Ruki struggles with the course of her adulthood, and learns that growing up doesn't have to mean growing apart.

Junctures

Chapter VI
"More Than Chance"

Apricots and cream.

The scent was familiar and soothing to his core, calming every frenzied nerve in his body, sedating every nauseous impulse he had. It was the very scent he'd dreamt about when he wasn't awake, thought about when he was, couldn't talk about when prompted, but couldn't stop talking about in his sleep.

"Dad, you're crushing me."

Henry reluctantly peeled his arms from around his son's smaller frame, the smell of his shampoo still wafting in the air around him, and gripped him by the shoulders to take a good look at his face. Striking Eurasian features, mussed brown hair, charmingly placed freckles, with Alice's nose and chin but a gallant smile he could only have inherited from Henry.

Toma Lee-McCoy looked back curiously at his father with eyes blue-grey like old rock carved out from a glacier, mapping out lines, contours and discolouration that hadn't been there before.

Henry's eyes glossed over, never wanting to venture so far from Toma's face again.

At the door, Alice McCoy kept a lingering eye on the two while she removed her shoes, the scene mesmerising her as if she were watching the emotional climax in a stage play. Suzie stood beside her, in silent agreement herself.

She managed to tear her eyes away. "Thanks for having us over, Suzie. I know it's late; we just landed this afternoon." She flicked a strand of shoulder-length blonde from her eyes as she straightened back up, stepping her bare feet onto the carpet.

Suzie smiled, albeit rather tersely, in response. It wasn't that Suzie harboured any ill feeling towards her—she was a college sophomore when they'd married, and was smart enough to guess the circumstances without them mustering up the courage to tell her, which she knew they wouldn't, and hadn't. Alice was astute but rather clinical, as were her interactions with Suzie and her boyfriend the times that they'd spend together, finding it rather difficult to penetrate her thinly veiled sarcasm even when she knew it wasn't in malice. Henry was warmer than she, and he was open and frank, but they appeared to complement each other when they communicated, somewhat in a constant battle of wits in a speed she could only describe as stimulating. It seemed to her that they were trying to make the best of an unusual situation, even when the façade began to show its cracks with every passing year.

If she was honest, she just wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to act around this woman. Alice was her ex sister-in-law, the mother of her beloved nephew but the wife for-not-much-longer of her brother to whom she's caused so much pain. She'd previously announced that she and Toma would be moving to Ireland without discussing it with him first, after all.

In fact, they'd been in Dublin scouting the city when she'd received Suzie's call about Henry, may well having been the nail in the coffin of doubts she was already having about the move. Even though Alice had taught him some basics, Toma was struggling to adjust in an English-speaking environment and Alice herself was wondering whether this desperate clawing at her heritage was her way of coping with their separation, even though it was she who suggested it first. Truth be told, after spending almost her entire life in Japan, with her taciturn boy on her hand, she'd felt just as lost and isolated in a sea of faces that looked just like hers.

Suzie offered Alice some tea which was politely declined, before excusing herself and retreating into her room to give the three some privacy. Alice smoothed her hair back into place, a nervous habit, before she braced herself to approach her now-estranged husband.

Henry's animated gushing about the new scout badges on Toma's backpack dissipated as Alice came into his line of sight. Eyes shifted to the state of his hair to the stains on his blanket, he recognised, not in disdain, but in something more akin to pity or sadness, leaving Henry to falter and leave them in a vacuum of discomfited silence.

Turned out there were a lot of interesting shapes in the carpet.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here," she eventually said, frantic for something to distract her from the vacuous grey windows that were his eyes. "It took longer than I thought to get us a flight here and I couldn't get through to your phone. How, um, are you?"

"Good," Henry replied, deliberately curt. "Let's see, my wife and son left me, I can't work, I'm dizzy all the time and I throw up every now and then, but I'm otherwise okay. You?"

Alice heaved a sigh, all those guilty knots appearing in her stomach again. She knew why he was upset at her, and she couldn't blame him.

"Was that all you were sorry about?" Henry pressed on, his lips pursed and eyes meeting hers point blank.

"Of course not." But she didn't elaborate.

"Dad, check these out!" Toma exclaimed from his father's side on the sofa, obliviously opening up his backpack to show him all the knick-knacks he'd picked up in Dublin. Henry stripped his attention away from Alice to focus on their son, his gaze shifting from critical to gentle in one sweep. Grateful that Toma had inadvertently saved her from the potential minefield of a conversation that she hadn't at all prepared for, she settled for watching them interact, calming her nerves while she poured over what she was going to say next. Watching it unfold before her eyes, she then remembered what a charismatic father he could be.

"You're here to pity me," he then remarked, half-feigning interest in yet another garish Saint Paddy's magnet that Toma had pulled out of his bag.

"You must be out of your mind," she calmly rebuked, her even composure not matching the incredulity of her words. "I was worried about you. And I wanted to apologise."

He glanced at her, the uneven angle of his eyebrows signifying his scepticism. "Haven't heard it yet."

She tisked. "I'm getting to it."

Henry expelled a sharp breath that almost resembled a laugh. Was he… amused?

Alice found a place on the sofa and sat, nestling Toma comfortably between his parents. Her legs stretched out beside his bare feet. She berated herself for not being more sympathetic towards him in her haste to arrive at the apartment. He was suffering from a goddamn Traumatic Brain Injury and all he got was a 'how are you'? She lamented that she must have seemed rather heartless, soon-to-be-ex wife or not.

"I really do hope you're okay," she said, the words carefully chosen to reflect at least some degree of the concern she had for him.

"I know."

And just like the time she'd provoked him to kiss her for the second time, something came over her and the words seemed to hurtle out of her mouth all on their own. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better wife."

Henry was taken aback. "That's not what I meant when I…"

"I know, but I mean it."

"I'm sorry too."

"Please, don't apologise. You've been nothing but…" —an incredible father, a dependable friend, a wonderful companion— "…Good."

"Good," he repeated, cocking his eyebrows. Her face certainly didn't read underwhelmed to him, so why had her words been?

She almost let it slip that maybe they could have been the perfect spouses to each other, in another life, under different circumstances.

Maybe in that life, they might long for each other when they were both at work, and ache for each other when they were apart. In that life, maybe Alice wouldn't have had to give up an illustrious legal career to care for a child she hadn't planned on having.

Maybe in that life, they would be happy.

A hand flew to her mouth, stifling a strangled cry and Alice couldn't suppress the tears glossing over her eyes. As she squeezed them shut the tears spilled, cascading down her porcelain white cheeks.

To her own surprise, it wasn't triggered by regret over what her life could've been. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm an idiot. I was then too."

Henry smiled ruefully. "I think we can say we both were. I mean, look at this mess."

Alice fought to compose herself before her next words. Her eyes remained closed, stifling the tumult like a dam. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "I really thought we were doing the right thing."

"Yeah, I know. Me too."

It was almost comical how alike they were. Comical that they were so similar in nearly every way, and yet turning out so utterly incompatible.

"I… I wished for another life so frequently that I didn't even realise how great you were—are. And I—look at you like this. I can't help but feel like it's all my fault; I should've been around for you. And I know you disagree with me—even after I hurt you like that—but this is how I'm feeling and I can't just dismiss it anymore. And it was stupid of me to try and run away. Every day I look at Toma and see so much of you in him, and he talks about you and worries about you constantly. I can't keep him away from you. Not while you're like this. What kind of mother would that make me?"

"—Alice…"

"…What kind of person would that make me?" she added quietly.

The tears threatened to spill again, and she hugged Toma close to her abdomen to silence herself.

A moment later, as Alice began to let go, Toma turned to Henry in all his solemnity to plant a four leaf clover-shaped magnet in his palm, closing his father's hand to curl around it like he would close a beloved old music box, before twisting around and doing the same for his mother.

"I wanna stay here," he finally said. "And take care of dad."

Alice kissed him on the top of his hair. "You will."

Henry turned to her, shock colouring his face.

"We will," she repeated.

Henry Lee, who hadn't felt elation like this for as long as he could remember, was almost moved to tears of his own. Was that a declaration to stay? There were still things to sort out, talks to be had, thoughts to be shared, regrets to be untangled… but it was far better than the alternative.

They fingered the little magnets in their palms, and they suddenly became conscious again of the smell of apricots and cream encircling them.

They'd been driven apart, not just from each other, by mistakes they'd made too large to correct, but in all the pandemonium they had forgotten that there was something bigger than all of that. Perhaps they would never get back together, but they were Toma's parents, and they would forever be intrinsically linked through the love that they both possessed for this boy.

"Henry…" she teetered, almost nervously. "You know, if I could go back, I wouldn't—"

He wiped at the remainder of her tears with his thumb. "—I know. Me too."

The rainy grey skies trundled in perfect contrast to the café's still and woody interior, casting a ghostly light on its sparsely seated patrons. It was quiet for a Sunday afternoon—perhaps because this kind of day was more suited for staying in and anticipating the rain to accompany light reading and trivial conversation. One Juri Kato welcomed the citywide scramble in perfect contentment. As she sipped at her coffee, her eyes followed the droplets migrating down the windows in good spirits; she liked the rain, and the parade of umbrellas in every colour that would float through the city whenever it did.

Her little girl, occupied with crayons and a sketchbook, sat busied beside her. Her light brown hair in short pigtails, plump legs dangling off her chair, she was the spitting image of a young Takato. Juri silently thanked the universe that she caught her in one of her rare quiet moments, wrapped up in utmost concentration to ensure her colouring stayed within the lines.

A jingle was heard from the door, followed by the trudge of squelchy boots hitting creaky floorboards. It appeared that someone had forgotten her umbrella at home, and if that hadn't appeased lady luck's cruel sense of humour today, she'd been splashed—twice—by passing cars on the walk from the train station. Moreover, she still had a weird, dull pain in her belly lingering from her post-birthday hangover. Ruki's day wasn't what one would categorise as "good".

Juri couldn't help a giggle at the exasperated redhead drenched at the entrance.

Keep it together, Kato. You're still furious at her!

"Ruki, over here!" she waved. Goddamn it.

She came over to their table, her wet bangs fanned out in stems on her forehead and damp coat slung over her arm. "…Hey, Juri," she greeted, her voice worn from grumbling—knowing Ruki—all the way over. The redhead attempted a friendlier approach as she looked to the tiny girl plastered to the table, her elbows level with her chin. "Hi, Erika. God, you're getting so big."

"Hi, Aunt Ruki!" Little Erika flip-flopped a chubby arm in her direction, grinning widely. "I'm drawin' a pict-cha."

"Cool," she said, unsure whether that was lingo a kid would respond keenly to. "Whatcha drawing?"

"Cows and bread and stuff."

Ruki looked at Juri questioningly, who shrugged. "…Cool."

Juri erupted into a laugh, taking pleasure in her visible awkwardness. She grabbed an empty chair from the nearby table for Ruki to sit in. "Rough journey?" she asked, hand gesturing to the sodden state of her.

"Ugh, you have no fu—fudging clue." Ruki eyed Erika beside her, careful not to garner her attention while regretfully dripping rainwater all over the café properties. Perhaps her least favourite part about the prospect of having children would be having to alter her daily vocabulary. Luckily for her, Juri didn't incessantly shush her around the bad words as much as Takato did.

"Um, so, how's the baby?"

"Good," she replied, subconsciously rubbing her stomach as she spoke.

"…That's good." A pause drifted by, faint chatter and the jingling bell still heard in the background.

A waitress came over. "Excuse me, could I please get a…"

"…Soy latte?" the waitress announced, setting the glass and saucer on the table. Ruki, surprised by the ambush of her drink of choice, looked to Juri who winked at her. She smiled her thanks, before taking a gratified sip.

Ruki could be a stubborn creature of habit in many ways, her choice in "nice" coffee over the filter stuff (or "commoditised diarrhoea", as she'd say) unrelenting from the time when Rumiko came back from a barista course in Italy, armed with a brand new espresso machine and an arsenal of exotic artisanal blends. As much as Ruki liked to sneer at her privileged upbringing, sometimes her daughter-of-a-supermodel really showed.

Juri, on the other hand, would take her coffee black with plenty of sugar. Her schedule as a programmer didn't deviate much from her schedule as a mum; gruelling overnight grinds and the demand for the caffeine hit to be hard and fast.

So that's where Juri got the energy to be the fun one, Ruki mused with a smile.

"Look…" Ruki began. "I'm really sorry. For being a huge asshole at my birthday."

Before Juri had a chance to answer, Erika gasped aloud. "You said a bad word!"

Ruki quickly turned to her. "No no, 'asshole' isn't a bad word, you see. Everyone's got one—even you," she justified with a nervous smile.

The little girl was positively aghast, "Me?"

Oh God, she was going to cry. Ruki put her hands up in defence, her eyes wide in panic. They darted to Juri—who was trying to suppress laughter!

"What's funny about this!? Help me!"

"Everything!" she exclaimed between fits of laughter.

Ruki crossed her arms, unimpressed. "I'm glad this amuses you so, but I'm trying to apologise here."

She waved her hand dismissively, simultaneously rubbing her daughter's shoulders to comfort her. "Oh come on, have a sense of humour!"

As if involuntarily, the corners of her mouth began to tilt upwards.

"…I've missed you."

Juri only stared back for a second, before leaning forward to hug her over the table, nearly knocking their beverages over. "I've missed you, you big baby!"

Breaking apart, they settled back into their seats, Ruki's hands still clasped in Juri's.

"I'm sorry too, you know. For not telling you about the baby," she acknowledged. "But, you've gotta understand, I've got Erika, and…"

She faltered, but Ruki knew; with another one on the way, this was the way things were always going to be.

She looked down at their hands, brushing gently at her knuckles before letting go. "So, how are things?" Ruki asked, not looking up.

"Actually, they're great!" Juri beamed. God, it must be nice being Juri, Ruki thought. "This one here starts school next year, so I'm in negotiations with work to get me back in the office full time. Hopefully it works out so Takato doesn't have to take extra shifts at the restaurant anymore. It is a pain in the ass though, don't get me wrong."

Another little gasp erupted from Erika's 'O'-shaped lips. "Mama! You said—"

"Oh hush baby, here," Juri dropped the chocolate biscuit that came with her coffee in the girl's lap. "Eat it, and don't tell your daddy."

Erika's eyes lit up in a sparkle, wrapped both hands around the biscuit and lifted it to her mouth with delight. Ruki raised an eyebrow. "You bribing your kid?"

"Of course," she replied offhandedly. "So what about you? How are things?"

Did she mean besides her identity crisis, making an ass of herself at her birthday and then finding Henry unconscious? "Could be better."

"Is it those jerks you work with? Or are you worried about Henry?" What, could she read minds now? "Oh don't give me that look. You give yourself away more than you think."

She smirked. "Bit of both. I just…" A sigh replaced her words again, as Juri knew tended to happen. She'll just have to beat it out of her later, but for now, they opted to sip at their coffee instead. Juri's eyes carefully scaled her best friend, inhaling the nutty aroma while she drank. Ruki could be an interesting creature sometimes.

Juri prudently set her cup back on its saucer. "Takato and I wanted to open a restaurant once." Ruki looked up at her in surprise but said nothing, prompting her to continue. "We were eyeing a little ramen shop in Koenji, and we were going to do 'specialty ramen'. Takato had researched all the recipes, we'd had appointments with a solicitor and had a menu drafted and everything." She seemed to look just past Ruki as she spoke, but her gaze was far away.

When Juri snapped out of it, a sheepish smile masked it instead. "But then we got pregnant. I had to quit my job, so we started dipping into the savings we had for capital."

"…I had no idea," Ruki finally said. "I… I could've lent you the money. …You know I have it." She quietened to a whisper there, as if not wanting to admit the last detail.

"No way! We were too busy breastfeeding and getting thrown up on by that point. This kid's a lot of work," she laughed, gesturing to Erika who was thoroughly tuned out and absorbed into her drawing. Juri shrugged vaguely. "Look, I mean that was five years ago… My priorities have changed, but we still kinda wish we did it sometimes."

It didn't feel like too long ago that Ruki had her own dream. For Juri and Takato, that dream had been a slow burn along a string of tinder that would eventually thin out and fade with a fizzle. Ruki, on the other hand, had felt the crushing hand of fate in one sweeping and seismic motion. Perhaps Juri and Takato had new dreams now—whether together or individually—maybe to see their children grow up well, or retire by the beach some day. Juri would, no doubt, want to someday whisk her family away and see the world, maybe check off the remaining two continents. Perhaps Takato would want to buy back and re-establish his parents' old bakery. Knowing him, maybe he just wanted to be on Iron Chef.

On top of it all, she had yet to think about where her own marriage fit into it. Ryo made a good living writing freelance, but he, too, had dreams. Ruki wanted to be there when he writes another book one day, and she especially wanted to be there when he writes one that's actually appreciated. He didn't say it outright—they were barely in each other's lives then—but she knew that the failure of his first book had unravelled him in a way that she could never really understand. She knew from the moment they had met over a beer for the first time in years, and he had discreetly recoiled when she'd made a joke about it. It was only then she'd really noticed that even Ryo Akiyama wasn't infallible. Perhaps it was then that she began to fall for him again.

And then there was the million dollar question: Even if she could find another job at this point in her life, what on earth would she do?

She'd been arrogant.

Once upon a time, someone once told her after a fiery argument that it would be her ruin. She had rolled her eyes smugly in return then, satisfied that she'd won that argument. Now she questions whether she really did.

Ruki took a deep breath. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, conscious of the pair of eyes on her that knew every detail of what an idiot she'd been while trying to convince herself otherwise.

"You okay?"

Juri placed a hand on top of hers. Ruki allowed herself to shake her head in response.

Almost her entire childhood, Juri had seen Ruki chase whatever it was that she wanted like a meteorite raced toward earth in a hurtling ball of fire. Much like that hurtling ball of fire, she'd make waves wherever she made herself known. It'd been like that all through everything she'd ever committed to; high school, university, job hunting, her long distance relationship—hell, even that card tournament and the futsal team she took to regionals.

She squeezed the hand that was underneath hers. "Ruki, honey, I know that this is hard for you to admit," she began. "But have you considered that this might not be the path that you're supposed to be on?"

Truth be told, Ruki didn't really believe in concepts like fate or predetermined paths. She chose her own goddamn destinies. She chose her jobs, she chose her friends, she chose her life partner. Her life was what she had made it.

But then why, honest to God, was nothing aligning in the way she was willing it to?

"Shit just happens," she whispered, carefully eyeing her four-year-old. When Ruki began to protest, Juri quickly cut her off. "I know you don't give up on anything—or anyone—but some things aren't worth the torment. You can't control every outcome. You can't win everything. Maybe you need to let go."

Ruki fell silent for a moment, her mouth open as if she was willing a sound to come out but nothing followed. Inexplicably, she appeared… lost, and Juri wondered whether she should say something else to comfort her.

Instead, to her surprise, she took both of Juri's hands in hers and entwined their fingers before murmuring, "I don't really know how."

Maybe she had chosen her destinies; her jobs, her life partner, her friends. But coming into her life at the exact moment she would come to choose them?

Juri laughed. "You're not alone, silly."

That wasn't chance.

To be continued