Practical Rika

CHAPTER TWO Not his student anymore


Rika’s mother was quiet the rest of the evening wondering the fate of her daughter. “Kentaro.” Her voice was soft as she called out to him. “Something wrong Ashiko?” she wiped her hands on the front of flour dusted apron. “Look at this. Rika brought this home today.” Ken took the rumpled application in his hands reading carefully over the costs and criteria. “And she really wants to go?” His eyes looked faraway as he frowned.


The months flew by and soon the last day of school came faster than she had expected. Sakura and Li smiled as they planned with the rest of her friends for the upcoming break. “Rika are you looking forward to you’re new school?” Rika smiled. “Well I’ll miss everyone of course. Here I brought a book for all of you to put in your emails so we don’t lose track of each other.” Her classmates eagerly crowded each writing carefully their name and email and extending a hug, then the bell rang and the triumphant students left waiting to conquer sophomore year. All but Rika who stood there wondering how much she was leaving behind.

“So you’re really going?” Terada-sensei lips spread in something too sad to be a smile. “Yep. Leaving for Tokyo Lab School then transferring to their American counterpart this fall.” “I have something for you.” The look of delighted surprise spread like a glimmering light in her eyes. “Really?” She found herself lost in his eyes again staring up into their depths, his creamy skin and soft brown hair that fell sleepily across his brow. “For my hardest working and most mature student.” Rika flushed torn between delightment and loss. His hand came behind her and brushed against her shoulders. Rika shivered. Glancing behind her, she couldn’t help but let glee seep into her voice, “May I open it?” Uncharacteristically blushing, Terada moved the bag he had secreted away under his desk. He coughed to clear his dust dry throat. “Actually, I got you two things. One is a thing to comfort you and the other is to inspire you to write.” Her fingers brushed against the neat brown paper wrappings and plain string. Her breath caught and she turned to give a blinding smile. “A journal?” “French leather, to inspire you to write about all your adventures.” Holding it close to her chest she felt tears brimming. “I’m going to save the other one for the plane ride so I have something to look forward to.” One tear spilled and it the rich smelling butter colored leather. “Thank you for everything.” She was at the door jam when Terada stopped her. “Wait, you can’t leave without exchanging emails.” Her smile lit up the light dimmed room as she nodded outstretching her address book.

The first letter arrive a week before she left.

Dear Rika,
I am sure you are busy and excited with packing and getting on to that new life you’ve always dreamed. A part of me is sad to lose you as a student while another is happy we can be friends like you are with Shayoan Li and Kinamoto Sakura.
Today I wrote out my new class roster. It’ll be lonely without you to talk to in school but I’m sure I’ll make it.
I bought a house today. Pretty impulsive for someone on a teacher’s salary I assure you but it was too enchanting to pass up: gingerbread style roofing, a love seat facing the street. I can’t wait to move in. At 26 I feel like I may be finally growing up… Or maybe not. When you get to your dorm describe it to me so that I can imagine it. A little secret between us, I went to the same school you’re going to now except at the time it was an all boys’ school. Go to the third floor of Bachman Hall and go to the room 311. If they haven’t gotten rid of it there might still be a piece of my shoe there.
The story behind that I will give in my next letter.
Your teacher,
Terada Sensei

Mildly annoyed, she brought up a word document cutting and pasting the email to be printed out and glued in the pages of the journal that he had given.

Dear Terada,
Remember that I am no longer your student. From now on I would like you to see me as your friend.
As friends I have found though that I know very little about you. I mean I know your favorite food, color and now where you went to school but I feel almost as if you are filtering your words to me and deleting what a teacher should not say. I have no judgment to pass on you. If you can’t divorce yourself from the idea of me being practical Rika, your star student we can make up a different history for ourselves and pretend its real. You could have met me at a poetry reading in a British pub or better yet we could have met in passing on a street in America, far from any memory of practical Rika.
Simply,
Rika
Terada frowned, half drained coffee cup in hand as he tilted his head to one side. She was right, he was filtering his words trending carefully as if he was in conference with a particularly prickly parent. The kind of whimsy that curled between the lines of her letter made him smile. Didn’t she know that it was her sweet practicality that gave her that charming naiveté? Suddenly flushing he closed the email window only to reopen it a moment later. After all, she wasn’t his student anymore.

The screen was taking forever to load. Was she too harsh in the last time she wrote to him? The question itched in the back of her mind. Her eyes scrolling through school notices and junk she caught the email title meet me. Hesitating she clicked.

Dear Rika,
It is sad to admit that someone still unable to drive outsmarted me but you are right. We should just be friends; you are not my student. So you say that we meet on the street? What year is this? Am I older, younger? Clothes? I just want to know the makings of the scene from a future best selling writer.
Only when I go on dates that my mother copiously sets up in-between going to temple service do I actually think of myself in a serious light. You may laugh at my mother’s efforts but archaic tradition or not, I am the only son to a business empire. Do I want to be the head of a corporation? No, not really. It has never been an extreme desire of mine to crush small business under my iron fist as I laugh monarchy. After all, your bakery sells the best scones in town, where would I get something that complements coffee as well as a ginger-lime scone, incrusted in honey.
Have you gone on a date before? I know that it’s brash in me asking but I don’t mean offense. I mean to ask, have you ever been in the awkward position of having to examine your soul just to condense it in an answer that could get you to a second date?
I highly doubt it.
Your friend,
Terada.