I stared at her in disbelief. Talk about hitting someone when they’re down. “Ah, yeah.”
“I was serious about wanting a date with Hiroshi. He’s hot in his Elvis costume.”
Placing my hand on my chest, I grimaced in fake pain. “I think I’m going into cardiac arrest.”
Setsuko punched me in the arm. “Very funny. After you’re feeling better, make it happen.”
A wave of nausea hit me. I didn’t know if it was from being sick or the thought of actually asking Hiroshi to take Setsuko out on a date.
Gina came bounding over. “Your lunch is here.”
The mere pronouncement of lunch made my stomach turn.
Adam grabbed my arms. “Let me help you up. We can’t eat in the lounge so let’s go to one of the tables in the café. Okay?”
Grateful for a boost up, I still had a problem getting my body moving again.
Once we arrived at an open table Gina said, “Here, this should take the edge off. Thank god for Motrin.”
Maybe Gina did have nurse potential after all. Drugs were always a nurse’s best friend. I downed the Motrin with a swig of Cold Sweat and forced myself to eat a few bites of the chicken. Normally I would have enjoyed the vending machine delicacy, but my taste buds seemed to be in a fog—like my vision.
After lunch, I thanked Adam and Setsuko for coming to my rescue. Gina wrapped her arm around my waist and helped me up the stairs to Japanese class.
“How do I look? Still as green as grass?”
Gina smiled as she pushed a stray hair off my face. “No, now you look more like a lime.”
We went to face the fate of the Japanese final. Why did I have to get sick? Doom filled my aching bones.
Gina waved from her seat and gave me a thumbs-up sign. I felt decidedly thumbs-down. Mrs. Masuda handed out the exam with a huge grin on her face. Oh crap! Half the exam was written in hiragana. What little confidence I possessed drained along with my energy. Whatever happened, happened. So, I failed Japanese.
Turning in my dismal exam, I walked slowly outside to meet Gina. She gave me her best compassionate smile.
“I was blown away that so much of the exam was in hiragana.”
She reached over and gave me a hug. “Don’t worry. You’ll pass.” She locked her arm around mine. “Let me walk you to the station and make sure you get a seat, okay?”
“Gee, will you carry me, too?” I forced my aching legs to move.
Gina gave me a wink. “Hey, don’t soak the verge of death thing too much. Look, the Motrin seemed to help so why don’t I give you a couple more. I have a nice-sized stash so I can spare a few. I brought a ton cause every month I get the most killer cramps.”
I took the pills from Gina. “That’s bordering on TMI territory, but I accept your generous offer.”
Gina kept a nice slow, steady pace all the way to the subway station. She made sure I found a seat on the train right under the heater squished between two people.
She waved good-bye. “I hope you feel better tomorrow, or you’re so screwed on your finals.”
December 20-6:30 AM
Sick Bed
I woke with a start. My skin felt like a thousand little bugs nibbled at it. Holding my hands to my chest, I tried to keep from scratching myself. The bumps felt like the worst mosquito bites I’d ever had magnified by ten. Whatever these things were, they were driving me crazy!
Looking at my red bump covered stomach, I started to cry. Why did I have to get sick during finals week? I had to admit, part of me was actually relieved. Because of all the paranormal drama, I hadn’t had a chance to cram for my finals the way I usually do.
I opened the door and tripped over a package. Pushing with all my might, I managed to move the box next to my desk. I recognized Mom’s handwriting—my Christmas gift. Normally I’d wait until the actual day, but I felt crappy. I needed something to cheer me up. Inside, wrapped in snowman paper, was a month’s worth of Hershey bars and a beautiful teal sweater. I read the reindeer-covered card, Merry Christmas from The Van Horn family. On the bottom she scribbled, “We miss you, honey!”
Downing a big chunk of a Hersey’s bar, I staggered down the stairs and hoped someone knew what was going wrong with my body. I pushed back the thought that the strange figure in the Mukagawa shrine room had done something to me. The ghost did warn me about something evil—the grotesque figure surely fit the bill.
“Hey, Aki, I need help. I think I’m really sick.”
“You’re right. You do look ill.”
“What is wrong with me? I’m itching all over and I have small bumps all over my stomach. My throat is dry, my muscles ache and I think I have a fever. There’s more but I’m too tired to go on.”
Aki showed no sign of concern. “Can I see your stomach?”
I slowly pulled up my striped pajama top.
Aki’s eyes grew wide. “Oh.”
Hmm…that didn’t sound good. She ran past me and called for Okasan. Next, she went to Hiroshi’s room and woke him. Within a minute they had a family meeting. I nervously fidgeted with my hands as their whispering took on a more urgent tone.
Aki stood some distance from me. “You have Hashika. My brother had it a few weeks before you came to live with us. Otosan and I had to leave the house and now we must leave again. I will stay with my friend and Otosan will stay with his cousin like before.”
What great news. I had something so horrible Aki and Otosan had to leave the house.
“I’ve never had Hashika. Okasan has already been exposed so she will be fine. Otosan is vulnerable because of his age.”
Aki pointed towards my stomach. “Don’t scratch your bumps. They can get worse and you can get bad scars. Whatever you do, don’t touch your face. You’ll end up looking like Hiroshi. You do not want that, do you?”
Oh no, Aki, I’d love a pockmarked face just like your brother’s—ever so attractive. Maybe I can try to grow ginormous sideburns to cover my marks, too.
“You’ll run a high fever for the next few days. Don’t worry, only babies die from it but I’m not sure about Americans.”
My mind raced. I didn’t know what to do first, order my coffin or jump over Okasan and strangle Hiroshi for giving me the nasty disease. I was too weak to kill anyone. “Okay but who is going to help me? Is there some medicine I can take?”
Aki sighed. “My mother will help you when she is home. You’ll have a high fever and the bumps will spread. I’m sorry there is nothing you can take to help you. All you can do is suffer until it’s gone.”
Could things get any worse? Why didn’t she just put me out of my misery now? “I have finals.”
Aki looked at me like I was already delirious from a high fever. “You are on your second day. You will feel much worse tomorrow.”
This was a nightmare. When would I wake up? I came all the way to Japan for this? Turning my back to the family, I walked away in disgust. Grabbing onto the banister, I pulled my body up the stairs and threw myself into my room. I dug some more Hersey’s out of my Christmas box. Despite my sore throat, I stuffed a big piece of chocolate in my mouth, knowing it was the only thing that could pacify me.
I woke hours later with the distinct feeling I was swimming in my bed. I turned over to discover my sheets soaked through. Great, I was in the high fever stage. I had to get up and call Mr. Shinji and let him know how sick I was. Otherwise he’d think I ditched finals on purpose. Back downstairs, I staggered to the phone and thumbed through my phone book until I found the academy’s number. Through blurry eyes, I punched in Mr. Shinji’s code. Thankfully he picked up right away.
“Hello, Mr. Shinji, this is Erin Van Horn. I’m very sick and I won’t be able to take my finals today. The family tells me I have Hashika.”
Mr. Shinji’s voice boomed through the receiver. “What? You have Hashika? That’s not possible. I’ve never heard of anyone getting the Japanese measles. You’re not getting out of finals that easily.”
Couldn’t he hea
r the scratchiness in my voice? “Sir, I’m not making this up. I’d much rather be taking finals than feel like death warmed over.”
“All right let me pull the Moris’ file. Hold on a minute.”
I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to wait. Standing was something my aching legs just didn’t want to do.
Mr. Shinji came back on. “No, you must be mistaken. It says here in the family history that none of them has had a communicable disease. What are your symptoms?”
I proceeded to give him my list of ailments. “The family said Hiroshi had it a few weeks before I came.”
His mood changed from suspicion to anger. “We would have never placed you in the Mori home if we’d known your host brother had Hashika. The disease is similar to American measles and is highly contagious. It has a thirty-day incubation period. He would have been very much a carrier when you first arrived. Is one of your parents there? I need to speak with them immediately.”
I was glad someone else was in trouble for a change. This was going to be fun watching Okasan getting reamed by Mr. Shinji. Wait. I didn’t even know if she was home. “Mr. Shinji, let me see if I can find my host mother.”
Putting down the phone, I slowly dragged my body around the house. She stood in the garden hanging up laundry. “Okasan, telephone.” I was going to enjoy this.
Okasan came in and picked up the phone. I struggled to sit down. The floor felt miles away as I aimed my butt for the cushion.
Okasan’s body language showed Mr. Shinji blasted her for lying on the form. She frantically tried to defend herself. Aiming the receiver at me like a loaded gun, Okasan waved me over and handed the phone back.
Mr. Shinji’s voice took on a somber tone. “Erin, I’m so sorry this happened. I have no choice but to have you stay in the Moris’ home for now. But I promise I will make sure next semester you will be given a new host family, and one that lives much closer to school, too. I know you have not been happy with your commute.”
That was the biggest understatement in history. Too bad I had to be near death to get my dream come true and move into the city.
“I told your host mother to make sure you see a doctor and to take good care of you. I will arrange for your Literature and Political Science finals to be sent to you. I hope you will not hold the academy responsible for this mix up.”
That explains his sudden change of heart—lawsuit. “It’s okay, Mr. Shinji. You didn’t know. It’s the Moris’ fault for lying.”
“Of, course it is. Now don’t worry. You won’t have to turn in your finals for at least two weeks. Please call me and let me know how you’re doing. “
“Thanks, Mr. Shinji. Hey, can you do me a favor and tell my friends what happened?”
“Certainly. As a matter of fact, Setsuko Katani is due in my office any minute. I hope you feel better soon.”
I had to laugh at the image of Setsuko kissing Mr. Shinji’s ass at finals time. Even “A” students needed insurance.
Back up in my room, I downed two Motrin and dozed off. Sometime in the night, my encounter with my nightmare happened. I was falling through a dark abyss into a coffin. Staring at the plush satin lining, I cured the closed lid.
I’m too young to die! My life has barely started. I have so much left to do!
How ironic I came all the way to Japan just to face the grim reaper. Something hit the side of the coffin. They were going to bury me! Then a strange scraping sound pierced through the lid and a bronze hand entered the coffin. I recognized the gold object as it came closer to me—the knife the bronze figure held! It was going to stab me to make sure I didn’t take another breath. With all my might I swung my arm up and hit the hand. The knife dropped to my side. The hand reached for the blade, but I pushed it away. The hand slapped my chest so hard I woke up coughing.
December 21-Noon
Is it Over Yet?
Sweat poured down my forehead when I woke in the morning, delirious with fever. I could swear I was in my bedroom back home. My muscles ached so badly I took the last Motrin. My lymph nodes had swollen to the size of golf balls. My immune system was under major attack and losing. For some reason my chest hurt—the dream. I lifted up my pajama top and found a red hand print on top of my rash. What the H? The dream couldn’t have been real. Had I somehow done it to myself? I placed my hand on top of the print and it matched—almost. No wonder I had no idea what was real or not. Life had become a foggy blur after three days of running a hundred and four degree fever.
My first two attempts to get out of bed landed me squarely on my butt. The third try I managed to hurl myself out the bedroom door and hugged the banister like a life raft. Slowly, I worked my way down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen in pursuit of Hiroshi. Funny, ever since I became ill, he was noticeably absent. I stumbled over to Elvis as he stood raiding the refrigerator. “I need to go to the hospital now! I’m not getting better. I don’t think you want me to die in your house.”
He looked at me like I was already a ghost.
I stood amazed at the lack of empathy the family seemed to have for my illness. With every ounce of my waning strength, I was going over to kick the crap out of him.
Hiroshi sensed my irritation. “Erin, y’all get better. I had it. I good after four days.” He had a pained look on his face. “I didn’t mean to get y’all sick.”
Then it suddenly dawned on me he might have actually made me sick on purpose—the ultimate way to get me to stick around. Not the most flattering method of showing how much he liked me. My adrenaline really kicked in. I needed to shake up his world as much as he had mine. I moved closer and said in Japanese, “If you don’t take me to a doctor right now, I am going to tell Okasan your secret.”
Hiroshi looked me up and down like I spoke in some primitive language. “I don’t know what you are saying?”
“Don’t play dumb! I’m going to tell Okasan the real reason you dress up like Elvis.”
My bluff worked like a charm. A look of panic spread across his face and he sprinted towards the door. “Let me get the car.”
“Good idea, Hiroshi. Because if I die, you’re going with me.”
Chapter 10
The Moment of Truth
December 21-1:00 PM
I didn’t know what I’d die from first, the ravages of Hashika or a horrible accident due to Hiroshi’s crazy driving. Somehow, after speeding through alleys slick with ice and screeching through a series of crazy turns, we arrived at the clinic in one piece. My first experience with Japanese medicine made me long for home. Bare bones wouldn’t even begin to describe the antiseptic white walls and dated furniture. I leaned against a well-worn vinyl chair barely able to keep my head up. When the receptionist called my name, “Banhorno,” I didn’t even have the energy to laugh.
My faith in the Japanese medical system didn’t get any better when I entered the examination room. I threw on a faded blue hospital gown and stared at a chart of the human body that looked like it was printed in the 1950s. Things got even more depressing when I realized that the physician spoke in a heavy dialect that sounded like gibberish, which left me with no option but to be examined with Hiroshi in the room to translate.
The doctor put his freezing stethoscope under my gown. “Anta no shinju tataku yukkuri.”
Hiroshi’s head was bent at a strange angle as he moved closer to my side. Did he think I was too sick to realize what he was doing? My brain was too tired to call him out in Japanese, so I said in English, “Hey, idiot. Stop trying to check out my boobs and tell me what the doctor is saying.”
He turned a nice shade of rose. “Your heart beat slow.”
Great. The doctor moved to my back and began pounding certain spots, all the while listening with the stethoscope. “Anta no hai totemo ii desu.”
Hiroshi rolled his eyes. “He said your lung good.”
Okay, one thing that wasn’t falling apart. The doctor then took each of my arms and turned them over. On a clipboard he wrote down
a series of notes. Not a computer in sight. Then, he got out a prescription pad and filled out two pages. The physician handed them to Hiroshi and walked out the door. And I thought American doctor’s appointments were short. I slid off the examining table, making sure not to give Hiroshi a free show.
“That’s it?”
“He say take four pills a day and see him in a week if y’all still alive.”
December 23-6:00 PM
Help!
Despite the fact my bedroom felt like a refrigerator, I woke up swimming in my bed as usual. The wonders of modern Japanese medicine had done nothing to ease my symptoms. I guess Aki was right about suffering until Hashika was gone. After two more days of running a temperature, I was losing faith I’d ever recover. At least I had a great excuse not to do my chores. The other bonus of being sick was that my muffin top disappeared.
Feeling more homesick than ever, I longed to talk to someone from Idaho. Instead of calling my mom and risking getting her voicemail, I decided to crawl down to the phone and call Tori. The way I felt, it could be the last time I’d ever hear her voice. I hugged the rail as I slowly pulled myself down the stairs muttering under my breath. Why did the Moris’ only have one phone in the house? Why did they have to put it by the smelly damn urinal? And why, oh why, didn’t my parents buy me an international cell phone plan?
To think my mom had the nerve to complain in a letter I didn’t call enough. I picked up the receiver and through blurry eyes slowly pushed the buttons. After three wrong numbers, I finally got through.
“You’ve reached six five four five eight nine three nine four oh. Please leave a message at the beep.”
No. She always picked up her cell! I screamed into the air as if Tori stood in front of me. “Stop yakking on the other line, it’s me and I’m dying.”
A loud click rung in my ear. “Erin, is that you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know for how much longer.”
Tori’s voice went up an octave. “You sound terrible. What’s wrong?”
Reality Strikes Page 10
