed his wallet and keys and walked out the door with Motoki trailing behind. He noticed the dark bags under Motoki's eyes. "Did you get called back last night?" Motoki stared at him with a look that said, "I should give you a stupid sign to wear around your neck." "Yes..." he said, "and just ten minutes after I got home Reika said she was having the baby. But when we got to the hospital we found out it was a false alarm. I got five hours of sleep." "I got sixteen." "Just rub it in..." He was silent for a moment. "Listen, uh... before you leave to meet Usagi-chan or do whatever you're doing today... I want to talk to you about something." Mamoru got the impression the subject at hand would be serious, important, and possibly an experience similar to a ton of bricks falling on his head. He didn't know if he wanted to find out what it was. "Okay... you can tell me on the way to Memorial." "I would if I felt I could talk about it and drive at the same time. We should go to my office to talk about it." "Motoki, I took time off to get *away* from Memorial. I don't really want to step foot in that hospital for a whole week." "I'd talk about it at your apartment but I didn't really want to take my patient's medical records off hospital grounds." Mamoru became perplexed. "Are you wanting to consult a patient's condition?" "No, not exactly." "Then what is it?" "I'll tell you when we get there." Mamoru left it at that. Neither friend said a word to each other until around seven o'clock when they arrived at Tokyo Memorial Hospital. They went up to the fifth floor, where most of the doctors' offices were located. Motoki unlocked the door to his office and they walked inside. "So what do you want to talk about?" Mamoru asked. He sat down in one of the two leather chairs in front of Motoki's desk. Motoki sat down across from him. He sat there in silence before sliding a manila folder across the table to Mamoru. It took him even longer to speak. "Luna got your tongue?" Mamoru joked. "I wish she had." "Is it that bad?" "No... but it's that hard to discuss. Last night before going home I reviewed Chiba Megumi-san's medical records. The reason I was paged last night is because her condition worsened. So I updated her files and reviewed them for... I don't know. Anything really. Previous illnesses, surgeries if any, if it wasn't the first suicide attempt... While I was looking through her papers, I stumbled onto something." Mamoru had opened the folder while listening to Motoki. He started thumbing through the papers. "So what did you find?" "I found something strange. Not the disgusting strange, but the Twilight Zone strange." He mimicked the theme song to the old television show. "Doo doo doo doo strange." "I don't see anything bizarre." "Then you're not looking hard enough." Motoki took the records out of Mamoru's hand and pulled out a couple of sheets. He then handed it back to Mamoru to review. Motoki started talking as Mamoru stared at it, dumbfounded. "In 1976, Chiba Megumi-san came here to have her second child. The baby was a male and born on August third. On August third, 1982 - exactly six years later - she was brought in with a severe concussion and internal bleeding due to a MVA. Her husband died minutes after he was brought in. There are no records about their son, except that he had been taken to St. Mary's Children's Hospital three blocks away. It doesn't say anything about his death or survival." There was nothing but complete, audible silence. It rang in their ears with its loudness and annoyance. Wasn't someone going to speak? Mamoru took a long look at Motoki and then at the medical records he held in his hands. As if reading his friend's mind, Motoki handed Mamoru the rest of the records and allowed him to go through them. "So what are you saying?" Mamoru asked, already knowing the answer. "I'm not saying a word," said Motoki. "The files are what says it all." "This is unreal..." Mamoru muttered, mostly to himself. Although he had the whole folder at the palm of his hand, he read through the two sheets Motoki had first handed to him over and over and over again. None of the information would click. Why wouldn't it click? It was plain as day, but it just wouldn't register into his long-term memory. "To add upon the mound of eerie, her son was her *second* child. That would mean she has at least another child. Her two daughters weren't involved with the accident. And to top it all off, no one in her family or her husband's family was ever contacted about their son. Somehow connection was lost between hospitals and no one took the time to regain it." Mamoru said not a word. If he didn't have all the facts and evidence before him, he would readily convince himself it was merely a coincidence. Perhaps even with the evidence he would try to convince himself either way. He couldn't. Coincidences were, most of the time, the truth hidden supernaturally. The one thing that told him the truth was before him was a document that wasn't even part of Chiba Megumi's records. Motoki had gone to the file room and found Mamoru's birth certificate. Seeing the medical records and his mother and father's names on the certificate convinced him. Now... there was a problem. Mamoru didn't know if he wanted to be convinced or not. "You still alive?" Motoki asked. "I-I don't believe this," Mamoru said. "I see it... I'm convinced... but I can't believe it." "We could do a blood test. DNA never lies." "Yeah... Yeah, let's do that." "All right. When?" "Now." "Right now?" "Yes." "Okay... you're not going to pass out are you?" "What?" "Blood tests require needles." "So sedate me." "Mamoru?" The shocked young man looked away from the papers. He placed his eyes on Motoki. "What?" "Are you all right?" Mamoru didn't know how to answer that question. "I don't know... how's a guy who found out his mom's alive suppose to feel?" Even if his friend had an answer for him, he didn't have the time to give it to him. The sound of Motoki's beeper interrupted their secret meeting. He groaned inwardly. Not because it was another Code Blue in the emergency room, but because he wanted to talk to Mamoru some more. The timing for an emergency couldn't have been more imperfect. "How long can you stay?" "I have to leave around noon." "Try to hang around until eleven thirty. If I don't contact you by then, then go ahead and leave. I'll try to get up with you by eleven during a lunch break. If you want we can discuss this some more." "Fine, but what am I supposed to do until then? I'm not on duty." "Mingle with the commoners. The rest of the supreme kings of medicine can do our jobs." "I'll just go outside and smoke." Motoki's eyebrow rose. "Since when have you smoked?" "Never. I'm thinking about starting." He wasn't joking about starting to smoke. If the surgeon's general weren't on each pack of cigarettes to remind him of every risk he lectured about to several of his patients, he probably would have tired it. Of course, if he did try it, he wouldn't be able to continue it. Usagi would disapprove. She would show her disapproval by building him a doghouse to sleep in. (Say goodbye to their honeymoon...) Motoki kicked Mamoru just below the kneecap before leaving his office. Mamoru gave a silent yelp and rubbed his knee. "You better not!" Motoki exclaimed. "I have to leave. Lock the office behind you when you get tired of being alone." With that, Motoki threw Mamoru the keys and left. He waited until he was sure Motoki had gotten on the elevator and was on his way down to the emergency room. Mamoru locked the door behind him and walked through the quiet and deserted hallway to the elevators... his mother's records in his hand. Thoughts crowded in mind... He wasn't the only one to survive the car accident. From the medical records it was proven his father had died. The rest was all a lie. The bitter-coated life Mamoru had lived with for twenty years was now tarnishing and turning to rust by the touch of the truth. His mother was alive. That meant his mother was Chiba Megumi. Since his mother was Chiba Megumi, it meant his mother was the attempted suicide patient. For some reason his mother decided her life wasn't worth anything anymore and should be ceased by an overdose on barbiturates. Every time Mamoru allowed that thought to sink in, he allowed it to escape his mind. He couldn't handle it. Even if he found his mother under normal circumstances, without the suicide attempt, Mamoru wasn't sure if he could handle it. Why? Mamoru asked himself that question over and over again. That question could be taken many ways. Why did he have to discover the truth? Why didn't he discover it sooner? Why did he have to live in a lie not worth living in because of some human error that could have been fixed?! Why did the fates have to damn him and keep him away from his mother for so long?! Why did his mother try to commit suicide...? Mamoru got on the elevator and pressed the button that would talk him to the third floor. Those thoughts weren't even the chip off the tip of the iceberg. Since Chiba Megumi was his mother... that meant her daughters were his also his sisters. That also meant their uncle was also his uncle. Simple common sense sounded so profound to him. For years he thought he was an only child from a small family. Now, in almost ten minutes flat, his family had grown by four members. I saw a wedding ring on his finger too, Mamoru said to himself, thinking about Chiba Akio. That means he's married and more than likely has kids of his own. That means I've got cousins I didn't even know I had. And what if either Sakura-san or her sister are married and have a kid or two? That means I'm an uncle... I haven't even gotten over the shock about Oka-san and I'm thinking about that! Oka-san... if he could just say that word out loud without being stared at... if he could just feel it roll off his tongue... and if he could experience what he felt saying it... A smile crept on his smile. Her mother was alive! But the smile and joyous proclamation dulled instantly. Motoki told him her condition worsened that night. He may have found his mother, but it seemed as if he finally found the truth a little too late. What if her condition got even worse? He may never have the chance to hear her voice again... Her voice - it was the only thing he could remember about his mother. He remembered hearing her mother sing lullabies to him when he was little, and he remembered her mother softly reading to herself or to him at night. Couldn't he be granted the desire to at least hear her voice again? Mamoru found himself walking toward her hospital room. Oh God... what was he going to do? ~*~*~ A paper cup fell out of the machine and was clasped by two metal hands. From a dispenser hot, water downed coffee flowed out and filled the cup to the brim. Chiba Akio picked up the full cup and took a small sip. Just one drop of coffee burned the tip of his tongue. It was now numb. It didn't matter anymore how much coffee was in his mouth from then on. At least it was a quick source of caffeine. He sat down on one of the sofas in the lobby. He placed the cup on the coffee table and rested his head on his intertwined hands. For the umpteenth time that morning, he found himself praying. Akio had placed his trust in the Lord since he was a little boy growing up in a small village outside the city limits of Osaka. Whenever things were more than he could handle, he let it all go and allowed God to take care of it in His own way and time. Just because he preached the gospel didn't make being a Christian any easier. His sister-in-law's suicide attempt was one of the harder things to let go. Akio knew it wasn't his fault, but... as always, a smidgen of guilt lingered inside of him. If he had said anything different... could it have stopped her? Akio knew that wasn't so. Megumi was the type of woman that whenever she got the idea of doing something... she went out and done it. Why couldn't it be more like the old days? The old days weren't easier or golden as so many people swore to, but there was something about them that appealed to Akio. More of his loved ones were living back then... like his younger brother. He was certain that if his brother was alive that day none of this would have happened. Couldn't he go back to those days... in a more tangible way other than through memories and pictures...? ====== Fin. Stay tuned for the next installment of the Amazing Grace series! It's coming your way in a matter of weeks! :) Now for the disclaimer everyone hates... The eighth commandment says not to steal That sadly makes the truth very real So to keep the lawyers from suing me Here is a disclaimer for all to see Takeuchi Naoko owns our beloved Sailormoon And she won't give her up any time soon