New Kid in Town

The Mariners won the Series.

I watched from my big empty house. They drubbed Atlanta in four games. Ichiro, god of the world, won Series MVP. Nice addition to AL MVP, a batting title and my ex-girlfriend as his wife.

Best damned day of his life, hands down.

And just like that, he was dead.

My ex-girlfriend was at home, in Seattle, when Hubby won the Series. Little Bakuryu had come down with a nasty cold from the chilly hard rain that fell in late October, so she stayed behind to tend to him. They watched their beloved win it all on TV. Then came the phone call.

He promised them he’d be home by dawn. He’d been gone for two days and missed them like the dickens. He cheerfully told his wife not to worry, but expect him before she woke up. “I love you,” he said in Japanese.

His private jet made it home fine. His fancy red sports car did not. The dark and wet night took him off the highway from the airport and into a tree. They found him before dawn, not sure of how long he’d been like that, or if he was even alive.

He wasn’t. And Finn got the second call. She was at Bakuryu’s bedside. Her small son slept soundly for the first time since he’d gotten sick, soothed by his mother’s loving care and the promise of Daddy coming home at last. Two days can seem like a lifetime to a three year old. She heard the words, but they didn’t register. She hung up the phone and looked at Bakuryu. He woke, and asked where his father was. After all, the first light of the morning peeked through the blinds in his room, and Ichiro had promised to be home.
That’s when Finn really cried. She held her son fiercely and sobbed.

Seattle, baseball and Japan mourned along with her. Japan’s outpouring of support was the greatest. Their sporting king was dead. They shared Finn’s hollow pain. Now she truly was Jackie O’Japan. She had come into her own in the country’s eye, and they loved her as they loved him.

She’d quit Sam’s shortly after she’d had Bakuryu, so I can’t really tell you what I was doing there today. I opened the door to the cute coffee shop and sat at the counter. A waitress I recognized scowled at me. She pushed a menu my way and asked what I wanted. I ordered a coffee and asked her how Finn was doing. She scowled again and brought my coffee but didn’t answer me. A kinder waitress saw what happened and told me that Finn had moved to Japan with her son and joined a symphony in Tokyo. Google.com, trusty and loyal sidekick that it is, confirmed.

Now she was completely out of reach.

I think of her from time to time, worry about her and her son. Poor kid, losing his father so early. Finn showed a regal strength at all public appearances concerning her husband’s death, and all subsequent ones, but I knew that inside she was shredded. She’d loved him, he’d loved her, and they’d loved their son so much. People could only envy and admire them. True love like they had, that’s precious and rare.

So I guess that’s it. It only took me a tragic death to see what we’re all missing, and to realize that I still do love Finn and wish I could rewind time and prevent us from falling apart. But knowing what I know now, even then it wouldn’t haven een enough. I love Finn, but I could never love her the way Ichiro did. That man worshipped her like she was a divine queen. He left her with a hole in her heart bigger than the one I left her with, but Death ripped him away, unwillingly and too early.