The Path to Leaving - 3
When I saw the girl before me, knees pulled up to her chest, one hand covering the back of her neck and the other shielding her face, I was certain that the girl in front of me was the boy I had known.
The boy who used to lower his head and slip away when couple fights broke out next door, the fragile child who couldn’t actively intervene like my older brother, who thought the cause of the fights was himself and clung to me, had become a girl.
Probably that TS illness or something like that.
The fact that the disease I had only seen on TV had happened to the person I knew left me stunned for a moment. Then, at the pungent smell spreading around, I snapped back to my senses, took off my cardigan, tied it around the girl’s waist, and helped her stand up.
“Are you okay?”
After bowing my head a few times to the people around me, I went to the restaurant, got some water, sprinkled it on the floor like cleaning up a pet’s urine, and cleaned up the girl’s urine. Then, holding the girl, I moved to the nearby business hotel.
I didn’t know why suddenly, but it was better to rent a room and do it inside than to squat on the street and wet myself while trembling.
Thinking that, I pulled her hand, and the sound of the girl’s footsteps followed—tap, swish, drrrk—tap, swish, drrrk.
The girl’s footsteps were irregular like that. As if she would disappear if I looked away, her steps were so weak, whether stepping or dragging.
The heavy sound of the suitcase was informing that the girl was following me, but it was so much that I couldn’t be sure without looking over my shoulder at the girl.
Haa. Haa.
Each time I turned my head, the girl’s appearance was reflected in a precarious way. Her trembling eyes were visible, her face flushed, her breathing rough as if she was about to vomit, such a sight.
Her thighs were trembling, her knees kept buckling but she was forcing her legs up by leaning on the hand holding her.
And seeing that, I unconsciously bit my lip and urged her to walk faster. It seemed like she would disappear somewhere if I didn’t move her to a safe place somehow.
So, I almost ran into the business hotel and entered the room with the girl in the corner room on the first floor.
Fortunately, the business hotel was quite clean. The comforter was neatly folded with sharp edges, and there was no musty smell or dust from not being cleaned for a long time.
But since they didn’t strongly suppress smoking, there was a faint smell of cigarette here and there, and I frowned slightly at the unpleasant stale smell, then turned my head to look at the girl.
The appearance of not knowing what to do without taking off her shoes even at the entrance. If I were to give human form to the word “anxiety,” it would be this kind of appearance.
Thinking that, I saw the pants visible between the cardigan tied at the waist, so first took off the girl’s shoes and went into the bathroom. I couldn’t keep wearing the pants soaked in urine.
But taking her to the bathroom like that caused a new problem. Is it okay for me to change the girl’s clothes now?
If it were the past, I wouldn’t have thought much about it. When the girl wet her pants during the couple’s fight, she was at most a 10-year-old boy, and at that time I was a 16-year-old high school student.
Thinking about when we last parted, she was 14 and I was 20, it might be a bit ambiguous, but based on when she wet herself, it seemed okay to change. And now she’s a girl, so isn’t it okay to change?
But if I reach out like that and the girl gets hurt? It was something I could do alone. What if I force her to do something to help, but she gets hurt?
If I think easily, I could just ask the girl. I thought that asking the girl if she could change her clothes alone and come out, and then why she was doing it on the street, and making a soft atmosphere by smiling would be fine.
But seeing the girl’s body, the thought that even such a simple thing would be difficult didn’t disappear. Her shoulders were heavily slumped.
After the couple’s fight, the appearance of always smiling awkwardly and saying sorry, and then saying that from now on she would try harder, and shrugging her shoulders, was gone. What remained was one child who looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment… no, a child who was so exhausted that she couldn’t even cry.
A fragile child who was so overwhelmed just by having a self that she would be pulled along if someone suddenly held her hand and pulled her. If someone asked something, they would probably nod their head no matter what.
Thinking that, I pondered for a long time, whether due to the pain in my ankle or the unpleasant sensation of the pants, and grabbed the girl’s wrist whose knees were trembling.
“First, let’s change clothes?”
The older sister, suppressing the burning feeling of seeing the child I hadn’t seen in a long time completely broken, went into the bathroom. The girl was pulled along and sat on the toilet, and took off the dirty pants and underwear according to my touch.
“Can you wash it?”
I, while picking up the dirty clothes, turned on the warm water in the bathroom and looked at the girl, and the girl turned her head to the place where the sound of water was coming, with her messy hair, and nodded.
Then, I said I would wait in front of the bathroom, so take off your clothes, and the girl, now that she had come to her senses with my words, took off her clothes bit by bit. A thin windbreaker and a t-shirt. No bra.
“I’ll go to the laundry, wait a little.”
Seeing that, I again confirmed that the girl was the boy I knew, and took the urine-soaked shoes to the laundry together, and put the clothes and shoes into the washing machine. The washing machine that turned with a loud sound that couldn’t be heard from a home washing machine.
With that noise, I wondered how to treat the girl when I came back. The most curious thing was why the boy who was so lively had become like this.
I had heard in passing that the girl’s parents had divorced, and that the sibling relationship had become quite bad, though I didn’t know why. And there was no violence or anything like that.
Maybe when I heard about the divorce in passing, I felt something like sympathy, but thought she was doing well somewhere vaguely.
“Ugh…”
I should have gone to check once. I was busy because of college entrance exams, jobs, coming out, or whatever, but I could have gone to see her once.
I thought that, then when the dryer alarm rang, I came to my senses, picked up the clothes and shoes, went back to the hotel, and then carefully knocked on the door with the sound of water still coming.
“Can I come in?”
Of course, there was no answer. The sound of the water that was turned on before going out, and the sound of something hitting and falling, could be heard.
Thinking that the girl was so exhausted, she probably didn’t have the strength to answer.
Thinking that, I let out a big sigh and carefully turned the doorknob.
“Ah.”
What appeared was the girl standing blankly in front of the shower. It was more like just getting wet with water rather than washing her body.
Looking at the reddened neck and chest as she kept receiving hot water, I was stunned for a moment, then immediately turned off the water to check if she had gotten burned. Even if the bath water was lukewarm temperature, just in case.
After poking the girl’s body several times, I looked at the girl’s lower body, and when I saw no trace of urine, I wiped the girl’s body.
“You can come out if you’ve washed up.”
While saying that, I tried to have a normal conversation, but the girl avoided my gaze with eyes full of guilt or something, and slowly lowered her head. It was a passive reaction. Shrugging her shoulders, lowering her head, twitching her legs as if about to kneel immediately, and seeming to beg the other person to stop…
Seeing that, I felt like words I wanted to ask were overflowing, but soon suppressed that feeling and hugged the girl tightly.
“You probably can’t say it right now, right?”
Because of enduring the Black Company for about 3 years, I thought I would have enough time to rest for about a year anyway. Not being able to play with the kids who contact me on the phone now is a bit regrettable, but… I wasn’t thick-skinned enough to be able to play without a care after seeing the child I had almost raised since childhood become like this.
So, I lay the girl on the bed to take care of her, and the girl, startled when I lay next to her, fidgeted with her body.
“Shh, let’s sleep together for the first time in a long while, we used to sleep together before.”
At that time, the girl was still a boy, just an elementary school student.
But I hugged the girl tightly, saying I wouldn’t let go now, and closed my eyes, and the girl, her eyelids trembling from the warmth coming from behind her back, couldn’t resist the approaching sleepiness and just lowered her head.