December 30, 2001

Evening

In the late evening, Takuya was standing in the side yard. His task was to shovel and he'd shoveled a path until this point. He stood there, staring at the ranch across the way.

It was covered in the heavy snowfall from last night and this morning. His brother and sister had wanted to play in it, but it was too cold out their mom had said. Someone from his mother's work had come to give her a ride to work. She usually walked, and they knew that. She'd been dropped off home again and she'd made dinner for them.

It was dark now, but Takuya had taken the opportunity to shovel finally now that his siblings were being taken care of by their mom. The shovel was a dark blue and had been in their family since he was a little kid. It had been repaired again and again.

He was thinking now about dreams, because over the course of the day he'd realized that the contract he'd been sent had to be true. He'd read it over a few times. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should show it to his mom, and he knew eventually he should show it to her. But, for now it was just for himself. This private thing for himself. This hope...

He was trying to think of what kinds of dreams he had. Lately, and ever since the start of the divorce, he'd dreamed of being the man of the family. Being able to sustain them so his mom wouldn't have to work so hard. That's why he'd started dancing. He'd had the idea of dancing, because he already liked that kind of music. He thought it looked kind of easy, and he'd learned it definitely wasn't. But, through hard work, he'd made it this far. He'd learned that as a dancer, he'd forever be a student. There'd always be something to renew or refine. But he had the best motivation.

Had he ever thought how far dancing might get him?

Beyond these dreams...

He thought about it. What had he wanted to be when he was a kid? He liked the horses across the road. But had he wanted to raise horses, or had he just dreamed of living across the road?

He'd liked video games, but he'd never thought of what it took to make them.

Before he'd stopped school, his friends had been talking about wanting to start a band. They'd brought their instruments to school and had been talking about asking the school's permission to use their drum kit. One of his friends was even a good singer. But, he'd felt disconnected from it. He didn't have an instrument. He knew already that his family couldn't afford one. But, he'd thought he'd like to play the guitar, if he could...

He hadn't let his dreams get beyond that. Maybe he thought he'd just be disappointed. He wondered how far that went. Stopping his dreams, because he thought he'd just be disappointed. How long had he thought that?

That wasn't all of it, too. When his friends were looking at girls, he half heartedly said they looked good, too. He thought they were pretty, but his friends would bring idol magazines and look at the pages secretly together and he thought that was pretty improper. He didn't want to look at the girls like that. But, from his reaction compared to theirs, he knew that wasn't perhaps normal. But what was normal? He wasn't sure. He didn't like to think of himself as not normal.

As his friends got more into rock music, they'd bring those magazines to school as well, and he couldn't stop the flicker in his heart at those pictures. They'd read all the articles out loud to each other, so excited whenever they got a new one. But, Takuya wanted to look at the pictures. He told them they had to think of their styling if they wanted to be rockers, so they'd better examine the pictures. Therefore, he got to look at the pictures even more.

He had some odd ideas. He definitely never wanted to tell his friends about it. What would it be like to "pair" with a guy like in those pictures? They all dressed so wildly. What was their opinion about stuff like this? Sometimes the magazines mentioned being gay and those kinds of relationships. Some of them spoke favorably about it, or joked about it favorably. This made Takuya feel even more oddly about it.

He was a little ashamed to admit that he was a bit relieved to stop seeing his friends. His friends started to dress like those rockers in the magazines. They couldn't grow out their hair, but whenever he saw them outside of school they were dressed fancily. He didn't know what to do about his feelings. Not having to see them again made him get control of those feelings.

Now he'd been on the internet more in the past couple of years. He knew what these feelings were. He knew he was gay, and there were many more people like him out in the world. He even knew what his "type" was. He'd read that this "type" wasn't what was popular to like in the gay community as well, so he never spoke on a forum about it or anything.

He knew that some day, he'd want a guy who was more feminine. Maybe liked feminine things, too. He wasn't sure why he liked that. It went beyond anything R-rated as well. He thought he wanted to treat a guy like that in a special manner. Treat him kindly. He let his feelings go forward sometimes, listening to them.

He wanted to adore someone like that. Really get to know them. He wanted to ask them questions. What made them like feminine things? What attracted them to those things? What made them act in a feminine manner? What were their motivations?

He thought someone like that had a sort of freedom. But, he knew from himself with being gay, that someone like that must have a lot of discrimination. He'd seen on forums that people like that were even discriminated against in the gay community a lot. No one wanted to talk to them and he'd see them get in shouting matches on the forums.

He wanted to be kind to them. To show that not everyone thought that way. But he was too cowardly to say a word. He felt ashamed every time.

He'd learned from these forums that he was a masculine type. This type was pretty popular. But, he couldn't help but feel ashamed, because the type of man he liked was so unpopular.

He knew one day, he wanted to discover someone like that and be kind to them. He thought they deserved more, because of what they faced in all parts of their life.

He'd learned through those forums, that someone like him was likely able to blend into society. But, it was a lot harder for the type he liked.

He was so curious to find out what this was like in the real world. But, as far as he knew, no one in his town or the surrounding towns were gay. And in Sapporo, he wouldn't know where to begin to find them.

He'd read other people's stories. Being gay in the country like he was, was often hard. But, he supposed because he was so masculine that he'd blended in and no one had ever suspected him. He hadn't even suspected himself until his friends started getting into rock. He just thought it was normal, not realizing that guys felt so strongly about women. But, when he thought of his type of guy... He could only describe it as sparks in his heart, because he didn't let it get beyond that. He always stopped himself.

It made him think about his dreams. If he could get so far as to accept a contract with a major artist... What else was possible? No doubt, he'd be going out into the world. He was scared, but more so, as a surprise to himself for sure, he was excited.

He wondered about the kinds of people he'd meet. He wondered if he'd get to see that world for himself... He'd definitely read that there were gay dancers. It even seemed to be a stereotype. It made him wonder about himself. About stereotypes.

He was scared of the kinds of people he'd meet. People in his town were kind to him. They'd known him since he was little. Most people he went to school with, he'd known them since grade school. There were old feuds, but no one was really scary.

He wasn't sure about the people out in the world.

The woman on the phone had seemed kind. She was even one of the most cheerful people he'd ever met. He wondered what made her that cheerful. Was it part of her job? And he'd made a good impression on people in Sapporo. At least he knew he had the ability to be likeable. Maybe this would help him out there.

He decided he wouldn't tell anyone he was gay. It had suited him well so far, and no one suspected him. But he wondered if people would suspect him since he was a dancer. How far did the stereotype go?

He had to go inside now. It was too cold as night was falling, getting darker. The moon was beautiful, casting a blue on everything. He put the shovel against the wood pile again. He thought the path he'd shoveled was alright. He could finish tomorrow. Likely, there'd be no freeze overnight. The snow hadn't melted at all. The snow tops would become solid, with satisfying impacts from boot impressions later. But, nothing more.

He went inside, taking his shoes off in the shoe room. He put on house slippers from the shoe tree. He wondered if he should clean the house slippers on the tree. It would be a good chore for tomorrow, where he'd be cleaning and cooking. He mentally put it on the checklist.

His mom was washing the dishes. He decided to take over, taking a dish from the sink and starting. She patted him on the shoulder to show her affection, then went to the cabinet and started making tea. He thought the idea of sharing tea with her after this was nice.

As he watched her heat the water on the stove, he thought about the idea of ever telling her he was gay. He had no idea how that would go. She loved him. He knew that without a doubt. But, he couldn't imagine how she'd react if he told her. She was never one to get angry. Always very gentle. That trait hadn't served her well with his father. She'd gotten taken advantage of. He just wanted to take care of her, and he thought not telling her was taking care of her. He didn't want to add any stress to her life. She didn't need that.

He thought of his mother's dreams, though. What she might want for him. It made his chest tight. He knew that he couldn't do those things. When he thought about it, it made his chest even tighter. Less able to breathe.

A wife. Kids some day. Staying in this town. Taking care of his mother, though he loved her. He loved her, but he could only do so much.

He didn't want a wife. That much he was certain of. He didn't think of women that way. Where there should have been a feeling, there was a blankness. But, when he thought of his type of man, it all filled in like a painting being painted. A world of discovery, and he just had to think and allow the picture to fill in. The more he thought of it, the more of the picture he saw. And how beautiful it was... He couldn't bring himself to think of it very much.

He felt like he could explode when he thought about it too much. He thought this might be a true dream, and he couldn't bear the thought of it. Maybe the idea of a dream should hurt. Maybe they hurt everyone. Maybe they made you long so much, that you couldn't bear them.

These fleeting images. They made his heart hurt so much. Beat too much. He realized he was thinking about it now and seeing pictures. And he had to stop, because his mom was right there making tea. He couldn't bear to face her if he was thinking this.

He finished washing the dishes, putting the last one on the drying rack. He washed his hands, then went to sit at the table. His mom was finishing the tea, so they'd perfectly synced themselves. He was so close to his mom. He didn't want to upset her.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked, smiling herself.

"Nothing." Was he smiling?

"I only have ginseng tea. I should get some more. What kind of tea would you like?"

He sipped his tea. It was a little too hot. "I'll have to think about it." Appreciating her.

"Orange tea. I remember you like it. I'll pick up some."

"Oh, you don't have to..." It would be expensive. He did like orange tea, but they couldn't spare-

"I'll get some. It'll be New Year's soon. You deserve something nice. Tea will last."

How much she loved him. She sipped her own tea, then cooled it with her breath. Watching her. He smiled at her again.

"I'd love some. Thank you."

She patted him on the back again. He sipped his tea again. He decided there was no way he could tell her about himself. No way at all.