2. My Mother (9)

"I've decided to go on a business trip today."
When I told Hori-kun that I had managed to get an appointment with someone I had almost given up on, and that I had changed my plans to meet them immediately, he said he would come with me.

"You don't have to push yourself. I'm leaving right away today, so I can go alone."
"This is about Mando, right? I'm interested too, so I'm going."
"I got in touch with her, just a moment ago. His mother."

I heard only the sound of a sharp intake of breath. I knew how he felt, because I had thought I wouldn't be able to meet her either.

"Of course I'm going. If you had gone without telling me, I might have held a grudge."
Hori-kun glared at me from behind his black-rimmed glasses and pouted.

※

"Come to think of it, what kind of person is your mother, Hori-san?"
As I looked out the window of the car heading toward the snack bar run by Mando's mother, I realized I had never asked him that before, so I spoke up.

The rows of street trees were looking vigorous just for this season, and they seemed healthy. If the government didn't trim them soon, wouldn't the leaves start covering the traffic lights?
"What's with the sudden question?"

Looking troubled, or perhaps slightly happy, Hori-kun took his left hand off the steering wheel and scratched his head lightly.
"My family is, well, how should I put it, normal. Just a very average, normal mom."

"You're in the mental health field, so you should know. There's no such thing as a normal or average family anywhere in Japan. Everyone has some kind of problem. That is what's normal."

I know that a mother, or her absence, has a profound influence on a person's psychological development. There is no such thing as a perfect mother or perfect upbringing without any problems. Just as children are not perfect and not normal, it is impossible for a mother to be perfect or normal either.

"Oh, give me a break."
Mando's parents' home was in the suburbs of Tokyo. I was grateful that it was close enough to move quickly even after a sudden business trip was decided.

On the other hand, the scenery outside the window was monotonous, with nothing but houses that looked like they could be anywhere, which made it a bit uninteresting.

"I think my family was more of a laissez-faire type. My mother was busy, and I was the middle child of three."
"Is your older sibling a sister?"
Hori-kun glanced at me and gave a bitter smile when he stopped at a red light.

"Yes. An older sister three years older, and a younger sister one year younger. Both of them are loud, so I grew up completely intimidated by them."
"So the sister three years older was the one in power?"

"On top of that, my younger sister was the sensible, or rather, cunning type, and the two of them were completely in cahoots. So I ended up being, how should I put it, like the odd one out."

He laughed lightly and started the car. Perhaps because there was a JR station nearby, there was a lot of traffic even at this hour, and we were frequently stopped by traffic lights.
A chain ramen shop, a cafe, and a bento shop were lined up together. On the other side of the road, the famous old man in the white suit was holding a bucket of chicken with a smile. I'm talking about the statue, of course. Not a real person.

"That's the pattern where people say, 'That's men for you.'"
"Ah, I really heard that a lot. Once they say that, I have no words to reply."

"Is your father the quiet, low-profile type?"
"Typical, isn't it!"
Hori-kun laughed heartily. I imagined a tired, slightly chubby middle-aged man who was supposed to be supporting the family but had no influence and a receding hairline.

Whether it's my family or Hori-kun's, why is it that Japanese men have so little presence in their own homes? It's hard to believe that just a few decades ago, they were acting like masters of the house. No, that must be an illusion too. Even Socrates couldn't stand up to Xanthippe, could he? From the perspective of a modern woman, she wasn't a shrew. If anything, Socrates was the great bum. Of course anyone would want to splash water on him.

"But you didn't have a bad relationship with your siblings or your parents, did you?"
Hori-kun readily agreed.
"I still keep in touch with my older and younger sisters, and my mother is always sending me cardboard boxes full of packages. Even though I tell her I don't need them."

"That's a nice family."
"...I'm sorry."
Hori-kun bowed his head, looking truly sorry, and gave me a sympathetic look.

"Oh, look, the light. Please keep your eyes on the road and drive."
"Ah, sorry..."
He stepped on the brake, let out a sigh, and Hori-kun took a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to his forehead.

"But because it's like that, I feel like I can't truly understand the background of 'them'."
I couldn't quite tell if that was meant to be supportive of me or if it was his honest opinion.

"I can't imagine Mando's family life at all. We're the same age, but I don't think we have much in common. Even if I asked him all sorts of things, he probably wouldn't want to answer anyway."

"So you don't think I made up a story just to make it easier to talk about?"
"...It didn't sound like a lie at all."
With a dragging voice, Hori-kun moved quietly over the asphalt.

It was still disgustingly hot outside, but the sun was tilting at an angle. Even if we could only move at this speed, we would surely make it in time before the snack bar opened.

The days have been long lately, to the point where I can't even tell when evening is. It stays bright outside until six or seven o'clock. In proportion to that, the nighttime temperature in Tokyo is steadily rising. That clinging night breeze that feels like being put inside a steamer. It's humid and suffocating.

"I wonder what kind of person his mother is."
"Who knows."

Saying only that, Hori-kun fell silent. I hadn't told him because I didn't want him to have the same preconceived notions as me, but Mando likely doesn't hate his mother the way I do. Regardless of what he says, the psychological facts speak for themselves.

The piano is like an umbilical cord connecting Mando to his mother, and Mando clearly loves the piano. If he truly hated his mother, he should hate the piano as well.

Just as I hate Lucienne, the long staircase that followed, and even the mandatory French classes because I hate my mother so much, I thought it would be a more natural psychology for him to not want to listen to the piano or classical music at all.
He loves the piano. You can see the attachment there.

Besides.
Classical piano suits Tetsuto Mando well.

I kept silent and vaguely shifted my gaze to the streetlights of the residential area as we passed by. The streetlights, which hadn't turned on yet, were lined up at precise intervals and continued on silently. As we passed under them at a constant speed, I felt a strange sense of oppression.

The same things appear and disappear, disappear and appear, endlessly. A mechanical and eerie cityscape. Though, if streetlights of different shapes were lined up one after another, that would probably be even more unsettling.

Suddenly, I wanted to see Mando playing the piano. Before his fingers rusted and he could no longer play the passages that mimicked the sound of bells.

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