The Journey of Our Last Smile

by Adrian Brown (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown United Kingdom

We sit beneath fluorescent lights, at a table shaped like a crescent moon. Our lunches cool beneath an exchange of stories set in our hometowns. We speak of food and education. We speak of pain, heartbreak and healing. We speak of war and everything it takes to escape one in one piece. Jiono is opposite of me in every way. Aged and pale with thin lips and tiny, down-angled eyes. Her nose, long and thin in contrast to mine which is short and wide. My hair sits atop my scalp in a curly, brown puff, defiant of the laws of gravity. Hers is an endless, black waterfall, cascading and completely covering the left side of her face. A mysterious geisha comes to life as she depicts the state of her beloved Okinawa and the people she left behind. Delicate fingers push loose strands of hair behind her ear, revealing the band of a white and blue surgical mask; half-removed out of politeness and only for the sake of this conversation. An occasional tear forms as it unfolds, but mostly, we wear identical smiles which threaten to touch all seven continents before fading. I am enraptured, losing track of time and journeying instead, back and forth across the seas which dance between our origins. “I had to leave them to the island.” She sighs sadly, “The times proved too difficult for us to bear together. I saved nearly three years for visa and travel, only straying to purchase clothing for my two children or a cup of zenzai from the market to comfort me. Still, there was not enough money for all of us to board the boat. I could not fathom taking only one child.” Remorse and compassion fill my bones as she continues, eyeing a crack in the table. “Some say I am selfish, and I suppose, they have a right to their opinions of me. I nearly agreed with them myself, crossing the sea all alone, while the others beside me clung to their families during the voyage. I mostly dream about my children. Cried a lot the first two years we were apart but then, grew stronger. When I made it to China, I thought I would be a different person. Hawaii, heading to a different world. London, maybe, a different life. No matter where I travelled, I seem to have left the biggest piece of me behind, as souvenir for my family.” She taps the space of her chest where her heart resides. I search my mind, seeking anything of significance to ease her pain but can only manage a sympathetic grin. She returns it warmly. “The U.K. has been kind to me, but I welcome the deportation.” Though I am unsure as to which of us she is reassuring, she adds, “I am going back to retrieve it. Everything I left behind.” A woman sitting just beyond Jiono begins to cough loudly. The corners of Jiono’s mouth twitch. It takes a bit of restraint to not immediately reach for her mask in these current times, but she succeeds, focusing instead upon my eyes. “How did you end up here?” She interrogates, shifting her attention. After all she’s shared with me, my story seems stagnant and trivial in comparison. The truth is that I am just here for information after receiving notice from Home office that my visa extension has been denied. With no formal deportation against me, worst case scenario, I will leave voluntarily, returning home, to the U.S., by the week’s end. “A bit of chaos and a bit of strange luck.” Is all I can think to say. She reaches across the table hesitantly. Patting my hand, says, “Everything will work out fine. You’ll end up wherever you’re supposed to be.” A woman calls from an opened door at the deportation center, “Ms. Nakamura?” Jiono returns her mask to its starting position across her face, gathering her belongings as she stands. Her eyes shine down on me, hinting that behind the fabric, is a smile reaching across the sea to touch mine. I tap my chest. Right at the space where my heart resides. She disappears beyond the door, stepping into another life.