Hanging from the Handle, Vinegar Kelp

Dedicated to Yomogi-san

Mizuki likes silly puns.

The LINE message he sent, "You caught a cold? That's 'un-cold-fortable' to hear," was read, but there was no reply.

"...Yeah, if this were a drama, I might be getting evicted right about now."

He nodded to himself and adjusted his cross-legged position on the tatami mat. Even past sixty, a flop is still a flop, and it stings.

The person on the other end is Yuuka. Both of us are divorced. No, to be precise, perhaps we should call ourselves "thrice-divorced" peers. We've both been through a lot, and after all that, here we are.

We met at a bar a few months ago.

I ended up taking a completely wasted Yuuka back to her room simply because I happened to live nearby. That was the extent of our relationship. Nothing more, nothing less. ...Or so it was supposed to be.

That was until a few days ago.

"I'm not feeling well, could you buy me some rice?"

That was the LINE message I received.

"No problem. 'Rice' to meet you, I'm here to help."

I regretted it five seconds after sending it, but it was marked as read. There was no reply. Well, that's fine. That's the kind of relationship we have.

Mizuki bought rice at the local supermarket and, on a whim, tossed some vinegar kelp into his basket as well.

"It's good for you. Vinegar kelp... 'kelp' yourself feel better, right?"

He muttered to no one in particular.

He then stopped in his tracks at the fruit section.

Grapefruit. Yellow, round, and a little bitter.

You look like you've lived a life, you know.

I pick up one, and put in another.

There's no reason. Just because, two of them.

In front of Yuka's apartment.

I hesitated a little about handing it to her directly.

Pressing the doorbell, saying "Hey there," and seeing her face. No, that's a bit... no, it's quite embarrassing.

To be embarrassed at over sixty... maybe I should just turn on the TV to distract myself.

I muttered, and gave a bitter smile to myself.

In the end, I put it in a paper bag and hung it on the door handle.

Inside was,

Rice, pickled kelp, and two grapefruits.

And, out of character, a letter.

How many decades has it been since I wrote a letter?

Holding the ballpoint pen, I froze for a while.

Just writing "Take care" felt too dry.

But then again, I couldn't think of anything clever to write either.

In the end, I wrote this.

--The rice is two kilos. Be careful, it's heavy. --I don't know if you like pickled kelp, but I heard it's good for you. --If peeling the grapefruit is a hassle, you can just leave it as is.

--Oh, but I personally like it a bit bitter.

...What is this?

I tilt my head after writing it.

"It's not a love letter, nor is it a recipe. It's half-baked."

Even so, I folded it and put it inside.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo—nothing like that happens. I'm not at an age where it would, anyway.

At most, just one piece of meddling will be left hanging.

On the way home, fireworks went off in the distance.

A low boom echoed in my gut.

In the night sky, a white light bloomed and immediately vanished.

"Oh... it looks like a 'petal'."

I end up saying something silly again.

Even though no one is listening.

Returning to his room, Mizuki took off his shoes and picked up a paperback book as usual.

"Onihei Hankacho." He opened to the page he was reading.

However, the words weren't sinking in.

The afterimage of the fireworks was still flickering in the back of his eyes.

Meanwhile, at that time.

Yuka was dozing off in her futon.

Her throat hurt. Her body felt heavy. She also had a fever.

It was only for a split second that she noticed the sound at the entrance.

"…Must have been my imagination."

Thinking that, I close my eyes again.

After a while, I get up aimlessly.

I head toward the entrance to get a drink of water.

I open the door.

A paper bag was hanging from the handle.

“...What is this?”

My voice is a little hoarse.

I take the bag off and bring it into the room.

I look inside.

Rice.

Pickled kelp.

A grapefruit.

And a letter.

“...Ah, it’s that person.”

I smile a little.

Not close enough to call them by name, but I know who it is.

That kind of distance.

I read the letter.

Halfway through, I let out a small laugh.

“You like it bitter, huh.”

I felt as if the back of my throat had softened just a little.

Yuka picks up a grapefruit.

It is a bit heavy.

Peeling it is a hassle.

But I don't feel like biting into it as it is, either.

After staring at it for a while, she put it back on the table.

“...I'll do it later.”

She murmurs softly.

Outside, fireworks go off again.

Only the sound reaches us with a delay.

Mizuki had been reading the same page over for the third time.

Yuka was holding her teacup while staring at the grapefruit.

Both of them were on the verge of realizing something,

but neither of them put it into words.

The fireworks bloomed again, and then vanished again.

Lights that looked the same, yet were slightly different each time.

What had been dangling from the handle was no longer there.

However, whether it had been received or not,

had not yet been determined anywhere.

“...Well, I'm sure you'll get over it completely soon enough.”

Mizuki said to no one in particular,

and turned the page.

Yuka gently placed her finger on the grapefruit peel.

The summer night was just a little bit long.