| Mariko and the Thousand Cranes |
[Jan. 9th, 2009|08:05 pm] |
Mariko, moon-faced and soft-eyed, sat at the table next to mine at lunch. Her favourite food combination was french fries and gravy, and she always looked sort of sad and lethargic. So much so, in fact, that I was about to do a bit a research to see if there was anything I could do to help her.
But the day that I chose to start listening a little closer to her conversations, she was uncharacteristically alert and happy. "You guys," she said to her table after twenty minutes of smiling silence, "I'm gonna fold a thousand paper cranes."
Their spirited conversation about whatever-the-hell screeched to a halt.
"Why?"
"Why not?!" she said through a screen of spastic giggles.
They accepted this answer and resumed, and I decided to investigate a bit. Not because I was concerned, but because I was intrigued. She was in a few of my classes, so it wasn't too difficult. She started folding them in History, taking her time to make perfect, crisp, deliberate folds. People asked her why she was doing it and she'd give a different answer every time. I took note: "It's really fun," I was getting really bored and kind of lonely," "What else is there to do?" I noticed that she was becoming more and more outgoing, more honest with her feelings, and more happy. In fact, I never saw her unhappy after she started folding those cranes. It seemed like she had turned her outlook around.
She struck up a conversation with me in the lunch line one day after she noticed that I had picked up some french fries with gravy. I asked about the cranes, to see what she would tell me. "Oh! My grandma was telling me about this Japanese legend and it seemed like a neat thing to do."
That was a new one!
"That's pretty cool! What was the legend?"
"Well, whoever can fold a thousand cranes gets a wish. I don't know what I want to wish for, but folding them is a lot of fun!" She paused, and for a moment--just a moment--her smile flicked away. "I'm sorry if this is weird, but do you want to sit with me?"
I really did, but I had previous engagements. "Oh, I promised my friends I'd help them with some research... Maybe tomorrow!"
"Aww." She seemed really disappointed. "Well, that's all right. Maybe tomorrow!" she echoed. "See you 'round, Jackie!"
"See you 'round!"
While we were talking about research, I watched Mariko throw her hands into the air out of the corner of my eye. "I did it!" she said, victoriously, a pile of cranes surrounding her. Nobody seemed to be very excited. Most of the people at her table let out one of those sarcastic "Oh-kaaaaaay"s so quintessential to the American teenager's vocabulary. I really wanted to speak up and congratulate her, and to this day I'm not really sure why I didn't. I don't know what Mariko's reaction to the indifference was. She sat just a few feet away, but the bustle of cafeteria had drowned it before it could even reach me.
The next day, she wasn't in school. Nobody seemed to notice.
The day after that, we got the news that her parents had found her dead in her room after noticing that she wasn't at the dinner table. At the funeral I heard them say that the body was found to have been cold for nearly twenty-four hours at the time that they found it. Her own parents didn't notice.
Everybody from school was there. I hoped that it wasn't just because the funeral was held during school hours, that they really did care, but I don't know. Walking up to the tiny capsule of her cremated remains, I wondered what had become of the cranes. I said a short prayer, "God bless you, Mariko," although I don't know why--I'm agnostic at my most sanguine, she was traditionally buddhist--then I walked out to go back to school.
Just as I arrived, I noticed a janitor with a giant garbage bag opening a locker with a key. One thousand cranes spilled out onto the floor and he sighed. "What a waste."
I walked up beside him. "It was a waste, wasn't it? She was so young." A tear welled in my eye and I wiped it away. I don't know why I was talking to him about it; I guess I needed somebody to console me. People grieve in strange ways.
"You're damn right it was a waste! This was probably school paper! We only have a limited supply of it, you know. It doesn't grow on trees." And he swept the cranes into the garbage bag. There was nothing else inside the locker.
"Whoa, wait!"
"What?"
"Can I have that bag? I'd like to recycle them, I mean."
He shrugged. I took the bag and looked inside. The way the light shown upon them, all understated and gray, it made me miserable. I had planned to go back to class, but instead I just went home, dragging the bag behind me.
That night, I took out a crane and studied it. I wondered how they were made, so I unfolded it and studied the creases. At one point, I flipped the paper, and saw this message staring back at me:
私は友人のために祈ります。 Curious, I unfolded another.
私は友人のために祈ります。 And another...
私は友人のために祈ります。 And another.
私は友人のために祈ります。
All written in lovely, deliberate, looping Japanese.
I dug to the bottom of the bag and unfolded just one more. This one was different.
I wish for a friend. (私は友人のために祈ります。) |
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