[Serialized Novel] Rebooting "Me"! ~Mom's Re-learning Community~ 03: The First Step, at McDonald's.

The electronic "beep-beep" of fries being fried and the high-pitched laughter of high school girls.
Ten o'clock on a weekday morning. The McDonald's in front of the station was filled with a unique energy as various people came and went.

I sat at a window seat overlooking the store, holding a paper cup of hot coffee as if to wrap it in both hands.
My palms were slightly sweaty from nervousness.

Three days had passed since that night when I impulsively posted a recruitment notice for the "Re-learning Community: Project U" on the local bulletin board.
I never thought I would actually receive a message.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Mika Sasaki. I have a one-and-a-half-year-old son. I teared up when I read your words on the bulletin board about how 'opportunities to be called by my own name have decreased.' I haven't studied English since I was a student, but would it be okay for me to participate?"

The moment I saw the notification, I gripped my smartphone and gave a small fist pump. At the same time, the pressure of "Oh no, I'm really going to have to do this" made my stomach ache.
For now, I replied, "Why don't we start by having a casual chat over some tea?" and we ended up meeting at this place today.

"Um... are you Kiritani-san?"

I was startled and my shoulders shook when I was suddenly addressed.
When I looked up, a petite woman pushing a stroller was standing there. Her hair was pulled back into a single ponytail, and on her almost makeup-free face, there were faint dark circles that clearly showed she was sleep-deprived.
Her exhausted appearance was like looking at myself in a mirror from a little while ago.

"Yes! I'm Rin Kiritani. You must be Sasaki-san, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. I'm sorry, my child was fussing, so I'm a little late."

Sasaki-san bowed her head repeatedly as she pulled the stroller up to the seat opposite me. Inside the stroller, a little boy was sleeping soundly.

Sasaki-san, who had returned after buying a coffee, let out a sigh of relief.

"I wonder how long it's been since I sat down and drank coffee slowly..."

I nodded deeply at her murmur.

"I understand. At home, the moment you sit down, someone calls out, 'I spilled my tea!' or something like that, right?"

Sasaki-san laughed a little, "Heh heh."
Seeing that smile, my own nervousness began to melt away little by little.

With introductions barely out of the way, we naturally began to talk about our own "fuzziness."

"I was originally a pediatric nurse."

Tracing the rim of her paper cup, Sasaki-san—Mika-san—began to speak quietly.

"I loved my job. But there were night shifts, and my husband came home late, too. When my own child had a fever, the reality of having to go take care of other people's children became harder and harder to bear. In the end, I was the one who gave in and resigned."

Mika-san's voice was trembling just a little.

It's a blessing to be with my children. But... sometimes, I get really scared. The 'Nurse Mika Sasaki' who was useful to society is nowhere to be found anymore, and I feel like I've just become a machine that makes baby food and changes diapers every day. Even when I watch the news on TV, it doesn't sink in. I wonder if I'm just going to become stupid like this.

Mika-san...

I felt a tight squeeze in the depths of my chest.
It's the same for me.
Not everyone is like Erika-san, whom I met at the park, who can smile and say, 'I'm happy enough just as I am.' There was another mom here, just like me, who was about to scream from the invisible sense of loss of her career and the loneliness of being cut off from society.

I understand. I really, really understand.

I leaned forward and looked into Mika-san's eyes.

I'm the same. I work non-stop every day for zero yen an hour, yet no one appreciates it. I've been terrified that my own name might just disappear.

After opening her eyes wide, Mika-san began to shed tears.

...I'm glad. It wasn't just me. I've been blaming myself, thinking that feeling this way meant I was a failure as a mother.

Inside the noisy McDonald's, our table felt like a small lifeboat.

You are not a failure as a mother. We are just taking a little pause.

I took a clear file out of my bag.

So, why don't we start a little rehabilitation from today?

What I took out of the file was a short English news article I had found online and printed out.
It was a simple, junior-high-level English text about the 'opening of a new library in New York.'

Wait, English all of a sudden? Mika-san asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Yes. I'll teach you the difficult words. You don't have to translate it perfectly. Just for today, let's take a break from being a 'mom' and spend some time using our brains just for ourselves.

Though hesitant, Mika-san accepted the printed sheet.

...The new library has... Hmm, how do you read this?

It's 'facilities.' It means equipment or amenities.

Amenities! Oh, I see. The new library has amenities for children... is that right?

Perfect!

I read the English text line by line with faltering pronunciation.
Even though I felt nervous every time her son in the stroller turned over, we still managed to finish reading one short article, stumbling about thirty times along the way.

"Phew!"

Mika-san stretched out with a look of accomplishment.
Her face looked remarkably clearer and more radiant than it had when we met thirty minutes ago.

When I asked, "How was it?", Mika-san blushed slightly and smiled.

"It felt... really good, somehow. It’s like the rust has fallen off a part of my brain I haven't used in a long time. I can still read and think properly, it seems."

Hearing those words made me happy from the bottom of my heart.
It wasn't that her English skills had improved. It wasn't that she could get a high TOEIC score.
But she had just reclaimed the "intelligence" within herself.

On the plastic table at McDonald's.
Just the printout with a coffee stain and the two of us.
To an outsider, it probably looked like nothing more than a couple of housewives killing time.

But I was remembering a passage from that "Umeko Tsuda Notebook."

In 1900, when Umeko Tsuda founded the "Women's Institute of English Studies," it wasn't on a grand university campus. It was in a single room of a small rented house in Kojimachi, Tokyo. It is said that only ten students gathered there.
There weren't enough desks or chairs, and it was by no means a privileged environment, but there was an incredible fervor swirling among the women who wished to "become independent."

"True education begins in a small room, with a small number of people filled with enthusiasm."

Those words left behind by Umeko overlapped perfectly with the image of Mika-san and me right now.

We don't need a luxurious classroom. We don't need fancy titles.
This corner of a fast-food restaurant that smells like french fries is the starting place of our own "Women's Institute of English Studies."

"Um, Rin-san."

As we were leaving, just outside the shop door, Mika-san looked straight at me and said.

"Can I join again next week? I want to try reading all sorts of different articles."

"Of course!"

I nodded with a beaming smile.

"Shall we try a slightly longer article next week? Also, if you'd like, why don't we call each other by our first names instead of 'So-and-so's mom'?"

When I suggested this, Mika-san smiled, looking a little shy, but very happy.

"Yes, Rin-san. I look forward to it."

A lukewarm spring breeze blows between the two of us.

Project U—this was the moment this small, still-nameless community truly let out its first cry.
I swore to myself that I would never let this small first step go to waste.

(Continued in Chapter 4: The "Mask" of a Perfect Mom.)