Chapter 213 - The Last Book on the Shelf
It had become quiet at their house over the years.
It had never been completely empty.
But it had become quiet.
Their son had his own family now.
Their grandchildren visited them regularly, filling the rooms with their footsteps, laughter, quarrels over toys, and the questions that reminded Kuro of a child that he once was.
But today their house was unusually quiet.
Kuro was standing in front of the biggest bookcase in their living room, holding a cardboard box in his hands.
Aoi was standing next to him with another one.
"We have too many books," Kuro told her.
Aoi looked at him.
"Don’t say such things."
"I’m serious."
"You have been saying it for twenty years now."
"And you haven’t listened to me."
"Because you were wrong."
Kuro took a deep breath.
Several years ago they had reached their retirement age.
Kuro had transferred his counseling clinic to some of younger psychologists whom he trusted.
Aoi had stopped working at the school but sometimes continued mentoring counselors and educational psychologists.
They had calmed down.
For the first time in decades, they had nowhere they needed to be.
That was why they decided to sort out their books at last.
It seemed to be easy.
It was not.
Every bookshelf was full of memories.
Aoi took an old educational psychology textbook from one of the shelves.
"Keep it."
Kuro immediately pointed to this book.
"You haven’t opened it for years."
"I can."
"You have said it about the previous five."
"I can open this one."
"When?"
Aoi thought for a second.
"Someday."
Kuro smiled.
"That’s what you always say."
And she put it carefully in the box labeled KEEP.
Kuro shook his head.
"Of course."
---
They were sorting out the books.
University textbooks.
The books that they worked with.
The books they bought together.
Books that their son used.
Children stories that their grandchildren were reading now.
Some of them were so old that the covers were worn out.
Others were full of marginalia.
Aoi always stopped every time she saw the handwriting that she recognized.
Sometimes it belonged to her.
Sometimes it was Kuro’s.
Sometimes it was the childish handwriting of their son between the pages.
These books were never considered to throw away.
Then near the bottom of one of the old shelves Kuro found a thin psychology textbook.
He took it from there.
From between the pages of the book a small piece of paper slipped.
Kuro was going to bend and pick it up but then he stopped.
He stared at the handwriting.
Aoi noticed.
"What is it?"
Kuro turned the paper to her.
Aoi opened her eyes wide.
For a moment she didn’t know what to say.
She recognized this handwriting.
It was hers.
This piece of paper was so old that the edges of it were yellow.
But the handwriting was still clear.
It was a note about one of the psychological theories.
It was a correction.
It was a question.
And below it was the answer of Kuro written in another handwriting.
Aoi slowly sat down.
"Kuro..."
Kuro followed her.
"I remember this."
"So do I."
They looked at the book.
The same book had been lying on the table of one of the university libraries.
Two people had exchanged some notes not to interrupt each other when studying.
It was nothing for them at that time.
Or at least they thought so.
Aoi smiled.
"I remember being angry with you."
Kuro was surprised.
"Why?"
"Because your explanation was too long."
"You had asked me about a complicated thing."
"I had asked one question."
"You had answered in three paragraphs."
Aoi laughed.
"That’s because you forced me to think."
Kuro smiled.
"Apparently, I had never stopped."
Aoi was touching gently the old page.
Their handwriting looked so young.
Almost unfamiliar.
They were students then.
They didn’t know where life will lead them.
They didn’t know that they would marry each other.
They didn’t know that they would have a son.
They didn’t know that they would spend decades together.
They didn’t even know that they were falling in love.
And yet...
They were sitting beside each other here.
---
In the evening, their children and grandchildren came for the dinner.
The house became noisy.
The grandchildren were running through the living room.
Someone was asking about the dessert.
Someone else argued about which movie to watch later.
Aoi was watching everything from her chair.
Kuro was sitting next to her.
Their son noticed the old psychology book on the table.
"What is it?"
The book where your father and I first exchanged some notes.
Their son blinked.
"Seriously?"
Aoi nodded.
His wife smiled.
"That’s actually adorable."
Kuro frowned.
"It wasn’t romantic."
Aoi looked at him.
"Not at first."
Their son immediately laughed.
Kuro sighed.
"I regret telling everyone."
The grandchildren crowded around.
"Grandma, what did you write?"
Aoi smiled.
"Nothing special."
"Did Grandpa write something?"
"He wrote too much."
Kuro was offended.
"I was being helpful."
Aoi laughed.
The atmosphere of the room was full of warmth.
Eventually the grandchildren went back to play.
The son helped clearing the table.
Aoi looked at Kuro.
"Let’s go outside."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Kuro knew better than to argue.
---
They sat on the porch.
The sun was setting behind the distant hills.
The sky was changing its colors in the evening.
Kuro was holding in his lap the old psychology book.
Aoi was looking at it.
"We kept it."
"Apparently."
"After all these years."
Kuro looked at her.
"You kept everything."
"Not everything."
"Almost everything."
"Memories are not things."
Kuro smiled.
Aoi was leaning back in her chair.
For some time they were watching the sunset in silence.
The sounds of their family coming softly from inside.
Their grandchildren laughing.
Their son talking.
Dishes moving around.
The house that still was alive after all these years.
Aoi was looking at the old book.
And then at Kuro.
"My favorite story wasn’t written in any of these books."
Kuro turned to her.
"Then where was it written?"
Aoi was smiling.
Gently she reached out for his hand.
Their fingers interwove with each other.
"In every ordinary day we have been sharing."
Kuro became silent.
Looking at their hands.
They had become old.
The hands that held the books of their university days.
Hands that held their newborn son.
The hands that were cooking meals.
Turning the pages of books.
Holding each other through difficult nights.
The hands that remained together through decades of ordinary life.
Kuro was smiling.
"I think that it’s quite a good story."
Aoi was leaning her head on his shoulder.
"It’s my favorite."
"Even though nothing extraordinary happened?"
She was looking at him.
"Everything extraordinary happened."
Kuro raised his eyebrow.
Aoi was smiling.
"We met again."
"We fell in love."
"We created a home."
"We brought up a wonderful son."
"We watched him becoming a father."
"And now our grandchildren are destroying our living room."
Kuro was laughing.
"That’s right."
Aoi was leaning closer to him.
"So maybe ordinary isn’t equal to unimportant?"
Kuro was squeezing gently her hand.
"Maybe it’s the part that’s worth remembering."
The sun disappeared.
The sky became darker.
From inside someone was calling them.
"Grandma! Grandpa! Come inside!"
Aoi was smiling.
"It’s our signal."
Kuro slowly stood up.
Aoi was reaching out for his arm.
Helping her to stand.
Together they were going inside.
The old psychology book was left on the table on the porch for some time.
It was the last book on the shelf.
It wasn’t the most important book that they had ever owned.
But it contained the first signs of something that neither of them understood at that time.
The conversation.
The question.
The answer.
Two strangers turning into friends.
Friends becoming lovers.
Lovers becoming partners.
Partners becoming parents.
And parents becoming grandparents.
It had never needed the dramatic end.
It just continued through everyday breakfast conversations, shared umbrella, night discussions, family dinners, children stories, difficult days, quiet mornings, and countless evenings of being together.
Kuro went back to the porch and picked up the old book.
Aoi was waiting for him by the door.
He pressed it against his chest.
"Shall we return it to the shelf?"
Aoi smiled.
"Not really."
"Why?"
"Just leave it here."
Kuro directed his gaze towards the porch.
"Why?"
"So that we can read it again tomorrow."
Kuro smiled.
"Tomorrow?"
Aoi stretched out her hand.
"Tomorrow."
He took it.
And together they went inside.
The old book stayed there, by the door.
Not forgotten.
Not finished.
Only waiting for the next ordinary day.
The next morning Kuro woke up earlier than usual.
It was hard to break the habits.
Even in retirement he felt like there was somewhere he needed to go.
He opened his eyes and looked towards the other side of the bed.
Aoi was sleeping.
Her hair was a little bit messy and her one hand was placed under her cheek.
Kuro smiled.
Once there was a time when he used to wake up before her, as he had some appointments in his clinic.
Now there was no place to go.
No patients to visit.
No reports to finish.
Nothing to do.
Just another morning.
Kuro got up and quietly left the bed.
He made coffee.
Few minutes later Aoi entered the kitchen.
She stopped when she saw him.
"You make breakfast?"
Kuro looked over his shoulder.
"Why do you sound surprised?"
"Because you are retired."
"So what?"
"So that you do not need to impress me anymore."
Kuro frowned.
"For decades I made you a breakfast."
"Exactly."
She moved to the table.
Kuro gave her a cup of coffee.
Aoi took a sip.
Then she nodded.
"Still good."
"Still?"
"You practiced for a long time."
Kuro sat opposite her.
"I thought you will become less critical."
"You become more experienced."
He laughed.
And that was how their morning went.
Little jokes.
Little quarrels.
Nothing important.
And yet, everything important.
---
At noon their grandchildren came.
Front door opened before Kuro managed to approach it.
"Grandpa!"
Two small figures ran inside.
Kuro was barely ready when the child hugged him around his waist.
"Slow down."
"Grandpa, Grandma said that you have an old book!"
Kuro looked at Aoi.
She was coming behind them.
"You told them?"
Aoi shrugged.
"They asked."
"You could have said no."
"I could."
Kuro sighed.
And his granddaughter immediately grabbed his hand.
"Show us!"
"Show us what?"
"The book!"
Kuro looked at Aoi.
She smiled.
"You may as well."
He took the old psychology book from the shelf.
The children surrounded him.
"This is boring!" one of them exclaimed.
Aoi gasped.
Kuro smiled.
"Be careful."
"Why?"
"Your grandmother may deliver the lecture about educational psychology."
The child immediately hid behind Kuro.
Aoi narrowed her eyes.
"I heard that."
They all laughed.
Kuro opened the book carefully.
Its pages were old.
His granddaughter bent closer.
"What is that?"
"Something which your grandmother has written."
"Grandma wrote in the book?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she was studying."
"With Grandpa?"
Kuro nodded.
The child looked at Aoi.
"Did you like Grandpa then?"
Aoi froze.
Kuro quickly turned his eyes away trying to hide his smile.
His granddaughter waited.
Aoi coughed.
"We were friends."
"That is not what I asked."
Kuro could not help it anymore.
He laughed.
Aoi turned her eyes towards him.
"Do not laugh."
"I am sorry."
"You are not."
"No."
The child looked between them.
"So when did you fall in love?"
Aoi’s face became a little bit pink.
Kuro decided to save her.
"That is a very long story."
"I want to listen to it."
"Me too," said their grandson.
Aoi looked at Kuro.
Kuro looked at Aoi.
For some time they both remembered the same things.
University library.
Rainy afternoon.
Umbrella.
First declaration of love.
Wedding.
Their son.
Bedtime books.
Years that passed somehow too quickly.
Aoi smiled.
"Perhaps we should tell it."
Kuro nodded.
They sat down.
Children surrounded them.
And Aoi began.
"Your grandfather and I met again at university."
"Again?"
"We already knew each other."
"Did Grandpa talk a lot?"
Aoi laughed.
"Absolutely not."
Kuro objected.
"I talked."
"I communicated."
"That is different."
The children laughed.
Aoi continued.
"We started studying together."
"Every Saturday."
"Every Saturday?"
"Almost every Saturday."
"And then?"
Aoi glanced at Kuro.
"Then we became friends."
And Kuro added,
"And finally we found out that we did not like to spend Saturdays separately."
The child smiled.
"Then you fell in love."
Aoi nodded.
"Yes."
"Who confessed first?"
Aoi became silent.
Kuro looked amused.
"Your grandmother."
"Grandpa!"
Children burst out laughing.
Aoi covered her face.
"I was nervous!"
Kuro smiled.
"You were."
"Stop looking so pleased."
"I am just remembering."
Aoi lowered her hands.
She looked at him.
For several seconds nobody said anything.
Children noticed it.
"What?"
Aoi smiled.
"Nothing."
But Kuro understood.
It was the same look that she gave him countless of times during the years.
The look that meant she remembered.
---
Later that afternoon children went outside to play.
Kuro and Aoi were left alone on the porch.
Aoi was holding the old book.
"We’ve told this story so many times."
"And they like it."
"They are going to get tired of it."
"Perhaps."
Aoi opened the book.
Old note was there.
Her handwriting.
His answer.
Aoi traced the edge of the paper with her finger.
"I wonder what will think our younger selves about us now."
Kuro pondered it.
"They will be shocked."
"Why?"
"Because we have grandchildren."
Aoi laughed.
"That is true."
"And we are old."
She was offended.
"Speak for yourself."
Kuro smiled.
Aoi leant against him.
After a moment she whispered,
"I think she will be happy."
"Who?"
"Me."
Kuro looked at her.
"The girl who wrote this note."
Aoi smiled.
"I think she will be happy to know that everything went fine."
Kuro gently took her hand.
"Everything turned out better than fine."
Aoi leant her head on his shoulder.
Inside their grandchildren started to shout.
Aoi sighed.
"They are going to break something."
"Perhaps."
"Should we see it?"
Kuro did not move.
"Perhaps."
Aoi looked at him.
"You will not."
"No."
"Neither will I."
They both laughed.
For once somebody else could take care of the chaos.
They deserved to stay quietly.
Aoi closed the old book.
Kuro looked towards the house.
Their family was there.
Their children.
Their grandchildren.
Their memories.
Their entire life seemed to live in those walls.
He squeezed Aoi’s hand.
She squeezed his back.
And while the afternoon sunlight shone on the porch they remained where they were happiest.
Beside each other.
Chasing nothing.
Searching for nothing.
Just enjoying another ordinary day.