Water Lilies: Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Painful Reminders

Makoto was glad the day remained beautiful and clear when she stepped out of the ryokan with Ami in tow. She volunteered to drive and they easily found a family restaurant thanks to Ami's recollection of passing one on the way into the village. Ten minutes later they were in a small parking lot filled with cars and the few odd trucks and motorcycles. Within moments they were seated and served beverages by a cheerful middle-aged waitress. Menus were whisked away as they quickly settled on what they wanted to eat: Ami picked a simple salad topped with avocado and pears, and as the restaurant offered an all-day breakfast menu Makoto chose a platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

With the waitress out of hearing distance Makoto frowned at Ami. "That can't be all you're eating."

"Why not? It's healthy and delicious."

"It's rabbit food," Makoto growled good-naturedly and Ami laughed.

The doctor's laughter was infectious but movement behind Ami caught Makoto's attention and she glanced beyond the woman's shoulder. Ami's back was to the door and Makoto sat facing her, which provided an excellent view of the entrance. A family of three had just entered, the man leading the way with a grim look on his face while his harried-looking wife trailed after him. A little dark-haired girl all of five years old held onto the woman's hand.

"Mommy, can I have pancakes?" Makoto heard the girl ask, her expression hopeful as they were led to a table.

The mother's response was a hushed one, glancing at her husband's back before answering the little girl. Unconsciously, Makoto's lips tightened, the mirth previously shared with Ami rapidly disappearing.

"Mommy, can I have some juice?"

It had been a productive day of climbing jungle gyms and playing hide and seek with Haruka but now she was thirsty. Makoto ran into the house, her flip-flops flying off her feet as she headed for the kitchen. She could tell her mother had done the laundry, the fresh crisp scent of detergent hung in the air. Her mother, a leggy brunette with dark eyes and darker circles under them glanced worriedly towards the hallway.

With that look, Makoto knew her father was home. Her mother seemed to always wear that look whenever her father was around. Crouching before Makoto, the woman grasped her daughter's skinny arms lightly. Looking into her mother's pretty face, Makoto thought she looked very tired. Her mother's tone was low when she spoke.

"Mako-chan, daddy is home with a headache so don't make too much noise, okay?"

"Makoto?" The soft query of her name reminded Makoto she was in the middle of a restaurant with Ami. She tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

"What's wrong, Makoto?" Blue eyes stared at her, filled with concern and worry. She felt a gentle touch on her left hand which rested palm down on the table between them. Looking down she could see the pale creaminess of Ami's hand highlighted against her own tanned skin. Raising her eyes to meet Ami's, she tried to brush off the tightness that had appeared in her chest the moment the family walked through the door.

"I'm fine. I just remembered something unpleasant but I'm okay now." Unconvinced eyes with a shade of hurt shining through revealed Ami did not believe a word Makoto uttered. Guilt spiked in her chest when the smaller woman removed her hand from atop hers, the caring gaze dropping to the table surface to hide whatever emotion Ami now experienced.

"Okay."

Makoto remained silent, words failing her. The cheerful facade she had kept in place all morning felt like it could no longer be summoned, nor did she wish to bother. From the moment she awoke she had been able to deal with the doubts and the morning with Ami had remained pleasant in spite of them. However the uncertainties that haunted her had come face to face with the physical reminder of what it meant to have an emotional attachment. The family of three positively resembled her own. Makoto had seen on that woman's face she was clearly suffering from a relationship gone-or going bad. But ultimately the one Makoto felt sorry for was the little girl because in the end it was the child that always suffered from such dysfunction.

It never ended well; her mother had proved it every day until Makoto left for university. She had said goodbye to an empty shell of a woman who waved back at her in a lackluster manner as she walked out the door. Perhaps this situation did not happen to everyone but for Makoto this was why she chose to avoid relationships. It was a painful reminder of the damaged home she had come from. From the day her father had left she had practically raised herself. Her mother now a childish stranger, Makoto had to slip into the role of the adult. She didn't need love, would never need it. Love complicated everything, love had left her feeling like an orphan all her life and if it hadn't been for Haruka's help and guidance while growing up who knew where she would have ended up. This was exactly why she did not want to try with Ami or anyone else for that matter. She could already tell whatever feelings existed for the doctor were a hindrance to the simple life she tried so hard to attain.

What will happen if I fall in love and then lost Ami? For Makoto the answer was simple, she would become a fractured mess. Exactly like her mother. No, it would be best to cease everything here.

Their meals arrived and they ate quietly, neither making an effort to carry a conversation. They picked at their plates, whatever appetite they entered with now a thing of the past. These eggs taste like cardboard, Makoto thought to herself as she brought her fork to her lips. A sourness lingered in her belly. Glancing at Ami through her bangs, she noticed the other woman chewed whatever little bit she was eating in a mechanical fashion. This went on for fifteen minutes until Makoto pushed her plate aside, tired of pretending she was even eating.

Ami looked at her then and Makoto asked, "Ready to go?"

"Yes," the woman answered and Makoto raised her hand for the check. Ami's next words were surprisingly clipped and cool. "I would like to drive this time, if you don't mind?"

Makoto nodded dumbly and dug into her jeans for the car keys and Ami took care not let their fingers touch when she grabbed the key ring. Placing a few bills onto the table, Ami stood immediately before she turned and walked towards the door. Her gait was stiff, her shoulders squared.

She's angry, the brunette thought with a rueful look at Ami's receding figure. I suppose I really can't blame her, can I?

-x-x-x-

Don't cry, Ami told herself as the tears threatened to spill. Don't you dare cry here!She stood with her back to the door of the restaurant, the sun shining down on her; she never felt more out of place. A short stair consisting of three steps were before her and she stepped down them quickly, her entire body feeling numb as she walked towards the car.

Makoto sat there and lied, lied to her outright when asked if okay. The omissions had been one thing. Ami had been willing to forgive those because she had omitted her own feelings on occasion. But to sit there and blatantly lie to her face? She did not quite understand exactly why it hurt her so but it was more than obvious that despite this weekend, the brunette thought nothing of her. Makoto did not seem to trust her enough to explain what the problem was. It was cruel. And it wounded so much more than all the other times Ami had felt hurt. Those times were nothing compared to this. Her eyes watered and she fumbled for the door handle when she reached the car.

Stupid, I am so stupid for thinking anything would ever change.

Anger reared inside her. Mostly at herself. Even though she knew Makoto had not wanted any emotional attachments she had secretly hoped that things would change. And things had changed, only not for the better. This little incident only proved exactly where their feelings lay: Makoto's in a direction opposite of hers. Finally the door opened and she dropped into the driver's seat. In the rearview mirror she noticed Makoto stepping out of the restaurant, face inscrutable.

She swiped crossly at the tears that had fallen despite her best efforts not to cry. She did not want Makoto to see her crying. At this moment she did not want Makoto to see her at all. She felt raw, felt like an open wound scrubbed and left exposed in the air. The brunette opened the passenger door just as Ami finished adjusting the seat. Wordlessly Makoto sat down, staring straight ahead, and Ami did the same as she started the car.

It really was going to be a long drive back to Yukikura.