meet Nozaki through conversation class. I meet him long before I meet the other men, long before the trouble at the end begins. For a long time, Nozaki means very little to me. He is just another face in the crowd of Japanese businessmen. On the third floor of a crumbling building the businessmen gather once a month for “free conversation” in English with me, their teacher, a native speaker. This back-and-forth dialogue , their leader, Mr. Yoshida, explains, will not require a textbook and anyway, free conversation will encourage a more meaningful “cultural exchange.” At first I am charmed by this, at what “cultural exchange” here means: that the businessmen will crack jokes most nights in Japanese — jokes about each other, each other’s wives, each other’s girlfriends , real and pretend; jokes about waistlines that thicken, jokes about hair as it thins. Their jokes, I reason, give me a glimpse into a part of Japan I would otherwise miss; their jokes, I figure, give me a glimpse into the real foreign country to a woman like me — the real world of men. For a long time, then, I overlook the fact that we meet in a room with windows so grungy they refuse to open and doors so warped they refuse to close. I overlook the thick fog of smoke that envelops us, the way the smoke stings my sensitive nose. I overlook the fact that the businessmen are the worst students ever, most of them arriving late or leaving early, never trying to speak a word of English. Instead I revel in what seems all in good fun, teaching the men about American customs, about smoking and non-smoking sections in American restaurants, listening as they respond to this, saying it is shocking to think there are places a man cannot smoke, that this, Miss Marilyn, is a reason to live in Japan. I overlook a lot and appreciate that the I ................................................................................ 6 men are not children like my students in junior high. And I know, they overlook a lot about me, my own long list of failings — the fact, for instance, that I have no idea how to teach; the fact, for instance, that after all this time, I still speak only the most simple and halting Japanese. We overlook the trouble and instead take pleasure in making each other laugh. One night, when no one has done the homework assigned the month before, and each has admitted that, in fact, no, he hadn’t remembered there was any homework to do, I write the classic American excuse on the blackboard: My dog ate my homework. Mr. Kato nods his head vigorously to suggest he understands, and then blurts out, My wife ate my homework! which gets him a big laugh from the others in the room. Then he adds: My wife are a goat! On another night the businessmen beg me to teach them swear words in English, which I do out of a sense of duty as well as sport, introducing the phrase fuck you as an insult, the way I taught them last month, in a lesson on restaurant English, Do you have a smoking section here? But the concept of fuck you as crude insult escapes them all, goes right over their heads. Sex, it is GOOD, Mr. Yoshida says, his expression perplexed. He has failed to grasp how an invitation for sex might be considered rude. You have a point, I say, making a mental note to save the nuances of motherfucker as a term of endearment for another day. I give up trying to cure them of asking the question they so often ask, Do you like play sex? and instead take another approach, urging them to add one small word to make the question slightly more grammatically correct. Do you like TO play sex? I suggest, because the verb to play seems better and more sensual than the acquisitive verb to have. And I love them for making me think about the grammar of sex. The months come, the months go. Then the romance begins to lose its shine, the adoration begins to fade. We start to get on each other’s nerves. Charm turns slowly toward tedium. That they smoke during class begins to make me feel ill. Will we go down in flames together? I think, I cannot think of a worse way to go. [3.85.9.208] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 05:36...