Diary of a Void

by Emi Yagi

kūshin replaces “mother and child” with an “empty core” or, in our translation, a “void.”

So this is pregnancy. What luxury. What loneliness.

“Hey, this isn’t so bad!” he exclaimed as I showed him what to do. You’re right about that, I said back. That’s why it’s called instant coffee.

Was I imagining things, or was I actually floating? Lying there, utterly naked in the Dead Sea, I remembered a dugong I’d seen years ago at the aquarium. Floating there in the dark green water. The picture of innocence, as if it had never once been involved in any weird plans—its own, or anyone else’s.

But listening to music alone in my room, with all the time in the world … I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. An artist, someone I couldn’t see, singing, putting their heart and soul into it. Where should I look, what kind of face should I make? The more members in the band, the more awkward I felt. What did other people do—people who thought of themselves as music lovers?

Down into the void that was my belly.

In moments like that, I’d just put my hand on my empty belly and give it a little pat. I could at least act the part. It’s all about how you carry yourself.

I was now in my fourteenth week.

I decided to use the box cutter I had in my pocket. Cutting-edge technology.

But even in my ignorance, it seemed pretty obvious that smooth cylinders were better than rough ones.

“Hey … Microwave?” My name’s not Microwave.

Isn’t that what people always did? Go their own way, never even bothering to let you know? One moment they’re there, the next they’re gone. And it all happens so quietly that you don’t even realize they aren’t there anymore.

And who was this guy to tell me what my imaginary baby was going to be?

have been saved by you, and by your child! Then again, to be eternally known as the Virgin Mother, as if that’s the only thing that gave meaning to your existence … Hey, did you have any hobbies of your own? Or maybe there was a singer you were really into? You must have gotten stressed out sometimes. I mean, being called the Virgin Mother, even after your son was all grown up … And then to have him crucified like that. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I just hope you managed to live your life the way you wanted, to take naps when you felt like it, to know yourself by a name that made sense to you ….

Next time you choose a family, maybe you should give some more thought to the kid’s wishes? I looked back up at them from the bottom of the stairs. The dolls didn’t agree or fight back.

Yeah, pregnancy is hard. I nodded.

When she smiled, the silver crowns on her back teeth caught the light.

Everywhere I looked, I saw ghosts, still stuck here in this old house, even though my brother and I had grown up and left years ago.

Maybe if I said it to myself enough times, if I really prayed for it, it just might …

Who was I to determine what kind of person someone else should become?

I could think of plenty of things that I didn’t want him to be.

“His name’s going to be Sorato. Sorato Shibata. Sorato, with two kanji: the first for ‘sky,’ or ‘air,’ like ‘out of thin air,’ and the second for ‘person.’”

Did she get bored and give up? Or was it just that I started getting home later?

But if I’d already come this far, what was stopping me from going anywhere I wanted? I could head straight to the airport and get on a plane to some foreign country, still in my pajamas.

Even when there was no actual song playing, I could hear music in the footsteps of children as they ran through the streets, and the voices filling the marketplace.

If they were outside, they’d be bursting with color, but here in the dark, the patterns appeared to be resting—maybe even plotting something.

“I don’t know what ‘expensive’ is for you, or why it matters if you live on your own or not, but I think you should make your place look the way you want, before you forget what that is.”

I guess I didn’t really like him, and that’s why I could keep wearing them.

Maybe that’s what making a family is all about: creating an environment in which people make space for one another—maybe without even trying, just naturally, to make sure that nobody’s forgotten.

I suddenly wanted something of my own, something to make space for. Even if it was just my own and no one else could even see it—something like a lie. And maybe if I could really hold on to that thing, a snowy night like tonight might become something else, something just a little different.

She had spectacularly white hair, like a narcissus that had bloomed just that morning.

And, yeah, he cried when Yuri was born, but as far as he’s concerned, he just came inside me, then months later here was this baby girl.

Even though he’s maybe eight inches away, blissfully asleep, he’s more of a stranger than some random politician I’ve never met or some stray dog somewhere in Brazil. I feel more alone with him than I do when I’m on my own.”

“And there are a lot of people—husbands, parents-in-law, even your own parents—who say horrible things that make you want to say, ‘Fine, let’s trade places.’ But they can’t. They can never take your place. They can’t even understand you. Because they’re not you. I mean, I’m standing right here with you, Hosono, and there’s no way for me to really get how depleted you are, how exhausted.”

But why do I have to deal with these people who try to act like they care about me or my pregnancy while they ask the most inane, prying questions? Why is it up to me to produce answers that please them? And why is the way home so much darker and colder on nights like that?

“I’m so alone. I’m sorry—this has nothing to do with how hard things are for you, Hosono. But I’m always so alone. I guess I should be used to it by now. That’s the way it is from the moment we come into this world, but I’m still not used to it—how alone we all are.”

“Then there’s the other side of it. Why can’t anybody just mind their own business? It’s not like they actually care about you or anything, but they’re still happy to tell you that what you’re doing isn’t right when they should really just stay out of it. They’re so annoying, and I’m so alone—I feel like I might forget who I am.”

“Even if it’s a lie, it’s a place of my own. That’s why I’m going to keep it. It doesn’t need to be a big lie—just big enough for one person. And if I can hold on to that lie inside my heart, if I can keep repeating it to myself, it might lead me somewhere. Somewhere else, somewhere different. If I can do that, maybe I’ll change a little, and maybe the world will, too.”

I found myself looking at my hands. I simply couldn’t believe I’d been allowed to witness this spectacle without leaving my own body.

The first thing I need to do when I get home is turn on the light.

I wanted to pass on their words to the artist himself—the artist who had sold only one painting in his lifetime.

Typical Yukino. It’s just like her to move ahead with things without anyone even catching on. But it’s probably like that for everybody. Yukino’s more open than most, maybe. She’s a good egg.

The textbook I had out on my kilim was so intimidating, but full of promise at the same time. Opening these books as an adult, I couldn’t shake this feeling—like they just might help me get away from where I was now.

At work, everybody had learned how to make the coffee—with the sole exception of the section head.

work to find my old section different—just a little different. If the phone rang four times or so, somebody would pick up. When the mail and faxes started piling up, the first person to notice would make sure it got taken care of. When the copier ran out of ink, the person who was using the machine would replace the cartridge without pretending they hadn’t noticed. If anyone saw something on the floor, they’d pick it up. When we got boxes of sweets from clients, it was no longer one person’s job to go around the office doling them out. There was a desk called the snack station, and everyone could go there to collect their own treats.

Thanks to her, Sorato keeps getting bigger all the time.

Yeah, I’d love to have another baby. Maybe by the time I’m thirty-seven.