Hoku heard real music before lunchtime. Rinko-san, the therapist who had conducted the art therapy session, returned to gather the children into the cafeteria for an hour and a half of what she called music therapy. The children requested songs in turns, going in alphabetical order, and Rinko-san played the songs they chose on her radio. The new girl, Hoshiko, wasn’t present to choose a song. She had disappeared after morning therapy. Hoku assumed that because of her insomnia, she wasn’t required to leave her bedroom except for group therapy. Lucky Hoshiko-chan.

Ajisai hadn’t been her usual self since that morning’s group therapy. She was uncharacteristically quiet; her cheeks were tearstained, and her eyes were still damp. But she still asked for a song by her idol, Hinoda Ikimono. Daichi played - and danced to - the song everyone knew as "the Minions song,” “Happy” by Pharrell Williams, and his silly moves sent laughter rippling around the cafeteria.When Hoku’s turn came, he requested a pop song - not one of his current favorites, but one that he and Ikari had loved when they‘d been tiny.

After each of the first few songs, Rinko-san paused to ask the person who had requested it how the song made him feel or something along those lines. The remainder of the session, however, just consisted of playing music, one song after the other.

Once everyone had had a turn, Rinko-san opened the radio up for second requests. Mizumi chose country love songs whose lyrics were not unhappy, but whose melodies sounded plaintive. Suta asked for Christian worship music.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Lunch hadn’t ended very long ago when Nijiko-san crossed into the main area to announce, “Hoku-kun, Ayami-san wants to see you for a one-on-one session.”

Hoku rose to follow Nijiko-san to the private therapy office, where Ayami-san sat waiting for him. Though he said nothing, deep down, he was as grateful for the chance to talk one-on-one as he was for his ability to breathe. He was afraid to pass his pain on to others or to be a bother, and yet he ached with the need to talk to someone - anyone.

The door shut behind Nijiko-san, and he and Ayami-san were alone. The young lady smiled at him.

“Hi, Hoku-kun. It’s great to be able to chat with you.”

Hoku swallowed and nodded.

Ayami-san picked her cellphone up. “Hold on just a moment, sweetie. I‘ve got to make a quick call, and then I’ll be with you.”

Hoku sat and studied the desk, doing his best not to listen in, as Ayami-san phoned and conversed with someone - one of Ajisai’s foster parents, from the sound of things.

“Hi, Ryuuichi-san. Thanks for taking my call. . . Ajisai-chan’s doing fine, from what I can tell. I’ve talked to the staff, and she is still struggling with her emotions about being here, but I think she’s starting to accept and understand it.

I had a talk with her earlier in group therapy, and then we had our one-on-one session. At first she was telling me all about how it wasn’t her fault, blaming the bipolar disorder - ‘How could they do this to me? How could they send me away? They don’t love me!’ - just a typical child, really, not wanting to take responsibility for her actions. . . . Exactly! . . . But, as I explained to her before, her actions are her choices, and choices have consequences. . . . Yes. . . . I completely agree with you. But she’s such a sweet girl all the same.”

I know that even if you have bipolar disorder, you still have to take the blame when you do things you shouldn’t, Hoku thought. The big cousin Jiro, the one Grandma talked about - he had bipolar, too, when he was alive, plus something called schizophrenia. But Mom still remembered how he used to do and say mean things, especially when he’d stopped taking medicine for his sicknesses, or how he’d drink too much alcohol. Still. . .doing something you weren’t supposed to because you have a disorder. . .isn’t that something that could happen to anybody? I feel sorry for Ajisai-chan.

Ayami-san exchanged a few more words with Ajisai’s parent, then ended the call. She rose, smiling again at Hoku.

“Come on, Hoku-kun. Why don’t we go outside where it’s sunny and talk?”

In the outdoors area, they sat across from one another at a round iron table.

“So, Hoku-kun, talk to me. How have you been?”

Those words caused the dam to burst. Hoku cried until he quaked and his face contorted with crying. He seemed to have an endless supply of tears, gasps and sobs.

“Oh, Hoku-kun. What’s the matter, sweetie? I hate to see you cry like that.”

“My mom and dad . . .died, and I - I want to see them again, and I hate my life, and I’m scared.”

Ayami-san’s forehead puckered with concern. She reached across the table to touch Hoku’s fingertips. “Tell me all about it. What are you most scared of? Is it a fear you won’t ever see your mom and dad again?”

Hoku nodded. Then, shakily, shudderingly, his story came out. He spilled onto Ayami-san the dream that he had had about Mom’s and Dad’s graves, his fears about God, his fear of losing himself, Mom, Dad and everyone else he loved to the decay of death forever. He admitted that he wasn’t certain that he liked or believed in God anymore, that he had broken down on his uncle once and told him that he was afraid God didn’t love him and would punish him for being imperfect, but that his uncle’s simple reassurances - “God does love you. Taking Mom and Dad away was only a test. He sends sinners to hell when they choose to reject his love; it isn’t because He wants to.” - hadn’t helped, that he knew how deeply disappointed Uncle Luqman and Grandma would be if they knew.

He told her about Grandma’s worrying that the help he received here at the hospital would be ungodly and the way that receiving the Bible that Uncle Luqman had sent had made him feel.

All throughout their conversation, Ayami-san’s face reflected sympathy. At the end of Hoku’s story, she handed him a soft handkerchief with which to wipe his eyes. Hoku used it, though he wasn’t sure he was done crying.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. It’s all going to be just fine. We’ll get you grief counseling so you won’t be alone while you deal with your parents’ death. But it sounds like your problems with your family’s religion are the bigger issue.”

The bigger issue? Were his problems with religion worse than the sadness he felt for Mom and Dad?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Ayami-san went on. “Your family’s religion is making you feel scared and unhappy, but you’re afraid if you say you might not believe in it anymore, you’ll lose their acceptance, so you feel alone. That isn’t okay. Even if you’re still a child, you have the right to an opinion and feelings about any religion your family’s asking you to believe in. You have the right to speak up, and your uncle should support you no matter what. You shouldn’t have to feel alone.”

Loneliness wasn’t Hoku’s main concern. He didn’t want others to be as unhappy as he was; he didn’t long for company in his misery. What he wanted was to taste relief. Still, though there was a lingering worry that he was going against God by having this conversation with a therapist, he knew that he had only two choices - to change nothing, sit on the couch and suffer or to give this talk with Ayami-san a chance, even if doing so did turn out to be a sin. His gratitude overcame his fear and brought more tears to his eyes.

“You really think I can get better, Ayami-san? It won’t be like this forever?”

“Of course not,” Ayami-san soothed. “So many people who’ve lost their parents and loved ones have been able to work through their pain. You’ll never stop missing your Mom and Dad; that’s impossible. But you’ll be able to live a good life the way I know they wanted you to.”

Those last few words brought another fresh rush of tears to Hoku’s eyes, but with them had come a feeling of hope.

”I have to say, Hoku-kun, that you won’t be able to heal the way you want to unless you can stop being afraid to talk to your uncle about religion.”

Hoku hugged himself. Talk to Uncle Luqman . . .about religion. Could he really muster up the courage to do that - anytime soon or even in a hundred years? At best, he’d be scolded and asked to pray and read the Bible more often; at worst, his family might all stop looking at him with the same eyes. And it would hurt Uncle Luqman - Uncle Luqman, who was already exhausted and bearing up under his own sadness.

“Do I have to? . . . He and my grandma and everyone else will be sad, and I don’t want them to be.”

“I know you don’t want your family to be sad, but you have to think of yourself, too, Hoku-kun. Talking to your family is something I can support you in, but it isn’t something I can do for you. You have to do it yourself. I wouldn’t suggest doing it right now, but sometime down the line, you have to have that talk.”

”Okay.” Hoku dried his eyes again. If Ayami-san said this was what he needed in order to heal, Hoku would trust her.

“Feel better now?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“I’m glad. Let’s go inside, honey. I’m going to make a quick call to your uncle to discuss some things with him.”

A few doors down the hall from Ayami-san’s office, in a chair, Hoku sat, dangled his legs and waited for her chat with Uncle Luqman to conclude. What might they be talking about? Ayami-san had said that she couldn’t tell Uncle Luqman how Hoku felt about God; that was a step that he himself must take. Most likely she was explaining to him some of the symptoms of Hoku’s depression, the type of therapy that he would need when he left the ward, or some other treatment-related detail.

After anywhere between five and ten minutes, Ayami-san came out of her office. She sat down beside Hoku.

"So your Uncle Luqman and I had a chat, and I want you to know what I said to him. I told him, ‘Ryoshi-san, Hoku-kun may have something that he wants to tell you, and he needs to know that he has your unconditional support and love. At this point, you’re the only adult he can turn to every day.’

”He said, ‘Well, of course - of course. I love my nephews unconditionally, and I support them no matter what.’ I told him, ‘Well, the time’s come for you to prove that. Hoku-kun is dealing with major depression, and he feels alone. I’d suggest you start making time for him, just you two, so he feels comfortable opening up to you about anything and everything.’ He tried to start talking about how he tries his best, but he’s dealing with his own grief and anxiety about COVID. I told him outright that it isn’t about him.”

When she’d started speaking, Hoku had begun to nod to acknowledge what she was saying. Now he was still nodding automatically, politely, but he was only half-hearing anything that Ayami-san said.

When he was told that he was free to return to the living area, Hoku needed no second bidding. As he hastened through, headed for the cubicle, he managed to remember to inform Ikari that Ayami-san wanted to see him now.

“Nijiko-san. . .please, can I use the phone?”

“Who do you need to call?”

”My uncle.”

”All right. Try not to go over fifteen minutes.”

The phone rang so many times that Hoku was afraid Uncle Luqman had decided not to take any calls. At last, though, he picked up.

“Luqman Ryoshi speaking.”

”Uncle Luqman.” Hoku’s voice was tiny. “H-h-hi.”

He fumbled with the cord of the phone. What was he to say? After he had gone crying to her for help and sympathy, he couldn’t throw Ayami-san under the bus by blaming her for what she had said to his uncle, but he couldn’t, either, reveal that this had all happened because he’d vented about his God-related doubts and terrors.

“Hello, son.” Uncle Luqman’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. Another lengthy, uncomfortable pause later, he continued. “I’m sorry if I haven’t done enough to help you and your brother or make you feel as though you aren’t alone. I want to be there for you, but I can’t seem to do or say the right things. Not even the talk we had that one night, the one you said helped you to feel better. . .I try to help, but it looks like I only make things worse.”

”I’m sorry.”

The, “I’m sorry,” was for everything. For his inability to appreciate how hard and how earnestly Uncle Luqman had tried to help him during their one big talk. For calling the police in the middle of the night and claiming to be suicidal when the truth was that he had always been - and still was - too afraid to go through with hurting himself. For begging to be carter away to a mental institution instead of grieving the way that a normal person would have. For being the reason that Uncle Luqman had had to drive for over two hours. For being unable to be a comfort to his uncle, who had lost a brother just as he had lost a father, and, most of all, for turning a therapist against Uncle Luqman with his crying and complaining.

To his apology, Uncle Luqman offered no response. Instead, he asked, just as weary as before, “How are things going over there?”

“Good.” What else could he say?

”Are you making sure to wear your mask and put hand sanitizer on?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Good. I’ll . . .let you go so you can finish your therapy.”

Hoku returned the phone to its hook. He had thought that unburdening himself onto Ayami-san would make everything at least a little bit better. He had only made things worse, though, for himself and for Uncle Luqman.