The Salaryman's Wife(100)

“Who knows? Guys like him go after office ladies, too.”

“He’s a pervert, all right,” I agreed. “He really seemed to enjoy telling me about the man who touched me on the train.”

“Maybe now I should apologize.” Yamamoto sighed heavily.

“Huh?” He must have misunderstood my English.

“I had no idea how you’d react. I’ve been sick about doing it since New Year’s Eve.”

“Doing what?” I still couldn’t follow.

“I went to the temple and prayed for forgiveness. Please do not tell Hugh. Just let me go on—”

As Yamamoto carried on, the truth finally hit me like a sack of nonburnable garbage. He had been on the same train as me New Year’s Eve. I recalled the figures I’d seen in the window’s reflection, including that of the young salaryman half-obscured by a newspaper. It had to have been him, moving his hand underneath the pages.

“You’re sick,” I whispered. He was young, educated, good-looking. He could date a nice-looking girl like Hikari Yasui if he wanted.

“I would never have done it if I knew you were a foreigner” Yamamoto’s face flushed red, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“It was okay because you thought I was Japanese?” Each apology outraged me a little more.

“Look, a lot of guys do it,” he said defiantly. “Some women don’t mind. And I know you like to be touched. I’ve heard with my own cars.”

Hugh would go crazy if he knew what his assistant had done, but Kenji Yamamoto needed to learn that women could fight their own battles. I gave the young salaryman a forgiving smile as I refilled my cup with lukewarm green tea, not bothering to strain it. His mother was walking in when I threw it in his face.


Before going to work, I removed the long haired wig I’d been wearing so the security guard at Nichiyu would recognize me. I shouldn’t have worried. Employees who’d never shown the slightest interest deluged me with greetings. I made my way into the language-teaching section and nervously waited Mr. Katoh.

“It’s all very simple, really,” I said, jumping to my feet when he came through the door. “Sometimes one gets caught up in circumstances beyond one’s control—in this case, a death. I apologize for leaving early the other day, and you probably have heard I may need time to testify in court. For the trouble I’ve caused you and the company, I am so very sorry.” I ended it all with a bow deep enough to contemplate that my navy flats really needed a polish.

“I appreciate your courtesy, Miss Shimura.” Mr. Katoh looked unnaturally calm as he ushered me into the small conference room and closed the door. “I have good news for you.”

“To be forgiven is enough,” I stammered.

“You can get away from all your troubles in Osaka. Dormitory accommodation will be assured at no cost to you. You can go next week!”

“Osaka?” I repeated dumbly.

“Remember, we talked about it. They need you there, and will not know much about your reputation…”

“Mr. Katoh, I said I wanted to think about it.” I stared at the buffed surface of the teak table where he, Richard, and I had spent many long hours going over student progress reports.

“I see.” From his dour expression, I could tell he didn’t. “Miss Shimura, if you wish to remain with Nichiyu…”

Spell it out, I wanted to say. Although part of me knew that if he were any more blunt, I’d be faced with no other option than giving my notice.

“I tried very hard to lobby for you,” he continued. “At the emergency public relations meeting, I spoke against the wisdom of several other executives because of my gratitude for your steadfast service. Our sales force knows more English, can speak in the conversational style, even.”

“Please don’t say any more,” I begged. “My class starts in five minutes and I must not be late.”

“Don’t you understand this is already decided?” His smile was completely gone.

Without answering, I bolted.

I taught in a sort of vacuum that afternoon, shocked enough over Osaka that the undercurrents of my students’ curiosity didn’t hurt me anymore. I corrected grammar and syntax to the most minute levels, wanting no time left over for free conversation or for their thoughts. My own were trouble enough.

I collared Richard in the employee lounge at eight. When I told him about my transfer, he didn’t look surprised.

“They asked me if I wanted to transfer, but I said no thanks. I’d shrivel up and die if I had to sleep in a dorm with a curfew. I should have figured they’d force you.”