The Last Two Days
And so Sunday slipped away. For Yuna, it must have felt like tragic news.
Spend a whole day flat on your back, taking medicine and eating meals, and just like that a Sunday vanishes.
"..."
A soft rustling sound pulled my eyes open.
I sat up on the living-room sofa. Outside the window, the world was still only half-lit.
The clock read six-thirty in the morning.
Even with how early I'd started waking up lately, I wasn't the kind of person who rose at this hour.
—Clatter.
A noise came from the master bedroom.
A burglar?
No—probably Yuna. Her sound must have been what woke me.
I stepped into the bedroom and found her.
"...Dad?"
She was sitting up in bed, eyes wide and bright as saucers.
"Why are you up already?"
"I can't sleep."
Well, of course. She'd spent all of yesterday lying down and sleeping.
I went over and laid a hand on her forehead.
Warm, not hot. The fever was gone.
"How's your body feeling?"
"Um... it doesn't hurt."
Yuna cupped both cheeks in her hands as she said it.
Kids really do bounce back fast.
I let out a quiet breath of relief and sat on the edge of the bed. Yuna fussed with the blanket and asked,
"...Daaad, what day is it today?"
"Hm? Monday."
"...Huh?"
Her eyes went huge.
She was starting to realize her Sunday had simply evaporated.
"You were sick in bed all day Sunday, remember?"
—Flump.
Yuna toppled straight over onto the covers.
Then the whining started in full force.
She hadn't even gotten to play. And it had been Sunday.
When I'd first begun properly acting as her dad, she'd seemed so sensible and mature.
Now she was no different from any other little kid.
Maybe she had finally started thinking of me as her real father.
"Come on, eat breakfast and get ready for school."
"...I don't wanna go to school."
My head kinda hurts too... I, I have a fever, she added.
I just smiled at her. Yuna pouted and trudged off to the bathroom by herself.
There was still some radish soup left from yesterday, so breakfast came together quickly.
I even managed her hair with something approaching skill by now. Ready.
At the front door, Yuna paused while putting on her shoes and looked up at me.
"Dad, hurry."
"Yeah, let's go."
Before I could even offer my hand, her small one found mine first.
A warmth I had already grown used to.
I shouldn't have gotten used to this. The thought drifted through my head unbidden.
After three or four times, even this walk to school felt familiar. Keep going straight and you hit the crosswalk; turn left after that and the elementary school appears.
The first time I'd walked her, Yuna hadn't said a single word.
I still didn't know why.
These days, though, she chattered nonstop. She'd dreamed about going to an amusement park, she said, and now she was pestering me to take her sometime.
"...So then, huh? Dad, are you listening?"
"Yeah. Amusement park... It's been a while for me too."
There weren't many of these walks left.
Saying it like that made me feel like a terminal patient. Funny, in a bleak way.
"Do you wanna go to the amusement park too, Dad?"
Yuna had mistaken the laugh I'd let out at that bleak thought and asked me.
An amusement park...
Of course I wanted to go.
Honestly, I had grown terrifyingly fond of her.
Part of me didn't want to hand this sight back to her mother in a few days. The woman who'd irresponsibly left Yuna behind to go traveling.
"Yeah. I want to go."
Of course her mother loved her. I'd felt that over the past few days living with Yuna.
Just look at the fridge—everything in it was chosen for Yuna's tastes.
And plenty more besides...
"Dad, it's green."
Yuna tugged me forward while I stood there zoning out.
Snap out of it.
This had been a one-week job from the start.
When the contract ended, leaving was the natural thing.
I'd known that going in.
"..."
How to put it.
Like showing up to work at a company where your resignation was already locked in? No, more than that...
"Dad, I'm off!"
"...Yeah. Be careful."
I didn't know.
It was a kind of feeling I'd never had in my life.
"Study hard."
"Heehee, ung."
Tomorrow was Tuesday.
The only time I had left was tomorrow.
The one special thing about it: parent open class day.
The moment Yuna disappeared into the school, I headed back to the place I actually lived.
I shaved for the first time in days.
The me in the mirror...
I wanted to say I looked gaunt, but I didn't, not really. If anything, I'd put on a little weight.
"..."
I shaved and let my thoughts wander.
Most of them were worthless things like marrying Yuna's mother and becoming her real dad.
I'd almost turned her mother down at the start because I'd been worried about exactly this.
From the beginning, I'd never had any real confidence I could keep from growing attached to Yuna.
I'd tried, in my own way.
But how well does that ever work just because you decide it should?
Those little hands hiding puzzle pieces in the bathtub. That face when she ran out barefoot and cried.
How many people in the world could see all that and still refuse to care?
—Whooosh.
I set the razor down and splashed my face with water.
The cold ran over my skin.
Acting like some movie protagonist all of a sudden made me feel faintly embarrassed.
I scrubbed my face hard with a towel and threw myself onto the bed.
"..."
Soft. Honestly, when it came to sleeping, my own place was far better.
I stared blankly at the ceiling.
Tomorrow morning her mother would come back. I'd say goodbye to Yuna and return to this room.
And then I'd go back to living as a hired wedding guest or whatever.
Shit...
"..."
I got up off the bed.
Today and tomorrow were the only days left when I could still do something for her, if you thought about it that way.
I remembered Yuna collapsing onto the blanket, wailing that her whole Sunday had vanished.
I couldn't give her anything grand. But if I made her favorite food...
Maybe that evaporated Sunday would sting a little less.
—Clack.
I threw on clothes and headed for the nearest supermarket.
I already knew exactly what Yuna liked.
Not the supermarket where I'd bought her the stuffed animal—a different one in my own neighborhood.
Been a while.
—Mackerel at a special price...
I tuned out the noisy announcements blaring from the speakers and made for the produce section.
Yuna loved curry.
A few days ago, though, she'd tried to eat it by herself and spilled the whole thing.
Right. I was going to make her curry.
What goes into curry again.
Curry powder, potatoes, onions...
I skipped the carrots—I hated them, and Yuna probably did too.
I grabbed a cut of pork as well.
The sticker shock on the vegetables made my heart lurch for a second.
Whatever. I could dip a little deeper into the money her mother had left.
It was money she'd given me to spend on Yuna, and I was using it to feed Yuna.
Not a bad use of it, was it?
"Would you like a bag?"
"Ah, yes."
I split two black plastic bags between my hands and left the store.
I headed for Yuna's place.
Once I arrived, I stuffed the ingredients into the fridge without much care.
The clock said there was still time before school let out.
I sat on the sofa and killed time fiddling with my phone.
I made sure to look up how to make curry while I was at it.
Boil the potatoes and carrots first, it said. Take the pot off the heat before you add the curry powder so it doesn't clump...
"..."
When I glanced at the clock again, it was already pointing at two.
I pocketed my phone and stood up.
Time to go get Yuna.
The familiar scene once more.
"Heehee."
I'd looked away for just a second while waiting, and suddenly Yuna was right beside me, grinning from ear to ear.
She rubbed her cheek against my hand.
Cold. I cupped both her cheeks and warmed them.
"Was school fun today?"
"...Heehee, ung."
"What did you do?"
I took her backpack for her.
"I drew a picture."
"What kind of picture?"
"Secret."
I snorted at how ridiculous that was, and Yuna let out a puhehe of her own.
Her laugh was getting weirder by the day.
"They're gonna put it up at open class tomorrow."
Come see it then—that was what she meant.
I stroked her hair and agreed.
The feel of it was far too familiar now.
If it'd been up to me, I would have done something with Yuna the second we got home.
"I have to do my homework."
She said that and vanished straight into her room.
The night before open class—probably a lot to prepare.
"..."
Which left me sprawled on the living-room sofa watching TV.
I flipped through the channels: news, home shopping, rerun dramas.
Nothing worth watching.
In the end I stopped on the magical-girl documentary channel Yuna always put on.
Watching it alone wasn't much fun.
—The number of monster incidents continues to rise steadily, and experts say...
Not a documentary—it was the news.
I let it wash over me and stared blankly at the screen.
From her room came the occasional scratch of a pencil.
Was this what it felt like to be the father of a daughter on the edge of adolescence?
I don't know how long I sat like that.
—Creak.
"Daaad."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hungry."
Yuna came out rubbing her stomach gently. Her voice had no strength left in it—homework must have worn her out.
The clock said it was already around dinnertime.
I stood up and announced with full confidence,
"Just wait a bit. Dad'll make dinner."
I headed for the kitchen.
Come to think of it, this would be the first time I'd ever cooked something for her myself and set it in front of her.
"Go watch some TV or something."
I'd even looked up the recipe. Surely I could manage one pot of curry.
Aside from peeling the potatoes a little ugly, the process went smoothly.
About twenty minutes later—
—Bubble-bubble.
The curry in the pot thickened and came to a rich simmer.
I scooped up a spoonful and tasted it.
Better than I'd expected.
I filled two bowls with rice and ladled the curry over the top.
Two steaming bowls, fragrant and hot.
"All right, let's eat."
"Wooow..."
Yuna's eyes sparkled as she sat down at the table.
"I reeeally love curry!"
"Eat lots. There's plenty."
Where had I heard that tone before.
Ah—right after I first arrived, when her mother had set out the braised short ribs. That was what Yuna had said.
"...!"
Cheeks stuffed round, she looked up at me.
"...Well? Is it good?"
"...Masisseo!"
She shouted it around a mouthful of curry.
That's right, kid. Dad's better, isn't he?
Or maybe not.
Either way, Yuna shoveled the curry down with gusto.
I was glad I could forget, even for a little while.
And just like that, Tuesday morning arrived.