My Mother's Illness: The Escape Arc – Aftermath: Total Defeat

 I have completely lost patience with my father.

He has absolutely no sense of gratitude.

Whenever he gets angry, he always says:

> "I appreciate everything you've done for me, **but**..."

The moment he adds that "but," he ruins the entire sentence, yet he doesn't seem to realize it.

I no longer feel sorry for him.

As his son, I will do the bare minimum to ensure his safety.

Beyond that, I have no intention of doing anything.

He can do whatever he wants.

But one thing is certain:

**I will never allow him to interfere with my mother's care.**

Now then, this is what happened after my escape.

On Sunday morning at nine, my partner and I left home.

I wanted to buy some adult coloring books at the station bookstore.

The night before, I had watched a TV program featuring someone doing coloring as part of rehabilitation therapy, and that gave me the idea.

I bought two books: one with sweets and desserts, and another with flowers.

After saying goodbye to my partner, who had to work, I headed for Nagano.

This time, I wasn't in a hurry.

The trip was completely stress-free.

The only problem was that I was unbelievably sleepy.

If I missed my connection in Nagoya, the next stop would be Yokohama.

I fought desperately to keep my eyes open.

After changing to the highway bus in Nagoya, I finally arrived in Nagano.

I got off at a bus stop near my favorite supermarket and bought some food for my father.

Then I walked 2.2 kilometers home.

The bags were heavy, but my steps felt light.

After all, there was nothing left to worry about.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived home.

I opened the front door.

**Something smelled awful.**

The entire house reeked.

My father was playing online Go and didn't even notice that I had come home.

I headed toward the kitchen.

The moment I opened the kitchen door, a terrible odor hit me.

The first thing I noticed was the rice cooker.

The keep-warm light was still on.

*No way...*

Unfortunately, I was right.

The rice that had been cooked two days earlier was still inside.

When I opened the lid, a powerful stench burst out.

The rice had turned yellow.

Parts of it had dried into hard chunks, while other parts had become almost liquid.

Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink.

More dirty dishes sat on trays on the kitchen cart.

Empty natto containers, retort food packages, and all kinds of garbage were scattered everywhere.

*What... am I looking at?*

The kitchen I had last seen through the security camera wasn't nearly this bad.

*How did it end up like this...?*

My father finally noticed me and came into the kitchen.

"Oh, you're back."

"This is pretty bad."

I think he said something to excuse himself after that, but I honestly don't remember.

"This is terrible. The rice has gone bad."

"No, it hasn't. I ate some this morning.

Rice just doesn't taste very good if you keep it warm too long.

Some parts are hard and some are soft, but it's fine."

"What? Of course it's gone bad.

We have to throw all of it away."

"No, it's fine."

"It's rotten!

And you haven't washed a single dish!"

My father simply returned to the living room.

He sat down and watched TV as if nothing had happened.

I could tell that he expected me to clean everything up.

Nine hours after leaving Okayama, this was the last thing I expected to see.

*I can't do this anymore.*

I put my luggage upstairs and told him,

"This is awful.

There's no fixing this.

I can't use this kitchen.

I'm going to the curry restaurant."

My father looked completely confused, but made a gesture as if he understood.

I went to a nearby curry restaurant and ordered a 1,600-yen set meal.

I ate as slowly as possible.

I didn't want to go back home.

The curry there isn't very good.

At least, not to me.

Under normal circumstances, I might have been making delicious curry in my own kitchen instead.

All I could do was sigh.

On the way back, I deliberately took a long detour, looking at restaurants I might visit next time.

I didn't want to return to that kitchen.

Eventually, I arrived home.

I had run along dirt roads through the fields, and my white pants were now completely covered in mud.

After changing clothes, I entered the kitchen again.

*It still smells...*

I had left the ventilation fan running at full power before going out, but the source of the smell was still there.

My father was watching TV.

When he noticed me in the kitchen, he came over to ask about dinner.

I think he asked what we were having for supper.

"I already ate.

I told you I was going to the curry restaurant.

I can't cook anything in a kitchen like this."

"What?

You already ate?

You should have taken me with you."

"I was starving."

He simply went back to watching TV.

"So, what about dinner?"

"Well... I don't really need to eat."

"Come on, you have to eat something.

Why don't you have some udon?"

"Okay."

I put some frozen udon into a bowl that apparently hadn't been used yet and heated it in the microwave.

I added a few cherry tomatoes and called it dinner.

There was still homemade soup, tomatoes, simmered beans, and boiled Chinese cabbage in the refrigerator.

Apparently, he was determined not to eat vegetables under any circumstances.

After finishing his meal, my father brought the dishes back.

Three cherry tomatoes remained on the plate.

"You're not going to eat those?"

"I don't want them."

"Eat them."

He reluctantly ate the tomatoes.

Then he tossed the stems into the sink, which was already overflowing with dirty dishes.

"Don't throw them there."

He looked at me as if to say,

*"Why not?"*

As he started to walk away, I asked,

"You're not going to wash the dishes?"

"..."

"Who's going to wash all this?

I don't want to deal with this after traveling nine hours to get here."

He finally agreed to wash them, so I showed him how to use the dishwasher.

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Pretty convenient, isn't it?

But everything won't fit."

"Then we can just do multiple loads."

"Each cycle takes two hours."

"Two hours?"

"Yeah.

But you don't have to do anything while it's running.

The rest you wash by hand."

"I *was* washing them."

"If you had been, it wouldn't look like this."

My father picked up a pair of chopsticks from the sink, quickly rinsed them under running water, and wiped them with a dish towel.

"That's disgusting!"

"Why?!"

"Use dish soap properly!"

"I *did* use soap!"

"Really?"

He then reached for the hand soap.

The hand soap was something I had bought on the way home.

It hadn't even been in the house when he supposedly washed the dishes.

"That's hand soap.

This is the dish detergent."

How he had supposedly been washing dishes without even knowing which soap to use remains a mystery.

His movements were clumsy, and the dirt wasn't coming off at all.

So I demonstrated how to do it.

He watched for a little while and then said:

"I'm tired.

Can I go rest?"

I think I'm the one who's tired...

I couldn't force an old man who claimed to be exhausted to keep washing dishes.

It took me until after ten o'clock at night to restore that kitchen from hell.

Completely exhausted, I collapsed upstairs.

Then I heard my father call out from downstairs:

"Sleeping?"

"I spent more than two hours washing dishes!

I'm exhausted!"

There was no response.

Maybe he couldn't hear me.

Or maybe he simply ignored me.

When I escaped, I proudly declared:

> I left the lunch dishes behind!

> I left the garbage behind!

> I left the laundry behind!

> I ate all the prepared salad!

But the reality was:

> The lunch dishes were still there!

> The garbage had rotted!

> The laundry had increased!

> The prepared food was untouched!

It was a complete defeat.

The victor, my father, was leisurely taking a bath.

I'm at my limit...

The next day, I launched a strike.

That story will be in the next article.