Diary of a Void

by Emi Yagi

I’ve always thought of myself as a big music fan. When I walk to the station, or when I’m waiting for a friend or a train, I listen to music on my phone. I go to festivals and shows every summer. 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? Did they just sit there with their eyes closed as they took it in? Did they stare off, bobbing their heads and moving along to the music? Here I was, more than thirty years of life behind me, still completely unaware of the simplest things.

“He got tickets to one of those art aquariums from a client and he asked me if I wanted to go. It was pretty. But there were two college kids right in front of us, boyfriend and girlfriend. And the guy was telling the girl he’d stick by her side, no matter what. Even if the whole world turned against her. I mean . . . come on . . . right?” “Some people really say stuff like that,” Momoi chimed in, scanning the list of drinks. Maybe because the place was so dim, she had the menu right up to her face. A few short strands of stiff-looking hair fell forward from behind her ears. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen her with long hair since she’d had her first child. “No, that’s true, but . . .” Yukino began. “What?” “Well, why do you want to turn the whole world against your girlfriend like that? I mean, when was the last time the whole world turned against anybody? Good luck taking on the whole world anyway. . . . Like, if he really loves her, shouldn’t he just stop her before she does anything stupid enough to piss off the whole world?”

If I had to give a jelly to each of my coworkers, I’d be three cups short. Well, I suppose I could go without one. Higashinakano, too. Now all I needed was for somebody to be out of office. Was anyone visiting clients today? But—wait a minute. Why was I so quick to deny myself this pleasure?

A coworker who handled packaging for one of the major candy makers gave me a huge supply of Koala’s March, which I also worked through in no time. As a child, I’d gotten such a thrill out of their cute expressions and striking poses, each one unique. Now I was tossing the bite-sized marsupials straight into my mouth. What was I turning into?

I’m sure you were totally freaked out when they told you that you were pregnant, but at least your baby’s birth is now celebrated all around the world! And so many people 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. . . .

Thirty-four years on this earth, but I couldn’t remember anything about how I’d spent the first few days of any January.

What kind of person do I want my baby to be? If I’m really going to have a baby . . . I thought about it for a while but couldn’t make up my mind. Who was I to determine what kind of person someone else should become?

I dipped a toe into one world, then another. I’d managed to see a whole lot of movies in less than a month. On the train, I started reading a blog called The Best Movies You’ve Never Seen, and I was surprised to find that I’d seen a good number of them. But what surprised me most as I read the blog was how I couldn’t remember much of anything that had happened in those worlds. These were movies I’d seen over the past few weeks. At first, I took notes on what I was watching, but I stopped before long. I couldn’t keep up. That’s why I can’t even remember what I’ve watched anymore. It’s a blur, most of the characters who have appeared on my screen simply passing through me. Most found happiness, some met tragedy, and a few more went on their way with knowing looks on their faces, as if they just might have figured it all out.

The internet’s a great place for finding out about stuff you’re kind of interested in, but it can’t really help with the things you really want to know. It’s even worse for things you don’t know anything about.

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.

“Everybody says so. ‘You must be so happy,’ ‘You’re so lucky,’ ‘She has your eyes.’ But she doesn’t! She’s always crying! I can’t even get a good look at her face. Well, when I was with my parents, and my mom was holding her, I kind of thought she looked like me. But since we came home? Nothing but crying. She’s always crying. She sleeps sometimes. Just for short stretches, but she sleeps. And that’s when I need to wash her bottles. They need time to dry. Then I have to do the chores. How does anybody keep this up? Are they superhuman or what? Am I supposed to hang the piles of laundry and do all the cleaning while carrying this kid the whole time? The second I put her down on the bed, she starts screaming. I swear, it’s like she’s got a button on her back. What’s your problem with gravity? Why do you hate lying down so much? Did somebody murder you in your sleep in a past life? Anyway, it’s fine. It’s not Yuri’s fault. Oh, that’s her name. Yuri. She’s a part of me, another me. And, sure, I know it’s not going to last forever. She really is precious, though. The real problem’s my husband. What good is he? At night, when Yuri’s crying, he gets all pissed off about how he has to go to work in the morning. Actually, I wish he’d get pissed off more. He always tries to hold it in. And that really pisses me off. I can tell how mad he is, but he acts like he’s so understanding. Yeah right. I mean, if you understand, why don’t you do anything to help out on weekends? Why do I have...

I know women are the only ones who can give birth, but once the baby’s born, why the hell should our roles be so different? Breastfeeding, I get, but what about everything else? Don’t tell me you need more time to figure out how to be a dad. Like, what have you been doing for the last nine months? Don’t just sit there and watch. This isn’t a field trip! You say you’ve got work, but what about me? I’ve got work, too! Well, I did. I know it paid nothing compared to what you make. . . . Anyway, isn’t that what paternity leave is for? I’m not saying take it right now, but did it occur to you that maybe I could work and you could stay at home? Did it even occur to you? Why should I act so grateful just because you changed your daughter’s diaper one time? Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I’m worn out? Maybe it has, but, what, you think that’s just part of being a mom?

“I’ve been reading a lot of childbirth and pregnancy blogs lately. Don’t you think it’s weird how in an age of cryptocurrency and telework, childbirth—something experienced by pretty much half the world’s population—is still so hard and so painful? Breastfeeding, giving the baby all you’ve got, never getting a half hour to just sleep . . .”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”