The Spare Room (7 page)

13

The next morning I woke with my mind fuzzy. When I had finally managed to get to sleep I'd had troubling dreams. I lay in bed wondering what I should do. Should I do anything? I was concerned about the way this family seemed to have burst apart, like the universe after the Big Bang, and was now steadily expanding, spreading further and further apart. I knew there was a theory that the universe will eventually reverse and begin to contract. But I didn't like this family's chances.

When I got up there was no one in the kitchen, so I stood at the sink to fill the kettle and make coffee. I glanced out the window and there was Angie in the garden. She was playing with Snowy, throwing him a stick again and again. Snowy was bounding so high in the air you'd think he had springs in his legs. Angie looked light-hearted. She was smiling. Catch boy, she called each time she threw the stick. It was like seeing a different person, the person who had played in the shallows with Daisy when we were at the beach. It was as if she'd let her guard down. I wondered what she needed to protect herself from. Perhaps it was to do with Jess and that man.

I watched Angie until the water flowed over the top of the kettle.

Just then Daisy raced into the kitchen waving a parcel.

It's from Japan, she sang. Can I have the stamps, Akira? Please, please, pretty please?

I took the parcel from her and we sat down together at the table. Under layers of brown paper, then paper with origami cranes on it, were packages of food.

Urk. What's this? said Daisy making a face.

It was a packet of dried fish strips.

Mmm. Delicious, I said. I realised that they didn't look all that appetising if you didn't know.

And this! Seaweed! Is it, Akira? Is it seaweed?

Yes, I said. For sushi. Very good for you. Very healthy.

Will you make some, Akira? I've never eaten seaweed.

Why not? I said. And those words planted the seed, I suppose. I rummaged through the parcels looking for a letter. At the bottom was a card. Daisy grabbed it from me to look at the writing.

It's beautiful writing, Akira, she said. What's it say?

It say, Love, Mum.

That's it?

That's it.

Jess walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in the uniform of Japanese office ladies, as they are called: a neat suit, smart, in a beige colour. She smiled at me and I wondered briefly if this was the first time that had happened. Perhaps she was happier with this other man in her life.

You got a parcel, Akira? she said.

It's from his mother in Tokyo, said Daisy. All kinds of disgusting food.

I laughed and said, I don't tell her yet I am sort of cook here. Maybe she thinks I miss Japanese food so much.

Jess turned and said, I saw you last night, Akira.

This took me by surprise. I had been trying to work out how I would mention that I'd seen her, or if I should.

Yes, I said. I see you, too. Saw you.

I was with a colleague, Jess said.

Colleague?

Colleague, you know, someone I work with.

Ah, I said. Still many words I don't know.

Jess nodded. Don't worry, she said. We were just having a drink.

This tea's got rice in it! And popcorn! Daisy's voice floated across the room.

Yes, I understand, I said.

Well, Jess said. Have to get going. Another busy day.

As she turned for the door, I said, Jess? I want to ask you something.

She turned slowly and stood by the door.

I want to cook Japanese dinner for this family. Soon.

A dinner party? Jess said. What a good idea. Why don't you bring a friend.

Bring a friend? Yes, I bring a friend. Thanks.

Jess left.

Oh yuck! Disgusting! said Daisy.

In class that day I had a lot of thoughts buzzing around in my head. But, as usual, our teacher made the class interesting and fun. I was soon totally involved. After class, when the other students were leaving, the teacher came up to me and said, You have a gift, Akira.

Gift? I said, bewildered, thinking she somehow knew about the parcel that morning.

A gift for language.

I must have still looked puzzled.

You're good at language. It's a compliment.

Ah, compliment, I said, grinning at her. Thank you.

That afternoon I decided to walk through town and pick up the bus on the other side. As I walked, I was still smiling. Life, I thought, was pretty good. I was good at something. And not only one thing. I was good at English and I was good at cooking. I had never been good at anything back in Japan. We always used to wonder what it would be like to be good at things like some of the other students, didn't we, Satoshi? Did it ever occur to us that the problem was we were trying the wrong things? Did we ever have any inkling there could be things, totally undiscovered, that we could be good at? How do you find out what you're good at if you don't get to try things, if you're told what to do your whole life, what to study, what job to do? I wonder what you might have been good at, Satoshi, if you'd had the chance. I reckon you would have been a cartoonist or something like that, with your quirky sense of humour and all those odd little drawings you used to do on our notes in class and all over your books. Animation, maybe. That's so big now. Or maybe you would have been an actor. You always had such a good sense of timing for jokes and you did great impersonations of everyone, our teachers, your parents, other students. All those movies we saw together. You memorised some of the lines. You could have been anything you wanted to be, Satoshi.

I stopped in my tracks. Angie had just come out of an arcade in front of me. She had a bag slung over her shoulder. She must have been on her way home from school. I didn't mean to follow her, I really didn't. But she was walking quickly and, before I knew it, I was too. I kept some distance behind her and at the same time wondered what on earth I was doing. Was it curiosity? Was it concern? Who knows. There are times when we act on a gut feeling rather than a logical reason. So there I was following Angie. If she had seen me, she would have been furious. And I wouldn't have blamed her.

Angie stopped and looked in the window of a big department store. I stopped too and pretended to window-shop further along the street. When she went into the department store I followed. I could have walked straight past. But I went in.

The ground floor held the cosmetics department. I felt very conspicuous there. Daisy once taught me an expression — ‘a fish out of water' — and that's how I felt among the bottles and jars. But then I'd had that feeling a lot of the time. I hovered around a specials table, picking up things and pretending to inspect them. I was covertly watching Angie. She was browsing at another sale table. She had picked up a tin of something, perfume I thought. She sprayed some onto her wrist and lifted her wrist to her nose. For just a moment I imagined her lifting that wrist to my nose. I sniffed the air dreamily. But then, without looking around, Angie pushed the tin under her T-shirt and into the top of her jeans. I sucked in my breath. I couldn't believe it. What was she doing? Surely she wasn't stealing? She hadn't even looked around to see if she was being observed. I held my breath. Angie strolled around the table examining other articles. Then she sauntered towards the exit door.

I noticed one of the saleswomen watching Angie keenly. The woman stepped out from behind her counter and started following Angie towards the door. I hurried towards Angie. I wanted to intercept her. Just as I got close to her, only a few metres from the door, the tin of perfume dropped to the floor with a clatter and began to roll slowly. Angie spun around to see if anyone had noticed. She saw me and jumped. Then she saw the saleswoman advancing on both of us.

I didn't even have time to register the look on Angie's face. Without stopping I bent down and scooped up the tin as if I had dropped it myself. I held it out towards the saleswoman and smiled.

I take this, please, I said.

The saleswoman looked at me suspiciously and then at Angie who was hovering nervously. Then she put on her best customer-service smile, held out her hand for the perfume, and said, Certainly, sir. Cash or card?

Card, I said. Do you wrap up?

Of course, sir. For someone special?

I nodded, and she began wrapping.

Once we were both outside, Angie turned on me angrily. I don't need your help, Akira. None of us do.

She spun on her heel and walked away.

I stood there watching her go, noticing the way she walked, fast and determined. My thoughts were in a jumble. I lifted the gift-wrapped parcel to my nose and breathed in. A faint sweet scent reached me. Oh, Angela, I said.

My mind was in even more of a spin as I walked on. I decided not to take the bus at all. Walking would give me time to think.

Something glinting in the sun caught my attention. I looked up. There in front of me was a huge gleaming motorcycle. A Ducati — behind plate-glass. I was standing in front of a motorcycle dealership. Bikes shone in the showroom and were reflected in the polished floor. It was dazzling. I moved closer to the window and put my nose against the glass. I was spellbound.

A salesman came right up to the window and waved his hand in front of my face as if he was trying to snap me out of being hypnotised. And that's what it was like. He beckoned me in and I had no choice. The bike had hypnotised me. And I felt as if everything had been leading me to that moment.

When I finally got home, Angie was nowhere to be seen. I knocked on her door but there was no answer. I turned the door handle. I knew I shouldn't do this, but I'd already stepped over all the boundaries with Angie. I quickly went into the room and looked around. There was the teddy bear sitting up on her bed. It made me smile. I put the parcel down on her bed next to the bear. I noticed a photograph on her bedside table. A young, good-looking man, about my age. This must be her boyfriend. I'd never met any of Angie's friends, but she must have lots as she was always out. It would make sense that she'd have a boyfriend. Why hadn't I thought about that before? I picked up the photo and studied it. He looked like a nice guy — a big smile and kind eyes. Well, that was good, wasn't it? That was very good. For Angie. Then why did I feel so bad? Something about his face looked familiar. Then, realising I shouldn't even be in the room, I quickly scuttled away. Angie, Angie, I thought. What is going on with you?

14

It wasn't long before I found out some of what was going on with Angie. One night soon after the perfume incident, I was at home by myself because Alex and Daisy had gone to a movie. There was a knock on the door. It was late and I wondered if Alex had forgotten her key. When I opened the door, two policemen were standing there with Angie between them. She looked bedraggled and had clearly been drinking. I had eyes only for Angie. She looked as if she couldn't decide whether to cry or spit in my face.

We're looking for this young lady's parents, said one of the policemen.

I'm sorry, I said, they're asleep. I am her brother.

The looks on the policemen's faces were comical. They glanced at each other.

What's the problem? I asked. This time I was sure Angie was going to spit at me. She was furious.

Drinking under-age, said the other policeman.

I wondered if they took turns in speaking.

But there was a lot of other stuff going on there, said the first one. Stuff her folks wouldn't be too happy about.

They did take turns. Angie flicked hair out of her eyes and looked mean.

We're giving her a warning this time, said the second one.

I see, I said. I will inform my parents, officials. Do not worry.

As I said that, I reached for Angie's hand and gently drew her away from the police. I was afraid she would push me away, but even Angie had to see that it was a delicate situation. Part of my brain was asking me what I thought I was doing. Shouldn't Jess and Alex know what Angie was getting up to? Did they have any idea? If they didn't, surely they should. And here I was taking away a chance for them to find out. Act first, think later. I could always tell them, since that was what I was assuring the policemen I would do.

Thank you very much for your assistance, officials, I said, and pulled Angie over the threshold. She turned and gave the policemen a grin and I quickly closed the door before they changed their minds about being lenient.

Angie immediately broke out of my grasp.

You are not my brother, she hissed. You don't belong in this family. You'll be gone, just like that. The sooner the better from my point of view. You're just like the rest of the students in your class. You take what you want and go back to your real lives. You're all the same. At least I'm an individual.

She hardly paused for breath. I guessed she'd been waiting a while for an opportunity to vent all this.

This is my real life, Angie, I said. I hadn't learned how to express anger in English. I still had to weigh up words. I couldn't blurt out a flurry of words in the way Angie had just done. I thought I might calm her down.

More real than my life in Japan, I continued.

For a moment I thought Angie was going to lose her anger. She looked at me in a kind of puzzled way, as if what I had just said had registered with her, chimed in her in some way.

We stood there looking at each other and all the huff went out of her.

I'm an individual, she said again, but quietly.

And then — what made me say it? — I went and spoilt that moment, that faint glimmer of light and understanding.

Are you sure? I asked.

The soft look was gone. I ploughed on. Something very bitter, I suppose, about my own life was egging me on.

You have much freedom, Angie. Much choice. What do you do with it?

I do what I like, she said.

The defiance was back. I had blown it. There was nothing to lose.

But do you like what you do? I asked.

Angie's mouth fell open and she looked at me as if I were something that had crawled in from the garden. I waited for her retort. Her jaw worked a few times and then she simply ran from the room.

Despite everything, I felt quite proud at that moment of being able to have this conversation at all in English. This was getting real.

But all that night I worried about Angie. Something about the situation was ringing alarm bells in my head. Suddenly it was as if you were in the room with me, Satoshi. That time you told me you wanted to drop out of college but your father wouldn't let you. You were angry but there was a resignation in your eyes. There were things that I didn't understand and it all came back to me there in my room down the hall from Angie's. How blind I'd been about you. And what that look in your eyes meant.

Angie was not doing what was good for her. Something was driving her to do everything that was bad for her. Was it the tense situation in the house? Every now and then I thought about that boy Daisy had drawn, first in the house, then in the shack. I wondered if it was something to do with him. Was there a brother? Had there been a falling out? Had he packed up and left? It wasn't my place to ask. I was a visitor. As Angie had pointed out so vehemently, I was not part of the family at all. Then it suddenly occurred to me to wonder whether my presence was in fact making the situation, whatever it was, worse. I sat up in the bed. What if my being there was preventing some kind of reconciliation taking place? The thought had me reeling. I wondered why this particular idea had not occurred to me before. Had I been too caught up in my own life? I was pleased about the way things were going. Except about keeping my parents in the dark. Except about Angie. In fact, I suppose I thought I was easing tensions in the household. Alex seemed happier now the boat was underway and he was achieving something. We got along well as we prepared the meals. I showed him a few things I'd picked up from working in the restaurant kitchen. Daisy was always keen to chat. But I had to admit that Jess was an enigma: distant, cool, constantly busy. And Angie. I couldn't figure her out at all. But by then I knew I wanted to.

I didn't get a lot of sleep that night and I didn't get any closer to an answer. But by then I knew I should try to be more alert and also try more actively to bring the family together. I began to think about how I might do that. Perhaps that dinner party I'd been talking about.