Nina. Hmmm… I like it. It’s cool yet catchy. Nina… Yes, I like it very much.
You’re probably wondering why I’m talking such rubbish. It because we have to choose new names. Mama says we do. She’s told me and Fabian everything. Something called a Visa, which keeps her working in this country, has ran out. The only way we can stay in this country is for Mama to marry. Me and Fabian both know that will never happen. It might, we just don’t know.
She’s making us change our names, start a better life, in the same place, just with different names. My ten-year-old brother chose Fabian. I like that name, too.
The thing is, Mama doesn’t want to go back to Japan. Having to start a new life in a new place is hard, as it’s just been proven.
Mama is refusing to tell my five-year-old brother, Alfie, what is going on. He’s still upset that Papa hasn’t visited. He won’t. Never. Because he’s in Japan, with another woman. That’s why we’re here in the first place, in Ireland, escaping from the tragedy that lies within where we came from. Where Papa betrayed us.
But I have a new life now, and I love it. I’ve made new friends: Riley, Kiera and Erin. They are all so nice to me, ever since I can here. But now I’m moving schools, I have to leave them, for the outside world.
The only thing I can remember of Japan is the kimonos Mama used to wear. But she threw them out. I don’t understand why, I mean, she used to love them. Wearing them every day, even when she went to the supermarket. She got angry with them, and chopped them up. It scared me, but I’m safe now. Hopefully.
“What was Japan like?” asked Alfie. He could never remember what it was like. He was three when we left, which was probably why he can’t remember us, nor his Papa.
I don’t understand why Papa wanted to do such a thing. I mean, he had three lovely kids who adored him, and a wife that when he got home from a hard day at work, she would cook him up his favourite dish, spicy noodles with a side of sushi. So, who couldn’t be happier? It’s awful to think about it, so I try not too. If my Mama hears me go on about Papa to Fabian or Alfie, she’ll come over and cut some of my hair off. That’s a punishment Mama’s mama used to do to her, so that’s passed over. It was a punishment Japanese people used to do all the time years ago.
“Arufī wa, watashi wa anata no kuchi kara Nippon no betsu no kotoba o kiite shitakunai baai wa, anata wa watashi o rikai shite imasu ka?” Mama yelled across the kitchen to Alfie. For some reason, she doesn’t like us talking about Japan, but she’s fine with us speaking it.
“Mōshiwake arimasenga, Mama,” Alfie retorted, hanging his head.
Hopefully, life will get much easier than it is now. Mama will find somebody who she can marry and we’ll live happily ever after. Well. That’s how it goes in most story books, anyway.
