Molly > Recent Status Updates

“I called you, Marc. I apologized. The day after my birthday—I left a voicemail.”
He physically recoils, as though I just punched him in the stomach.
“You left a voicemail.”
“On your phone.”
He blinks. “Who the fuck leaves voicemails?”

He pressed a firm kiss against my lips. “I want to give you the world, Jamie. Let me. Just let me, please.”

His kiss was sudden, deep and open mouthed, nothing to everything, and in less than a second, I felt lightheaded, vibrating, ready to burst. His hands closed around my waist, pulled me to him, and a wave of simmering heat swept over me.

“But selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t spend the night with Niall.”
“I . . . Why?”
“Because when I saw you in that dress earlier tonight, I . . .” He exhaled. Shook his head. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one does.” No one. “What about you?”
“I deserve you least of all. But I want you the most. And I won’t give up. The lengths I’m willing to go to . . . One day, I’ll show you.”

Tabitha snarled. “Did you have fun telling Mom and Dad my business? I hope you did, because I’m having the time of my life telling my best friend that you’re fucking gone over her. Especially knowing that she thinks you’re just a bratty little piece of shit!”
I owlishly looked up at Marc, expecting him to burst into laughter and deny it. But there was no quick retort, no jab.

“Jamie, let me make something clear.” His voice is calm and very, very final.
“If you think I won’t tie you up and lock you in my bedroom before I let you step outside in this weather, then you don’t know me at all.”

Marc makes my heart leap and my body glow and my brain rest, and that’s not something I could bear to have and then let go of. Whenever I’m with him, I become greedy and reckless, and . . .
It’s too late, anyway. I had my chance and I blew it.

”Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

”Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“The meaning of life, the reason I made this
whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right.”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said.

“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You were on your way home when you died.

'At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present does not change. So it raises the question: just what is the point of that chair?'

But Kazu still goes on believing that, no matter what difficulties people face, they will always have the strength to overcome them. It just takes heart. And if the chair can change someone's heart, it clearly has its purpose.

'Miki ...' Leaving her flowing tears unwiped, Kei gave her best smile to Miki. Thank you, for the honour of having you.'

'I'm sorry, Nagare,' Kei mumbled.

'What for?' Nagare asked, staring at the paper cranes.

'I'll go to the hospital tomorrow.'

At four weeks, it was a bit early to be calling it a baby, but that didn't deter her. In the morning she would start with 'good morning', and while calling Nagare 'Papa', she would set out to explain the events of the day. She found these imaginary conversations with her baby the highlight of any day.

But waiting to see Kumi's face would mean not being able to return to the present. This was something that Hirai was all too aware of. Yet even though she knew that she had to just drink up the coffee, the distance between the cup and her mouth remained the same.

If I drink this coffee now, I will never see my sister again. Even though I finally made her smile, it will never happen again. Yet she knew she would never be able to drink the coffee with Kumi's face in front of her.

That dream had not changed, and nor had her little sister, who was there in front of her with tears of joy streaming down her face. Her little sister Kumi, who had loved her big sis with all her heart, had, time after time, come to persuade her to return to the family, never giving up. While her parents had disowned her, Kumi had hung on to the belief that Hirai would come home.

'What dream?' she asked Kumi.

With red teary eyes, Kumi looked up and took a deep breath. To run the inn together. With you,' she replied. Her face transformed into a big smile

'This has always been my dream,' Kumi muttered, looking down, her tears spilling onto the table.

But even once Hirai knew about travelling to the past, she never once considered doing so herself. She lived life in the fast lane and had no regrets. And what was the point anyway, she thought, if the rules meant that you couldn't change the present, no matter how hard you tried?

That was, until Kumi died in a traffic accident.

Often the task of watching over her, still a young baby, fell to six-year-old Hirai. When she started elementary school, Hirai would give her a piggyback to school. It was a country school, and the teachers were understanding. If she started crying in class, Hirai was able to take her out of class to comfort her. In school Hirai was a reliable big sister, diligent in looking after her little sister.

He had been listing the destinations that he had travelled to in order to visit gardens. She had simply assumed his actions were a hangover from his love of his work as a landscape gardener. But she was wrong. The destinations he made a note of were all the places that he had visited with her. She didn't notice at the time.

All i ask is that you can do what you can as my wife. We are husband and wife after all. Even if I lose my memory, I want to be together as husband and wife. I cannot stand the idea of us staying together only out of sympathy.

So I ask you never to forget one thing. You are my wife, and if life becomes too hard for you as my wife, I want you to leave me.

'Here,' he said. Like a shy child, he offered her the brown envelope he was holding.

She tried to push the letter away. 'But you get better,' she said.

'Then you can throw it out,' he said, handing her the letter more forcefully. His tone was different from his normal gruff self. He spoke with such gentleness that it gave her the odd feeling that she must have missed something.

(You recover!)

'Don't worry.'

(You recover ... Really!)

Every word she spoke, she delivered with all her strength.

In her mind, it wasn't a lie. Even if he had forgotten who she was. Even if nothing she did changed the present. He looked her straight in the eyes and she looked right back at him, her face streaming with tears.

He looked happy. 'Oh really?' he said in a soft whisper.

'Yes,' she said.

(What does it hurt if I lie? If I can relieve his anxiety, even if it's just for a moment, it's worth it...)