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solongsun Since early childhood, Kaoru has been using doors to travel backwards and forwards through time: a motion he is sometimes able to control, and sometimes not. At the age of 22, he opens a door to the long-ago autumn of 1996 and finds something he never expected – a man who, decades before Kaoru's birth, seems to know exactly who he is...
It's the biggest building he's ever seen.
His mouth makes a sombre little line in his face as he tilts his head as far back as it will go, trying to see all the way up to the roof. The windows are lit up unevenly. Kaoru counts thirty lit ones before he gives up; thirty is as high as he knows. There are more lit ones than not lit ones, though.
He must have done it again, just like that time when he thought he was walking into the bathroom but when he went through the door he came out in a shaggy overgrown field, and there was another little boy there he might have played with, but he had really wanted to go to the bathroom and he didn't know if there was any place around he could pee. He felt panicky, then, and he didn't talk to the other boy; he went off and hid behind a clump of bushes. He remembers that: feeling uncomfortable and worried and the ache in his bladder, but that was a long time ago, that was maybe when he was only just four rather than halfway through being four, like he is now.
He can't remember how he got home. At least he doesn't need to use the bathroom this time.
There hadn't been a door, though; Kaoru's quite sure about that, because just before he was here he was out in the woods with his parents. He had run ahead, that was it – and then something shiny had caught his eye; there was a metal doorknob growing out of the trunk of a tree. And he had taken it, and he had pulled, and the weird thing had happened all over again and dumped him in this strange place where the daytime had turned to night time and instead of being a fresh autumn morning it was all damp and drizzly.
A feeling of heavy foreboding lodges itself in his stomach. Last time this happened his parents were so angry, and now they're going to be angry all over again.
He had tried to explain, last time, but because they were angry he was crying, and so it was hard to talk properly. He didn't really have all the words he needed, either.
Slowly, he gives the big building one last long look and then starts to walk, taking uneven steps so he doesn't step on any of the cracks between the paving stones. He's sort of stuck, though, because he's marooned on this city block with a busy road at each end, and Kaoru's not allowed to cross those alone. Sometimes his dad lets him cross without holding on, but that's only on the road in front of their house, which only has their neighbours' cars on it anyway. His mum never lets him cross without holding on, absolutely never-never; she says he's always daydreaming and he doesn't look where he's going, but that's not true. The problem is more like he looks where he's going a bit too much. He gets all caught up in the little tiny details of things, like the cracks in the pavements or the little splotchy bit where the people who painted the white lines on the road made a mistake, or if he's crunching leaves under his shoes and being careful not to step on any little insects. That's because once he stepped on a caterpillar and it was gross, all green and gooey, but when he started thinking about it, it was sad as well, because that caterpillar had probably just been going along thinking all about how it was going to make a cocoon soon, and go inside it and have a long sleep and come out as a big moth like the ones they get on the window screen at night in summer. He's got a picture book about caterpillars, but it's no good; he doesn't understand how you can go to sleep and wake up as something different. Every day when he wakes up he's still the same.
There's a big puddle on the pavement. There are lots of people walking through it, though; ladies in high-heeled shoes and men in shiny shoes like his dad wears for work. He wants to go in the middle of it and splash, but there are too many grown-ups all over the place; they're getting in the way, and maybe they'd be cross with him for splashing without having his boots on. There are rules for everything when you start getting older.
Because he can't go one way and he can't go the other way, Kaoru finds a step to sit down on and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand. It was interesting, the door handle being all stuck in the tree like that, but this bit is annoying. He's getting cold and his hair is getting wet, and he's hungry as well.
There are a lot of people walking around, but for some reason, two of them catch his eye. They're dressed funny and they have weird hair: he's never seen people like that before. They're coming towards him, talking amongst themselves; one of them is short and the other one is tall, and the short one has hair that's yellow and bits of metal in his face, and the tall one is confusing because he's a boy, but he's pretty like a girl. He's got long hair like a girl, too, and his clothes are funny, sort of drapey and raggedy, and he's got a big case that's shaped like a guitar which he's wearing on his back like a snail shell. They're not very old compared to everybody else on the streets, and they seem to be arguing about something, but not in a way that's really serious; the dark haired one is laughing and he gives a little shove to the yellow haired one next to him.
With the laugh still on his face, he catches Kaoru's curious stare. His smile turns a bit warmer and gentler, and he sort of raises a hand like he's saying hello. Kaoru bows, even though it's difficult sitting down.
That's all that happens, and then the two men have swept by him; they're still horsing around down the road, the short one reaching up to ruffle the other one's dark hair. They cross the street and then they start going down some steps that lead into a big square hole all lit up with yellow light. The sign above it has words Kaoru can't read, but there's also a little picture of a train. Maybe the dark haired man can still feel Kaoru's eyes on him, because just before he goes completely out of sight he turns back to look at him. His eyes have a funny sort of look in them, like he's trying to work something out, but then the yellow haired man grabs his arm and pulls him away, and they're both gone.
After that, Kaoru sits still for a little while. Thirty cars go past him, and then even more. He decides that if the two men come back, he's going to ask them why they've got such funny clothes and hair, and he's going to ask the dark haired one if he's got an actual real guitar in the case he's carrying, and if so, if he'll show it to him, or maybe even let him run his fingers over the strings to see if he can make a tune from it. He has a toy guitar, a small one, but it's not the same; it's too high pitched and the notes don't come out right. That drives Kaoru crazy, the way it does when his parents sing along to music on the radio, because their voices all slip around and neither of them land on the notes they're supposed to land on.
The rain is coming down harder now, and reluctantly he gets to his feet. He supposes he's going to have to try to cross the road, even if it is bad, because it's dark and it's cold and he wants to go home. The longer he's gone the more angry his parents will be, and he'll try to explain but it'll all go wrong again; he knows it.
The thing is, he sometimes gets the weird feeling that he's not just travelling in space; sometimes, it feels like he's moved through time, as well. Sometimes there are machines that he doesn't recognise, and sometimes people are wearing old fashioned clothes and they don't have mobile phones, and sometimes not even cars, and there are shops on the street but there aren't any Rift Bars. On the other side of this street, there's a glass box with a big telephone in it, and somebody is inside having a conversation; Kaoru's never seen anything like that.
When he gets to the road, he has a good look at the adults who are standing around waiting to cross it. None of them look quite right, but there's a lady who at least looks like she might be the same age as his mother, so Kaoru stands next to her and holds her hand to cross, but she pulls it away and gives him a funny look.
There's a babble then, and a lot more of the adults are suddenly looking at him. Kaoru feels himself shrinking, like he wants to slide through the cracks in the pavement. The lady takes hold of his shoulders and squats down in front of him so they're eye to eye, which Kaoru doesn't like; he puts his hands in front of his face so she can't look at him so hard.
'It's okay,' she's saying in a crooning sort of voice, 'It's okay, are you lost? Where are your parents?'
Somebody else says, 'He's homeless,' which is a big lie.
'No, I don't think he is. Look, he's too neat. He must be lost.'
'His parents must be out of their minds with worry.'
'Should we call the police?'
That's something to make him panic, because Kaoru's dad is a policeman and he knows exactly what policemen do: they lock all the bad people away.
'I'm not bad,' he says quickly.
The grown-ups are all looking at him in a horrible fixed way that makes his skin feel prickly and his voice sound small and his legs feel wobbly. He feels a sort of hot feeling in his eyes and nose even though boys don't cry. He wants his mother, and he wants his dad, and he wants to be safe at home with nobody angry with him or staring at him or getting upset. He rubs his small hands over his face, feeling overwhelmed, and he's ashamed that he can feel tears underneath his palms. The grown-ups are still asking him questions, but it's all a meaningless babble because they're all talking at once, where are your parents what's your name how old are you do you know your address?
He wants his mother to rub his back and cuddle him close like he's a really small baby again. He wants to take a bath with his dad, and play with the plastic boats whilst his dad pretends to be a whale, spouting water out of his mouth like he has a blowhole, or makes believe that he's a shark snapping at Kaoru's ankles.
Somebody is wrapping a coat around his shoulders, now, and they're steering him away from the direction he was walking in, away from the road, and instead they're taking him into a brightly lit noodle restaurant. It's very clean inside, with a big shiny wooden counter, and Kaoru wants to sit on one of the tall chairs but it's too high for him. He makes a little jumping bounce, and somebody says, 'I think he has to go to the bathroom.' It's not true, but somebody is already guiding him towards the toilet, and right there he sees it – the brass doorknob, familiar as an old friend on the bathroom door.
The adults are talking about telephoning the police again, and Kaoru quickly slips back into the stream of time.
He was right about one thing: his parents are angry. He comes out in the same sun-dappled forest the three of them were walking in, and he finds his parents shouting out his name in a two-tone sort of way, Kao-ru, and his mother crying in an ugly way with her face very wet and red. They drive home in furious silence, and Kaoru kicks the back of the passenger seat to distract himself from the urge to cry, which is blowing up inside of him like a balloon.
When they get back to their small apartment, his mum and dad sit him down in the living room and ask him to explain to them very clearly why he disappeared for so long. He takes a deep breath, feeling his vision going all blurry just at the disappointed looks on their faces, and tries to clear his throat.
'There was a doorknob in the tree,' he says. His parents exchange a funny sort of glance, and his mother presses her fingertips to her temples.
'It's very important to tell the truth,' Kaoru's dad says gently, which makes Kaoru feel helpless because he's already telling the truth, but they don't believe him.
'I was in a city,' he says. 'I saw a man with yellow hair.'
His mother leans forward and places her palm on his forehead, like she does when she thinks he has a fever. His father inclines his head towards her and mutters, 'Maybe he thought the visitor's centre was an apartment building.'
'No,' Kaoru says stubbornly, 'A real city. With skyscratchers.'
'Skyscrapers,' his father corrects him automatically; his mother doesn't say anything, she just makes a soft sort of moaning noise, which makes Kaoru nervous and also very ashamed. He already knows that every time he disappears she's worried that he won't come back, or that he's been taken by bad people, although he has no idea what bad people would want with a little kid like him; he's not even allowed to stay up late on weekends.
'This has to stop,' she says in a choked-up sort of voice, 'This...vanishing. What do we have to do, Kaoru? Do we have to lock you in your room?'
He can't find the words to tell her that wouldn't work. If the brass doorknob can come out of a tree then it can probably come out of a wall, too. He just shakes his head, though, feeling horribly guilty.
'I'm sorry,' he says in a small voice. His mother gives a big sigh.
'Were you hiding?' she asks, 'Behind the trees? Did you hear us yelling for you?'
'I was in a city,' Kaoru says, his face feeling hot.
'Don't lie to me.'
'I'm not lying!'
'How would you have ended up in a city, Kaoru? Tell me that! How?'
'Namie—' Kaoru's father says, reaching out for her in a soothing sort of way, but she shakes him off. She leans forward and takes hold of both Kaoru's hands in hers, staring straight into his face as he squirms.
'Tell me the truth,' she says in a calmer voice.
'But it is true,' Kaoru says, feeling stupid because he's crying just like a little baby would. He can't even scrub the tears out of his eyes because his mum has hold of his hands. 'There was a handle on the tree.'
'A handle.'
'A door handle.' He looks up at her through eyelashes that have separated into damp spikes. He can't stop sniffing, and at last she lets one of his hands go so he can wipe his face. 'Kaoru,' she says in a very gentle voice, 'I promise we won't get angrier with you if you tell us the truth. We both just want to understand what's happening, and make sure that we can keep you safe.'
He feels defeated, because they'll never believe him, and the way they're looking at each other over the top of his head is a very adult way, like they're worried about something they're too scared to say. He clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head, and watches as two fat tears plop onto his lap. There's a quiet that seems to last forever, and then Kaoru's mum sighs.
'No toys,' she says in a flat sort of voice, 'No comics. No television. Not until you can tell your father and I the truth. I've had it, Kaoru. I've had enough.'
She starts crying again and Kaoru's dad sends him to his room.
For Kaoru, four and a half years old, the real punishment comes later, lying wide awake in his bed and listening to his parents arguing downstairs, fighting about him. Not playful fighting, the way the two funny-looking men were; real fighting, with harsh words.
Kaoru's mother wants to send him to a head doctor.
Kaoru's father thinks that's crazy. All kids push their boundaries; all kids tell lies.
Kaoru sees, in the glow of his night light, that the handle on his door has changed; the usual curved handle with the Spider Man sticker has changed into a round brass doorknob.
He buries his head under the covers and pretends not to see.
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