by John Jeng
her like she’d hoped. Men didn’t find her attractive. She was getting evicted in a week. Christmas was tomorrow and she had no plans.
Ping! Tabitha looked down at a notification on her phone. It was a photo message from Siobhan.
The text read, “He proposed! I’m getting married~!” Siobhan was holding the back of her hand to the camera showing a huge rock of an engagement ring, affecting her joy with a criminal smile that extended from ear to ear.
Tabitha snapped her flip phone shut and strode in the general direction toward the train station. She felt dizzy. She wanted to lie down in the middle of the road. Up ahead, the road ahead took a steep turn. Should she trace her steps back to the subway station? No. She wanted to keep moving on her own two feet, feel some semblance of control. She wished the December air would freeze inside her lungs and stop the painful memories from resurfacing.
Where to next? Back to her apartment in the boonies of Tokyo and start packing her things? Should she contact a shipping company and ask for some cardboard boxes? Or was it off to an English-speaking travel agency to book the cheapest economy class flight back to America? She hung her head, walking less by design than by a subconscious desire for physical propulsion.
I guess I should book a ticket back home, Tabitha thought. Then she slapped herself on the forehead. What am I even thinking? Pull yourself together, Tabby! I’m not ready to go home yet! She pictured herself explaining to friends and family why she’d been fired after only six months. She didn’t want to be stuck with getting fired as her last memory of this country. She had another six months on her visa. But could she even get a new job in a country where she didn’t have any references or speak the language? Then she recalled Mrs. Ishida’s parting words. The nerve! The thought of living with that woman made her physically ill.
The road narrowed into a stretch walled on both sides by cold limestone. There was a staircase on her left side. She tried to read the bronze plaque on the wall inscribed with four large Chinese characters. The English translation underneath read “Inari’s Shinto Shrine.” Tabitha looked up to observe a girl standing on a landing and sweeping the steps. Judging from the girl’s white vestments and the pleated red skirt, she probably performed Shinto rituals. She must still be in high school, Tabitha thought, for she noticed a set of headphones clamped on the girl’s head. She must be one of the shrine maidens I’ve heard about.
The girl must’ve sensed Tabitha’s gaze because she looked up and waved. Immediately, Tabitha felt timid and hurried away, but she’d only walked a few steps when the street lamps lit up. A string of incandescent bulbs overhead flashed intermittently before stabilizing as a golden halo. Whoa, she thought, the halo reminding her of Christmas lights in her hometown. This takes me back. I guess I could check it out. She backtracked to where the shrine maiden was still sweeping the steps humming a familiar tune.
“Excuse me, but do you speak English?” Tabitha asked the girl, fully expecting a timid, “No,” in reply.
Instead, the girl met Tabitha’s gaze, slid off her oversized headphones, and smiled. “Sure do. How may I help you?”
Tabitha felt a flush of blood to her face, unsure of what to ask next. She was a dyed-in-the-wool introvert, and interactions with strangers made her uncomfortable. “Well, uh, I saw your lights, and uh, I’m interested in seeing your shrine. Do you think you could show me around?” Why did she have to sound so stupid? Why?
The shrine maiden stopped sweeping. She pulled out her mp3 player to stop the music. Then looking at Tabitha again, uttered, “Of course, come on up!”
Tabitha was a bit taken aback by how cheerfully the girl called to her and went up the steps. She wondered if the girl was a kikokushijo, a child who had returned to Japan after being raised overseas. There had been a couple of kikokushijos in the classes she taught—girls who spoke English like natives but sat through Tabitha’s class looking bored or doing homework for other subjects. Tabitha didn’t like those girls because they wouldn’t take English seriously, and they had prejudiced their classmates and teachers against her. Each step up the shrine steps, she recalled the faces of those punks, hoping she wouldn’t be swayed by a few rotten apples. When she reached the same step on the stairs as the shrine maiden, Tabitha was struck by the shrine maiden’s considerable height, standing eye-to-eye to her. Tabitha glanced down at the girl’s shoes—straw-rope sandals. Close up, the girl looked no more than sixteen. Her freckled face was narrow, and her almond shaped eyes were peculiarly close to the bridge of her nose. And she was standing too close, her protuberant eyes boring into Tabitha’s face.
“Are you Shinto?” the girl demanded.
“I’m uh… not very religious,” Tabitha stammered, backing away.
“You mean you do not even have one religion? I have three religions.”
“Three religions?”
“Yeah, Catholic, Zen Buddhist, and now that I am the shrine maiden of Inari Jinja, I have Shinto, too, so three religions. Although strictly speaking, Shinto is more philosophy than religion, but you know how it is.”
Something about the way she spoke about religion felt wrong, even outlandish, as though she were reducing the religion she represented into a change of clothing. Was the girl trying to elicit a response? Tabitha simply nodded, following the shrine maiden to the top of the stairs. In front of them was a brown wooden corridor. Through it, Tabitha could see intricate buildings surrounding a central courtyard on three sides.
The girl pointed to a smooth stone statue of a fox to the side of the brown wooden gate in front of them. The fox was wrapped in a red bib and held a jewel in its mouth. “This here fox is a kitsune, a messenger of the god, Inari-sama and come in pairs, one male, one female. Foxes intercede with Inari-sama on the worshipper’s behalf and sometimes even grant wishes. If we do a good job, devotees offer us tofu and rice as thanks.”
A pile of sundry convenience store snacks lay at the base of the fox statue. Among the colorful packages, the girl seized a package of rice crackers and stuffed it into her kimono jacket.
“Why is there only one statue?” Tabitha asked, noticing the empty pedestal on the other side.
“Oh, the vixen is out working at the moment. She will be back soon.”
Tabitha forced a laugh. “You mean the statues come alive like gargoyles?”
“Yup,” she replied seriously, then pointed to a vermillion structure behind the wooden gate.
“That vermillion thing behind the corridor is called a ‘torii.’ Each one creates a boundary between the ordinary world and the sacred spirit world. Those who cross its threshold with pure intentions will have their wishes granted.” She paused and turned to Tabitha. “Are you ready?”
“You mean to go over there?”
“Set, go!” The girl bolted without warning, running headfirst through the hallowed torii like a competitive sprinter crossing a finish line.
“Hey, what the-!”
“Come on!” cried the girl, already giggling hysterically on the other side of the corridor.
Tabitha was shocked by how fast the girl had sped away in her Shinto vestments; her personality changed after the spurt of hyperactivity. She rushed forward to draw level with the teenager. “Um, excuse me, but what’s your name?”
“Oh, yeah!” the girl sang, rocking on the balls of her feet. “My name is Inaho Okami, Inari-sama’s shrine maiden extraordinaire.” She reached into her skirt pocket and offered Tabitha a wrinkled business card. “What is your name?”
Tabitha took Inaho’s card and looked at it. Then she looked back at the girl in front of her. Something was off about the girl’s speech pattern that she couldn’t quite place. She wanted to ask where the girl had learned English but was afraid it’d sound rude. Instead, she murmured, “I’m Tabitha Small.”
“Good to know you, Tabitha. Now, let us continue the tour, shall we?” Inaho didn’t wait for a response before bounding away. Reluctantly, Tabitha followed her tour guide, wondering if she’d made a mistake in coming
here. Seen from the back, there was something odd about this shrine maiden, like she was a little too eager to show Tabitha around.
Inaho stood in the center of the courtyard where she explained that the shrine was dedicated to Inari, the god of rice. She pointed to a simple structure at the far end surrounded by four wainscoted fences. To Tabitha, it resembled a glorified garden shed, except it stood on top of a small flight of stairs leading up to a dais. The structure was enclosed behind plank walls covered by a gabled roof thatched with reeds.
“That there is the honden where Inari-sama is enshrined. It is the most sacred building in the shrine. In fact, no one is allowed inside Inari-sama’s sanctuary, but between you and me, there is nothing inside except a mirror.”
Tabitha raised an eyebrow. “How would you know that unless you’ve peeked inside?”
Inaho just coughed in reply and pointed to a grand hall next to the honden. “And this here is the haiden, the worship hall where the bigwigs conduct their religious rituals. And sometimes I practice kagura dancing in there. And sometimes I recite chants or perform spirit channeling.” Then she cleared her throat like a bellhop expecting a tip. Tabitha gave her a 100-yen coin, and Inaho beamed.
“Now on to part two! Do you want to make a wish today, Tabitha?”
“Do you think that'll help? I’m