YAKITORI
Friday is the one afternoon
when Yōhei, Shō, Ken, and I
are all free, so we play soccer
two on two, in the small park
near our house
until they leave for juku
where they study more math
more Japanese, more science
to prepare for entrance exams
for private middle schools
the kind connected to high schools
so they won’t have to take entrance exams
again in three years
why aren’t you in juku?
even they ask me
even though they know I study
in an English group
once a week
and my tutor comes
twice a week
what they mean is
why don’t I go to cram school
so I can test into a private school
so I can avoid going
to the local middle school
where people like
Shunta, Yuki, and Gō will rule
together with other thugs
from all three elementary schools
that feed into our middle school
I haven’t told them
that I’ve already applied
to an international school
that I’ve already been accepted
and could start right now
I don’t want to tell them
that the only problem now
is money
which is why
Mom is teaching extra classes
and why she’s not home on Wednesdays
when Cora’s grade lets out early
and why she’s trying to get a full-time job
like Dad at a university
and why she goes on interviews
and fills out applications
and tries to publish papers
and speak at conferences
and why I’m learning to cook
and buy groceries
and take care of Cora
I don’t want to get into this
with Yōhei, Shō, and Ken
so I tell them
I’m studying with my tutor
but we just don’t know
which schools I’ll apply to yet
since my Japanese is weak
they shrug
and don’t ask more questions
about schools
just
who’s on whose side
for two-on-two soccer
after barely a game
they all have to leave
so I go home, wash up
and head out again, still with
forty minutes till five o’clock chimes
I ride my bike downhill
in and out of back lanes
to the butcher shop
and order four skewers—
chicken with scallions
to go I say
I wait while they grill the skewers
and when they hand me an extra
and say sābisu
I ask them to add that
to the bag, too
I hang the bag from my handlebar
ride to the main road
then the side lane
and park my bicycle
along the riverside path
where the motorbike
must have been left
and the sandal
must have been dropped
I take the bag to the gate
and ring the bell
when no one answers
I ring again
then that slurry voice
comes over the intercom
it’s me, Jason, the boy
you gave the sandal to
during the fire I say
ah! the voice says
dōzo!—come in
I push at the gate
the front door opens
and he stands there
I bow, hold out the bag—
I brought some yakitori
and suddenly I think
this was a mistake
because he’s scowling
and maybe he can’t
chew it
or swallow it
or digest it—
can you eat it?
yakitori? he says
sure! come in!
so I follow his
flapping hand
and step up to the
entryway
and into
Takemura-san’s world