KUN AND THE BABY

Kun always slept on his stomach with his rear sticking into the air.

“Mmmm…”

This morning, he woke up in his usual position.

Mom was already up. Still in her pajamas, she was sitting on the bed in the dim bedroom with a cardigan draped over her shoulders, nursing the baby.

“Good morning, Kun.”

“Good morning, Mommy,” he answered, his butt still aloft.

The baby was suckling noisily.

With his derriere high, Kun greeted his sister.

“Good morning, baby.”

Dad was in a chipper mood as he bustled about the kitchen.

“Dum dum dum dumm,” he hummed, wearing an apron over his button-down shirt, as if cooking was the easiest thing in the world.

Strangely, though, it was taking him a very long time to cut up a few pieces of fruit. When the kettle whistled, he rushed over in a flurry to turn it off and reached for the handle.

“Ouch!”

It was much hotter than he expected. He shook his hand to cool it down, then reached for the kettle again with a pot holder just as the toaster oven dinged. He ran over to it, opened the door, and grabbed the charred piece of bread with his fingers.

“Ow!”

In other words, he was not at all accustomed to chores. Even the lopsided bow on his apron contributed to his disheveled look.

Kun brought his cup to his mouth with both hands and eyed his father suspiciously. What was going on? Up till now, Mom had always been the one to make breakfast.

He looked across the table. Still dressed in her pajamas, Mom was breastfeeding the baby as her head nodded sleepily onto her chest.

Kun put down his cup. “Mommy, I want more milk.”

Dad stopped buttering the toast and brought the milk over to Kun.

“Here you go.”

“No!” Kun shouted, picking up his cup again. “Mommy, I want a banana!”

Dad put the carton back and took a banana from the fruit basket.

“Here.”

“No!” Kun refused to take it, too. “Mommyyy!”

He banged on the table with both hands to get her attention.

“Whatcha need?” asked Dad, squatting down next to him and smiling brightly.

Kun smacked him in the face. “No!!”

“Owwwwww!”

After breakfast, Dad set about cleaning the house.

He started at the top and moved down, vacuuming the bedroom, living room, and dining room. Yukko howled at him and shook his shedding fur all over the clean floors. Dad made sure to do a pass under the far end of the dining table, where he worked on his concept sketches.

He was much better at this than at making breakfast. Maybe that shouldn’t have been overly surprising, given that he was the one who’d designed the house. He proceeded confidently and efficiently, and when he was done, he raked up the dead leaves in the courtyard.

As an architect, he’d treated the courtyard as the center of the stepped house, with everything else connecting to it. Because the windows and glass doors faced the courtyard and the house was built in tiers, each room got plenty of sunlight even without windows facing the street. Plus, the home was designed so that breezes blew up from the lower rooms to the higher ones. One of the reasons he hadn’t included any interior walls was so he could make the most of the wind and natural light.

He slid open the glass door to the playroom and squatted in front of Kun.

“I’m gonna vacuum, so don’t take out any more toys, okay?” he instructed, pulling apart the tracks Kun had worked so hard to put together and pushing them into the toy box.

Daddy’s the worst, Kun thought. He took a deep breath and yelled loud enough to be heard over the droning vacuum cleaner.

“Moooooommyyyyyyyy!”

He shouted toward the bedroom above, and the sound traveled all the way across the courtyard, through the dining and living rooms, and into the upper part of the house.

Mom was changing the baby’s diaper on the bed.

“Now, that feels better, doesn’t it?”

Kun ran all the way upstairs to the bedroom and stamped his feet.

“Hey! Didn’t you hear me?”

“Oh, Kun, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

Mom turned nonchalantly to look at him as if having just noticed him there.

Kun just sighed. It was all he could do.

Dad even swept the stairs leading down to the entryway.

The wooden front door had been inherited from the old house. The wind and rain and sun had aged it, but the battered surface gave the house personality. It was more than just a front door.

Dad had recycled quite a bit of the old house into the new one, starting with the distinctive orange tiles. The plywood doors on the cabinets around the living room and dining room were reused, too. One still bore a light circle on the sun-darkened wood as evidence of the clock that had hung there in the old house. He had purposely positioned that door where everyone could see it. These decisions weren’t remotely motivated by a desire to save money.

As an architect, Dad didn’t evaluate materials in terms of their age. He knew that “new” didn’t necessarily mean “good” and that certain qualities could be obtained only with the passage of time. He didn’t see “old” or “dirty” but rather “matured.” His perspective wasn’t unlike the affection many people have for old clothes they’ve worn for a long time.

He had adored the original little house they’d lived in. He liked the design, though he had no idea who was responsible for it, and he had enjoyed the time he had spent there with his wife. That was why he wanted the new house to feel like the old one, even if it was newly built. One could even say he wanted to preserve the history of his family’s home, however short. He wanted bits of their time there to endure, like geological layers to be unearthed by future generations. Those were his thoughts when planning the house.

At work, however, very few of his clients cared about such things. Usually, they wanted a brand-new house built from brand-new materials. Of course they did.

Finally, Dad stepped out the front door and cleaned the garage. The 1990 Volvo 240 parked there was the same one he’d driven for at least fifteen years after buying it used. He had replaced the radiator, the clutch, and countless other parts so he could hold on to it. Taking good care of things and using them for a long time was an important aspect of his approach to life.

“Congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you!”

Two mothers who lived in the neighborhood had stopped to congratulate the Ota family on their new baby. Dad thanked them from the front door, broom and dustpan in hand.

The woman with the bobbed hair and blue jeans was accompanied by her older son, who went to the same preschool as Kun, and was carrying her younger son in a baby sling. Before her children were born, she had worked as an independent doll maker, but now she was a stay-at-home mom. The other mom was wearing a knit dress with her long hair in a bun. She was pushing her son, who went to a different preschool, in a stroller and was pregnant with a baby girl due that spring. She had an office job at an insurance company and, like Kun’s mother, had continued working after her son was born. Both were good friends of the Otas, and their families often had dinner together. They wanted to know how Kun’s mother was doing after the birth.

“The baby must be so cute!”

“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten how tiny they are.”

“Everything must be easier this time around, since she’s your second.”

“Actually, I have a hard time remembering what it was like with our older son.”

“I hear you,” the mother with the bobbed hair agreed.

“Yumi said she’s going back to work sooner this time, right?” asked the one with the long hair.

“Yeah. One of her seniors in the editorial department who’s done a lot for her will be starting her own maternity leave soon. She’ll go back in time to cover for her.”

“And you’ll be taking over as househusband, she told us.”

“Well, I can’t exactly fill her shoes,” he said, grinning and waving his hands modestly. “The timing is just good because I recently quit my job to go freelance. I’ll only be working at home with a few chores in between.”

The women glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wow, impressive.”

“It’s nothing special.”

“You’re quite the father.”

“No, no, it’s really nothing.”

“Not many people could handle all that.”

“I swear, it’s not a big deal.”

Even though Kun’s father politely brushed away their compliments, he couldn’t help smiling.

And so…

“Hm hm hm hmmm…”

Dad was humming and smiling to himself as he prepared lunch. He plunged the noodles into a pot of boiling water with gusto, stirred them lightly with a pair of chopsticks like a professional chef, and put on the lid. Mom watched him coolly, smartphone in one hand, as she nursed the baby.

Dad glanced over his shoulder at her, finally noticing the attention. “…What’s up?”

“Nothing important.”

“C’mon, you have to tell me now. What is it?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

“Good.”

“You’ve always had a thing for playing the ‘nice father’ in front of the other mothers, haven’t you?”

“…Huh?”

Dad stiffened, the tension on his face clear.

“But we see right through you.”

“…”

Just then, the pot of noodles on the stove bubbled over with a fshhh, and the hot water splashed onto the floor.

“Dang it!”

He grabbed the nearest towel and started mopping up the spill.

“That towel is for wiping down the table.”

“Oh, shoot!”

He traded it for a floor rag.

“I’m going back to work in March. If you don’t get your act together by then—and I mean really get it together, not just for show—we’re going to have some problems,” said Mom, still holding the baby after feeding her.

“…I know.”

“I can’t do everything myself like last time.”

“…I know.”

His face was half-obscured by the kitchen table, and his voice was so quiet she could barely hear him.

“I’m gonna do lots for you.”

Kun pressed his cheek against the wicker bassinet and peered in at the baby.

“Fwaah.” She yawned as wide as she could with her little mouth.

Kun imagined the two of them playing together on a windswept plateau. “We can go on walks, and I’ll teach you the names of all the bugs.” He pointed to an insect with big eyes, a long, thin body, and two sets of translucent wings flitting across the imaginary sky. “Dragonfly.”

The baby opened her eyes wide.

“And I’ll tell you what the clouds look like.”

He pointed to a big white cloud billowing in the sky. It looked exactly like a certain spiderlike animal with eight legs, a poisonous stinger at the end of its tail, and a pair of claws for arms.

“Scorpion!”

The baby hiccupped softly.

“And—”

Just then…

“She’s too little to go outside,” Mom interrupted from the dining room. “You can do that when she gets bigger.”

Kun returned to reality with a start and pouted.

“Oh-kaaay.”

He walked away from the bassinet and pulled a picture book from a shelf in the corner of the living room. The words The Mysterious Backyard were written in typical handwriting on the cover. A typical little boy in typical pajamas held hands with a typical little girl in medieval clothes in front of a tree in a typical garden. It seemed like a silly book in the style of children’s books from England or America. Kun tossed it aside, pulled another one from the shelf, and ran back to the bassinet. He showed the cover to the baby.

“Hige and the Wicked Witch.”

The baby blinked as if very surprised.

“And then the witch got angry, and her face turned red, and she chased Hige around,” Kun told her, making up a random story as he arranged toy trains around the baby. “Hige ran away and got on an E235 Yamanote train.”

He stuck train-themed collectible cards between her toes.

“The witch got on an E233 Keihin-Tohoku train and chased him. But then…”

Suddenly, Mom ran into the living room, leaped over to him, and thrust out her hands.

“STOP!”

She snatched the baby away. The cards between her toes fluttered to the floor.

“Don’t bother her when she’s taking her afternoon nap!” she scolded as she walked back down.

Kun rocked the bassinet angrily.

“Grrrr!”

In the kitchen, Dad was anxiously preparing formula for the baby.

Mom kept an eye on him as she slipped nursing pads into her shirt, giving him detailed instructions like “Make sure you measure it right” and “Don’t let it boil.” Since she would be going back to work soon, she wanted her husband to get used to taking care of their daughter. Both dabbed drops of milk onto their arms to test the temperature.

“About like this?”

“Yeah.”

Now it was time to feed her. Dad had never done this before. He sat at the end of the table and took a deep breath, then lifted the baby from his wife’s arms and very timidly picked up the bottle. Right away, she began correcting him.

“Hold it up more.”

“Oh, right.”

Nervously, he put the nipple in the baby’s mouth.

“More.”

“More?”

“Put it all the way in.”

“All the way?”

“All the way to the back.”

“The back?”

“Yep.”

“Newborns are scary.”

“If you don’t get it in there right, she’ll end up sucking in air.”

Mom was leaning down so far that she almost toppled over. Dad’s shoulders were so tense he was barely moving. Both of them were completely focused on the baby. They didn’t pay one bit of attention when Kun called “Mommy” or “Daddy” behind them. Of course they heard, but they had no time for him right now.

“She’s not drinking very much.”

“Give her here.” Mom took the baby and gave her the bottle. “You have to do it like this.”

“Wow, she’s totally different with you.”

“Don’t forget to burp her when she’s done,” said Mom, handing her back to him.

He patted his daughter on the back as he’d been told.

“She’s not burping.”

“Keep trying. There’s a first time for everything.” Mom tried to encourage Kun’s white-faced father. After all, if he couldn’t do it, they would be in big trouble once she went back to work.

“Daaaaaddy! Mooooommy!” Kun shouted, rising up on his toes behind them. But they were too busy to notice.

Yukko calmly watched them from downstairs.

The shadow of the tent stretched long and dark in the afternoon sun.

Whenever Kun wanted to be by himself, he holed up in this tent in the corner of the playroom. It was red and yellow, like something from a circus.

He lay on the ground with just his head sticking out. He was pouting, and the look in his eyes was definitely dark. Kun’s emotions were always written plainly on his face.

Taped to the wall among the drawings and letters and dried flowers was a certain photograph. It showed a smiling three-year-old Kun between his mom and dad. Back then, he’d been happy.

I’m not happy now, Kun thought.

Why not…?

Because of the baby.

Right then and there, he made a decision and retreated into the tent.

“Use this laundry soap for the underwear.”

Mom was giving Dad the rundown in front of the washer-dryer in the bathroom.

“What about the socks?”

“Use the same one.”

Kun observed them stealthily, then crept away. This wasn’t how he usually acted. He seemed very serious and had a scheming look in his eyes. The hood of his parka was pulled tight around his pudgy face.

He was definitely up to something, like a little ninja.

He crept down the stairs to the living room, careful not to make a sound, gingerly lifting each foot and putting it down again. Would they notice him? His heart was pounding. He was so nervous he missed a step. “Oh!” he yelped before he could stop himself. Frantically, he clapped both hands over his mouth. Did they hear…? No, they didn’t. His parents were so absorbed in the washer-dryer they didn’t notice a thing.

He found the bassinet and slowly tiptoed over.

He crouched and glared into it.

The baby was inside, snoring softly as she slept.

Dumb baby. She had no idea she was in danger. She was completely at peace.

Kun reached both hands toward her helpless face. His splayed fingers trembled nervously.

“…”

He grasped her ears between his thumbs and index fingers and tugged. They stretched out like rubber bands.

Just like an elephant! He giggled at how silly she looked.

“…Pfft.”

Next, he pulled on her cheeks. This time, they stretched like bread dough.

“Hee-hee,” he giggled again.

He did it over and over. Boing, boing, boing, boing!

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

He couldn’t help laughing. When he pulled on both cheeks at the same time, she looked like an octopus.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

She was too funny!

He slapped his hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.

Then, he pressed her little nose down with his index finger. Now she was a pig.

“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!”

It was so funny he thought he was going to cry.

Just then…

“Uwaaaa…”

…the baby screwed up her face, and big pearls formed at the corners of her eyes.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!”

She was crying at the top of her lungs. Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed onto her chest. Kun didn’t know what to do. Wait! If you cry like that, they’ll hear you! he thought.

“What’s going on?”

Mom had come running from the bathroom and was now standing behind him.

“Uh-oh!”

Kun tried to hide the crying baby behind his back, but of course, that was impossible. Mom towered over him and tersely demanded, “Kun, what did you do? You promised to be good friends, remember?”

“I can’t.” He shook his head.

“Please, for Mommy. I want you to be very, very nice to her.”

His head whipped back and forth over and over as she pleaded with him.

“I can’t.”

“Pretty please?”

“I can’t!”

“Kun.”

He closed his eyes tight and answered her one word at a time in a very loud voice.

“I. Can’t!!”

On impulse, he picked up the Doctor Yellow train from under the table and swung it hard toward the baby.

“!”

Mom covered her face with her hands in shock.

Bam!

The train struck the baby in the head. At first, she just stared as if she didn’t know what had happened. Then, tears began overflowing from the corners of her eyes, and she started screaming like a spark catching flame.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Look what you did!”

Mom thrust her hands instinctively toward the bassinet, knocking Kun over in the process.

“Ow!”

“I can’t believe you! She’s just a newborn!”

When Kun saw the fury in his mother’s eyes as she hugged the baby protectively to her chest, he suddenly knew that he had just lost something terribly important. Realizing that something would be impossible to recover, his face crumpled. His hood had slipped back, and tears and snot began gushing like water spilling over a dam. He flopped onto the floor and thrashed like an overturned turtle.

“Wwwwwwaaaaaaaaaah!” His shrieks made the baby cry even harder.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Yukko had run up to the living room and joined the howling.

“Oo-woooooo! Oo-woooooo!”

Dad stood there and watched the mess unfold with bated breath.

“…Gulp.”

Mom shot him a sharp look over her shoulder.

“Don’t just stand there!”

“Uh, right.”

After handing him the baby, she pinned down the struggling Kun with both hands so he couldn’t budge. It was the tactic she used when she wanted to check whether he had done a good job brushing his teeth.

“Kun, you’re the big brother, right?”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are.”

“You’re not my mommy!”

“Okay then, who am I?”

“The wicked witch!”

“Wha…?!”

Her face flushed redder and angrier by the second. She was the very picture of the eponymous crone in Hige and the Wicked Witch, with pointy teeth and a wrinkly forehead and little horns.

“What?! What did you just say?!”

“Waaaaah!” Kun wriggled out of her grasp and wrapped his arms around Dad’s knees. “Daaaaaddy!”

But the white-faced father had his hands full with his wailing daughter.

“Shhhh, shhhh, good girl, that’s a good girl.” He rocked her back and forth, singing an odd little tune. “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” he continued softly.

Without Dad to rely on, Kun dashed out of the room.

“Grah!”

In that instant, the infant suddenly stopped crying and opened her eyes wide.

“…!”

What in the world had she seen?