Orange

I remember the night that my life changed for the worse. I kept it repressed inside my mind for so long that I've always hated thinking about it. I was about nine or ten years old, and my friends had just walked me home from soccer practice. You couldn't see it, but my friends were jealous of me. I was super athletic, almost like I was a superstar or dream player at the time. They wanted to train with me so they could get better and defeat me. But you know...

I didn't mind. Even though they were my rivals, I always thought they were my friends. I think that's why I was so blind to my father. I would spend days and nights at his behest and he would do things that didn't make me comfortable. But I always kept to myself, because I knew that even though he did all of these things, he was still my father. He was still my friend.

But never did I realize that there was a specific term for that; sexual harassment and abuse. I remember the night I walked to my front door, the sun was setting, and I was about to remove my backpack. The front door was open, which was unusual. But the walls were caving in; they were trampled and crushed to pieces as if something heavy slammed against them. Shards of wooden and glass debris were scattered underneath my footsteps. My pink and white shoes crushed them into even smaller pieces as I walked into the living room, where the only light source was a portable lantern rotating with force.

"Mommy?" I cried out, hoping that my family was there.

"I've just had about enough of your shit!" My mother shouted. I had never heard her voice so loud before. It startled me. It made me want to run away. "How many times do I have to tell the police that nothing was wrong? Don't you know how many police reports we've had in the past few months? How many times do you want Sumire to be traumatized?"

"M-Mommy...?" I repeated.

"It's none of your fucking business!" I heard my father yell back. I clutched my hands tightly as I peeked through the doorway. My father was completely naked, and my mother was half-nude. He had a box of tissues on his lap while his television was turned to more naked women. I was used to it... but that didn't stop me from worrying about my mother. "Sumire belongs to me. You belong to me. No fucking police are gonna stop me from loving you both!"

"Love? Do you think this is love? Do you think that touching your daughter and me is love to you? Don't you have any idea what she thinks about that?" My mother cried.

"Who gives a fuck at this point? What's done is done!" My father yelled back.

"You don't know? Do I have to spell it out for you? She HATES IT! She would rather die than have you touching her every day! Do you think she wants this? Do you think she wants this to be normal? Don't you have any idea how much she touches people at school? Don't you know how much she copies from you?!"

Oh... I see. It wasn't normal, I thought. It was true. My father would touch me so much to the point that my pain was numb. Even if it was uncomfortable, I chose to disregard it like it was some daily activity, where he would touch me in places. It never hit me to think that was wrong this entire time until my mom said it for me. That night, her words peeled apart my father's heart, even if it was futile. I knew it wasn't loving. Yet I didn't have a choice.

"I've had enough of you!" My mother screamed at my father one last time before she approached the front door. She caught me crying so much that she froze. "S-Sumire? You're home already? There's nothing to be afraid of, dear. It's okay."

My father dragged himself out of the living room, still bare and nude. His mangled and disfigured hands rose from the ground in a groping manner. I could sense my feet moving backward by some invisible force, just begging me to save what little dignity I had as a child. All those hopeless nights where I would be bent forward and asked to do such abhorrent things came back to me. I just wanted it all to end. "Oh, Sumire! Come to me, darling! I love you so much-"

My mother shoved my father aside with her foot and sprinted towards my still body. I remembered it raining at the time. She lifted me into her shoulders and started running away from my house. I could sense the despicable aura emanating from that house, and the foul stench of my life escaping from there. My mother truly wanted what was best for me, and my eyes could never see my father the same way again.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my daughter!?" I could hear my father's drunken antics, slurring his words, and crying endlessly just for me to be his playtoy again. "Come back here! Sumire! Come back here, you fucking bitch!"

"Shh... it's okay, Sumire," My mother whispered as she ran with me across the rainy and slippery roads. Bystanders watched us as we escaped from the treacherous prison we called home. "I've got you, Sumire. It's going to be okay, shh..." I heard her repeat endlessly as my tears escaped my eyes.

It was at that point that I understood that my life was an entire lie. I spent my days being sifted apart under my father's forceful nature, like a puppet being held by strings just to be a sex toy. No wonder my mother always returned home so early. She knew about it, yet she didn't stop him. But when she stood up for me, I felt a sense of hope. I felt that someone loved me, cared for me, and wanted what was best for me. Even though I didn't know it was wrong at the time, I told myself that it would be the last time that my life would have such lies fed to me like a baby being spoonfed.

I wasn't powerless anymore. We were rogues on the move, believing our lives would be different. But then, after a few days of staying at motels and other family friend's homes, I remember that one afternoon when everything changed. We were in front of the Mountains Jazz Club, where Claude worked that day to support the customers who came in.

My mother and I were sitting out in front, where we were glued to our seats on a bench. We hadn't eaten or showered for days. Our skin was bruised and torn, infected by the dirt and rainwater mixing into our system. She had been speaking in the phone booth nearby, and she was arranging for a meeting I was clueless about.

"Ichijo? Is that you?" My mother's voice faltered. I could see her struggling to hold back tears. I leaned against the phone booth, trying to listen in on their conversation. "I'm a mess, Ichijo. I'm in front of the Mountains Jazz Club in Asahikawa. You and Hina need to come immediately. I need your help, please... yes. I know. You can't leave your son behind. It'll be okay. Please, just come quick. I don't think I can handle this pain anymore..."

My mother hung up on the phone call and walked out. She lifted me and placed me on the bench. I could see her face shriveled up in such diabolical pain inflicted from my father, and the trauma that separated us together. Tears streamed down her cheeks endlessly the more she looked deeply into my amber eyes. Every time she would try to look at me, she would always violently shake her head and close them, turning away like I was impossible to even discern from the human eye.

"Sumire..." My mother's voice cracked through the insanity of the pressure. "Listen to me. I am so sorry that it took me this long to realize that what your father was doing was wrong. I couldn't fight back against him. He was the man of the house, and you know how families usually are. I couldn't fight back because I was afraid of being hurt too."

She clutched my tear-soaked hands tightly with both of them. Her long brown hair was covering her eyes. I couldn't make out even the slightest of her expression. I couldn't speak nor enunciate anything I wanted to say.

"But... I was WRONG to do such a thing. It was selfish that I chose not to get hurt, but at the same time... I was hurting my daughter. I can't believe it took me this long to realize it, Sumire. And you have every right to be mad at me. You have every right to hate me or feel whatever you want to feel. You are free now, and you should be happy for that."

My mother protected me for so long that eventually, I remembered she would constantly volunteer to take my place as my father's sex toy. There was a moment in my life where the abuse had been lessened, and I never realized that it was because my mother was defending me from him. She was my hero, and I always kept it to myself. I was so stupid and clueless that I envied my mother's passion and strength for defending me. How could I have been so blind, I thought.

"Uncle Ichijo and Aunt Hinazumi are coming here soon," My mother continued. She caressed my cheek with her warm hands. I could tell she truly loved me. She was so different from my father, where he showed his version of "love." But this was the first time I had ever felt such a warm feeling of love that didn't involve abuse or harassment, and it made me so comfortable. My cheeks were rosy red, and my eyes were puffy and swelling. My breath was taken away by my mother's beauty and courage, that I was rendered speechless. "And... I want them to take you in. I don't want whatever happened between you and your father to ever happen again. No matter what happens... you will be safe. Do you understand me, Sumire?"

I nodded, as my breath was still taken away by such emotional distraught. The sun's gleaming nature only made her appear even more angelic as if she was a heavenly deity approaching me to save my soul from hell. This entire time, I believed that love was a form of sexual contact. But at that moment, my mother blasted my preconceived notion of love out of proportion with her own form.

"They will take good care of you, trust me," My mother repeated. Ichijo and Hinazumi were approaching behind my mother after driving to the jazz club. While they were walking toward us, my mother turned back to me and said her final words to me. "I can't bear the idea of having you beside me with such pain in our hearts. Once we've recovered, I'll come to see you again. In the meantime, they'll take care of you. You'll always be in my heart, Sumire. I love you."

My mother kissed me on the cheek before she took one final glance at me. "I love you so much, Sumire. Please, God... take care of her. Please... I beg of you, God..." She prayed to herself before standing up and retreating to Ichijo and Hinazumi.

"I... love you too." Only a feeble whisper came out of my mouth. My mind was rushing to process what had just happened, but it was much too slow for me to withstand the pain in my heart. "Come back, mommy. Come back," I repeated over again in a low voice. She couldn't hear me, but I kept saying it anyway. "Come back. Come back. Mommy, come back. Come back. Come back..."

I cried endlessly as my heart swelled up. My mother spoke to Uncle Ichijo and Aunt Hinazumi, but there was someone I hadn't seen before next to them. He was clutching onto Ichijo's leg and looking into the distance at me. It was you, Ryo. Your eyes were fixated on me crying, and deep down, I wanted to run to you. But I was afraid. I had always been afraid because I didn't know what would happen. Would my mother accept me returning to her? Would your father protect me properly?

"Are you lost, little one?" A sudden voice erupted from my left ear as I cried. I turned, and I saw Claude standing in the doorway of his jazz club. His eyes were bright, wide, and compassionate. But I was afraid, and I scooted back into the bench. He raised his hands towards me without the intent to hurt. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Do you want some water or juice? There are nice people inside here. Orange juice. Do you like orange juice?"

Orange juice... the tangy flavor of such a delicious drink made me thirst for such exquisiteness. I was starving, thirsty, and battered to fuck, both emotionally and physically. But the moment he offered me juice, I couldn't ignore it. I nodded and made a little squeal as my tears dried up. He sat next to me with a friendly smile and offered me his hand.

"You can call me Claude," He introduced. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I work here. I can give you some orange juice. Do you want that?"

I nodded once more. "Okay." My little and young voice agreed.

Claude picked me up as my mother did, and at first, I thought I was being abducted. But the moment he brought me into Mountains, the cold air blasted and cooled my skin with such a paradisal feeling. I was brought into such an aesthetically pleasing area that my world was dramatically transformed. I felt my skin cleansed after laying my eyes on the chandeliers inside, and my thirst felt solemnly satiated. The lighting's sheer warmth made me radiate with the same feeling. With the club empty at the time, I felt even more comfortable. As Claude placed me on the first stool, I watched as he created the first orange juice drink I've ever had.

"Here you go, little one," He offered as he smiled at me. "On the house."

With my throat parched and lips cracked, my feeble and fatigued right hand nearly slumped as I grabbed the glass cup. The sheer coldness of the glass made my palm numb. I held it up and drank it slowly, treasuring every single gulp as my tongue sensed such tangy goodness from the juice's mixture. It enveloped me with enough energy to last an entire year. I smiled so much that my mouth felt like it was about to pop out. My heartbeat was fast as I set the cup down.

"Did you like it? Do you want some more?" Claude asked me.

"Okay." I agreed.

He poured another glass for me, and I chugged it down almost immediately. He asked me again, and I said yes. I drank it again, and he asked me once more. After agreeing, I drank it again. After a few minutes, he stopped asking me if I wanted anymore and just poured it for me. I drank the juice over and over again, melting in happiness that I couldn't explain at the time. Eventually, the club had actually run out of orange juice, and I was left with an entire stomach full of just liquids.

"Oh, my..." Claude sadly expressed, glancing at his empty pitcher of orange juice. "Well, I'm just going to have to get more tomorrow," He winked at me. "How does that sound?"

I nodded in happiness, wanting more orange juice. I yearned for it. It was a happiness elixir, the more I thought about it. Claude placed his elbows on the countertop and examined me closely. He seemed to be worried more about me than his shortage of orange juice at the time.

"What's your name, young one?" He asked me.

"Su... Su... Sumire..." I whispered.

"Sumire," He repeated as he began cleaning up his orange juice pitcher. "That's a very lovely name. Okay, Sumire... how would you like to come here every day for orange juice? This time, it'll be all you can drink," He leaned forward and opened his mouth in such joy. "How does that sound?!"

My heart was ecstatic and pumped full of energy. My veins and arteries had felt they were running on orange juice. I just wish you could feel the tanginess of that juice, even if it was just a common drink. Common or not, it changed my life. "Mmm-hmm! More! I want more! More orange juice!" I cheered with Claude.

"That's more like it, Sumire! Then you can come here every day and I can make you more juice, free of charge!" Claude's voice rose. His usual guests would often times relax and mind their own business like regular customers, but at that point in time, they were eyeing him like it was a unique sense of contentment or joy that they hadn't noticed within him. Perhaps he was such a quiet individual that seeing me enjoy such a trivial drink changed me. Perhaps that drink wasn't so trivial anymore. But his confidence, his smile, and his eyes were unmeasured by the amount of love he had for Mountains and me.

Ichijo and Hinazumi entered Mountains, and I could see you waiting outside. They approached Claude and me, and I leaped over the countertop to join Claude by his leg. I clutched onto him as if he was a father of my own, and I never let go.

"Sumire, there you are!" Ichijo recognized me and called out to me. "Oh, Claude. Thank you so much for taking good care of her. She isn't supposed to be here. Sumire, come over here. We're going to take you into our home."

For some odd reason, even though my mother had set me up with them, I shook my head to reject their offer. Perhaps it was something as silly as not being able to have a regular dose of orange juice every day. I didn't want to risk it. But I rejected their plea and stayed by Claude's side.

"Sumire, come here! We're going to take you home." Hinazumi called for me.

I shook my head once again.

"Sumire..." Ichijo called once more.

"Actually..." Claude interrupted them. "How about I take care of her? Maybe you two can visit Mountains sometime to make sure she's okay. You two have been regulars ever since you were kids. You can trust me, can't you?"

To hear Claude defend my decision to live with Ichijo and Hinazumi was heartwarming. Never did a person ever defend me other than my mother. And as silly the reason was, perhaps it was just because I wanted some orange juice. I joyously smiled and held onto Claude's leg, watching their conversation taking place without much say in the matter.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ichijo disagreed. "Sumire needs the comfort of a family. She can't be out here by herself. It doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

The comfort of a family, Ichijo said. No, I thought. I don't want the comfort of a family. Not after what had happened. It isn't you, Uncle. It's just that... I wanted to try something different for a change. Maybe I was wrong, or maybe I was right. But all I knew was that I wanted to be somewhere different. I wanted to enjoy my life, as little by little as it meant for me. But I could sense something inside Claude's heart as if he really understood my desires of what I wanted in a family. He made a suggestion that brought me to where I am today.

"I have a great idea," Claude began, lifting me up from beside him. He rested me on his shoulder and I clung on, trying not to topple over. "How about we let Sumire decide who she wants to go with? I think it would be more than fair enough for her to have the final decision."

I was genuinely heart warmed and pleased to have been involved in the decision-making process. It wasn't like those moments in the school where I would be separated from the rest of the class from my awkward and overly touchy behavior, no doubt influenced by my time with my father. It wasn't like those moments where I would say a clear-cut "no" to my father but be tossed aside like trash as if I didn't have a choice whether or not I would be touched inappropriately. What Claude did just wanted me to appreciate his kindness and compassion even further, and I chose the right answer.

"This one," I said without a falter in my voice, pressing my finger against Claude's dark cheek. I accidentally made it seem like I was selecting a fluffy toy in an arcade crane game. "I want to go with this one. Claude."

Ichijo and Hinazumi both exchanged glances of unsureness, both hoping that my selection wasn't the final truth. Claude chuckled and looked at me with such beaming happiness that I had no other option but to smile with him. The idea of having premium squeezed orange juice in the Mountains Jazz Club was all that I yearned for. You would be surprised at how much that drink really influenced my mind.

"Sumire, I really don't think you should-" Ichijo began.

"No," I interrupted, pointing at Claude. "I want Claude."

"Well, that settles it!" Claude placed me back down next to his leg and slammed his large hands on the bartender table with an ecstatic vibe radiating from his presence. "Looks like Sumire will be staying with me for the time being. Don't worry. You can both visit weekly. Make sure to let the missus know the truth, alright?"

Hinazumi placed her palm against Ichijo's chest while nodding in uncertain approval. "Okay, Mr. Spiker. We hope you can take good care of her. Please call us from time to time and tell us how Sumire is doing."

Ichijo unexpectedly swayed Hinazumi's hand away, stunned by his wife's response. "Wait, you're actually agreeing with him? There's no way I'll let Sumire stay with-"

"Stay with...?" Claude begged him to finish his sentence.

Hinazumi shook her head to Ichijo. "Please, let's rethink this, dear. We should let Mr. Spiker also do what he feels makes him happy as well. This will give us more opportunities to spend more time with our son. If Sumire truly wants to stay with Mr. Spiker, then we have no right to go against her decision," She turned to face both me and Claude with a truthful and approving smile. "Besides, I think they're lovely together. Do you think so, Sumire?"

I nodded in agreement. I could sense how much Claude really cared about me, even if it was just momentarily. I didn't want to let this opportunity go to waste.

Ichijo sighed and placed his shaken hands on his hips. "Well... alright. If that's what Sumire really wants, then I guess that's okay with us. I just thought it would be a good opportunity for her to spend time with Ryo. He's been feeling very lonely recently, and-"

"Don't worry, dear. Everything'll be looking wonderful in a few years or so. Ryo will meet her sooner or later. Give it some time," Hinazumi ensured as she gazed outside the windows of the jazz club. "We should leave now, dear. We shouldn't leave Ryo outside for too long. We were in the middle of making dinner."

"He must be hungry, the poor boy," Claude's worried voice came aloft. "But do not worry, you have my word. I will take great care of young Sumire over here." He patted my head with such delicate care, even though his hands were gigantic.

During their exchange of small talk, I gazed outside the window and saw your face pressed against the tinted glass trying to look for your family. Your tongue was sticking out too as if you were trying to eat the glass. You must have been so hungry. When I saw you, I was so curious about who you were. I kept asking myself, were you one of those kids who saw me as a creep in school, or were you accepting? Did you really care?

"Alright, let's go," Ichijo held Hinazumi's hand as they departed outside. "Take care of yourself, Sumire. Don't be afraid to call us some time, okay?"

The three of you then returned to the car and drove off. Claude lifted me and placed me on the countertop. I smiled so heavenly, but I was overly curious about why he would decide on taking care of me, which was a clear-cut life-changing experience. I was smart enough to realize that having a child was an arduous task, so I wanted to ask. But instead, he answered it for me instead.

"Do you want to know why I wanted to take you in, Sumire?" He asked, looking into my eyes with somberness. He had such a mystical smile, which made me genuinely uncomfortable because before, it had looked so lighthearted and cheerful. "It's because I saw your mother outside with you, or at least, I think that was your mother. Something must have happened, but in those last few moments, I could tell she didn't want to leave you. She loved you with every ounce she had in her. And-"

Before Claude could continue his sentence, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably on the bartender table as I still thought about my mother. She was such a brave individual who took the strenuous risk of separating me from my father. I knew Claude's words weren't just cryptic bullshit. He told the truth, and I could resonate with them. He was telling the truth. My mother was a true hero, and someday, I hope she knows how much better I've become.

"Wait, Sumire! Don't cry! I'm sorry!" Claude reassured me. He placed me back on the stool as I kept crying and spun around, grabbing his coffee mixing tools and gadgets. "Please, it's okay! Alright, you can have another drink! I'll make you some decaffeinated coffee. It tastes quite bitter, but you'll get used to it as you get older!"

"Coffee... okay." I grinned in joy with my eyes closed. I wanted to take in and savor the moment of such a feeling of freedom and joy from the rancid prison I escaped from. For once, I felt accepted in a world that I had yet to discover; a place where I can call home sweet home.

Someday, in person, I'll tell my mother that I love her.