1943. Shanghai. A soldier of the Japanese Army happens by a club one night purely out of boredom. What he expects to find are uncouth drunks. He actually meets a beautiful African-American performer by the name of Beatrice. Throughout the next three...
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fourteen
juusan
*ATTEMPTED R*PE TRIGGER WARNING*
When the pretty Autumn sky had finally settled into sunset, she put on some jammies and quietly left the confines of her room. Silent, her feet led her to her grandpa's room. As quiet as she could muster, she opened the door and slipped inside. There he laid in bed, still under the effect of the Ambien. He looked so small and feeble. Sick. Dying. Throat tight, she felt deep sadness travel through her heart as she came closer. Her chair from earlier in the evening hadn't been moved so she sat down.
Eyes on him, she listened to his weak breath, the scratchy wheezing that shook his whole chest. In the quiet and still, she could be honest about what she felt... how she felt. It was okay to allow the impending grief to shelter her. In the dark, with only the light of the moon, it was okay to look into the face of reality... as it were... and try to cherish the moments that she had to even look at him...hear him breathe... see him dream. Reaching for his hand, she took it into her own. It pained her to see how small and frail it appeared now after so many years of being big and strong. Mighty and invincible. Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she swallowed her heavy heart and leaned down to press her face against their hands.
"Jii-chan..." She allowed it to come, the soft silent tears that soon fell with ferocity and blinded her.
"I know you're tired. You've been fighting this alone for so long, grandpa." Her voice trembled with palpable sorrow.
"What hurts me the most is that you never asked for help. You never asked for support." Crying, she sniffled and lifted one of her hands to wipe away the tears.
"You won't be alone this time, Grandpa. I'll be here every step of the way. Until your last moment, I'll be here." Gently placing his hand back to rest on his stomach, she sniffed, trying to clear her vision. There on the nightstand was an open picture album. One she'd never seen in his room before. He must have gone into his office to get it. Lifting shaky fingers, she took hold of it and brought it up to see. A pain of a different kind spread through her body. A bittersweet one. He'd been looking at pictures of him and Grandma. Pictures she'd never seen before. They showed a private and intimate side to him... to them... that both broke her heart and made it flutter.
The first picture was really old, the focus of the camera blurry and the saturation and coloring slightly off. By what looked like an old Ford car, the two of them stood in an embrace oft by the road. There was no date on the picture and she couldn't help but wonder when it took place. What was obviously apparent was that the two of them had been photographed while kissing one another. The body language was one of relaxation and snug proximity. They were comfortable. In love.
