Episode 8: Mum ―December 2033―

Two days later, Mum was summoned to the school.

The teachers personally explained the situation to her and to me, and offered their apologies. Whether Mum was concerned about my assessment or internal report marks, or perhaps simply uninterested, she handled the meeting with unusual politeness and pleasantness, ensuring it concluded without incident.

　But it still couldn’t be said everything was safely over. Far from it… For me, this was where the real test began.

On the way home from school, I ended up riding in Mum’s car for the first time in ages. I tried to sit in the back seat, but she urged me to sit in the front passenger seat. I nodded obediently, fastening my seatbelt while inwardly thinking, I really don’t want to.

Mum was chatting about random things as usual, and I was responding normally.

　But I just wanted to get home quickly. Being forced into this enclosed space alone with her was unbearable. Riding in the teacher’s car had made my heart leap, yet now, with Mum, I felt suffocated and awkward.

I stole a glance at Mum’s profile. Seeing her face when she came to school today, I’d immediately noticed something off, but I was too scared to point it out for fear of her getting angry, and I still hadn’t said anything.

“That Kakei-san who’s causing trouble… she’s the Japanese teacher who came for the home visit before, isn’t she?”

After chatting about trivial matters the whole time, Mum suddenly stabbed at my heart.

“…Yes.”

I didn’t want to nod. But I couldn’t lie.

“Hmm, I thought so… She was rude, wasn’t she? I did think something about her was a bit odd.”

Blood rushed to my head in an instant. What was that supposed to mean? What did Mum know about the teacher?

I wanted to argue back. But I could easily imagine her flying into a rage. In the end, I said nothing, just pressed my lips together.

Meanwhile, Mum kept piling on the insults about the teacher.

“Talking down to me like that, then trying to get her hands on a pupil? Utterly disgraceful. What on earth made her want to become a teacher? I’ve said it before, but I really don’t like people who call themselves teachers.”

Mum’s face twisted, scarred by her own experience of an affair with a university professor and subsequent betrayal. I didn’t want her selfish resentment to drag the teacher into it too.

“…But Mum…”

You’ve done as you pleased all your life. The words stuck in my throat. Eighteen years of accumulated ‘rejection’ from Mum silenced my will and my words.

“What about mum?”

Mum didn’t miss even my whisper. Her presence was overwhelming. “Nothing,” I said, closing my mouth.

Why was it like this? With friends or ex-boyfriends, even if we argued or the atmosphere turned hostile, I wasn’t this scared and could voice my opinion properly. With Mum alone, I can’t be my usual self.

I’m still that little girl, constantly reading her expressions and taking the utmost care not to upset her.

Even though I’m eighteen now. How much longer must I stay like this? Feeling pathetic, I turn my face away from Mum and look out the window. I considered pretending to be asleep, but I couldn’t do that either, for fear of making Mum more displeased.

“I’m sorry, Meisa. I thought I’d loved you as best I could, but perhaps it wasn’t enough. Maybe you sought from an older woman the affection I, your mother, couldn’t give you.”

…I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. My brain strained desperately to comprehend the words Mum had spoken, while my body functioned only at the bare minimum required.

“…What does that mean…?”

　When I asked, unable to take it all in at once, Mum replied in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

“You see, Mum… Mum didn’t get on with Mum’s dad… Meisa’s grandfather. That’s why Mum was so drawn to the professor, who was the complete opposite of Grandfather. …I realised later, he was like the ideal father figure. I think Meisa must feel the same way as Mum.”

Me and Mum, the same? Seeking what was lacking?

　—So you mean I was just unconsciously seeking the ideal image I wanted from my mother in the professor?

“The headmaster explained it as ‘Kakei-sensei unilaterally taking Meisa out’, but if you saw the way Meisa looks at her, you’d understand. You’re drawn to her, aren’t you? …But it’s not love. I’m glad you realised before it became fatal.”

　The car pulled into the convenience store car park. Mum’s left hand, which had applied the handbrake, touched my cheek.

――In that instant, the touched spot sent a signal throughout my body: ‘This is wrong.’

When I took the teacher’s hand in bed.
When I confessed my feelings and clasped her fingers.
When she held me tight in the classroom.
When I… forcefully kissed her.

　The physical fact of skin touching skin should be the same, yet with the teacher and with Mum, the exhilaration I felt, the sense of security, everything was different.

Finally, it dawned on me. The teacher and Mum are different.

Of course they are. They’re different people, and their place within me is different too.

—Then, Mum and I can’t possibly be the same!