Red Tea

by Meg Mezeske

  As she rounded a flight, Jordan darted to avoid a long cord winding across the steps and the large, bucket-shaped vacuum it was attached to. She nodded at the boy manning the vacuum’s hose, knowing any greeting would not be heard over the machine’s raspy whirrs ricocheting through the stairwell. When she arrived at the first floor, many more students were caught up in cleaning: dusting and watering plants, washing the windows, and running along the floor with stooped backs, cleaning cloths in hand. Every single school day devoted a short time in the afternoon to cleaning the school, involving every student.

  Jordan could hear chairs and desks scraping and knew that the classrooms were getting similar treatment. As she passed an open doorway, she heard a boy coughing as he dusted the chalkboard erasers, his friends laughing and calling him an idiot. For the first two weeks, Jordan had asked what she could do to help, but she was told not to trouble herself and was often ushered to her desk, though she saw other teachers directing students and cleaning.

  Instead of sitting in the teachers’ room, she had taken to strolling through the halls, striking up conversations with students. Sometimes a student would be convinced to hand her a broom or allow her to arrange desks.

  A few first-graders passed by without greeting, still timid around her. It was unlikely that any would approach Jordan or engage her in conversation due to shyness. Perhaps that was for the best, she decided, considering her sullen mood. Jordan ambled away from the stairs and gave quick hellos to students, who replied mostly in Japanese before returning to their assigned tasks.

  Before long, she turned a corner and found herself in a recessed room she had never seen before. Unlike the rest of the school, which was always bright and sun-gilded by its windows, the alcove was dark and narrowed into a low hallway that led away from the classrooms. It wasn’t until Jordan’s eyes adjusted to the dim light that she noticed she was not alone. A boy leaned against a large heap of stacked chairs, facing away from her.

  “Hello,” Jordan said. Her voice rang loudly in the small room. The boy jumped and scrambled for the broom at his side as he whipped around to face her.

  “Oh! Jordan-sensei. Hello.” He was still startled but seemed relieved to have not been caught by another teacher—one who actually wielded authority.

  “Sorry to scare you. And don’t worry; I won’t make you clean.” Jordan smiled and touched her finger to the side of her nose.

  “I wasn’t scared…but thanks.” Instead of smiling back, he frowned petulantly and let his eyes trail away along with the strength of his voice. His gaze landed on a tiny object at his feet. Making a small noise, he quickly stooped to pick it up. He seemed to forget Jordan for a second and fiddled with the item he had snatched. Jordan moved closer and saw a flash of red between the boy’s fingers. He didn’t seem too interested in engaging her, but she gave conversation one more try.

  “What’s that?”

  “It was my brother’s,” he said and opened his hand toward Jordan. In his palm, like a single maple leaf on the surface of a lake, was a crimson origami crane no larger than a penny.

  “Your brother made that? It’s amazing.”

  “Yeah. He was really good.”

  Jordan wondered a moment at the use of past tense, unsure of whether she had misheard. She glanced over his palm to his white name tag. First Grade: Shun Watanabe. Her breath caught.

  “Are you Yuki’s brother?”

  Shun nodded and kept his head down. He set the broom against the stack of chairs and then ran his fingers gently over the paper figure as though he were petting a real bird.

  “I’m very sorry, Shun,” Jordan said and wondered whether she should pat his shoulder or offer some other condolence, feeling a twinge in her chest at his miserable expression. “I would have liked to have met him.”

  “Yuki didn’t kill himself.” He spoke so softly that Jordan could barely decipher his mumbled words. An instant later, he snapped up from his slouch with a defiant, almost angry look. Shun’s plump cheeks were blotchy and flushed, his small teeth bared in a grimace. “He didn’t kill himself! I know he didn’t! He promised to teach me origami and he never goes back on a promise. He never—” Shun sobbed and sprinted past Jordan toward the opening to the hallway. He almost barreled into another boy who turned the corner, but Shun pivoted at the last moment and fled without another word.

  “Shun!” the other boy called after him, but Shun was already gone. The boy shook his head and turned away, eyes widening when he noticed Jordan.

  “Jordan-sensei! Hello,” he said in English.

  “Hello.” She couldn’t quite place the spindly, thin boy—a second-grader by his name tag. Obviously he was in one of her classes, but he looked familiar for some other reason. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Shun.”

  “It’s not your fault,” the boy said, reverting to Japanese. “Shun usually comes down here when he’s sad. Yuki and I would always hang out here.” Jordan recognized him then. He was the boy who had been speaking with Ms. Tatsuya in the teachers’ room on Jordan’s first day. Ms. Tatsuya had described him as Yuki’s sole friend.

  “Are you Akira?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were Yuki’s friend?”

  “Best friend.” Akira said and straightened with pride. “Yuki was pretty happy when he found this place. Did you see the science room?”

  “Science room?” Jordan repeated the words phonetically, not knowing what he meant.

  “Yeah, over here.” Akira moved past the stacked chairs to a closed door flush against the wall that Jordan hadn’t noticed. He motioned her over and then cupped his hands against the sides of his face to peer inside. “Check it out.”

  He stood aside and pointed to the window. Jordan looked in as Akira had, but she had to strain to see its contents in the low light. Inside were small stacks of books with yellowing pages covered in a patina of dust. Lining the walls were shelves and display cases with curious specimens—objects suspended in bile-like liquids, moths pinned to boards, a taxidermy pheasant with brittle feathers, and other bottled and preserved oddities. A cabinet held empty beakers, test tubes, and glass vials containing various liquids.

  Except for a burnished lock on the old cabinet, every inch of the room was dull, dust covered, and yellowing, like a tableau frozen in a sepia photograph. The window on the door was at least clean enough to let her see what the light would allow. As she pulled away from the door, a shiny padlock against its handle rattled.

  “Kinda creepy,” Jordan said but knew Akira was happy to share his discovery, so she amended her comment quickly. “But interesting! Doesn’t anyone use that room? The science teacher?”

  “There’s a new science lab upstairs with microscopes and burners and all that.” Akira shrugged. “Guess the teachers didn’t want to use these old supplies. Yuki always thought they were pretty cool. Always wanted to check them out…” His expression changed, and he abruptly fell silent.

  “I read that Yuki wanted to study to be a chemist,” Jordan said to fill the sudden quiet.

  “More like a mad scientist.” Akira grinned. “But, yeah, he was crazy-smart. Couldn’t shut him up about attending Yamagata University.” He looked thoughtful and a little sad despite the smile.

  “Sounds like Yuki had big plans.” Jordan paused, unsure whether to continue, but ultimately pushed ahead. “Maybe that’s why Shun can’t believe he killed himself.”

  “Shun said that, huh?” Akira shook his head with a knowing look. “He was the one who found Yuki, suffocated in his bedroom by a kerosene heater. The doors and windows were blocked up with rags and stuff, so Yuki must’ve… Anyway, they were really close. It’s no surprise Shun can’t believe it. Poor kid.”

  “I know how Shun must feel,” Jordan said. Akira nodded in understanding though he had no notion of the weight pulling at her words.

  They stood there for a moment, saying nothing. Akira looked at his feet, and Jordan listened to the scrape and shuffle of activity from
the floor above. The class bell wedged through the relative silence and pushed Akira out of his contemplation.

  “I have to go now, Jordan-sensei.” His smile was ready, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come back and visit me and Shun down here sometime, okay?”

  “Sure, Akira. Thanks.”

  Akira waved and left quickly, leaving Jordan alone for a moment before she collected Shun’s broom and left.

  Jordan could feel the pimpled warning strip indicating the edge of the platform, like smooth river rocks beneath her shoes’ thin soles. As she waited for the train to Yamagata City, she rocked on her heels, massaging away the soreness of standing up for hours on end.

  It was just before five o’clock and the air was still thick and warm. She hadn’t bothered to change from her work clothes, opting to bike straight for the station, and could feel her dress shirt clinging to her back. The cool bottle of green tea pressed against her forehead dripped with condensation, offering at least a touch of relief.

  Ogawa Station, like every other feature of the town, was small. The station house itself was a short, squat building with seats for barely twenty people, an automated ticket machine, and a small office with a windowed counter that was more often unmanned than not. There were two platforms for boarding and exiting trains—northbound or southbound—bridged by a pedestrian walkway that made a cornered arch from one side to the other.

  Jordan had left the school earlier than usual, slipping out before she had to make apologies to Kenji and Ryusuke about missing the team practice, which she attended almost every day. From arriving late to school that morning to her conversation with Shun, Jordan felt worn out and more than a touch disheartened.

  She had decided to dawdle in Yamagata City for the evening, where she could enjoy some freshly brewed coffee, Italian pasta, and maybe a little window shopping before the last train back. Plus, Yamagata City had an odd way of making her feel less out of place. Sometimes just a glimpse of an American fast food chain would offer enough comforting familiarity to cheer her up.

  Ogawa station was surprisingly empty, considering it would be in the thick of rush hour back home in the United States. But if Jordan’s coworkers were any indication, then most working men and women wouldn’t begin the commute home until at least seven.

  Mingling with the hums and screeches of the cicadas came the low whine of metal against the tracks. Jordan spied the train’s headlamps, low between the rails on the horizon. She stepped away from the edge of the platform and waited as the train slowed its approach.

  The train’s doors slid open with a squeal, and she boarded, noticing with surprise that the car was as empty as the station. The few front-facing seats were occupied by older women and one gentleman who had fallen asleep. Jordan moved to one of the long bench seats that ran along either side of the car and sat at its far end, relaxing against the wall at her side.

  As the doors began to close, a young woman darted inside, looking flustered. She stumbled as the train lurched forward and practically fell onto the seat opposite Jordan. Though the girl was no longer clothed in a telltale high school uniform, Jordan recognized her as one of her students. She was Emi’s friend—the one who had returned to her work once chided and had helped Emi to the school nurse earlier that day.

  The girl pinned her long hair behind one ear as she fumbled in her shoulder bag. Eventually, she drew out an apron but almost dropped it with surprise when she noticed Jordan. The girl’s cheeks went red and she looked away nervously. Several seconds passed before she returned her gaze and spoke.

  “Hello, Jordan-sensei,” she said, near to a whisper.

  “Good evening.” Jordan couldn’t remember the girl’s name and felt a little embarrassed herself.

  “I’m…I’m sorry about class today.” The girl blurted out the last few words, wringing her apron in her hands.

  “Apology accepted. But please pay attention tomorrow, okay?” Jordan smiled to put the girl at ease. After all, it was mostly Emi who was to blame. At the thought of Emi, she decided it would be rude not to ask whether her friend was feeling better. “How’s Emi doing? She looked pretty sick earlier.”

  “Oh, she’s f-fine, I think.” The girl’s eyes dropped to the floor and she began to tap her foot, nervous and distracted. She lowered her voice again and looked around as though afraid of being overheard. “I understand if you’re still mad at me, because of what happened in class, but please don’t tell anyone about this. Please!”

  “About what?”

  “My part-time job.” She looked in her lap. Jordan’s eyes followed to the apron being anxiously twisted between the girl’s fingers. The corner of the apron had an embroidered logo of a local chain of gas stations. Jordan also noticed the girl’s nametag pinned to the apron’s front: Nanami.

  “What’s wrong with working at a gas station?”

  “You don’t know?” Jordan shook her head, and Nanami continued. “The high school doesn’t allow students to have part-time jobs. We’re supposed to spend every single minute studying, I guess.” Her grimace expressed her thoughts on that subject. “Anyway, I could get in big trouble if the head teacher—or anyone—found out.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Jordan said and couldn’t help but grin as a look of immense relief washed over Nanami’s face.

  “Thank you! I promise I’ll pay attention in class and study every night. I promise!” Still seated, Nanami gave a series of short, bobbing bows from the waist. When she righted herself, she looked around surreptitiously once more, nodded shyly at Jordan, and then moved her attention to her cell phone.

  As recently as a week before, this might have seemed rude to Jordan—dropping a conversation without any given explanation or farewell—but it was uncommon to speak on the train, and Nanami probably felt they were being disruptive. Though Jordan felt a little sorry for the nervous girl and had forgiven her for the day’s misbehavior, she preferred to have the rest of the trip to herself instead of being locked into small talk anyway.

  The train stopped at and then continued past another station identical to Ogawa’s, only picking up a handful of passengers. Jordan looked over Nanami’s shoulder to watch the scenery pass by. The sun had begun to drop but was at the perfect level to stun Jordan’s vision each time it reappeared from between tall poles and trees sprinkled alongside the tracks. Expanses of square rice paddies shone in the golden light. Streaks of water beneath their lush blades sliced through the fields like rivulets of molten metal.

  Between these perfectly spaced paddies stood groups of white- and blue-painted homes, bunched together as though pushed up from between the seams of the fields. Near many of these homes were lozenge-shaped greenhouses about the size of panel vans. The lamps inside made the translucent structures glow with eerie light, like phosphorescent bugs, and their arched roofs formed spindly ribs.

  As the train approached another town, the homes began to overtake the paddies, joined by businesses’ colorful canopies, billboards, and flashing signs. They arrived at the first of the larger stations on the way to Yamagata City, with multiple platforms and pedestrian walkways. As the train slowed to a stop, Nanami stood and waited beside the door. She paused a moment even after it opened and tossed a look over her shoulder.

  “Bye, Jordan-sensei. And thank you!” She hopped to the platform and scurried away without waiting for a reply.

  Three

  Jordan’s pen drifted across the page, forming a bright “Good Effort!” in the top margin. She couldn’t bring herself to write anything else, even though the student had nearly failed the vocabulary test. He seemed to be trying, at least a little bit. Jordan was trying, too. Impossible though it seemed, she still wanted everyone to like her. Even the sulking, petulant students, like Emi, who hated English. Even Ms. Nakamura. The vice principal’s frostiness seemed utterly unmeltable, but Jordan couldn’t help but wonder whether she was truly frozen to the core.

  Jordan swept her eyes sideways to take in the vice princi
pal sitting at her desk. The older woman didn’t move save for the shuttling of her dark eyes, which raked across the papers before her with a sharp, critical look. Jordan sighed but quickly brightened when she saw a student approaching over Ms. Nakamura’s shoulder.

  Akira pushed open the door and made a quick series of jerking bows, bobbing his way to Jordan like a windup toy.

  “Jordan-sensei, good afternoon,” Akira said with a bright smile.

  “Hello, Akira-kun. Shouldn’t you be with your club?” Jordan tuned her voice so that it was clear she was asking out of curiosity, not accusation. Most of the students had already filtered away from the halls to participate in their after-school clubs and activities. “Ping pong, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, that’s right. W-would you like to join me?” He rubbed at the back of his head and neck with one hand self-consciously.

  “Sure! Though I’m not very good,” she said and began to stand up to leave. The remaining vocabulary tests wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to complete anyway.

  “That’s all right. I’ll teach you.”

  Jordan had just pushed in her chair when Ms. Tatsuya returned from the single computer shared among the teachers, which she had been squinting at since the end of the final class. She still seemed preoccupied and visibly startled when she noticed Jordan and Akira standing before her. With a small, almost sad smile, she addressed Akira.

  “Akira-kun, how are you doing? Better?” Ms. Tatsuya said in a cooing voice. “I’ll be happy to speak with you in a moment. I just have to print off an assignment first.”

  “I’m doing fine, Tatsuya-sensei, thank you,” Akira said. “Actually, I’m here to see Jordan-sensei, and we were just about to leave…” His expression was apologetic but he also took a tentative step toward the door, obviously anxious to go.