Joshoku Page 3

  “I told you that you were naughty,” Reina said, letting Aiko put her leg back down and kissing her forehead. “I like this bra.” She pulled the strap back up. “Let’s put it back on the rack so some other girl can have such good luck.”

  Endorphins had done a good enough number on Aiko’s brain and body that she would have agreed to anything. Even such a juvenile prank like the one Reina suggested.

  Book bag pressing against her shoulder, Reina picked up her lunch of curry and rice from the cafeteria attendant. “Be careful with that tray,” the auntie said, a cross necklace resting atop her white uniform. “Every time someone drops one, Jesus cries.”

  Well that’s special. Seemed like this Jesus guy did a lot of crying over inconsequential things. Over the past two weeks Reina had heard this sentence construction many times from the elderly women working odd jobs. Wore a short skirt? Jesus cried. Chewed on your pencil? Jesus started sobbing. Drank alcohol? Hysteria. Fucked women? Sister Angela blamed a recent rainstorm on Reina, citing, “Your joshoku made Jesus weep so hard the gutters are flooding!” She didn’t care about the two men in Reina’s kanji class who seemed to be more than buddies, sharing secrets outside the men’s restroom. One time she heard them say, “Party at Hard Time this weekend?” Reina had never been to a gay-male bar before, but Hard Time was infamous for its parties in Ni-chome.

  “Hey, Reina-san!”

  She stopped halfway through the dining room, looking for an empty table to eat at. A feat, since there was only seating for two-hundred on a campus boasting three times that many students at any given time. I don’t eat with these people. Strangers, of course. Oh, Reina loved strangers. Strange women in a gay bar, anyway. Young adults snorting about baseball games and the latest fashion trends? Not so much. She liked to do her reading during lunch and get the hell out of there.

  “Reina-san, over here!”

  A pale hand zipped around in the air, calling Reina’s attention. She craned her head and saw Hitomi, the girl from both her kanji and classical Japanese courses. Beside her was Yoko, and between the both of them was a young man sitting close enough to Hitomi to make Sister Angela fly into a pre-marital fornications rage. Thankfully no nuns patrolled the dining hall. They don’t run this place like they do the high school. Once the girls became legal adults, Japanese societal norms won out over foreign religions.

  “Come sit with us, Reina-san! We have an extra seat!” Yeah, between the dude and Yoko.

  Reina was not known for her friendly disposition, so why this girl was so insistent on making nice with her went over her head. The type of person I want most to avoid. Lunch with Sister Angela, making her foam at the mouth, was more attractive than sitting with banal people. But there was nowhere else to sit, unless Reina wanted to stand and wait.

  Yoko removed her bag from the empty seat at the small square table. Reina placed her tray down and sank into the warm chair, aware that three sets of eyes stared at her, including a man’s. He could be the nicest guy in the universe, and his attentions would still make someone like Reina uncomfortable.

  “This is Reina Yamada-san,” Hitomi said to the fellow, a young man with stubble on his chin and a large flannel shirt around his shoulders. “She’s in my kanji class. I think Classical Japanese as well?”

  Reina shifted in her seat. “Yeah.”

  “Right. You sit way in the back by yourself. Kawai sou. I don’t know how anyone can see the instructor’s tiny handwriting from back there.”

  That’s how I like it. “And you sit in the front.” Kiss ass.

  Hitomi flipped her hair behind her shoulder like a model in a TV commercial. God, her entire demeanor was the exact type Reina abhorred. Overconfident, conventionally pretty, and vapid as fuck. She probably came from good money, but couldn’t pass the tests at “better” junior colleges. Or this douche on her right was her One True Love at the tender age of nineteen, and therefore they could never be apart.

  “Do you come from St. Francis? You have that kind of vibe about you.”

  The large silver spoon in Reina’s hand clattered to her tray. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, don’t mind her,” Yoko said, hovering over an empty bowl of udon. Her side pony-tail scraped the square table as she nodded at Reina. “She thinks it’s a game to figure out which girls here are transfers from the high school. We didn’t go to St. Francis.”

  No shit. Reina would have remembered girls like these. Probably would have done them too. “Yeah, I went to St. Francis. Three years ago. Took a break from school.”

  “Interesting.” Hitomi folded her hands over her bowl. “By the way, this is my boyfriend, Ryota. We went to high school together.”

  The young man and Reina exchanged polite greetings, and by then the curry was cold.

  What followed was something Reina would later come to regret. A friendship, or at least a very one-sided one. Hitomi and Yoko, matching in their trendy clothes and hair, fawning over Reina because she was so “unconventional.” I dress how I like. Since quitting the theatre life Reina cut back on the make-up, and she was never into constrictive clothing or accessories. As for the hair? She wanted a change after having it long forever. What was the big deal about it?

  “By the way, Reina-san,” Hitomi said, pushing her dirty dishes into her boyfriend’s space. “We’re looking for a fourth study group member in kanji class. Ryota-kun takes the other kanji class after ours, so he’s on the same lesson plan. I heard from an older friend who took this instructor’s course that it gets a lot harder as time goes on. So would you like to join our group? Four people are way better than three for a study session. Easier to divide the work that way.”

  Work? Oh, hell no. Reina wasn’t going to put together flash cards for other people...

  “Yoko-chan makes the most amazing cookies you’ve ever tasted. She’s gonna bring them to every study group.”

  Well then.

  “I made you this!”

  The books Aiko used to study were covered by a large piece of paper. Aiko sat back from the living area table, becoming aware of the real world once again. I was sucked into Sylvia Plath. Her American Poetry course had a habit of consuming her this term.

  “Auntie Aiko...” A small girl climbed into Aiko’s lap and slapped her hand against the paper. “For you!”

  “Hai, hai.” Little Eri’s long hair filled Aiko’s hands as she pulled it back and looked at the picture. Braids formed in place of snarls and tangles. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

  Eri pointed to a stick figure with brown hair and a pink dress. “It’s Auntie Aiko.”

  “It looks just like me.” Minus the fact Aiko had a nose. And body fat. “Who’s that?” She pointed to another figure on the left.

  Eri craned her head back and gave a toothy smile. “It’s Eri-chan!”

  Footsteps entered the room. Carrying a tray of tea and crackers was Junko, who kneeled beside the table and served the snacks. “Ara, you two have the table completely covered.” She gently pushed aside Eri’s markers to make room for the tray. “How many books do you need?” That question was directed at Aiko, who must have had a good dozen spread out across the table.

  She took the hint and started putting away the books she no longer needed. Eri squirmed in her aunt’s lap, but the child was small enough to work around. “I have to study, Ma. I have a paper to write already.”

  Before Junko could respond, the phone rang out in the hallway.

  “What’s this?” Eri asked, touching one of Aiko’s books.

  “It’s an English book. I study English.”

  “What’s an English?”

  Aiko pinched her niece’s cheek and delighted in her giggling. “It’s a language I can use to call you super cute!” she said in the foreign language. Eri squealed and took off like a jet, toddling around the living area with a huge smile on her face.

  Must be nice to be a happy girl. And to be the golden grandchild of the Takeuchi family.
Aiko finished cleaning up her books and served the tea. But if I were a child again, I wouldn’t get to do adult things. An image of Reina popped into Aiko’s mind, making her blush.

  “Oh, no!” Rarely did Junko’s exasperation penetrate walls. Aiko looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see her mother clutch an ivory comb in her hair. “Is it really that bad?” Her voice dropped again after that.

  Aiko didn’t find out what the commotion was until her mother walked back into the room ten minutes later, hand shaking and countenance distressed. Junko was always fretting over something out of line, but this was different – she took a large gulp of hot tea as if it were nothing, and she wouldn’t even pay attention to her granddaughter as she begged for attention.

  “Doushita?” Aiko asked.

  Junko shook her head, brown perm bouncing against her scalp. “Ah, it’s so terrible. Your great aunt Kanoko has dementia.”

  “Eh? Since when?”

  “My sister told me now on the phone. So unfortunate! She and I used to go visit our aunt when we were girls. We loved her big house. For us back then, it was a big house.”

  Eri barreled into Aiko and sat in her lap. After suffering the recoil, Aiko wrapped her arms around her niece and said, “Is that the one up in Kita Ward? I vaguely remember her.”

  “Yes, yes. I was close to her when I was a young woman. Aunt Kanoko was the one who taught me what I really needed to know about being a newlywed. Such a scandalous aunt! But I enjoyed her company. I wish I had spent more time with her over these past few years.”

  “Didn’t you used to take me to visit her when I was little?”

  “Oh, yes! She was always being naughty and giving you those treats that made you ill. But you loved them so much. Ara, dementia!”

  “What’s going to happen to her?”

  A mighty frown turned the room sour. “She lives in that big house by herself, ever since her husband died. She hasn’t shown advanced symptoms yet and refuses to sell or move, so my sister was asking me if I would help take care of her a couple of times a week. It’s the least I can do, I suppose.”

  Paper crinkled on the table as Eri went to work drawing a new picture. Aiko stroked her niece’s hair. “Taking care of someone with dementia is a lot to ask, even if it’s only a couple of times a week. Do you need help?”

  She didn’t realize what she was saying until Junko looked at her with relief in her eyes. “My Ai-chan, so sensitive and nurturing. Ah, you will be a wonderful mother someday. I only hope that I will live to see it, seeing as how you’re taking your sweet time getting a boyfriend.”

  Aiko eased her niece out of her lap. “Excuse me?”

  “Over a year since you last had a boyfriend... ara, you used to be so popular with the boys! This whole college thing is setting you back in the things that really matter.”

  Aiko pretended that she didn’t hear that. I bet Reina would agree. In that woman’s world, dating always superseded studying. She had the grades and test scores to prove it.

  An old, clunky fan clanked in the corner of Reina’s room as it fought off the late June heat. That time of year there wasn’t much that could be done to combat humidity, even at night – open windows invited in moisture, and Reina’s house did not know of this thing called “central heating.” Not that she and her mother could afford the electric bill anyway.

  “Shimatta!” she cursed the moment the lead in her pencil broke. A smear appeared on her flashcard. What a piece of shit. Reina blew the lead off and mumbled over her desk.

  “What happened?” Aiko asked. She was in the corner, perusing Reina’s shelf of CDs.

  “Nothing.”

  “Hm.”

  Aiko had her own collection of books and notes on Reina’s futon, spread out so she could stop by and read something whenever she wasn’t wandering around the room. It was not uncommon for them to spend weekend nights together, but ever since the start of the semester their usual plans had changed. Gone were the movies, the karaoke, and the all-night parties in Ni-chome. Now that Reina was saddled with homework she was back to spending her Saturday nights trying to catch up on work when her study group wasn’t meeting. Because fuck kanji.

  “Where are these from?” Aiko snatched a bag of cookies off the shelf.

  “Those came from a girl in my study group.” Hitomi wasn’t kidding when she said Yoko made some of the best baked goods in the universe. Every time they met to go over their homework, the young woman brought with her cookies, brownies, even breads infused with chocolate and frosting. When she heard that Reina liked pumpkin, such flavored muffins appeared at the next meeting. It made dealing with a man and two trendy women almost worth it.

  This was news to Aiko, however. “Another woman is making you cookies?”

  You’re not the only one who can bake. Aiko was also generous with the cookies. Between her and Yoko, Reina was bound to have some new cavities the next time she went to the dentist. “Don’t worry. Yours are better.”

  Smiling, Aiko put the cookies back and pulled a CD off the shelf.

  The ethereal sounds of Yuki Saito’s voice filled the room, backed by a slick production of strings and electronic keyboards. “Have you bought the new ZARD single? Everyone is raving about it.”

  Reina looked up from her flashcards. “No. I don’t have the money right now. I might pick up the album when it comes out next month.”

  Aiko flopped back on her girlfriend’s futon, kicking her lean legs into the air. “I thought you got a new job?”

  “I did.” Handing out tissues in the rain and heat was not glamorous, but it let Reina make some money on weeknights. Still chump change when she compared it to the nice monthly salaries she made at the theatre. That’s dead. When her friend Michiko returned to America, the lead singer Anna declared anarchy and demanded to be made a solo act. Reina didn’t stick around to be offered a new group, and Aiko’s cousin Shizuka quit alongside her. Last she heard from her girlfriend, Shizuka was working at a make-up counter in a department store.

  “Nee, Reina...” Books slid off the futon as Aiko rolled onto the pillow. “Who would have ever thought we would be studying together? I mean, we go to different schools and study different things, but I would have never thought we would spend a Saturday night studying instead of doing other things.”

  You mean like having sex? Reina almost broke her freshly-sharpened lead again. She hadn’t had sex in a week. Thanks school. Taking it seriously this time as opposed to high school made a dramatic difference. A shitty one.

  “I’d rather be doing the other things.”

  “Don’t you like your classes? I thought you liked Japanese.”

  “No, I took it because I thought it would be easy.” Her school didn’t offer many fields of study. Between English, religion, Japanese, childcare, and a nursing program, Reina didn’t think there was any choice beyond focusing on her native language. How hard could it have possibly been? Insanely. The kanji she had to learn every week weren’t the common ones she learned in grammar school. These were ancient words, rare characters, and an extensive vocabulary Reina would never use in her life. When she barely passed her first test she knew she was in deep shit. Nearly a whole semester later, she would be lucky to pass her final, study group or no. I wish they had a math course. Numbers came naturally to Reina. If she didn’t get such cheap tuition at her college, she would transfer to one with a math program.

  Yet Aiko had heard it before, even if she had a selective memory about it. “Come down here and let me help you study.”

  “I don’t know how you could.”

  “Bring me your flashcards and we’ll figure it out.”

  Reina crossed her arms.

  The futon stifled the sounds of Aiko patting it. “Come over here.”

  Yes, Mother. Reina scooted out of her chair and took her flashcards with her to the futon.

  Aiko sat at the end after clearing off her English books. She took Reina’s f
lashcards out of her hands and shuffled through them, furrowing her brows at every Chinese character her eyes came across. Bet you don’t know any of those either. There were two-thousand characters a Japanese adult was expected to know by the time they graduated high school. The ones Reina studied went beyond those. “Okay, what’s this one?” Aiko flashed a random character.

  Reina squinted to make out her own handwriting. “Museikoku....” she guessed.

  Her girlfriend glanced at the phonetic spelling on the back and shook her head.

  “Amouda.”

  “Are you making stuff up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mou.” Aiko tapped her finger against the Chinese character. “You know this. I’ve seen you glancing at these cards all day. Somewhere in that thick head of yours you know what this symbol means.”

  Reina looked at it again. Who was Aiko kidding? There were twenty cards in that stack, kanji Reina was expected to know in time for her test next week. “This is stupid. If I can’t recall them right now, what good is it?”

  “There’s a saying in my family,” Aiko said, sitting back on her legs. She now perched in an area of the room untouched by the fans, so sweat formed in beads around her hairline. Focus, you stupid fuck. Kinda hard when they hadn’t had sex in a week and Aiko was starting to... “If you’ve learned something before, it’s always in the back of your head. It’s how I’m able to remember so many English words for my test. I have to reward myself with something I really love to make myself remember.”

  “Like what?” This sounded like bullshit.

  The flashcard came down while Aiko looked toward the ceiling. Her skin pulled taut against her throat, enticing Reina’s libido on the other side of the futon. For God’s sake we’re even in bed already. The moment they curled up together to go to sleep she was going to make her move. “When I was in high school I rewarded myself with chocolate. When I took tests I would make a mark on my hand for every answer I managed to remember while thinking of my reward. Now I don’t have to do it so much anymore since I’ve trained my memory so well.”