Passing Notes (Suzu)

Passing Notes

06-06-2012



I pace back and forth along the library aisles, hands absentmindedly feeling the book spines on the shelves as if they will change if I do it enough.  I sigh.  There's only so much science-fiction a private school can furnish no matter how well funded it is.  The bell tolls signaling my time is up.  Another sigh and I leave dejected and empty handed, lunch period wasted once more.

“No books, Hisao?” Yuuko asks.

I give a slow head shake and courteous smile as I leave.  Back in the classroom, I struggle to pay attention to Mutou's lecture.  Since my hospital stay, reading is nearly akin to breathing for me and I'm suffocating.  I glance out the window as the teacher drones on about “endothermic” this  and “exothermic” that and “kinetic” something or other.  I sigh.  Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours before I get my reprieve.  Upon hearing the glorious day's final bell ringing, I dash out of his room only to end up back where I began. Why was I in such a rush to quickly go … nowhere?  I guess it boils down to my lack of … well, having nothing else to do.  Cue my sigh.  I've been doing that too much lately.  Sighing.

I start to wander in between the high stacked book shelves of Yamaku again so I wouldn't block the entrance.  I begin to mindlessly peruse the shelves again, running my fingers through the various tomes like what I use to do to the black iron fences on my way home from school in my previous life.  It's a little nostalgic, I suppose.  I notice a little note sticking up on one of the books. Huh. Was that always there?

/You might enjoy this. I did./

I curiously look around the library.  Nobody in particular is paying me any heed.  I pick up the vessel of the message, Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut.  I've never heard of the book nor author, but the note makes me curious of its contents.  I lay claim to a nearby beanbag and quickly read through it.  Not bad.  It's not my normal literary fare, but I am breathing again.  Yes.  A smile forces its way on my face as I exhale.  To have that first breath after so long feels so good.  Only when you are denied, do you really savor things you take for granted.  I go back to the same shelf and round up some more of this Vonnegut guy's works.  I finish Bluebeard and notice the orange tint permeating the library through its massive windows.  This notifies me to the impending closing time and I check out the rest of my Vonnegut cache.  I went to sleep reading Hocus Pocus.

I wake up the next morning refreshed, mind, body, and soul.  I swallow my morning dosage of medication with gusto, take a shower while humming a non-specific song, put on my uniform, and leave the dorm with a positive outlook.  I walk with lighter feet, head held a little higher, ready to take on whatever the world wants to throw in my path today.

I arrive in Mutou's classroom a little early, so I take out Hocus Pocus and finish it.  I let out a long exhale as I close the back cover.  God, it's wonderful to feel alive again.  I still couldn't get into Mutou's lecture today either, though not of boredom, but rather excitement.  My eyes keep darting the clock on the wall, biding my time until the lunch bell.  I rush out of the room when it does again, and made a beeline to the library, zigzagging a few students along the way.

Upon arrival, I immediate scour the aisles for another scrap of paper, that elusive sigul.   And sure enough, there was another one.  I slowly gravitate for it, concentrating whether there are any observers to my actions discreetly via peripheral vision.  None again.

I take it and read it quickly, /Try these … if you dare./  A smile on my face, this a challenge isn't it?  I quickly scan around the library for anyone that may be watching me.  Still nothing.  I guess I won't find it who this note is from for now.  Or maybe they were not meant for me.  Well, it's too late for that and I take the book it was sticking out of.

I turn the book to look at its cover.  Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk.  Huh.  I think this was a movie, wasn't it?   And like the day before, I devour Palahniuk's books feverishly.  After Fight Club, I finish Survivor .  The themes are a lot darker than I'm used to, but I enjoy them.  I run back to check out as much Palahniuk as I can.  Choke, Lullaby, and Diary.  It's like I've just been told tomorrow is Christmas, I gleefully run to the front counter to let Yuuko check them out for me.

The day pass by as per usual, as in plain boring and non-descript.  After dinner, I finish Diary and fell asleep in the middle of Lullaby.  I stay in class during lunch break and finish it and started on Choke.  Time passes as if on autopilot and I stay for a little while after class and complete the final Chuck Palahniuk book.  I gather up the three books and head for the library.

The halls are still active with many students, but not what I would call crowded.  I guess I can attribute it to the fact there was a passage of time after the bell that I spent on my book.  I fish out the two scraps that mark the previous days' rations of oxygen for me.  The handwriting is neat, fluid, and … feminine?    I didn't have time to dwell on the author of the notes, or the gender of said author, before I arrive at doorway to the Yamaku library.

As I get to the front counter, I drop the books into the return tray.  Yuuko is absent since I didn't hear the sound of her head bumping against the desk from underneath like usual.  Perhaps she is still collecting the various books into her trolley to put back on the shelves, I guess.

I instinctively seek out another sigul.  Walking down the main lobby, eyes darting to the shelves on either side.  Nothing as I reach the study desks, so I doubled back and something catches my eye.  A girl.  Nothing about her out of the ordinary such as bright pink bubblegum hair curled into drills, but I was fascinated by what she was doing.  She tore out a piece of paper from her notebook and is writing something in it and embeds it sticking out of the middle of a book.  Smiling as she returns the book to the shelf, she turns and faces me and immediately froze.

I recognize her.  She's in my class.  She is in the front row.  She had her head down during my initial introduction, though she did raise her head and our eyes meet as I walk to my desk.

She breaks our awkward silence by saying, “So … did you like the books?”

I could only involuntarily chuckle, “So it was you.”  I guess the mystery of the source of the notes is now solved.  I take a good look at her.  She certainly is cute.  “Thank you, yes, I love the books.”

She blushes and her feet fiddles around, “Yeah, I noticed that you like to read.  But I saw that you didn't read anything for the past few days … and that you looked restless.”

Now it's my time to blush.  She not only notice me, and she understood me.  Or at least the pining for a book part of me.

“You know, we have a literature club,” she avoids my eyes by looking downward, “and we have an opening … you can join if you want to.”

Before I can mentally weigh all the pro and cons, my head and mind has already started to nod enthusiastically and my mouth has already stated that I would love to.

She hands me the book on the shelf with the telltale paper scrap and I take a gander at it.  House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski.

“That's this week's book.  For the literature club.  I look forward to seeing you there … Hisao, is it?”

“Yeah, Hisao Nakai, I'll be there … um … where does the Literature Club meet exactly?”

She points to the far end of the library and says, “Behind that door.  We meet on Sundays at noon.  Well, noon-ish.”

“Okay, thank you … uh … thank you ...”  my mind is blank, I can't remember what her name was.  Or actually, have I ever heard her name?  We've certainly never spoke.  Wait, she hasn't told me her name.

“Suzu,”  she ended my mental torment.  “Suzu Suzuki.”

“Oh.  Sorry I couldn't remember your name even though we're in the same cla-”

“It's okay, we never spoke, so I wouldn't expect you to remember my name.”

“Well, we've spoken now, and we're properly introduced I think.  Nice to meet you Miss Suzu Suzuki, I'm Hisao Nakai.”  I extend my hand to her.

She laughs and shakes my hand, “Likewise, Mister Nakai.”

“Thank you for inviting me to the literature club again, Suzu.”

Before we can exchange more pleasantries, another girl from our class came to pick her up, the one with the one missing hand.  Miki Miura I believe her name is.  Miki starts to talk to Suzu as they leave, I hear laughing when they near the exit.  I swear Miki looked back and me and says something that make Suzu look at me with a face all flushed with embarrassment.

Suzu Suzuki.  Nice name, heh.  Nicer girl too.  Sunday.  Noon … ish.  It's a date.  Erm, not a da … damnit, Hisao, shut up.  Suzu.  I will see Suzu Sunday.  Just a friend … no, more like an acquaintance.  That happens to be super cute.  No, stop, stop, stop, Hisao.  Literature club.

Though she is very pretty.  Dammit.  Stop that.  Sigh.