This Is Not a Tragedy

12 | New Home

Sunday, June 17, 2007

As the plane took off, it finally hit me, all the things I'm leaving behind. The past. Our history. The apartments and houses we lived in. The streets I walked on. The bookstores I visited. All the people I knew but never spoke to.

Hitori.

My mother's ashes.

And now, I am traveling towards an uncertain future. What awaits me in England? What will be my next steps from there? Sergius says it's up to me, but I don't have the confidence to make decisions for myself. And shouldn't it be his responsibility, anyway? Isn't it cruel to drag someone to another country and then tell them, "Do whatever?"

We rode first class where things were pretty quiet, and I had a lot of space, so stepping into the bustling airport now is overwhelming. I haven't seen this much diversity in people for so long. Even though the majority of people are white, it's still a bit of a culture shock after having been in Japan for several years. Do I stand out? Or do I blend in?

We leave the airport in what I assume is Sergius' car. I stare out the window. There's nothing special about the view―just flat, green land.

"Aren't we in London? Where's all the... London stuff?"

"Pardon?" He pauses. "Oh. Central London is a ways east. Do you want to go sightseeing?" He sounds hopeful.

"Not really."

Although the drive isn't too long, I read to keep my mind busy. After a while, more and more trees flash by the window. Eventually, we drive off the street onto a dirt road and into the woods. It's a bit eerie, especially the way beams of light come through the canopy and illuminate just portions of the woodsy ground. A minute later, we turn a corner, and I'm stunned by the sight.

"E-eh?" In front of us is what looks like an old English house, greyish stone exterior, some parts with ivy creeping up. It would be common were it not five times bigger than a standard family home. This can't be where we're living. Maybe he took me someplace else, like an unorthodox hotel or something.

"We're home." Sergius beams.

'Home?' Why is it so big? I get out of the car and meet Sergius, who is already lifting the trunk to pull out my suitcase. "Why... is it so big?"

"Hm? Well, it's made for a lot of people," he says nonchalantly and closes the trunk.

People? People?

I don't like people.

I go after Sergius and cut off his path. "You didn't tell me there'd be other people."

He laughs hollowly. "I didn't."

I glare at him, unamused.

"Well, they aren't here right now—won't be back for a few days—so you can relax for now." He continues towards the 'house.'

Relax, he says. I reluctantly drag my suitcase behind Sergius and follow him to the large front doors. How can I relax knowing there's god knows how many people I'm going to have to meet and live with? I stop before the patio step. "I don't like this," I tell the secretive man before me.

He rotates his body around to look at me, hand ready to open the door, then sighs. "It's made for many people, but many of them have left and only return occasionally, like on bank holidays."

Bank holidays? What are those?

"It's only a few that are coming soon. And they'll only be here a handful of days." Looking at me, he pulls his chin towards his neck and asks, "Does that settle you?"