An Unlikely Deal(30)

"I swear nothing happened." Just to make sure she understands, I say, "There was no sex. We just talked."

She nods, but her eyes are sweeping me from head to toe. The skin around my neck starts to warm. Her silent judgment is like a fist around my throat.

"If there's nothing else, I do need to prepare for class." I glance at the clock. Ten minutes.

"Of course, the students come first. We will continue this later."

I give her a bland smile and leave. We will not be continuing anything later. She has no right to act like I've been a slut. I know why she's putting my behavior under a microscope. I'm a foreigner. As far as she's concerned, if she isn't careful, I'm likely to exert a negative influence on impressionable Japanese youth.

I'd bet my working visa that if I were Japanese, Kouchou-sensei wouldn't have put me through the "aren't you a little slut" interrogation.

The teachers' office is almost empty. I spot a mug on Mishima-sensei's desk, which sits at the other end of the room, and vow to have a quick conversation with her. If she has a problem with me, she can say it to my face instead of running to her BFF Kouchou-sensei.




 

 

This barb hits home. She flinches. Japanese people are so focused on the group identity rather than the individual's.

"You are American. You are not like us."

"I'm still a teacher at this school," I call out over a shoulder as I walk away.

Even though the parting shot feels great, I know I'm finished at the school. They won't fire me, but they probably won't renew my contract. It's okay though. I have a position waiting for me in Chiang Mai.

And there's Lucas. He's willing to support you so you can write.

I smack myself inwardly. What the hell is wrong with me? I'd rather just never be a writer. Accepting what he's offering would be admitting that I deserve to be treated like a cheap prostitute men fuck in an alley, trousers down around their knees.





Gifts


The girl hides behind the bathroom door and peeks through the gap. Her mother stands in the living room with her arms crossed. Under her feet, what's left of the carpet is brown, and the walls are so dingy it's hard to believe they were white at one point.

The mother is petite, with pretty green eyes and pale golden hair that's almost silver. The pictures of her on the bookcase show her as radiant, her skin smooth. She is now not even ten years older than those photos, but her cracked hands are rough with calluses, and deep lines bracket her downturned mouth.

"What are you doing here?" she says harshly, her voice husky and raspy. Cigarettes are the only vice she can afford with any regularity. They also give her energy when she's tired.

"Baby, I'm sorry." The girl's father spreads his arms. "I had to work on our anniversary. I tried to get the day off, but it was impossible. You know how Bob is."

The mother's lips tighten. "Bob's an asshole. You tell me where he is so I can give that man a piece of my mind."

"Now, baby, don't do that. If you cause trouble at work, I'll lose my job. Then what?"

"I don't know, Beau. Is it worth it? It's not like trucking pays much. I'm tired of working two jobs to make ends meet."

"I'm sorry." He takes her hands in his nicer, softer ones. "Here." He reaches into his jacket pocket. "This made me think of you."

He gives her a black box. It has no label or brand, and inside is rather sad with a pair of golden earrings shaped like strings of hearts. Still, the mother's face brightens. "They're pretty."

"Just like you." He reaches out and runs one hand softly along her hair. "You're the only one for me."

Smiling, the mother lets him lead her to the only bedroom in the apartment. Their moans and grunts keep the girl awake for a long, long time. 





Chapter Fourteen



Ava

Tuesday passes without incident. Teachers still eye me speculatively, but I pretend it doesn't bother me. Neither Kouchou-sensei nor Mishima-sensei has bugged me since then, so I act like Monday never happened.

Even if I have a job offer, I still need to finish out my contract with the school, and I don't want to have any pointless tension here.

Thankfully Lucas doesn't bother me with another bouquet of nonsense. Hopefully he's flown back to America by now, where he belongs … with Faye Belbin. The idea stirs a crazy cocktail of jealousy inside me, and I breathe deeply to calm myself. It's better this way. Don't I know that?

But Wednesday morning Mishima-sensei comes and tells me that Kouchou-sensei wants to talk to me again. I raise my eyebrows. I haven't gone out or done anything that could be construed as inappropriate, so I don't know what Kouchou-sensei can possibly want to talk about.

"Before your first class," Mishima-sensei clarifies.