Thomas Randall - Spirits of the Noh

With a deep breath, she let go of much of the fear that lingered after the nightmare. It dissipated with each passing moment. But the melancholy did not depart so quickly. Parts of the dream were already fading in her mind, but she knew it would be a long time before she forgot the worst of it. Not the snakes, though those were nightmarish. What Kara would not be able to scour from her mind was the look on her dream-mother’s face when she told her that she was dead.

It had felt like a betrayal. The dream-the illusion-could have been sweet. Her mother had come to protect her, to hold Kara, to guide her, and Kara had dismissed her.

It was only a dream, she told herself now. But somehow that reassurance wasn’t enough to relieve her of the strange guilt that she felt. If she had not spoken, if she had not broken the illusion, the darkness would never have claimed her mom. As foolish as it was-Kara knew dreams could not be controlled-the guilt remained.

After the events at the Toro Nagashi Festival the night before, she was exhausted. Her bedside clock revealed the time to be just before eight a.m. She could sneak in a couple more hours of sleep and she knew her father would not wake her. But Kara stretched and sat up, forcing herself to leave the comfort of her bed. Better to be awake now. If she went back to sleep right away, she might return to the same dream. It happened sometimes. This morning, she could not bear the thought.

As she’d fallen asleep the night before she had struggled with the temptation to tell her father everything, to explain what she and her friends believed was really going on. She had played out various scenarios in her mind, imagining that he would go with her to Mr. Yamato-they could bring all of the others, even Mai, in with them-and the principal would listen. She believed that part, at least, was true. The last time she’d been in Mr. Yamato’s office, it had been clear that he already half-believed that something unnatural was going on at Monju-no-Chie school.

But that was where her imaginary scenario fell apart. She simply could not escape the feeling that her father, always a practical man, would think she had lost her marbles. Even when she woke up this morning, that version of events seemed so much more likely to her. He would think that fear or stress had made her snap, or that she was having some kind of breakdown, or he would think she was a liar, and that was the worst scenario of all.

Things had been tense, and Kara had felt the distance growing between them. It scared her to even consider doing something that might push him further away.

She pulled on a pair of shorts and padded quietly to her door, not wanting to wake him. But when she stepped into the hallway, she paused, brows knitting, as she heard voices in the living room. Her father, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

“I feel like I should be doing something,” a woman’s voice said.

Kara blinked. Miss Aritomo? She glanced back into her room to confirm the time. Still five minutes before eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. What the hell was the woman doing here so early in the morning?

She took a sharp breath. Had her art teacher spent the night? Had Miss Aritomo come over after Kara had gone to bed? She couldn’t believe her father would do such a thing. He’d be horrified by how it might look, both to his daughter and to the school administration.

Still, Kara couldn’t rule it out. Otherwise, when had Miss Aritomo arrived? Seven a.m.? Six? She couldn’t imagine that, but she wouldn’t let herself imagine the alternative, either. Her father was an adult, but the idea of him sleeping with any woman both disturbed and disappointed her.

“Yasu had such enthusiasm and he was so kind,” Miss Aritomo said, her voice cracking. “I can’t… even if I were to choose someone else to take his role in the play, I don’t know if I could continue. I don’t know if I should. Three of my students, Rob. My Noh club kids.”

Kara held her breath. Miss Aritomo sounded so torn up inside that she couldn’t help feeling badly. She had never given any consideration to how all of this might affect Miss Aritomo, the grief it would bring her. Could Kara really blame her for seeking some solace in her father’s company?

“Yuuka,” her father said, his voice soft and kind. “Look at me. You don’t know what happened to those other two. It’s completely possible that they really did run away together.”

A few seconds passed in silence before Miss Aritomo spoke. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t,” her father admitted. “But that doesn’t change anything. It’s possible.”

Kara walked into the living room. “Good morning.”

The two of them looked up, her father in a T-shirt and pajama pants-much too comfortable dressed that way in front of this woman, his colleague-and Miss Aritomo looking tired in a pair of pants and a baggy cotton sweater. She usually looked immaculate, but this morning her hair was wild and unkempt as though she’d just rolled out of bed. And she was barefoot.

Kara checked the floor near the front door, but if Miss Aritomo had taken her shoes off upon entering, she’d tucked them away somewhere. Yeah, like under Dad’s bed.

The thought put ice in her veins. No. He wouldn’t do that. Not after the argument they had already had.

But a teapot sat on the table and it looked to have been there for some time. Their teacups were empty. Kara’s father sat up straighter, a hundred thoughts flashing behind his eyes, like he was trying to find a way to explain the cozy scenario.

“Good morning, Kara,” Miss Aritomo said.

Realizing he’d not responded, Kara’s father smiled sadly, apologetically. “Good morning, honey.”

“Bonsai,” she corrected. “It’s what some of the kids call me at school. You know this. I’ve told you.”

“Why would I call you that?” her father asked, frowning.

Miss Aritomo shifted awkwardly in her seat but continued to smile.

“It’s what I am,” Kara told him. She pulled out a chair and sat with them, reaching out for the teapot. A small amount of tea sloshed inside.

“Would you like me to make some more?” Miss Aritomo asked politely, beginning to rise.

“No!” Kara snapped.

Her father and her teacher stared at her. Miss Aritomo had actually flinched. Kara didn’t care. This was her house, and her father’s house, not the house of this woman. Wasn’t she Japanese? Didn’t she give a damn about propriety? Who the hell did she think she was, wanting to make tea in a place she didn’t belong?

“Kara-” her father began.

She sighed. “So last night, you said you thought school would be closed for a while. Any idea how long?”

Her father hesitated, as though he wanted to go back and address what had just happened, but then he let it go. “At least three days. A lot depends on what the police are able to find out about this boy Yasu.”

“About his murder, you mean?” Kara asked.

That broke Miss Aritomo’s composure and her sadness returned. She lowered her head and wiped at one eye. Kara’s father reached out and covered her hand with his own, and that was enough.

Kara stood up. She knew she was being a bitch, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Rob Harper was her father. He should have been comforting his daughter, not this woman they’d known for only six months. Kara had been there, on the beach, helping to search for Yasu. Where was her comforting hand?

“I guess the police will be working overtime now, huh?” Kara said as she rose from the table and turned to go back to her room. “After what happened in April, maybe they’ll need to do their jobs. With all the people who were at the festival, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe that ‘bear attack’ story again, do you?”