Returning
17 years
ago, in the ever-busy Shanghai airport.
A little
eight years old boy was holding a small suitcase flabbily. ShengJi was
terrorised at the thought of going on this journey. The tall glass walls of the
airport felt like a cage, or maybe an aquarium, filled in with an overwhelming
amount of rushed people. “This is not where little boys are supposed to be.
This is not fair,” he thought to himself.
“Fu, why must I leave?” he asked, his
eyes fixated on his father’s impressive silhouette. A man, rather tall in comparison
to his comrades, with a soft, yet dark, look in his eyes, was standing beside
him, peeking furtively at his watch hidden under his traditionally white doctor
uniform.
“You have
no choice,” he answered sharply. “Your mother needs you.” A slight sound in his
voice might have given away his concern, but ShengJi was too little to
understand such emotional cues. All he could see was his father’s usual proud
and stoic face. The same he had when terrible news needed to be transmitted to
his patients. The boy mumbled to himself, knowing his father would not listen:
“But… I wanted to stay with you...” He took his hand away from his father’s and
squeezed it in a fist, battling for his green eyes to stop filling up with
tears.
A few days
ago, a letter from Japan had announced that their mother was gravely ill. She
requested that her dear husband and lovely child return to her, as she missed
them terribly. She had always had a weak physique, defective organs and low
immune system. ShengJi was expected to go as soon as possible, whereas his
father, who was giving an important speech that month, could not leave right
away. By the age of 30, the young woman was in bed fulltime, waiting for time
to go by. Her teenage daughter, Shizuka, requested to stay by her side when her
father had to transfer hospitals. He had studied medicine at the University of
Shanghai and was highly esteemed by his peers in the medical community. At the
request of his doctorate professors, he had returned to his hometown to share
his researching skills and experience. This decision had, of course, divided
the family in two halves, boys to China, while girls stayed in Japan, the
motherland of his wife, Nadeshiko. Before her health issues had taken over most
of her life, Nadeshiko was studying to become a nurse; when she met Dr. Sōshin on during his Japan seminar and heard him
speak, she just knew he was special.
However,
this time Nadeshiko’s illness was more problematic and she had been given a
delay on life. Of course, little ShengJi knew nothing of the terminal nature of
her mother’s health issue, which kept him in the dark as to why it was so
important for him to return to her so quickly. He hated being away from his dad
and he hated being alone on a plane even more.
An odd
taste seemed to linger in his mouth, so the boy tried to swallow, but nothing
changed. He could not tell how deeply afraid he was. The bell rang resonating
through the airport corridor like a screech in a cave. He gave one last look to
his father before he was softly pushed on his back. “Go on, son.” The flight
attendant verified the card around his neck, picked up his luggage with her
other hand, and called kindly to him: “Mister ShengJi? Nice to meet you. I will
help you get on the plane. Follow me, would you?” She stretched her hand,
covered by a light grey fabric, matching perfectly with her whole set. ShengJi
gave her his hand. With a last look behind as he was walking down the gateway,
he saw the back of his father’s white coat vanishing through the crowd.
Jiliade • January 14, 2018
Will comment on part 2.
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