SINCERELY, NOBODY
(excerpt)
Dear Mayuko,
I wonder if you remember the night we did cannon balls in the Japanese hot springs, and got yelled at by the old ladies soaking there. I wonder if you remember us playing piano together, sitting shoulder to shoulder. And I wonder if you remember the countless imaginary friends we made up together, because we were lonely and only had each other to play with on that loud, noisy playground.
I wonder sometimes if you even remember me.
The summer of 2000 was a sweltering one, and I remember the way my shirt stuck to my sweaty back before I left Newark. We were only nine at the time when you and your mom picked me up from the Narita airport. The first thing we did was hug and jump, before I gave you the deck of cards that the stewardess had given me. We smiled after that, and we didn’t stop grinning like idiots until we got to your house. We only stopped smiling when your little sister threw a fit, saying she wanted the cards I gave you. Being the older sister, you had no choice but to give away my gift.
We spent a memorable vacation together, trading summer homework. I completed your English booklet for you while you solved all the problems in my math packet in one evening. However, your sister often interrupted the time we spent together. I knew you loved her, but I also knew you resented your parents for spoiling her. So when you grabbed my hand at the summer festival and ran off without telling your father, I didn’t say anything and just ran with you. I knew you only did it to make him worry.
What you don’t know to this day is what happened to me when we accidentally got separated on those suffocating, afternoon streets in Hiroshima. I wandered and cried for you, but my voice was drowned in the sea of people and firecrackers. Nobody seemed to notice me, except for that kind, middle-aged man, who spoke to me in broken English. He heard me shouting for you, and told me he knew where you were. He took my hand and led me away from the noise, the smoke, and the safety in numbers.
I guess I was so scared that I forgot I shouldn’t trust strangers. But when I realized my mistake, it was too late. He slapped me hard on the face when I tried to run away. My mind blanked. I fell silent as he dragged me into a narrow alley obscured from the street. Then he touched me and pulled down my pants. The next thing I saw was the sliver of a periwinkle sky peeking between the narrow buildings above us. The next thing I heard was the man saying he wanted to play with me for I was his cute, little doll. And the next thing I felt was complete agony. I thought for sure I was dying. I prayed for God, someone - anyone - to save me. But when no one came, I pictured my parents, my family, and my friends. I pictured you in my mind. And I said goodbye.
But I was lucky, you know? When he was done, he just pulled me up by the arm, wiping us clean with my underwear. He dressed me and forced me to walk. The journey back to the festival grounds felt like an eternity. With each step I was shearing in half like paper, as if an invisible crack was climbing up my naval.
He left me with a shredded self and a broken world... and words that still give me nightmares today. But at least I was still alive when he could have killed me instead.
It was the same stroke of luck that brought me back to you. I somehow found you, your father, and your sister. You were all relieved, but I can still remember your father scolding you. And you wouldn’t look at any of us, not even at me. When we got back to your grandmother's house, I said I was tired and wanted a bath. When the door was locked, I broke down and stuffed my bloody underwear to the bottom of the wastebasket. I never told anyone about it.
Until now.
I never had the courage to tell you about the nightmares I had for the remainder of my stay at your house. I wouldn’t tell your parents either. But now, I really want to apologize to your mom. I didn’t mean to hit her when she came into the bedroom to comfort me. I didn’t mean to say I hated staying at your house that summer.
I remember the day we parted at the airport. It was the last time I ever saw you in person. There was no hug, no idiotic giggling. But there was the same deck of cards I gave you. You said you stole it back from your sister, and that you wanted me to keep it instead because you couldn’t. I knew your intentions were never cruel. You were honestly the kindest person I knew – someone who didn’t deserve the receiving end of my hurt and anger.
But I don’t know how to tell you how much more pain that little gesture did to my heart than what that man did to my body.
I love you, Mayuko.
When people ask me who my best friend is, I still think of you. I don’t expect you to think of me the same way though. Fifteen years is a long time. Thank you. I’m sorry. And once more, sayonara – goodbye.
Sincerely,
Nobody.
I wonder if you remember the night we did cannon balls in the Japanese hot springs, and got yelled at by the old ladies soaking there. I wonder if you remember us playing piano together, sitting shoulder to shoulder. And I wonder if you remember the countless imaginary friends we made up together, because we were lonely and only had each other to play with on that loud, noisy playground.
I wonder sometimes if you even remember me.
The summer of 2000 was a sweltering one, and I remember the way my shirt stuck to my sweaty back before I left Newark. We were only nine at the time when you and your mom picked me up from the Narita airport. The first thing we did was hug and jump, before I gave you the deck of cards that the stewardess had given me. We smiled after that, and we didn’t stop grinning like idiots until we got to your house. We only stopped smiling when your little sister threw a fit, saying she wanted the cards I gave you. Being the older sister, you had no choice but to give away my gift.
We spent a memorable vacation together, trading summer homework. I completed your English booklet for you while you solved all the problems in my math packet in one evening. However, your sister often interrupted the time we spent together. I knew you loved her, but I also knew you resented your parents for spoiling her. So when you grabbed my hand at the summer festival and ran off without telling your father, I didn’t say anything and just ran with you. I knew you only did it to make him worry.
What you don’t know to this day is what happened to me when we accidentally got separated on those suffocating, afternoon streets in Hiroshima. I wandered and cried for you, but my voice was drowned in the sea of people and firecrackers. Nobody seemed to notice me, except for that kind, middle-aged man, who spoke to me in broken English. He heard me shouting for you, and told me he knew where you were. He took my hand and led me away from the noise, the smoke, and the safety in numbers.
I guess I was so scared that I forgot I shouldn’t trust strangers. But when I realized my mistake, it was too late. He slapped me hard on the face when I tried to run away. My mind blanked. I fell silent as he dragged me into a narrow alley obscured from the street. Then he touched me and pulled down my pants. The next thing I saw was the sliver of a periwinkle sky peeking between the narrow buildings above us. The next thing I heard was the man saying he wanted to play with me for I was his cute, little doll. And the next thing I felt was complete agony. I thought for sure I was dying. I prayed for God, someone - anyone - to save me. But when no one came, I pictured my parents, my family, and my friends. I pictured you in my mind. And I said goodbye.
But I was lucky, you know? When he was done, he just pulled me up by the arm, wiping us clean with my underwear. He dressed me and forced me to walk. The journey back to the festival grounds felt like an eternity. With each step I was shearing in half like paper, as if an invisible crack was climbing up my naval.
He left me with a shredded self and a broken world... and words that still give me nightmares today. But at least I was still alive when he could have killed me instead.
It was the same stroke of luck that brought me back to you. I somehow found you, your father, and your sister. You were all relieved, but I can still remember your father scolding you. And you wouldn’t look at any of us, not even at me. When we got back to your grandmother's house, I said I was tired and wanted a bath. When the door was locked, I broke down and stuffed my bloody underwear to the bottom of the wastebasket. I never told anyone about it.
Until now.
I never had the courage to tell you about the nightmares I had for the remainder of my stay at your house. I wouldn’t tell your parents either. But now, I really want to apologize to your mom. I didn’t mean to hit her when she came into the bedroom to comfort me. I didn’t mean to say I hated staying at your house that summer.
I remember the day we parted at the airport. It was the last time I ever saw you in person. There was no hug, no idiotic giggling. But there was the same deck of cards I gave you. You said you stole it back from your sister, and that you wanted me to keep it instead because you couldn’t. I knew your intentions were never cruel. You were honestly the kindest person I knew – someone who didn’t deserve the receiving end of my hurt and anger.
But I don’t know how to tell you how much more pain that little gesture did to my heart than what that man did to my body.
I love you, Mayuko.
When people ask me who my best friend is, I still think of you. I don’t expect you to think of me the same way though. Fifteen years is a long time. Thank you. I’m sorry. And once more, sayonara – goodbye.
Sincerely,
Nobody.
Dear Nathan,
Even in college, I found myself zoning out during lectures, occasionally forgetting to get up to go to my next class. On those days, I would attend a different class in a different setting – one that took place almost eleven years ago. My eyes focused not on the guy sitting across the room, but on another boy who sat the same distance away from me, eleven years ago in a different classroom with a different teacher.
To be honest, I never would have looked at you twice in 7th grade if you had not saved me from those bullies, and from myself.
I had just transferred from a rival middle school in the district. I was a new kid in a new class, filled with hostile faces. I had always been the odd one out, and I knew it. After a traumatic incident in my younger years, I had lost every shred of confidence and retreated into a shell of myself. I was so dead to the world that I’d even lost the will to speak.
One day, we were put together in a group project. By then, everyone knew I was smart but easily bullied. They dumped all the work on me, knowing I wouldn’t tattle on them. You were also quiet and smart, but they liked you because you played sports and had all the right friends. But you were also different from all of us. Unlike them, you offered to help and stayed with me to work on the project, even when I ignored you. And unlike myself and everyone else, you were still kind to me.
The night before our project was due, one of the boys in the group asked us to email our work to him so he could organize the binder and make it look like everyone did their part. At least some effort was better than nothing, right?
When class ended the day after our project was due, our teacher called me up to his desk. My stomach dropped when he told me my name wasn’t in the files, but that he knew the work was mine. How would a straight A kid like me possibly forget to do my part? He needed answers in order to do something about the grades, and I had them. But I couldn’t give them to him.
Any normal kid in my shoes would have been outwardly angry, but I just stood there feeling cold and empty. Maybe I did feel angry deep inside – there was a feeble spark of something trying to connect again like a broken circuit. Either way, it wasn’t hot enough to ignite my temper and melt away the ice in my veins.
As I stood there trying to will myself to do something, you stopped packing up to leave and walked over to my side. You explained that you and I had worked on the project while the others had left us to our own devices. In such a simple, easy way, you said what I had been struggling so hard to form words for. Our teacher let us go with a B, even though our project was A material… but at least he promptly flunked the other kids in our group.
It would have been a victory if I hadn’t felt more miserable than ever. Outside the classroom, you stopped me. You said that you might not always be there to stand up for me when I needed you, so I should stand up for myself. You smiled awkwardly and said that if I needed a friend, you would be there if I decided to talk.
Because of you, that spark did connect, and I felt warmth flood through me from head to toe.
It’s summer again, eleven years later. We’ve both graduated from different universities, but I still remember the day your words brought me back to life. We never got to be friends because I was too insecure to speak to you. Even so, on the days I sat zoning out in class, I spent them remembering the day I looked twice at you.
Sincerely,
Nobody.
Even in college, I found myself zoning out during lectures, occasionally forgetting to get up to go to my next class. On those days, I would attend a different class in a different setting – one that took place almost eleven years ago. My eyes focused not on the guy sitting across the room, but on another boy who sat the same distance away from me, eleven years ago in a different classroom with a different teacher.
To be honest, I never would have looked at you twice in 7th grade if you had not saved me from those bullies, and from myself.
I had just transferred from a rival middle school in the district. I was a new kid in a new class, filled with hostile faces. I had always been the odd one out, and I knew it. After a traumatic incident in my younger years, I had lost every shred of confidence and retreated into a shell of myself. I was so dead to the world that I’d even lost the will to speak.
One day, we were put together in a group project. By then, everyone knew I was smart but easily bullied. They dumped all the work on me, knowing I wouldn’t tattle on them. You were also quiet and smart, but they liked you because you played sports and had all the right friends. But you were also different from all of us. Unlike them, you offered to help and stayed with me to work on the project, even when I ignored you. And unlike myself and everyone else, you were still kind to me.
The night before our project was due, one of the boys in the group asked us to email our work to him so he could organize the binder and make it look like everyone did their part. At least some effort was better than nothing, right?
When class ended the day after our project was due, our teacher called me up to his desk. My stomach dropped when he told me my name wasn’t in the files, but that he knew the work was mine. How would a straight A kid like me possibly forget to do my part? He needed answers in order to do something about the grades, and I had them. But I couldn’t give them to him.
Any normal kid in my shoes would have been outwardly angry, but I just stood there feeling cold and empty. Maybe I did feel angry deep inside – there was a feeble spark of something trying to connect again like a broken circuit. Either way, it wasn’t hot enough to ignite my temper and melt away the ice in my veins.
As I stood there trying to will myself to do something, you stopped packing up to leave and walked over to my side. You explained that you and I had worked on the project while the others had left us to our own devices. In such a simple, easy way, you said what I had been struggling so hard to form words for. Our teacher let us go with a B, even though our project was A material… but at least he promptly flunked the other kids in our group.
It would have been a victory if I hadn’t felt more miserable than ever. Outside the classroom, you stopped me. You said that you might not always be there to stand up for me when I needed you, so I should stand up for myself. You smiled awkwardly and said that if I needed a friend, you would be there if I decided to talk.
Because of you, that spark did connect, and I felt warmth flood through me from head to toe.
It’s summer again, eleven years later. We’ve both graduated from different universities, but I still remember the day your words brought me back to life. We never got to be friends because I was too insecure to speak to you. Even so, on the days I sat zoning out in class, I spent them remembering the day I looked twice at you.
Sincerely,
Nobody.