Legacy

It has been almost two weeks since I've decided that I was going to have the baby. I've come to accept it, at least a little bit. I refuse to talk about it with Yoshiki. He tries to engage me in conversation, probably thinking that now that I've agreed to have the baby, I must be excited for it. He couldn't be more wrong. I still don't want the baby, but my guilt over hurting Haruka and committing murder override that.
I try not to think about it. You'd think it would be easy, since I don't even have the beginnings of a baby bump yet. And I sometimes almost drive it completely from my mind, until I have to run to the bathroom to puke. "Morning" sickness my ass. I throw up at random times throughout the day, not just in the morning, sometimes so much that I think my body is trying to vomit up the baby. Which is what I'm doing right now.
When I finish brushing my teeth, I walk out of the bathroom and straight into Yoshiki. He looks serious, well more serious then he usually does.
"What, do you get a weird kick out of hearing me puke my guts out?" I say, trying and failing to be funny.
Yoshiki doesn't acknowledge my question. "When was the last time you were at your own apartment?"
I tense. It wasn't my apartment, really, it was Hide's. I had moved in with him about eight months after we started dating. "Why?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you were still paying rent on it or something, since you're living here now."
"Not me, no," I answer. "Hide always paid the rent about six months in advance, so he could go travel and not have to worry about it. It's probably overdue by now, though..."
"Do you still want to keep it?" Yoshiki asks. "Because if you don't, you need to officially move out. I'm guessing your landlord doesn't know Hide's dead, and wondering where his money is."
"Probably." Actually, I had completely forgotten about little responsibilities like that. Hide had paid for everything, so I never had to worry about it.
"Also, don't you think we need to-" Yoshiki pauses. "-clean out his stuff?"
"Oh, man," I say, running a hand through my hair. "Yoshiki, I totally can't deal with that right now. I don't want to go back there..."
"You have to at some point," Yoshiki says sternly. "We need to get his things. Or would you rather they repossess it all?"
"I know, I know. It'll just be...hard. Hide's everywhere in that house..."
"It's okay. You don't have to deal with it alone. I'll go with you."

I press the 'up' button and the elevator doors open. I step inside, my heart heavy with dread, Yoshiki right behind me. I really, really didn't want to be here right now.
"You didn't have to do that," I say, pressing number 8 like I had a million times before.
"You said you didn't have the money," Yoshiki says.
I had gone right to my landlord's office as soon as we got here, explaining to him that Hide and I weren't going to live in our apartment anymore (I declined to mention that Hide was dead, to save myself the artificial sympathy I'd receive). He didn't really care, just wanted to know where his money was. The rent was two months overdue, plus there was a fee for it being overdue. Since I had never known what the rent was, I was astounded at what I owed him. It was a drop in the bucket for someone like Hide and Yoshiki, but for me it was a lot. A lot that I didn't have. Before I could do anything, however, Yoshiki had pulled out his checkbook and written a check. The landlord had taken the check without a word to him, saying I had a week before he put the apartment up for rent again.
"If you feel that strongly about it, you can pay me back later," Yoshiki says as the elevator stops and the doors open. He walks out. "Number 814, right?"
"Yeah..." I exit the elevator, a lot more slowly than Yoshiki did. I look around. The hallway seems unfamiliar, even though I've walked through it many times before. Was it always this long? Were the walls always that bright and sterile-looking? I'm not really sure.
Yoshiki starts walking down the hall towards the apartment in a steady, determined pace. It's obvious from the tension in his shoulders he's steeling himself for what we're about to do. If he's having this much of a problem, what makes him think I can do this?
Yoshiki stops in front of a door. He stands there staring at it, then turns to me. "What are you waiting for? I don't have a key," he snaps, his anxiety making him cranky.
I'm still in front of the elevator. Reluctantly. I walk down to where he is. I reach into my purse and take out my keys, all the while feeling like I'm moving in slow motion. My hand is shaking slightly as I put the key into the lock and turn it. The click seems way too loud.
Yoshiki takes my hand. His hand is real warm, which means mine must be cold.
I turn to him. "Yoshiki, I can't..."
Yoshiki's hand gently squeezes mine. "We'll do it together." He takes my hand and places it around the doorknob, his fingers on top of mine. He essentially turns the knob and opens the door, since I didn't bother to put any force into my own hand. The last thing I wanted to do is open the door.
The door opens about halfway, and Yoshiki walks in. He's still holding my hand, pulling me gently inside. He must've read my mind, since I'm seriously thinking about turning and running.
The apartment is dark, the only light coming from the hallway behind me. I push the door closed and we're enveloped in almost complete darkness.
"I hope they didn't turn the electricity off," Yoshiki says. He walks over to the dark shape that is the lamp next to the sofa and flips the switch. The apartment is flooded with a soft yellow light.
I take in a shuddering breath. The sight of the old apartment, a place I called home for almost two and a half years, is too much. There's the dining room table, where we ate and where Hide would sit and write; there's the ugly old sofa where we watched movies and made love and where Hide sometimes slept if he was too drunk to make it to the bedroom. One of his guitars is leaning against the wall next to the TV. I see that before we had left for Japan for the last time, Hide had never picked up the videotapes like I had asked him to. And he never would.
I feel dizzy, and my legs collapse from underneath me. Yoshiki is quick to catch me, and he steers me to the sofa and makes me sit. A small puff of dust rises from underneath me. I realize I'm crying again.
"Maybe I should've come myself," Yoshiki says, his voice gentle. "This might be too trying for you, and you can't be too upset in your condition..."
I sniff and force myself to stop crying. "It's already too late for that." I stand up and take a deep breath. "Like you said, it needs to be done. I can do this. Anyway, I need to get my stuff too. In fact, let's just start with that. Let's just arrange my stuff for today. Take it one day at a time, you know?" I try to make myself sound optimistic, for both our sakes.
Yoshiki looks a little taken aback from my sudden mood change. "Well, if you're sure..."
"I'm sure. Why don't you stay out here and start organizing things into piles, and I'll start in the bedroom." Do the hardest part first.
"No, I'll go with you," Yoshiki says. He steps back and allows me to lead him down to the end of the hallway. The bedroom door had been left ajar.
"Wow," Yoshiki says as we walk in and I turn on the light. "This room's a lot different."
"Yeah, it was the only one I could get Hide to allow me to decorate. I was tired of all the blank white walls everywhere else." It's taking all my willpower to keep my voice steady. I turn away to the closet to hide the fact that my body is shaking.
"I'll start with my clothes," I say, pushing open the door that opened to my side of the closet. I start taking clothes off the hangers and folding them, piling them on the floor.
"Hey, Yoshiki, what about all of his stuff back in Japan?" I ask.
"Kenta and Haruka are taking care of that, of course." Yoshiki answers as he kneels to reach under the bed. He pulls out a black trunk with hot pink hearts all over it.
"Um...I would leave that for me," I say.
"Why?" He asks, placing his hands on the top of the trunk.
"Well, that's our 'Love Box'..."
Yoshiki jerks his hands away from the trunk as if it had tried to bite him. "Oh," he says, an awkward look on his face. If I was in a better mood I would laugh.
"You know what?" Yoshiki says, glancing around the room uncomfortably. "I think I'll go start on another room. It will make the job go faster if we split up, you know?" He gets up and practically runs out of the bedroom.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I drop the shirt I'm holding, walk across the room to the bed, and sit on the soft mattress. I stare down at the dark blue duvet, running my hand lightly over it.
Some the best nights of my life were spent in this bed. Memories flash before my eyes of long, passion-filled nights. Of falling asleep in Hide's arms, the safest place in the world to be. Of pillow fights that more often than not ended in sex. Of insisting he stay in bed and nursing him back to health whenever he was sick or suffering from a bad hangover.
I let out a sob and throw myself down on the bed, burying my face in the pillows to stifle the noise. My face soon becomes wet as my tears soak into the pillowcase. The pillows smell musty and old, not a trace of his scent left on them.
I cry until all my tears are gone. As I sit up and wipe my face with my sleeve, I notice that my chest feels lighter. I think I can do this now, just as long as I take it slow. I wouldn't touch any of Hide's things; that would take more preparation then I was ready for yet.
It takes about another hour until I have all my possessions in piles on the floor. I have also stripped the bed, because I wanted to take the duvet and sheets. They were very comfortable, expensive sheets. I didn't want to throw them out. The one thing I don't open is the 'Love Box'. I'm just going to throw it away, since I will never use its contents again.
What the hell can I put all this stuff in? Maybe there's some garbage bags in the kitchen somewhere.
I start to walk down the hallway to the kitchen. On the way, I see the door to the guest room/office is ajar. I'm guessing Yoshiki's in there. I wonder how he's doing.
I push the door open a little more and stick my head in. Yoshiki's back is to the door. He's sitting in the office chair, looking down at something in his lap.
I open my mouth to say his name when I hear a shuddering sigh come from him. He suddenly throws his head into his hands and starts to shake, gasping for air. The thing in his lap falls to the floor and I see that it's a photo album. It's open to a photo of Yoshiki and Hide back in the X days, sitting at a table, cigarettes in hand and laughing together.
I'm in shock, and not sure of what to do. I've never seen Yoshiki cry before. Shed some tears, yes, but never actually cry. I get a funny feeling that this is what he'd been doing all those days and nights of being shut up in his room. Should I go comfort him? Or should I just leave and let him get rid of all the sorrow, which he had obviously been repressing all day? And why is he so sad? It's one thing to cry for a friend you've lost, but this seemed a little too much. You don't cry like that for a friend, no matter how good of a friend they are. You only sobbed your eyes out for someone you really loved-
Something in my head clicks. Of course. That's why Yoshiki has been so adamant about me keeping the baby, and why I made him cry when I said that Hide never loved him. It's because Yoshiki had been in love with Hide.
I walk into the room and place my hand on Yoshiki's shoulder. He jumps, unaware that I was there. He bent his head forward, hiding his face from me.
"Yoshiki," I say softly. "You really did love him, didn't you?"
He sighs and is silent for a moment. "Of course I did, Amanda." He says just as quietly. "How could I not?"
I squeeze his shoulder in agreement. I understand completely. "Did you ever tell him?"
Yoshiki shakes his head. "I couldn't. He wasn't that way, and frankly, neither was I, at least not really. And I thought that if I told him it would scare him off, and our friendship would be ruined. And I didn't want that for anything."
Funny, I had thought the same thing. But I didn't tell Yoshiki that. And of course his situation was very different.
"But ever since the first day we met, I loved him. As much as I tried to deny it to myself, I did."
"Same with me," I say. "It was kind of impossible not to."
Yoshiki reaches up to his shoulder and grabs my hand that is still resting there. "You know, when I first met you, I hated you. I was so jealous that you got all of Hide's love, the kind of love that I wanted, but would never get. But then as I got to know you better, I saw that you were a great person and that you deserved it. And you were making Hide happy, happier than I had ever seen him. And I liked you for doing that for him."
I kneel down and wrap my arms around Yoshiki, hugging him tight. Tears are in my eyes, but not from sorrow. I'm touched by what Yoshiki just said.
"You're my favorite, Yoshiki."
Yoshiki laughs a little. "I should be, for everything I'm doing for you."
I let go of him and pick up the photo album off the floor. "You guys look so young and happy there."
Yoshiki nods, and his face becomes sorrowful again. "Why did he have to die, Amanda? Out of all the people in the world, why him? It just doesn't make sense."
I put the album on the desk, letting my fingertips linger on the photo. "I ask myself the same thing every day."