The Spare Room (5 page)

9

Before I headed off to the university the next morning, Alex asked me to give him a hand to get the desk from the garden shed. Inside the shed I noticed lots of timber stacked up around the walls. Alex was lifting boxes aside and finally uncovered the old desk. He wiped dust from its surface with the side of his hand, almost lovingly I thought. Perhaps he liked the feel of the wood.

This should do the trick, he said.

It is the idioms which really throw you when you're learning a foreign language. I was getting better at using the context to guess the meaning.

Yes, I said. This will be very fine. Using an idiom myself was a more difficult thing. I resolved there and then to try to use the expressions I heard.

Between us we lugged the desk into my room and set it down. Alex hesitated at the door as if he was about to say something else to me, but then just left without speaking. I arranged a few books and some papers on the desk, and put a few possessions into the drawers. At the back of the desk's surface I noticed initials carved into the wood: J M. I ran my fingers over the letters, wondering who had scratched them there. M could be for Moffat. What about J? Jess? But I had no more time to ponder. I had to run to catch my bus.

I went to the refectory for lunch that day as I hadn't had time to prepare any food in the morning. I remember someone saying once that breakfast is the most difficult meal to adapt to when in a foreign culture. I didn't find that. I loved having cereal and toast. The breads in Australia are much more interesting than the white bread we usually have here. But lunch was a different matter. I always hankered after sushi rolls or a bowl of
udon
noodles. There was another eating place on the campus which had sushi, but I was watching my budget carefully. That day I had a sandwich made up at the sandwich bar and was feeling very pleased with myself for having achieved that — describing which bread I wanted and naming the fillings, instead of the easy way of picking up a ready-packaged one. If I was going to learn this language, I couldn't cut corners.

I handed my money to a woman at the checkout. She smiled as she gave me some change.

There you go, love, she said.

Thank you, I said, feeling confused by the word ‘love'. I dropped the coins and they rolled across the parquetry floor. I'm sure I looked pretty silly to all the other students as I darted here and there after the coins, which had of course rolled in different directions. Charging after the last one, which was still rolling, I ran headlong into another student.

Sorry, I said.

Hello, he said.

Hello, I said.

You don't remember me? he said.

I looked at him. Yes, I said.

He smiled.

I mean, yes I don't remember you, I said.

Ah, he said. From the bar, he said. I was the waiter. You know.

With this, he assumed a very erect stance and raised one arm as if balancing a tray of drinks. He danced a little circle around me. When he stopped in front of me, he continued, Cascade beer. Beer. Bill.

Ah yes, I said, I remember. Problem is everyone look same.

There was a pause as he took in this comment. He looked at me closely then broke into a grin.

Very good, he said. You're learning fast.

Thank you. That one easy to learn.

I know what you mean, he said, nodding. Anyway, I'm glad to see the penny dropped.

It was my turn to look at him carefully.

He laughed. I'm glad you remembered, he said. Come and eat with me.

He was holding a meat pie. I'd been told that this is a very Australian thing to eat, but I had never seen anyone eat one before. I was interested to see how it was done.

Are you student here? I asked as we sat down.

Yep. Philosophy.

Oh, I said. Plato, Confucius …

And Stolly Kalanthes.

When I looked puzzled, he said, That's me. Stolly.

He switched his pie to his left hand and held out his right. Finally the time had come for me to shake someone's hand. By then we had practised this in class and I knew to be firm and brief.

My name's Akira, I said, reaching out and shaking his hand. Squeeze, two seconds, drop. I'd done it!

Stolly took his pie from its bag and I watched furtively. Would he lift up the top and eat the meat out of the pastry? But no, he began with a bite in the middle of one side and continued biting even though the filling kept threatening to fall out. My way might have been better.

Are you also a student in Japan?

How you know I come from Japan? I asked.

Stolly laughed. Just a lucky guess, he said.

This was more like it. Remember how we used to muck about like that, Satoshi? Trying to entertain each other by playing with words and being witty. I remember those notes you would write in class. I hardly dared open them in case I burst out laughing.

I am student in Japan, I said, then added, I don't want to be student in Japan.

Stolly was nodding. He said, Pushy parents, after-school study, academic pressure, suicide?

I looked at him and I must have given away my astonishment.

Stolly said, It's in the newspapers all the time. I'm not a mind-reader or anything. And anyway, you're still alive, aren't you?

Yes, I told him. Yes, I am alive.

I must have sat there nodding for a while. I almost forgot Stolly was waiting for me to continue.

But my father decide my choices. He pay. I come to Australia.

What you need, said Stolly, is a bit of independence.

In-de-pend …?

Stolly rubbed his fingers together. Money, he said.

Yes, I said.

This time Stolly tapped one finger on the side of his nose.

I had no idea what the gesture meant. It was a bit like the way we point to the end of our nose when we are talking about ourselves, but I'd already learned that in Australia people point to their chest for that. It's funny how hard it was to break that habit of pointing to my nose. I used to do it unconsciously sometimes when talking with Daisy. It always sent her into peals of laughter.

I'll see what I can do, Stolly said. Leave it with me. Let's meet again on Friday and I'll let you know.

Friday? Okay, I said, hoping I had understood but feeling unsure about why we were going to meet. We continued with our lunch.

Stolly. I don't hear that name before, I said.

It's Greek, he said.

Greek? Like moussaka?

It's nothing like moussaka, he said sternly.

I laughed. I was enjoying myself. It was as if that person I knew as me trapped inside this new language was beginning to break out. I suddenly thought of something else to ask Stolly.

When I give my money to woman at counter — I turned and pointed her out — she said to me, Love. There you go, love. Why she said ‘love'? She love me?

Maybe, he said, laughing. He looked over at the woman and said, I don't think she's your type. But then he was serious: No, it's just a friendly thing to say when you serve someone.

I understand, I said.

Stolly had great plans for me. He took me to meet his boss at the casino and persuaded the man to give me a trial as a waiter. After all, he said, the casino had a lot of international visitors, many of them Japanese. Stolly also told the man that I had worked as a waiter in Japan, which was a lie but in a good cause. When I objected later, he justified it by saying that every place you work takes some getting used to, even if you have done the same job elsewhere. Where was the harm? And I have to admit that I was very excited at the prospect of my first job, for that is what this amounted to.

Many of my friends in Japan had part-time jobs once we started at college, but my father wouldn't hear of it. He said I was being groomed for his business and he didn't think learning to cook hamburgers or park cars was going to help in that. My mother felt differently. But she always advised patience as an answer to things. Wait, and what you want will happen, she'd say. In Australia I began to wonder what
she
might have wanted in life and if she was still practising patience and waiting for it, or if she felt her wants had been fulfilled. It wasn't the kind of thing we talked about in our family. Did you think about your parents' dreams, Satoshi? Not for you — I mean for themselves. I don't know if we ever gave them much thought. Our heads were filled with our own schemes. Remember how we used to dream that one day we would ride around Australia on motorbikes, work in exotic places, learn new languages, meet girls? I hadn't thought about that for a long time until this job came up. Perhaps some of the dreams I dreamed for myself might come true after all.

I wondered briefly what my father would have thought about my taking on a part-time job in Hobart. I was allowed to work a certain number of hours per week, so it was all legal. But I knew that he would not only disapprove but forbid me if I asked him. So I didn't ask him and I didn't worry about it.

On my first night, Stolly helped me dress in the black and white waiter's outfit — tight black trousers, white shirt, bow tie, wide cummerbund. This was an up-market bar with a varied clientele, from business men to honeymooners, to wealthy international gamblers, to people like me who just happened to drop in for a beer that fateful day with Chisuko. When you look back on a train of events like that you wonder at their sense of inevitability. Of course I would bump into Stolly again and we would hit it off right away. Of course he would find me a job and take me under his wing. But what are the chances really? Worse than your chances of winning money at that casino, I'd say. But good things happen in life, lucky things happen, at least as often as unlucky things.

Anyway, there I was dressed like a penguin and feeling very nervous.

Stolly said, What's Japanese for ‘Good luck'?

Ganbatte kudasai!

Well then,
ganbatte kudasai!

And I was on my own.

Can I get you some drinks, gentlemen? I'd been practising, so felt calm about that part. It was the answers that stumped me. One well-dressed man turned to his well-dressed friend and said, What's your poison?

I was confused. Ah, an idiom! Of course. I got the two men Cascade beers. I carried the drinks carefully to their table and put one down.

There you go, love, I said with a big smile.

The two men looked at each other then up at me in surprise. I hastily put the other drink down and scampered away.

I took a tray of drinks to another table where the man who seemed to be in charge said to me, What's the damage?

Damage? I said. Damage? There is damage? I'm sorry.

Approaching another table, I said, Good evening, gentlemen. What's your poison? I was feeling quite pleased with myself for being able to use these idioms.

My boss suggested I would be better off in the kitchen washing dishes. I didn't blame him. After all, I got the job under false pretences. I would be chief bottle-washer instead.

Stolly was upset for me. Remember, there's no loss without some gain, mate, he said.

And as it turned out, he was right.

10

So many things were happening in my life. And when I say my life, I mean MY life. For once it really felt like I was living my own life. There was my life with the Moffats, difficult as it might be; English classes, which I was enjoying; all the other students I was meeting; my new job; my friendships with Stolly and with Chisuko; a new place to explore; a new language to speak; and new customs to try and fathom. Every moment was packed. So did I miss my family, Japan, my friends at home? I didn't have time. I suppose you would have been the one I'd have missed, Satoshi, but I'd been missing you for months. In some ways I missed you less there. It did sometimes seem as if you'd accompanied me, larking about in that empty seat next to me in the plane, looking over my shoulder at what I was doing. You were with me in spirit.

One day in class we practised the kind of message we should write in greeting cards. We learned what kind of card was appropriate for each occasion. On the way home from class I dropped into a news-agency and looked through all the cards on the racks. Now I knew what the strange words meant. Condolence, Valentine, Anniversary, Engagement. Some were blank. I chose a blank card with roses on the front. I took it to the counter.

What's the damage? I asked.

The sales assistant — a young girl — looked at me and smiled.

When I got home I wrote in the card and slipped it under Angie's door. I wrote, Dear Angie, Why you are very angry with me? Love, Akira.

Later I heard her come home and go into her room. She came to her door and shouted down the hallway.

Because you're an idiot!

One Saturday, out of the blue, Alex announced we would go to the beach. The weather was much warmer now. We got our things together and set off in the old car, Alex, Daisy, me, and — I could hardly believe it — Angie. I wondered if Jess had said something. Be nice to the homestay boy or he might leave and we don't want that.

The beach was beautiful. I had never been to a beach like it — a long half-moon of white sand, with little boat sheds at each end, and partly shaded by a line of gum trees. I was already in bathers and having fun burying Daisy under the sand when I noticed Angie stripping off to her bikini. I must have watched for a few seconds too long, because Daisy started singing softly, What big eyes you have!

I looked at her and was glad to see she was smiling, teasing. I was thrown, though. Angie walked past us in her imperious way and into the water and I couldn't take my eyes off her. When I turned back to Daisy, she was looking quizzically at my board shorts. How embarrassing. I dug a lot of sand in a great hurry and buried Daisy so deep she couldn't move. I wished it was me under the sand, out of sight.

Satoshi, you should have seen her. She is so beautiful. And that day, it was as if she forgot to be angry and nasty, and she relaxed. Almost despite herself. I watched her swim out into the deep water then turn on her back and float, and I knew I wanted to be out there floating next to her, holding my hands underneath her. This was all sudden and strange to me. Angie certainly hadn't given me any cause to think of her in that way. Far from it. But there it was. I was drawn to her. But mostly I was simply glad to see her calm and a little bit content.

Daisy eventually wriggled out of her mound and ran into the water to wash off the sand. Angie swam into the shallows and splashed her sister, who splashed her back with gusto. They looked like any normal happy pair of sisters. This is more like it, I thought. I went in to join them. Instantly Angie took on the sulky look again. She walked out of the water and up the beach, where she lay down on her towel. Daisy shot me a look, rolled her eyes and splashed me with all her might.

I still remember the feeling after that day at the beach of being washed clean, somehow made free. You would have loved it, Satoshi — lying on the beach in the sun and looking back up the river to the dark blue bulk of Mt Wellington, and at the mountain behind it, which was called Sleeping Beauty, so Daisy told me, because, viewed from a certain angle, it has the profile of a woman's sleeping face and flowing hair. I remember glancing over at Angie who was lying on her back soaking up the sun. With her eyes closed she looked so peaceful, and that's what was different. Usually there was no peace in her. Anyway, by the end of that day we were all feeling slowed down and relaxed. The feeling stayed with me into the evening, my skin tingling from the sun and salt. I slipped out into the garden to have a cigarette and enjoy the feeling of, yes, I can only call it well-being.

At the end of the garden where I usually went to smoke, I found Alex. He was smoking, looking up at the stars. Snowy barked briefly and then stopped. Alex looked around and smiled at me. He didn't seem surprised when I lit a cigarette. We stood there together, looking up at the sky.

Thanks, Alex, I said eventually. For today. I enjoyed very much.

That's okay, he said. It was good to get away. We used to go to the beach a lot.

I waited for him to go on but he drifted into silence. I realised this was a relaxed silence, a shared silence, unlike so many past uncomfortable silences with my father.

Alex? I said after a while.

He turned to me, waiting for my question.

Why is lots of wood in your shed?

Alex beckoned me and we went over to the shed. He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and switched on the light. From a shelf above a work bench he took down a scroll of paper and unrolled it. It was a set of plans for a boat.

It's a dinghy, Alex said. A traditional dinghy.

You are going to build this one? I asked.

I
was
going to, he answered.

Not now? Why not now?

Alex shrugged his shoulders. He pointed to an old framed photograph on the wall above us. It was a photo of a lighthouse on a small island. We stood looking at it.

In my job, Alex began, I bought supplies for men who worked in places like this, wild places, all alone. I dreamed of doing their job.

What happen to your job?

I got the sack.

Sack?

Alex nodded.

They didn't want me any more. They called it ‘retrenched' but it's the same thing.

You lose your job? That is very bad, Alex. I am sorry.

I always said when I had time I would build a boat like the ones those men used a long time ago. They were brave men.

When did you get sack? I asked.

Eight months ago.

I nodded. Alex had the time but not the heart for it. I ran my hand over the plans.

It is very beautiful boat, I said. Would you like a hand?

Before long we made a start. On days when I wasn't working in the kitchen at the casino, I would come home from class and go over to the shed. Alex was into it now. Somehow my offer had opened a crack in the shell of this task that had become too overwhelming for him. I was always excited to walk into that shed and see this idea, this dream, taking shape. Alex was good with the tools and knew a lot. He told me his father was a builder and taught him as a boy. I said I hoped I would meet his father one day. Alex gave me tasks to do and showed me how to do them. He was a very patient teacher, just as he continued to be with cooking. After working for a while on the boat, we would go inside, have a wash, and start on the dinner. Sometimes we'd have a beer while we cooked.

So this is what was in my mind one day when I was coming home on the bus. The anticipation of seeing what Alex had done on the dinghy during the day. Wondering what my part would be today. So at first I didn't notice the voices right behind me. Or I did, but I didn't realise they were anything to do with me. I suppose I was the last to notice. Eventually, as the voices became persistent, I stopped daydreaming and paid attention. Two girls' voices. Giggling.

Ah so! Ah so!

Ah so! Arsehole!

The voices chorused like this. I looked up to the front and saw that the driver was glancing in his rear-view mirror.

Ah so! Ah so! Arsehole!

More giggling. This was new. I realised what was going on and I wondered what to do. I could pretend to ignore them, but it was becoming more difficult to do that. They were growing louder and giggling more. I had not encountered this kind of thing before and I didn't know how to act, what to do or say.

The driver looked in his mirror again. He could see and hear what was happening but needed to focus on his driving. I glanced around. Other passengers were turning around and frowning. At me? At the girls? No one intervened. Suddenly the bus swerved to the side of the street. It was not a bus stop.

Off! said the driver loudly.

There was silence on the bus. I sat looking at the driver's face in the mirror. He turned and pointed to the door. Behind me there was silence. For a moment I was uncertain. Perhaps he meant me.

Then there was a rustling and the girls, in school uniforms, lurched up out of their seat and got off the bus. The driver turned and pulled out into the traffic. The other passengers cheered and clapped. I wish I could have smiled, but my feelings were in such turmoil that I couldn't. I looked out the window and realised that here I was different and that, somehow, some people were offended by that.

That night Stolly and I both had a night off from work and I had persuaded him to go with me to a sushi bar down at the waterfront. I waited at the bar, watching the chef prepare sushi rolls with a dexterous hand and sharp knife. I could have been in a sushi bar at home — the same bar and stools, the same array of seafood, the same chefs' short jackets. There was even an indigo
noren
over the entrance to the small restaurant. I breathed in the smells and my mouth watered. But the chef was Thai. He was a student like me who was working part-time. He had learned to make sushi from a Japanese master. The Thai chef, whose hands never stopped shaping and slicing, was telling me such things over the bar when Stolly arrived.

Stolly surveyed the menu and told me to order. He'd never eaten sushi before. I found this hard to believe. I chose a platter of sashimi and sushi. I ordered sake and, when it arrived, poured a small cupful for Stolly. If he was surprised to find that it was heated, he didn't say so. He drank it down and went to pour more. I told him that I should pour for him and he should pour for me — that was how it was done in Japan. Stolly, ever smooth and confident Stolly, sighed.

There's always more to learn, isn't there? he said. Just when you think you're getting the hang of life.

I laughed. I said, If I have chart of my learning in Australia, it will be like Everest.

My pronunciation of the name must have been really bad, because Stolly frowned and shook his head. Learning to pronounce some English sounds took me a lot of work.

Mt Everest!

Stolly got it.

I told him about the incident on the bus, and he nodded throughout the telling. I thought he would have been surprised by the rudeness of the girls and their taunts. He wasn't. I told him I wanted to learn something I could say if a similar thing happened in future. Something to put them in their place. Stolly was thoughtful.

Course I'll teach you something. I've got lots of expressions that should fit the bill. Needed them myself when I was a kid. I'll give it a bit of thought — decide what's most appropriate, most effective. Okay?

I don't want to swear, Stolly. Only to make stop. You know?

No swear words, Akira. Trust me.