Mismatch

by Lensey Namioka

  Sue’s mother found her voice. “Thank you.”

  Grandma Mei beamed with pleasure. “So you like brush paintings?” she asked Mr. Suzuki.

  “Very much!” said Mr. Suzuki. “I especially like black-and-white paintings. It’s closely related to brush calligraphy.”

  “Good, good,” said Grandma Mei. “These days, so few people develop a skill in brush calligraphy!”

  Please don’t ask to be introduced, Sue prayed silently. Her grandmother must have assumed that Mr. Suzuki was Chinese, since he had the good taste to admire black-and-white brush paintings. Sue crossed her fingers. Just don’t ask this guy his name!

  Grandma Mei turned to look at Andy. “And you are a member of the orchestra as well?”

  Andy was practically bowing. Grandma Mei had that effect on people. “Yes, ma’am, I’m a violinist.”

  This also earned a wide smile of approval from Grandma Mei. “I’m so glad to hear that! Some people claim that sports develop character, but I have always believed that music is even more demanding, and good for character building.”

  “I practice very hard, ma’am,” said Andy, looking so angelic that Sue could imagine a halo floating above his head.

  “Oh, there you are!” said Mia, coming into the coffee shop. “Mr. Baxter says it’s getting close to boarding time. He wants all of us gathered in front of the security checkpoint.”

  Sue and her family quickly got up from the table. As she left the coffee shop, Sue felt a certain relief. Grandma Mei hadn’t had time to learn that their companions’ name was Suzuki. Sue couldn’t imagine how her grandmother might have reacted if she had. As she walked toward the gate, Sue felt alternately a flutter of excitement about the coming trip and a tightness in her chest at the thought of being separated from her family by thousands of miles.

  Since only passengers were allowed to go to the departure gate, the people seeing them off had to say goodbye in front of the security checkpoint. Sue’s mother gave her a hug that squeezed all the air from her lungs. Even her father, not a demonstrative person, gave her a tight hug.

  Rochelle handed Sue her viola case, which she had been holding. “You think the orchestra can use an extra violin, if I promise to play very, very softly?”

  Grandma Mei wiped her eyes and kissed Sue’s cheek. “You’ll do just fine, Sue. I know you will.”

  As Sue turned toward the gate, she found Andy beside her.

  “We’re seated in different rows,” he said. “But once we’re in the air, we can probably switch with somebody.”

  “I guess you and your boyfriend’s families finally met,” said Mia, coming up behind them.

  Grandma Mei, who was just about to walk away, turned back. She smiled at Sue. “So this is your boyfriend? Good, good! You’ve always been a shy girl, but you found a nice boy in the end.”

  “Looks like you were worrying for no reason at all,” continued Mia. “See? Chinese and Japanese families can get along fine!”

  Grandma Mei’s smile faded. “What did you say? What’s this about Chinese and Japanese families?”

  Mia covered her mouth. “Oops! Did I just say something I wasn’t supposed to?”

  Sue took a deep breath and faced her grandmother. She knew the time had come to be honest with her. “Andy’s last name is Suzuki, Grandma. He and his family are Japanese Americans.”

  Grandma Mei said nothing. For a minute Sue thought that her grandmother had not heard her. Her still face looked more than ever like a dried persimmon. It was white with powder, and the lines in her skin ran deep. But her eyes that stared at Sue glittered, and they were sharp enough to cut glass.

  Sue had the feeling that she and her grandmother faced each other alone in the busy airport. Mia had immediately escaped, and the Suzuki family had also gone to join the other students and their families. Even Sue’s parents and Rochelle seemed to be distant.

  “I have always loved you, Sue, because I thought you were a true Chinese lady,” said Grandma Mei. She did not raise her voice, but that made her even scarier. “What I have admired most in you was your honesty.”

  “Grandma, I haven’t really told you any lies about Andy,” Sue began. She stopped, knowing that the argument was weak.

  Grandma Mei went on as if she hadn’t heard Sue. “But your scheme, your plot to make me meet your boyfriend and his family, that’s contemptible!”

  “Mother, it was not a plot!” cried Sue’s mother. “It was a pure accident!”

  “Grandma, you’re not being fair to Sue!” protested Rochelle almost at the same time.

  “Go!” Grandma Mei said to Sue. “Go to Japan! That’s where you truly want to be!”

  She turned and marched off. Sue’s parents gave her quick hugs and ran after Grandma Mei.

  Mr. Baxter’s voice rose above the murmur of the crowd. “Come on, folks, we’ve got to get a move on!”

  As she hurried toward the security checkpoint, Sue could still picture the expression on Grandma Mei’s face. It was not just anger. Sue could cope with that. What she also saw was sadness, and that tore at her heart.

  7

  Andy felt light-headed by the time the plane finally landed at Narita Airport. During the nine-hour flight he’d hardly been able to sleep at all. All of a sudden, he was completely freaked out by two things: one, that Japan might not live up to what he hoped to see, and two (this was the one that worried him more, if he was being honest with himself), that he might not live up to what the Japanese expected of him. He hated the idea of making a terrible impression and shaming his family.

  As the plane began its circling descent, he looked down at Sue, whose head was resting on his shoulder. While he had been psyching himself out about what might go wrong in Tokyo, Sue had managed to doze off more than once. He couldn’t help smiling down at her as her breath gently stirred the shiny curtain of hair that covered half her face.

  After a while, she began to stir. “How are you doing?” he asked gently.

  Sue yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Not bad. I must have slept a couple of hours, I think. How ’bout you?”

  “Maybe I dozed between movies,” he lied. “I should have turned the headphones off and tried to get some rest, but I couldn’t really sleep much. Too nervous, I guess.”

  Finally, with a huge bump, the plane touched down on the runway. Andy sat impatiently as the plane taxied to the gate. It seemed to take forever, but the plane finally stopped, there was a beep, and the seat belt sign went off. People began to move. Andy got up and retrieved his violin from the overhead compartment. The doors were opened, and he and Sue picked up their backpacks and followed the crowd. Andy’s legs felt like rubber. After that long trip, he couldn’t get out of the plane fast enough.

  But at the same time he wasn’t quite ready to set his foot on Japanese land—the land where his ancestors had come from. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door of the plane. Now he was really in Japan.

  But the terminal looked just like any other airport terminal. Many of the signs were even in English, Andy noted with disappointment. Feeling slightly deflated, he followed the other Lakeview kids through the immigration line. That didn’t take long, since the whole orchestra passed through as one party.

  The wait for their luggage was tedious, and then they had to go through customs. It took even longer than usual because they had to wait for everybody in their party. Finally, about an hour or so after they’d landed, they were out.

  Waiting for them just outside customs was a big crowd of Japanese people. Andy guessed they were their host families. Mr. Baxter walked over to meet a middle-aged Japanese man, who Andy remembered as the Kasei School’s orchestra conductor. Andy couldn’t help contrasting the Japanese man, who wore a neat suit and tie, with Mr. Baxter, who wore a rumpled T-shirt and jeans. Andy realized that he must look pretty rumpled, too. He hoped his host family wouldn’t hold it against him.

  Mr. Baxter began to read out the names of the orchestra members, and after each nam
e was read, the school representative read out the name of the host family. Andy saw that some of the orchestra members were greeted warmly by Japanese students he recognized from the Kasei School’s visit. Some of his fellow orchestra members were being reunited with the Japanese players they had hosted.

  Andy heard Sue’s name being read, and then the name Chong. Andy frowned. That wasn’t a Japanese name. Sue had just joined the orchestra this year, so she wouldn’t know any of the Japanese players and would be staying with strangers. Sue smiled nervously and gave Andy a little wave, then went off to join a serious-looking middle-aged couple.

  Andy would also be staying with strangers. He had to wait a long time before he was called, since their names were in alphabetical order. Finally, he heard his name, followed by the name Sato. A short, middle-aged couple and a teenage girl stepped forward to greet him.

  The Satos looked about the same age as Andy’s own parents. Mr. and Mrs. Sato were the exact same height, which was more than a head shorter than Andy. The daughter was a little taller than her parents, but not much, and she looked as slender as a blade of grass. Looming over the family, Andy felt like a Kodiak bear.

  Andy bowed, and then his mind went blank. With a great effort, he managed to dredge up the phrase he had been rehearsing before leaving home, “Hajime mashite.” It was the Japanese phrase used when greeting someone for the first time.

  Mr. Sato smiled and poured a torrent of Japanese over Andy. Andy blushed. Great. Now they think I’m fluent. “Uh . . . I’m afraid my Japanese isn’t so good,” Andy said, trying to look apologetic.

  Mr. Sato abruptly stopped smiling and switched into English. “This is my wife, and this is our daughter, Haruko. Welcome to Japan, Andy-kun.”

  Andy bowed again, and smiled at Mrs. Sato and Haruko. Mrs. Sato gave a flicker of a smile, while Haruko’s face held no expression. Andy couldn’t tell whether she was disappointed by him or just bored. He’d never seen such a totally blank face before.

  Andy tried to study the girl without being too obvious. She was about the same height as Sue, and both of them had a slim build. There the resemblance ended. Whereas Sue had long, straight black hair that fell in a shining sheet, Haruko’s was cut very short, and bleached a pale blond. But the greatest difference between the two girls was in their expressions. Sue generally looked serious, but Andy could see humor lurking not far from the surface, and he always felt that her smile was on the point of breaking out. Haruko’s face held no trace of humor whatsoever.

  “We usually take the train from Narita Airport,” Mr. Sato told Andy. “But since you must be tired after the trip, we thought we’d drive into Tokyo.”

  Something in his voice told Andy that driving to and from the airport, the normal thing to do in America, was a big undertaking here and a sacrifice on Mr. Sato’s part.

  “It’s very kind of you to drive me,” Andy said quickly. “Thank you very much for going to so much trouble.”

  Both Mr. and Mrs. Sato smiled at Andy. Apparently he had said the right thing. Score one for Andy.

  Stepping out of the air-conditioned terminal building and walking into the open air of late July was like being slapped in the face with a slice of hot pizza—the side with the cheese and pepperoni. It had been hot back home, but nothing like this. The humidity made the heat feel a hundred times worse.

  Andy plodded after the Satos, carrying his backpack on his back and pulling his wheeled suitcase with one hand while holding his violin case with the other. He could feel the sweat running down his face and into his eyes, almost blinding him. Since his hands were full, he couldn’t wipe his eyes. Of course Mr. and Mrs. Sato belonged to an older generation and couldn’t be expected to help carry his luggage, but he thought Haruko could have offered to take the violin case, at least. He blinked away some sweat from his eyes and stole a look at her. She glanced coldly at him and turned her head away. What is with her?

  At last they reached the garage where the car was parked. As Mr. Sato unlocked the Toyota, Andy wondered how they were going to fit him and his luggage in. Back home, his family also drove a Toyota, but it was much bigger than the Satos’ car. He didn’t realize that Toyota made a model as teeny as this one. It seemed like a golf cart to him.

  The trunk did hold Andy’s suitcase and violin case. He got in—inserted himself into—the backseat with Haruko, shoving his backpack in before him. She winced as she sat down beside him, and Andy wondered if he smelled bad. After all, he’d been on a plane for nine hours, and it was pretty hot outside. It was a blessing when Mr. Sato started the engine and turned the air-conditioning on.

  Andy couldn’t tell how long it took to drive into Tokyo, because he dozed during most of the trip. At first he tried hard to stay awake. After they left the airport, they drove past some fields. Andy saw old-fashioned Japanese houses with sloping tiled roofs. It was almost like seeing a costume movie. He wanted to ask about the countryside, but he was swamped by a wave of sleepiness. He woke up a little later and saw that they were driving on a freeway that had walls on either side, obscuring the view, so he lost interest.

  The next time he opened his eyes, he saw that they had left the freeway and were driving through a city street. The street was so narrow that it barely had room for one car. Pedestrians had no sidewalks, only a narrow path along the side of the road, which was marked off by a white stripe or a low metal railing. Andy wondered how a big fat sumo wrestler would avoid being scraped by a passing car.

  “We’re almost there,” said Mr. Sato.

  A few minutes later, they stopped, turned into a driveway, and parked under a carport made of transparent brown plastic. After the Satos got out, Andy struggled from the car, stood up, and looked around. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by the differences from Seattle.

  This is Japan, the land my ancestors came from. But it looks so alien! The neighborhood was a residential one, and yet he couldn’t see the other houses, because they were all surrounded by a tall fence that hid almost everything except the roof. It looked forbidding and unfriendly, so different from his street back home.

  Mrs. Sato opened a gate by the side of the carport and beckoned Andy to follow. He picked up his luggage, passed through the gate, and found himself in a small courtyard. A path of irregularly shaped stepping-stones led to the house. In front of him, Mr. Sato and Haruko were already mounting the stairs leading into the house.

  Once they entered, the Satos removed their shoes. Removing his shoes before entering the house was something Andy also did at home. He quickly followed their example. Stepping up into the house, he placed his shoes on a shelf in the same cabinet used by the others. His shoes were a couple of inches longer than the next biggest pair, those belonging to Mr. Sato, and they stuck out so much that he couldn’t close the cabinet door. Oh well, at least all the shoes will get a good airing.

  Mrs. Sato handed Andy a pair of plastic slippers. Mr. Sato and Haruko were already shuffling off. Andy obediently put the slippers on. He found them slightly clammy.

  “I show you to your room,” Mrs. Sato told Andy.

  Shuffling along the dark wooden floor of a narrow corridor, Andy followed his hostess to the end of the hall, where she slid open a door and beckoned him to enter.

  It was a tiny room, almost a cell, but it had a desk with a lamp, a standing wooden wardrobe, and a narrow cot. Andy, who was pretty narrow himself, was not worried about the width of the cot. It was its length that was a problem.

  Mrs. Sato realized the same. She looked him up and down and then turned her eyes to the cot. “Maybe you too long?” she murmured.

  “Too long,” Andy agreed.

  “Can you sleep on floor?” she asked.

  “Of course I can!” declared Andy. He had been expecting to sleep on the floor anyway. On camping trips he had slept in a sleeping bag spread out on the hard ground. “I bring futon,” said Mrs. Sato, and hurried out.

  Andy decided to use the cot as a shelf for his belongings. He put his violin and suitc
ase on the cot and began to unpack. By the time he had emptied his suitcase, his belongings filled the whole cot.

  Among the things he took out was a big box of smoked salmon, which was a local specialty at home. His mother had bought the salmon for him to present to his host family. She had told him that in Japan, you were expected to bring meibutsu, local specialty, as a gift.

  Mrs. Sato staggered in, carrying what looked like a big folded mattress. In Seattle, some of Andy’s friends had futons, but the American version had a bulky wooden frame and looked more or less like a couch that folded. Here, it seemed, a futon was just a mattress. As Mrs. Sato struggled with it, Andy bent down to help. Haruko’s not lifting a finger to help her mother with the house-guest, he noted.

  Once the futon was on the floor, Andy presented the box of salmon to her with a little bow. Her eyes widened in surprise. Apparently she hadn’t expected him to be so civilized. She poured out her thanks in Japanese, and Andy blushed and made some modest-sounding murmurs. That seemed to be the right response, and Andy felt his stock rising.

  Andy’s next need, an urgent one, was to use the toilet. “Obenjo?” he asked. It was one of the vitally important terms his parents had insisted he learn.

  Mrs. Sato stared for a moment, and then said, “Toire?”

  Apparently the word for “toilet” that his parents had taught him was no longer used, and the word used these days was “toire.” Of course! “Toire” was simply the English word “toilet,” modified a little. Andy nodded eagerly. He followed Mrs. Sato down the hallway and came to a door, which she slid open.

  “Slippers!” she ordered.

  Andy saw a pair of slippers inside the toilet and realized that he had to take off the slippers he had put on at the front door and put on these special toilet slippers. When in Rome, he thought, and did as Mrs. Sato ordered. After he closed the door, he looked around the tiny room. It contained a toilet, and nothing else—no bathing facilities, no sink. On the back of the toilet, however, was a small basin with a faucet, for washing one’s hands, obviously.