The Spare Room by Kathryn Lomer Page B

Chisuko; a new place to explore; a new language to speak; and new customs to try and fathom. Every moment was packed. So did I miss my family, Japan, my friends at home? I didn’t have time. I suppose you would have been the one I’d have missed, Satoshi, but I’d been missing you for months. In some ways I missed you less there. It did sometimes seem as if you’d accompanied me, larking about in that empty seat next to me in the plane, looking over my shoulder at what I was doing. You were with me in spirit.
    One day in class we practised the kind of message we should write in greeting cards. We learned what kind of card was appropriate for each occasion. On the way home from class I dropped into a news-agency and looked through all the cards on the racks. Now I knew what the strange words meant. Condolence, Valentine, Anniversary, Engagement. Some were blank. I chose a blank card with roses on the front. I took it to the counter.
    What’s the damage? I asked.
    The sales assistant — a young girl — looked at me and smiled.
    When I got home I wrote in the card and slipped it under Angie’s door. I wrote, Dear Angie, Why you are very angry with me? Love, Akira.
    Later I heard her come home and go into her room. She came to her door and shouted down the hallway.
    Because you’re an idiot!
    One Saturday, out of the blue, Alex announced we would go to the beach. The weather was much warmer now. We got our things together and set off in the old car, Alex, Daisy, me, and — I could hardly believe it — Angie. I wondered if Jess had said something. Be nice to the homestay boy or he might leave and we don’t want that.
    The beach was beautiful. I had never been to a beach like it — a long half-moon of white sand, with little boat sheds at each end, and partly shaded by a line of gum trees. I was already in bathers and having fun burying Daisy under the sand when I noticed Angie stripping off to her bikini. I must have watched for a few seconds too long, because Daisy started singing softly, What big eyes you have!
    I looked at her and was glad to see she was smiling, teasing. I was thrown, though. Angie walked past us in her imperious way and into the water and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. When I turned back to Daisy, she was looking quizzically at my board shorts. How embarrassing. I dug a lot of sand in a great hurry and buried Daisy so deep she couldn’t move. I wished it was me under the sand, out of sight.
    Satoshi, you should have seen her. She is so beautiful. And that day, it was as if she forgot to be angry and nasty, and she relaxed. Almost despite herself. I watched her swim out into the deep water then turn on her back and float, and I knew I wanted to be out there floating next to her, holding my hands underneath her. This was all sudden and strange to me. Angie certainly hadn’t given me any cause to think of her in that way. Far from it. But there it was. I was drawn to her. But mostly I was simply glad to see her calm and a little bit content.
    Daisy eventually wriggled out of her mound and ran into the water to wash off the sand. Angie swam into the shallows and splashed her sister, who splashed her back with gusto. They looked like any normal happy pair of sisters. This is more like it, I thought. I went in to join them. Instantly Angie took on the sulky look again. She walked out of the water and up the beach, where she lay down on her towel. Daisy shot me a look, rolled her eyes and splashed me with all her might.
    I still remember the feeling after that day at the beach of being washed clean, somehow made free. You would have loved it, Satoshi — lying on the beach in the sun and looking back up the river to the dark blue bulk of Mt Wellington, and at the mountain behind it, which was called Sleeping Beauty, so Daisy told me, because, viewed from a certain angle, it has the profile of a woman’s sleeping face and flowing hair. I