A Cup of Water and a Rose

A Cup of Water and a Rose

‘Hello?’ a young man answered.
‘Hi Alex, it’s me!’ the caller declared, anticipating a heart-warming response.
‘…Tsubaki?’
‘Yes! I’m in London now. At Heathrow.’
‘What? I can’t hear you. Where are you?’
‘I flew from Japan and I am in London now!’
‘What? Why? What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you, of course.’ Tsubaki giggled. ‘Where are you?’
‘What? I’m out… with my girlfriend.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘Yeah. I have a girlfriend now.’ His words became agitated.
‘Since when?’ Tsubaki’s expectant tone turned to one of interrogation.
‘Since… for a couple of months now. ’
‘I didn’t know.’ She played innocent.
‘What?’ Desperate for a glimmer of logic, his question came out aggressively. ‘You’re the one who broke up with me. I have a new girlfriend now.’
‘But Alex, I came all the way to see you.’
‘I didn’t ask you.’
‘I worked hard to save―.’
‘Hey, I have my life too, you know. You can’t just fly here because you want to.'
‘But…’
‘I gotta go.’
The connection went dead. The duration of the call glowing briefly on the phone’s screen marked the end of the call. Tsubaki stood still with her mobile phone in hand in the busy Heathrow Airport.
Tsubaki stared hard at the screen with a furrow in her brow. Her head sea-sawed and tilted to the side weighed down by the new questions rapidly multiplying in her mind. Her wandering eyes looked for anything to help her adjust to this new conceptual reality that she had just been forced into. All she could see was an alien world, where she had once made her life had become a place of fear and isolation. Her eyes settled on her passport and the return ticket back to Japan, still grasped in her now white-knuckled hand. ‘What do I do now?’ Tsubaki asked herself in a half-whisper.
Her attention was jostled back to her surroundings as men in smart suits and backpackers bumped into her, offering the appropriate platitudes. They passed her by, each with destination in mind. Alone in a maze of people she thought to herself, ‘What am I doing here?’ Just as tears were about to surge from her eyes, something familiar caught her attention. A red phoenix, matching the one on her ticket. ‘Home!’ she thought. She spurred herself onward, speeding across the airport, weaving between the itinerants in her way to reach the Air China service counter.
‘Excuse me,’ she blurted hastily. ‘I need to get home a.s.a.p. Can I get a flight back home, like now?’
The counter attendant raised her hand signalling her to stop. ‘Ma’am, I will help you after this lady, when it’s your turn.’
‘No no, you don’t understand. I’m in a great hurry. I really have to get home now.’
‘I understand. But kindly wait your turn please.’ The counter attendant diverted her attention back to the customer she had been serving.
Digging her teeth into her lip, Tsubaki tried to be patient.
‘Next please.’ The counter attendant waved her over.
Tsubaki shuffled to the counter. Her words jumped out. ‘I need to get a ticket back home a.s.a.p. Please get me a flight back home now.’
The counter attendant moved back. ‘Okay… where’s your home? ’
‘Japan.’ Tsubaki handed the attendant her ticket.
‘And this is your return ticket?’
‘Yes.’ The counter attendant studied the date. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. But you can’t change the date with this ticket.’ She gave an apologetic frown. ‘The dates are fixed. You agreed when you bought this ticket, that you wouldn’t be able to change the date.’
‘Isn’t there any way I can change the date?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘But I really have to go back home now…’
‘Well, if you update your seat for two-hundred pounds, you could take the next available flight.’
‘I don’t have that much money.’
‘Then, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m sorry ma’am.’ Her pandering tone vanished and was replaced with a cheerful greeting as another customer stepped up.
Tsubaki pivoted around and stared at the floor. ‘I can’t believe this. What will I do for another nine days?’ Panic overtook her. Her hand snatched the mobile phone from her pocket. Scrolling down the list of contacts, she quickly found his name. Alex. She pressed ‘Call’. A recording announced, ‘the person you called is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.’ Tsubaki started to record the voicemail, fumbling her words, hoping to retrieve the care that Alex once had for her. ‘Ah…hi Alex, it’s Tsubaki again. Um…I’m stuck here for eight days. I don’t have anywhere to stay. I don’t have money. I don’t know what to do. I can’t call you much as it’s very expensive and I’m near my monthly limit. Please call me back.'
She ended the call and stared at the screen until the light went off. Her gaze moved to the pedestrians surrounding her. They all moved in a particular direction signposted by an arrow and the word ‘Underground’. ‘Piccadilly line… Piccadilly Circus. I might as well go there… at least it’s familiar.’ She began to run the course pre-programmed in her memory; first into a lift, onto the moving sidewalk and into the tube station. At the ticket machine she pulled out her wallet. She slid her fingers inside it, fishing for the lone ten pound note nestled between the two twenty pound notes within. She cringed as her sole means of living was eaten by the ticket machine and sighed as the machine spit back her old Oyster card at her. Stepping onto a train, she was whisked off to the West End.
The announcements over the tube’s PA system made her feel at home, connecting the dots between her present and her past making her feel briefly as though she had never left. Thoughts of Alex beset her and despair set in. She took out her phone. With the press of a button, the screen lit up. There were no missed calls. ‘What am I gonna do? I don’t have any friends. I don’t have money. I can’t even afford a place to stay.’
The driver announced Piccadilly Circus station and Tsubaki sprung from her seat in Pavlovian response. She charged out of the carriage, eager for anything familiar. Stepping out to the surface, her feet started to follow her old inner compass pointing northwest. On a backstreet, she spotted the universally recognisable symbol of her favorite café. She looked in through the window and was overjoyed that it had not changed. A barista, wearing a puzzled look on her face, began to move across the café directly towards the window. She rushed to the entrance door and pulled it open.
‘Tsubaki!’ the girl’s eyes opened wide as the word burst from her mouth. ‘What are you doing here? ’ She stood aside, holding the door and gestured for Tsubaki to enter. ‘Come in.’ Tsubaki stepped inside.
‘Michelle…’ a sudden urge of her emotion welled up within her. The two old classmates reunited with clasped arms. Releasing the embrace, Michelle stared into Tsubaki’s eyes and followed them as they filled with tears and became downcast.
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were in Japan.’ Michelle asked.
Rubbing her eyes, Tsubaki replied in a trembling voice. ‘I…I came here to surprise my boyfriend… well, my ‘ex’ boyfriend.’
‘Alex?’
Tsubaki nodded. ‘I thought we’d work it out once I came back here, you know?’ A torrent of tears gushed forth.
‘What happened?’
Stirring the inside of her bag on a quest for tissue, Tsubaki answered. ‘He has a girlfriend now. I thought he loved me…I thought he would wait for me.’
‘Oh… Tsubaki.’ Michelle patted the top of her stooping head. ‘Why don’t you have a seat over there, in the corner? I finish early today. We can talk.’
Tsubaki dragged herself to the corner of the café. She filled with questions. ‘What am I doing? Why did I come here? What will I do now?’ She checked the screen of her mobile phone. Her thoughts kept flowing out. ‘Alex doesn’t even care about me. I’m worthless. No one loves me,’ she knocked her head, ‘because I’m this stupid.’
Sitting in her own disparagement with her hands cradling her mobile phone in between her thighs, Tsubaki didn't notice Michelle’s return. ‘Tsubaki, I’ve finished. Where are you staying tonight?’
Startled, Tsubaki straightened herself. ‘Um…I don’t have a place to stay…I can’t afford anywhere.’
‘Oh, why don’t you stay at my place? My flatmates won’t mind.’
‘No, I can’t do that.’
‘Sure you can. Come on,’ she grabbed her by her arm. ‘Let’s get something to eat first.’
‘Michelle… I don’t really have much money.’
‘How much do you have?’
‘Um…around forty pounds.’
‘That’s it? You know you can’t really do much here, right? How long are you staying?’
‘Nine days. I couldn’t exchange my ticket for an earlier date.’
‘I don’t really have much to help you either, I’m afraid.’
‘No, no! I’ll be fine. I’ll find something from Tesco.’
‘Okay… let’s walk there and see what you can get.’

Tsubaki woke up early before Michelle and her flatmates. Taking out the water bottle she got on the flight, she filled it with tap water and sneaked out of the flat, not wanting to disturb the others’ lives. As soon as she left the flat, she fumbled in her pocket for her mobile phone. The cold screen stared back at her. She pressed a button bringing up the incoming call history. There was nothing new. She scrolled through the contacts, finding Alex once again and slid her thumb to the ‘call’ button. ‘He’ll call me,’ she told herself then hit the ‘end’ button and slid the phone back into her pocket. Remembering her old life, her itinerary was already made. She knew of only one place she could occupy herself for hours without any cost.
She stepped through the towering entrance of the National Gallery. Once inside, her subconscious took over, supplying a notebook and a pencil from her bag. She was set to sketch away the time and lose herself in timeless two-dimensional worlds. She tramped around from room to room seeking paintings that possessed the powers of enchantment and distraction that she needed. While browsing through Room 30, Tsubaki caught a whiff of an unpleasant odour. Searching for the source, she sniffed at the sharp, savage, stench of sweat and traced it to a bearded man in a crumpled jacket and torn jeans. Glaring at him sideways, she wondered. ‘Why is there a homeless guy in this sophisticated place?’ Standing directly in front of a painting, the man seemed transfixed. Tsubaki swung her eyes between the man and the painting, attempting to comprehend the scene. ‘Weird,’ she whispered under her voice. ‘I have to tell Alex,’ her mind continued. She grabbed her phone and a realisation hit her, making her cry.
The next morning before the visiting hours of the gallery, Tsubaki was leaning against the concrete stairs outside, waiting until the door opened. Her cold hand kept a tight grip of her phone. She checked the time as an excuse. The time was 9:50. ‘Ten minutes,’ she thought, ‘still no Alex.’ The urge to call was irrepressible. It went to voicemail. ‘Alex, it’s Tsubaki. I still have days left, nothing to do. I really want to see you and talk to you. Please call―.’ She was cut off. The limit had been reached. Tsubaki thrust her phone deep into her pocket.
When the door finally opened, she took a step forward with her staunch companions, her notebook and pencil, in hand. She strolled around, looking for the painting of the day, studying faces of figures and landscapes of the past until a pungent waft dispelled her, dragging her out of her colourful trance. ‘That guy again…what is he doing here, really?’ She leered at the same shabby outfit, moving nonchalantly across the room. Seeking to validate this reeking man’s presence, she perused the room. Room 30. It was the room of works by acclaimed Spanish painters. Tsubaki was puzzled even more by the deepening mystery presented by the painting he was gazing at. ‘It’s the same painting again.’
Confounded by the man playing a staring game with the canvas, Tsubaki shifted her attention to the painting itself. A painting of a cup and a saucer with a rose appeared to be the subject of this man’s obsession. Tsubaki could not understand the immense value this man seemed to place on it. Staring hard, she tried to deduce the painting’s meaning and assign some logic to the vagrant. In the days that followed, sketching paintings and observing the ever-present derelict became a welcome diversion, keeping her mind off of her silent phone and empty stomach.
Tsubaki took the last of her daily pilgrimages to the National Gallery. Her stomach growled. She patted it and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, tomorrow we’ll eat on the plane.’ Making a final round of the gallery, she spotted the familiar figure in Room 30. ‘I don’t get it,’ Tsubaki thought. She approached the painting, getting as close as caution allowed. She was still confused. ‘What is it that he sees in this and I can’t?’
Cough, Cough. His cough interrupted his hypnotic state and he noticed Tsubaki’s eyes on him. ‘Oh, sorry. Was I in your way?’ the man asked Tsubaki.
Tsubaki jumped at his unexpected utterance. ‘No, no. Um…I…I was just having a look.’
‘My wife loved this painting.’ The man smiled.
Tsubaki feigned interest, ‘Ahh, right.’
‘She’s dead. But looking at this makes me feel like she’s here with me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. But the strange thing is that I don’t feel like I lost it. When my house burnt down, I lost my wife and everything. I thought I might as well be dead. But when I was wandering the streets, I ended up here. I saw this again and felt like she’s still here, you know?’
Tsubaki nodded.
‘It’s like this cup and saucer. When you see other paintings here, there are so many saints and heroes. But this painting is just these.’ He pointed at the surface. ‘I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, but it doesn't matter. I am the cup sitting alone, ordinary and simple, just existing. But then came my wife.’ He pointed at the rose. ‘She made the difference in my life. A small blessing that made me special.’
Tsubaki’s head bounced like a yo-yo while she processed this information.
‘What do you think of this painting?’ the man asked.
Tsubaki utilised her training. ‘Well. I think it’s beautiful and the rose is romantic and I see the wealth of the patron with the silver plate’.
‘Wealth, huh? He could be from a wealthy family but it doesn’t matter too much because he’s still just a cup. Everyone is just a cup. Empty, alone and needing to be filled. Once you’re full, you’ve done your job. Everything else, where you are and what’s around you, is just extra stuff. Just like in life, all you really need is water to survive. But if you’re lucky, sometimes that extra stuff makes life better.
‘Right.’ Tsubaki uttered, to subvert an awkward pause.
‘Well, I’ve talked too much.’ He took one more look at the rose in the painting, smiled and shuffled away.
Alone in the room, she stared at the painting, imitating the man’s daily pose. She pondered. ‘A cup.’ A thought of Alex popped in her head. Scrolling through the option menu, she found his entry. Looking at the canvas before her, she pressed ‘delete’.

Father's Day

Father’s Day (screenplay)


CAST LIST

Natsumi: quiet and mature 9 year-old

Dad: stalwart single parent, dockworker

Newsreader: suited NHK newsreader

Teacher #1: Natsumi’s strict but loving teacher

Teacher #2: another class’s teacher

Soldier #1: American airman

Soldier #2: militant American sergeant

Soldier #3: American infantryman

SDF Member: caring Japanese Self-Defense Force trooper

Natsumi’s classmates

Other American soldiers

Drowning men: male dockworkers

Other Japanese troops

Townspeople: dominantly women, children and elderly people



NOTE: THE DIALOGUE IN THIS STORY IS SPOKEN IN JAPANESE AND SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED.

FADE IN


INT. HOUSE IN OKINAWA. NIGHT.

NATSUMI and DAD are watching Japanese news on the television. The scene on the TV cuts to NEWSREADER.

NEWSREADER
In National news, talks broke down between the United States of America and Japan. The Japanese prime minister met with the American president regarding the uprising in Okinawa two months ago. The American president demanded an apology and the restoration of the American military presence in Okinawa. The Japanese prime minister refused and stated his support for the rebellion.

On the TV, the news shows footage of the uprising. Dad is one of the rebels shown.

NEWSREADER (CONT’D, V.O.)
Locals in Okinawa raided the American military bases, taking their weapons and forcing them to leave. Since this time, Japanese and American relationships have been severely ―

Dad quickly stands up and turns off the television.

DAD
It’s getting late now. Get to bed.

Natsumi turns to Dad.
NATSUMI
Yeah, I know. You know, Dad…?
(pause)


DAD
What?

NATSUMI
Tomorrow’s Father’s Day.

DAD
Oh yeah! I forgot. I’m surprised you keep track. Your mum was like that, you know. She never forgot anniversaries. You take after her like that.

NATSUMI
Maybe. I don’t know. Would you be home for dinner? I’ll cook your favorite. Gyoza.

DAD
Oh, that’s great. Thanks, can’t wait.
(pause)
You cooked it for me last year too, didn’t you? I can’t believe it’s been a year already since then.

NATSUMI
You promise you’ll come home straight after work? Pinky swear?

Natsumi holds out her pinky finger at Dad.

NATSUMI
I don’t wanna eat all by myself, you know? Promise?

Dad hooks his pinky finger in Natsumi’s and shakes it.

DAD
Sure! Pinky swear.



INT. PRIMARY-SCHOOL CLASSROOM. LATE AFTERNOON.

The school sits on the cliff-side of a small harbour. The town’s dock is across the harbour. TEACHER #1 stands at front of the class. Students are making Father’s Day cards amongst scattered art supplies on the floor. Natsumi sits by a window looking out towards the dock.

TEACHER #1

Natsumi!

Frightened, Natsumi turns to face her.

TEACHER #1 (CONT’D)
Is there anything that you want to share with the class? You have been staring down at the dock for quite a long while.

NATSUMI
No, there’s nothing. I'm sorry. I was just seeing if I could see my dad. He works at the dock, you know.

Teacher #1 walks over to Natsumi and picks up her blank card. She holds it and points at it.


TEACHER #1
Speaking of your father, your thoughts should be expressed here, Natsumi. That's what we are doing now, creating heart-felt Father’s Day cards. Do you understand?


NATSUMI
Yes, I understand. Sorry.


LATER

Classmates are intently making their cards. Natsumi looks over to the dock. The sky is clear with few clouds. The sea is calm. The sun shines on Natsumi.

Natsumi notices a small ship leaving the dock and follows it with her eyes. Inspired, she grabs a crayon and hastily draws on the card. On the top of the card, she writes ‘Thank you for taking care of me, Dad. Lots of love, Natsumi’. She looks at the card and smiles. She slowly puts it into an envelope, writes ‘To Dad’ on it, tucks it into her back pocket and taps it for good luck.

A SECOND LATER

A high-yield EMP bomb explodes over the sea. A blinding flash of light erupts outside of the window and Natsumi notices it out of the corner of her eye. She turns, looks out the window, and sees a tidal wave. The wave crashes into the dock and continues moving towards the school. Natsumi stands and turns to warn the class. The card falls from her pocket. As she inhales to yell, a sonic boom breaks the windows and the ground shakes.

A MOMENT LATER

The tidal wave crashes against the cliff and water splashes into the classroom. The children scream. Teacher #1 points at the students’ desks.

TEACHER #1
Get under your desks!

The teacher waits for the students to go under their desks then Teacher #1 gets under her desk. The students hold the legs of their desks tightly. The students look at each other. They cry and whisper to each other.

The ground stops shaking.

TEACHER #2 throws open the door, gasping for air, with a mobile phone in her hand. Everyone in the classroom turns to her.

TEACHER #2
Mobile phones won’t work!

The students, except for Natsumi, murmur their shock and disbelief. Teacher #1 stands up and shakes her head.

TEACHER #1
No!

Natsumi looks confused. She notices her Father’s Day card on the ground. She crawls over to it and picks it up. She stands and looks out of the window towards the dock and sees that it is destroyed.

TEACHER #2
There’s no power to the TV! Lights won’t turn on!

TEACHER #1
(confused)
No? Why?

Teacher #2 points at the phone on the wall.

TEACHER #2
The phone won’t even work!

TEACHER #1
What?

Classmates whisper at each other in fear.

Natsumi turns around and rushes through the classroom straight to the door, heedlessly stepping on the scattered supplies and broken glass.

Some classmates closer to Natsumi spot Natsumi moving around and call out to her. CLASSMATE #4 reaches her hand to catch Natsumi’s arm.

CLASSMATE #4
Natsumi, where’re you going?

All the classmates and teachers turn to Natsumi and they call out to her.

TEACHER #1
Natsumi!

TEACHER #2
Natsumi! Come back!


EXT. SUBURBS. LATE AFTERNOON.

Natsumi rushes out of her school. She stops at the sight of the destruction and stands still, out of breath. It is cloudy and smoky. Natsumi sees destroyed houses and shops.

Natsumi covers her mouth in fear.

NATSUMI
(confused)
What’s this…?
(pause)

Natsumi swallows her breath. She clenches her eyes tightly, overcoming the fear. She starts running again to the dock.

A MOMENT LATER

Natsumi hears the distant sounds of gunshots and sees dislocated residents, mostly women carrying small children and the elderly, mulling around in confusion. She slows down.

NATSUMI
(confused)
Why…?

The sound of a helicopter approaches. Natsumi and the residents look up. SOLDIER #1 speaks through the speaker from above.

SOLDIER #1
(In Japanese with and American accent)

Go back to your houses! We’re looking for the armed rebels. If you’re hiding them, turn them in right now. Otherwise, your houses’ll be searched.

NATSUMI runs towards the dock.


EXT. ON THE STREET LEADING TO THE DOCK. LATE AFTERNOON.

Turning onto the street, she sees three American soldiers searching houses. She stops. SOLDIER #2 points a gun at the door of a house.

SOLDIER #2
(in English)
This’s it. Fire!

Other soldiers shoot at the door. Soldier #2 kicks open the broken door and enters.

SOLDIER #2
(in English)
Check inside.

Natsumi quickly takes a few steps back, finds a parked car and hides behind it. She stares ahead vacantly, feeling panicked. She raises her head slowly to check the situation but pulls it down when she hears gunshots. She raises her head to check again. There are no soldiers on the street in sight. She checks all around herself then runs down the street.


INT. JAPANESE HOUSE. A SHORT TIME LATER.

SOLDIER #3 (O.S.)
All clear.

SOLDIER #2
Copy that.

Soldier #2 looks out of the window and spots Natsumi running down the street. He leaves the house in pursuit.


EXT. DOCK. LATER AFTERNOON.

There are ruined houses with smoke rising and cracked ground with broken concrete lying around.

Running, Natsumi stops at the start of the pier and gasps for air. She looks around. She jogs towards the end. She hears the sound of the rough waves and turns to them. She sees the waves pushing the remains of cargo ships, sinking cargo and people seeking help in the water. Frightened at the sight, she widens her eyes and rushes to the end of the concrete pier. She shouts.

NATSUMI
Can you hear me? Wait there! I’ll get some help!

Natsumi looks down and looks the jagged edge of the dock. She instantly looks around and shouts out to sea.

NATSUMI
Dad!
(pause)
Dad! Can you hear me? Where are you?

Natsumi looks around her.

NATSUMI
Dad!
(pause)
Dad?
(in frustration)
Where are you?
(pause)
Dad…!

Natsumi watches rough waves crash onto the drowning men. She clenches her hand and shrieks.

NATSUMI
Noooo!

Natsumi starts to wail.

NATSUMI
Dad…!

She looks around her.

NATSUMI
Dad…

Natsumi collapses to her knees, wailing. She stares at the ground. Her tears start to stream down her face. A tear lands on the card on the ground still clenched in her hand. She lifts her chin up to sniffle.

NATSUMI
Dad!

Natsumi wails loudly. A shadow approaches her from behind. Natsumi sees the shadow on the ground growing closer. Soldier #2 approaches her with a gun in his hand.

SOLDIER #2
(in English)
Hands up!
(pause)
(in Japanese)
Hands up!

Natsumi jumps in fright, turns around and puts her hands up, holding the card. She sees the gun pointed at her head. She stares at it without blinking. Her tears stream down. She clenches her eyes tightly with her chin down. A moment later, a gun shot goes off. SOLDIER #2 throws his hands in the air and falls to the ground. Natsumi opens her eyes and lifts her head. Behind the soldier, Natsumi finds Dad stand, holding a gun. Natsumi squints.

NATSUMI
Dad?

Dad rushes to Natsumi. The gun slips from his hand.


DAD
Natsumi!

They put their arms around each other and hold tightly, clenching their eyes in relief. Natsumi wails.

NATSUMI
I thought I’d never see you again…
(pause)

DAD
Are you alright?
(pause)
You’re safe now.
(pause)

I’m here.

They embrace.

Natsumi’s wailing turns into a sob. Dad looks up and over to the sea where there are drowning men.

DAD
We gotta help them somehow.

Natsumi releases Dad enough to face him.

NATSUMI
We can’t call 119. Phones won’t work. No electricity, the teachers said.

DAD
What? That’s weird.

NATSUMI
Didn’t you notice?

DAD
No, not really.

Dad looks back and forth from the end of the pier to the sea to check the distance between the edge and the drowning men.

DAD
Natsumi, you stay here, alright? I’m gonna help them out.

Natsumi holds onto Dad’s T-shirt.

NATSUMI
You can’t just leave me here alone.

DAD
I’ll come back. I’ll promise.

NATSUMI
No!

Natsumi shakes her head frantically.

NATSUMI
Don’t go.

DAD
I’ll come back. I promise.

NATSUMI
No! You can’t go.

Natsumi starts to cry. She clenches his T-shirt tightly.

NATSUMI
No!
(pause)
No! You can’t go. Don’t go, please!

Dad holds Natsumi’s shoulders.

DAD
Listen.

Dad points at the drowning men.

DAD
I gotta help those people out there. They have families too, right?

Natsumi nods, sobbing.

DAD
You don’t want people to lose their families, right? You know how it feels, don’t you?

Natsumi nods.

DAD
Now, you go hide over there. You can do that. Right?

Dad points at some overturned shipping containers. Natsumi nods.

DAD
Don’t go anywhere else. You wait there for me, got it?

Natsumi nods. Dad hugs Natsumi tightly. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets her go. He dives into the rough sea. Natsumi stands still, watching her father swim towards the people. She clenches her eyes and fists, turns around and runs towards the shipping containers.


EXT. DOCK. LATER AFTERNOON.

Japanese Self-Defense Force helicopters approach the dock. Natsumi hears them and looks over the shipping containers to see. The helicopters land. Japanese troops rush out to the end of the pier and dive into the sea, carrying life jackets. Natsumi watches, standing still. SDF MEMBER runs to her.

SDF MEMBER
Are you okay, sweetie?

NATSUMI
Yeah, I’m okay. But my dad’s down there.

Natsumi points to the sea.

SDF MEMBER
You’re safe now. You stay here. We’ll get your dad, alright?

Natsumi watches the Japanese troops and Dad rescue the drowning men. Natsumi claps her hands.

A MOMENT LATER

Dad comes ashore. Natsumi smiles and cries, rushes to him and holds him tightly.

NATSUMI
Dad!

Dad is out of breath. He pats Natsumi’s head.

DAD
Good girl. We’re all fine now.

Natsumi stops crying and holds more tightly onto him, clenching her eyes.

NATSUMI
You’re so brave.

Dad holds her.
DAD
So are you.
(Pause)
We’re safe.

Natsumi continues smiling in her father’s arms while he caresses her head and back.

DAD
We’re safe now. We’re safe now.

Natsumi’s starts crying. She opens her eyes and notices the crumpled envelope in her hand around her father’s shoulder.

NATSUMI
Dad…?

Natsumi and Dad release each other.

DAD
What’s wrong?

Natsumi holds the card out to him.

NATSUMI
Here…
(pause)
I made it for you today at school.

Dad looks at the envelope.

Natsumi tries to smile at him.

NATSUMI
Happy Father’s Day.

FADE OUT.


THE END

Scarred

Scarred
‘My mum and I were shopping all day yesterday. It was great fun.’
‘I went to a cinema with my mum and dad.’
‘My dad bought Mariokart for me. I wanted it for a long time. I am so happy now.’
Her friends’ words resounded endlessly inside Meg’s head; a tirade of traumatic reminders of what she was lacking and what she had always longed for. Her pale impotent hand reached for the handle of the door to her bleak unlit room. It swung open when all the weight of the ghost-like hand hit the handle. One, two, three steps… Thump. Meg collapsed onto her bed as if she was a marionette and her strings had been snipped. She forced her head under the pillow to escape from the tormenting words that followed her home from school. She shook her head fiercely, trying desperately to shut herself off from the world of agony that enveloped her mercilessly. Her sobbing echoed throughout the cluttered house, reverberating around the empty rooms but there was no one to hear her.
‘I don’t wanna think about it. I’ve had enough,’ she thought to herself. ‘Think of better things!’ She tried to remember what was like when she was laughing out loud with her friends earlier, at school; laughing until her stomach twisted when her friends were imitating the characters from ‘Little Britain’. ‘I seemed so happy then,’ she thought. ‘I wish I could be like that now… surrounded by my friends or if I could….’ A drop of warm, salty water came out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek as if to give her company. Another came down offering its company. Soon, Meg found herself with more company than she could handle and the tears kept coming. Meg started to wail under the pillow.
‘Somebody, help me. I feel so alone,’ she cried. ‘I am alone. I wanna be comforted. I wanna be in warm arms. I wanna hear somebody say, “everything’s going to be okay.”’ The image of her friend and her friend’s mother hugging each other invaded her thoughts. The image of another friend smiling innocently at her mother, and the image of another friend hugging her father to say ‘thank you’ for her gift, followed in rapid succession. Meg clinched her eyes together and raised her voice. The tears were running down, one after another, like fireworks exploding for the finale. She crawled onto the edge of her bed and reached out for her school bag.
‘Somebody, somebody help me,’ she whimpered as she rummaged through the bag for her mobile phone, wishing that somebody cared enough for her to have called or texted her. She pressed a button to turn on the screen. Nothing. Just the cold glow of the screen and the wallpaper on the screen of her and her friends smiling at the camera, stared back at her. ‘I wish I were back with my friends without thinking about anything.’ She scrolled down the list of contacts.
‘Nobody would listen to me… nobody would understand. How could they?’ she thought. ‘Maybe Amy. But, I don’t know what to say to her. She has always seen me smiling. Last time I tried to talk to her about what was bothering me, she avoided me for a couple of days.’ Meg knew that except for gossip, fashion, and boys, the friendships that she and her friends shared were as transparent as a thin sheet of ice.
‘I should call Daniel. He has told me to call whenever I feel down even though he has never picked up before,’ she reasoned to herself. ‘I should call him.’
‘Hi, thank you for calling. I can’t talk right now. Please leave a message and I will call you back.’ His voice mail picked up the call. Meg coughed to clear her throat and tried to sound chipper.
‘Um…hi Daniel. I just wondered how you were. That’s all. Please call me back when you get this message. I love you.’ She hung up the phone and breathed deeply in a vain attempt to fight off the overwhelming feeling of loneliness that was compounded by her pretending that nothing was wrong. Her tears didn’t lie. They came rushing down her face, each one reminding her of her perpetual solitude. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her hands and scrolled through the contacts on her mobile phone once again. ‘Mum.’ The wet fingers that had wiped her eyes pressed the button leaving a tiny salty pool on the keypad.
‘Hello, Meg?’ A concerned voice answered the phone.
‘Mum? Hey, how are you? I just wanted to say “hi”. Sorry I know you are at work now. I shouldn’t have called.’ Again, Meg faked a chirpy voice. An artificial smile crept across her face.
‘That’s alright. Anything wrong, honey? Did you have a fight with your dad?’
‘No no. We are doing okay. I just thought about you and I thought I would ring you.’ She swallowed hard to keep the sounds of sadness at bay. Tears began streaming down her face tracing the outsides of her cheekbones and meeting at her chin.
‘Sure? I am sorry I haven’t rung for a while. I got caught with my work these days. How is your dad?’
‘He is fine as usual. He goes to work at seven and comes home around ten recently.’
‘Are you eating well, honey?’
‘Yes, mum. I make sure to cook for myself and dad every night.’
‘Good, good. Look, honey. I gotta get back to work now. I may be able to see you this weekend. I’m not sure yet. I’ll call you later.’
‘Okay, mum. Miss you.’ Meg’s voice grew faint.
She pulled her mobile phone away from her ear reluctantly, in a futile hope of hearing her mother’s voice once more. The cold light of the screen reflected in her tears then blinked out. A tidal wave of immense loneliness washed over her and tears burst out from her red, swollen eyes. Her sobbing was the only thing that embraced her.
‘I don’t wanna feel like this. I don’t wanna be alone.’ She was gasping. Her hands and feet started to grow cold like those of a corpse. Her hands were petrified, half-clenched, and claw-shaped. She couldn’t move them anymore. She was gasping heavily, her hands and feet lost all the sense. Staring at the white wall on the side of her bed, she was swallowed by her rapid heartbeat, unable to catch a breath. ‘I need to stop hyperventilating. Stop! Stop!’ The thoughts screamed in her mind. Her gasping got heavier.
‘Ahhhh! Ahhhh!’ She screamed out loud, holding her head between her numb hands. ‘He...help,’ she faintly uttered. ‘Somebody, help me, please. I don’t wanna suffer like this anymore. Think something happy. Think, think.’ She thought of her mother smiling at her gently on her tenth birthday, and her breathing started to slow, but then thoughts of what happened a month after that birthday, the day her parents told her that they were going to separate, devoured any fragment of potential joy. The tears wouldn’t stop. She put her head down into the soft embrace of the damp pillow and closed her eyes, trying to calm down. Her breathing began to regulate. Without her realising it, a soothing calm overtook her.
The brief respite didn't last long. BWARP. Her phone vibrated against the white, painted wood that made up the frame of her bed. Without opening her eyes, she snatched her phone, like a hungry cat pouncing on a mouse. ‘Maybe it’s Daniel.’ She opened her eyes just enough to see the familiar, white glow of her phone’s screen. Her eyes scanned over the various pieces of information on the screen. There was one text message in her inbox, ‘who is it from;’ it was 6:48, ‘I must have fallen asleep;’ and there was the wallpaper of her and her friends, ‘yeah… some friends.’ Her fingers, now stiffly able to move, slid gently across the phone’s keypad and, with a subtle touch, her inbox opened. It was a message from her dad. ‘I’ll be home late, don't worry about my dinner.’ Her hand became limp. The phone slid from her flaccid hand and landed with a muffled thud on her mattress. The tears that had ceased during her unplanned slumber returned in a fury. ‘STOP!’
She reached out trying to retrieve her phone, moving her hand across the mattress, unable to see because of the cavalcade of tears emerging from deep within her. The back of her index finger brushed against something cold and metallic. The sudden touch of cool metal against her hot skin was like the bite of an insect, but she welcomed it. She slowly reached her index finger around the object and her other digits followed in turn until she could feel the cool object within her grip. She ran her thumb down its long smooth edge then curled it around the flat side where she knew she would find the ridged, rectangular, plastic switch.
She laid the meat of her thumb across the ridges and pressed. Click. The switch moved. With a little more force, the switch clicked again. She found it odd that such a simple sound could provide such comfort. The voices of her self-centered, superficial, so-called friends that had been haunting her grew more silent with each click. Click, click, click. Something emerged from the, now warm, metal device. It too was long and metallic but this new object had a sharp tip and a keen edge.
Meg noticed that her tears had stopped along with her tormenting thoughts. All that was in her mind now was the blade and all that was on her face was a slight grin. She lifted the grey retractable knife and pressed the backside of the blade against the back of her wrist, tracing the numerous thin scars of her past. She liked the feel of the metal dragging across her skin. It made everything else seem distant, but it wasn’t enough. She flipped the blade around, now the sharp edge of the knife made a tiny valley in her ghostly flesh. She adjusted the knife ever so slightly so that the entirety of its power was at its tip. As it penetrated her, she rapidly drew the blade across her wrist, creating a long straight gash. Blood began to fill the perfect incision.
Tears once again began to pour, spilling onto her bleeding arm; the tears mixing with the red blood set loose by her own hand, creating a thin mixture that dripped onto and disappeared into her black bed sheets. ‘Why,’ she thought to herself. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
She quickly clicked the blade back into the knife and tucked it into the gap between the mattress and the bed frame. It vanished in the shadows of the recess and to Meg, it was now as if the knife had never existed within the room except for the oozing wound on her arm.
She placed one foot onto the cool, shining hardwood floor and then the other, cradling her arm to prevent any blood from dripping onto her schoolbag or her slippers. She glided across her room to her glossy red chest of drawers and with the hand attached to her intact arm she slid open the top drawer. Amongst the clutter of stationary, old birthday and Christmas cards, and old notes passed in class she found a small box of plasters that she had put there after she had danced this dance the first time. She pulled two plasters out of the box then placed it back into the drawer, tucking it behind a haphazard stack of notepaper.
Closing the drawer, she shuffled back to her bed and sat on the edge. She unwrapped one of the plasters and removed the thin backing paper, letting the pieces fall to the floor. She pressed once side of the plaster on her arm making sure that it was stuck fast then tugged at it, closing the tiny canyon on her wrist, and stuck the remainder of the plaster in place. She then repeated the process with careful precision in tearful silence. The silence was broken by the familiar buzz of her cell phone. Someone was calling. She grabbed her phone and pressed the talk button. She swallowed hard and conjured up her chirpy voice, ‘Hello?’
‘Hey babe,’ it was Daniel. ‘You called me?’
‘Yeah, I just wanted to say hi.’
‘Okay. Hi. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow at school. I gotta go. Is everything good?’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Um… I just cut myself in the kitchen but I’m okay. I love you. Bye.’ She pressed the end button, and as if the button was connected to her eyes, tears began to spring out once again. She buried her face in her pillow’s soft contours and wept until her overwhelming fatigue overcame her.