By Jane Dyer Anderson
Glenn and Christy were in love. Being in love felt normal to Christy, who had been in love with somebody, off and on, since she was 14 years old. Being in love felt extra-ordinary to Glenn who had been in a loveless marriage for 31 years. Agnes bossed him around, bossed their three kids around and forced him out of the marriage bed as “a contraceptive measure without side effects.” Agnes developed cancer of the pancreas, leaving Glenn a confused widower at age 56.
Glenn’s work buddy, Arnold, nagged Glenn into attending bowling night with the office team. To shut him up, Glenn agreed and stashed his Kindle in his backpack in case he got bored. At the bowling alley, he removed himself to the coffee shop without being missed. He was reading his book when he noticed a young Asian woman out of the corner of his eye. She was very petite and wearing a short, short skirt and low-cut tank top. Glenn smiled on the inside and returned to his book.
“Hello,” she said, forcing him to look up. It was HER. He had difficulty settling his eyes on her face without wandering to her chest.
“Hello,” he answered with a quizzical look on his face.
“They won’t cash my 50-dolla bill,” she said with considerable accent. “Do you have change?”
“I might. Let me check.” Glenn looked in his wallet and thumbed through the bills. “Yes, I can do it,” he said. He put two 20s and a 10 in her hand, and she handed him the 50-dollar bill. “How do I know this is good?” he said. The young woman burst into tears, and Glenn apologized profusely. He wanted to put his arm around her like a father, but her attire was definitely off-putting for fatherly behavior. Instead he handed her a coffee-shop napkin, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“Evybody here mistrusts evybody,” she said tearfully.
“Yes, everybody here does. Where are you from?”
“My family live in Tokyo,” she said.
“Oh. I have been in Tokyo. It’s a lovely place — but very, very crowded. “
“Yes. Crowded.”
“What are you doing in Denver?”
“I study at the University of Denver hospital. I am nurse.”
“A fine profession. You never have to worry about getting a job.”
“Sometimes it’s hard. Everybody wants to be nurse. It gets crowded, too.”
“I suppose so. Well, now you can buy your drink or whatever.” Glenn nodded to the bills wadded up in her hand.
“Yes, thank you. So much.” She turned toward the counter where the attendant was waiting. “My name is Christy,” she said looking back.
“That’s a very American name,” he said to make conversation.
“It’s not my Japanese name. I like Christy for America.”
Glenn nodded and smiled. He sat down to resume his Kindle reading, but he found himself more interested in reading Christy. She had long, straight, black hair pulled up in a ponytail, probably to help with bowling. Her petite figure was perfect in its diminutive way: ample breasts, tiny waist, slim hips, slender ankles. Glenn could feel himself reacting to her under the table and was grateful for the cover.
“Are you here with group?” Christy interrupted again.
“No. Well, yes. I’m here with a friend who nagged me into coming to watch my office bowling team. We work in accounting at Facebot. I don’t bowl. I confess that I find it quite boring. Knock over pins with a big, heavy ball. There’s not much to it, is there?”
Christy laughed. “No. It simple. But I do well. I am champion at my Tokyo school.”
“I’m sorry again,” Glenn said sadly. “I seem to be putting my foot in it.”
“What mean “putting your foot?”
“It means I keep saying the wrong thing.”
“That OK. I not religious. Don’t believe in right or wrong.”
Glenn laughed. “You are a philosopher then. I like philosophers.”
“You see. You finally say right thing.”
They both laughed, and Glenn invited her to sit down. They finished their cooling drinks while talking and watching the other bowlers. Glenn was interrupted by Arnold. He was waved away with difficulty, and Glenn offered Christy a ride home.
“Should I say yes, Glenn? I don’t know you.”
“You should say yes. I am harmless. Less than harmless.”
“Why is that? You are man!”
“Ha. Ha. It’s been awhile since I thought of myself as Man!”
“You handsome man.”
“Well, thank you. You have earned your ride home — and dinner on a night of your choosing.”
“How ‘bout tonight? I don’t work tonight. But, warning. I won’t have sex, not like American girls.”
“The offer still stands.”
Glenn delivered Christy to her apartment house near the university complex. Without getting out of the car to scare her, he let her open her own door and said he would be back at 7 to pick her up.
“Yes. I dress up?”
“You can. I will choose a nice place.”
They had dinner at a very nice place — atop a skyscraper hotel with full view of the sparkly city. Christy was looking sparkly herself in a black, sequined, sheath dress. Glenn had put on a tie for the first time since his wife’s funeral. In fact, it was the same tie. All his other ties were out of date, either too wide or too narrow. He scarcely knew how to escort a lady at his age. Does a man pull out her chair anymore? Does he escort her to the table holding her elbow or gently pushing the upper part of her back? He figured he might as well be honest.
“I haven’t escorted a lady to dinner since my wife died last year,” he said, putting the linen napkin into his lap. “I don’t really know what to do with your generation.”
“Women are same. They like to be treated with respect. We can tell. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you. I don’t want to insult you again by making a mistake.”
“I’m over-sensitive. My mother always say this.”
“How old are you?” Glenn asked.
“Twenty-seven. How old you?”
“Fifty-seven. I have three children who are 24, 26 and 29. This must seem odd to you.”
“No. Japanese are different. Older husbands are very usual. My father was 25 years older than my mother.”
“You said ‘was.’ Is he deceased?”
“Ha. He gone with another woman when he was 82. My mother was 57, and running away with new man at her age is not possible for woman in Japan. She very angry about not being able to, what do you say, revenge.”
Glenn smiled. “I’m amused that your father was so young at heart, not amused at his mistreating your mother. Things change as you grow older. Sometimes marriages don’t work after decades. I don’t hold it against your father.”
“I do. I feel bad for my mother.”
“I can see that. What is she doing now?”
“She training to be nurse, too. It will be hard for her. She now 62. No one want to hire a woman who is 62.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“I had an older brother. He left for Australia. My mother still angry.”
“I’m so sorry. But you’re doing well here, right?”
“Yes. I like it here. I also like you. Do you like me?”
“Very much. Very, very much.”
Glenn was entranced with Christy. He tried giving himself mental slaps on the wrist dozens of times as he thought about her, fantasized about her, made love to her in his dreams. He couldn’t stop himself. They saw each other once a week at first, usually to dine. Then Glenn got braver and started calling her for lunch, for movies, for trips to the mall, for visits to area museums and art galleries. Christy was always receptive and delighted by the itinerary.
“I didn’t know Denver was so interesting,” she said. “Before you, I just study and work. Now I have some fun!”
“I’m glad. Everyone should have fun.”
“One question: why you not make love to me? I only refuse sex on first date.”
Glenn was driving at the time, and he tried to keep control of the car as he pondered his answer. “I have wanted to make love to you since I first saw you, Christy. But I’m 30 years older than you, and you might be ashamed if your friends knew you were having a relationship with me.”
“I have no friends,” she said. “And I wouldn’t care anyway. People in America always think about what other people think. It’s silly.”
Glenn pulled to the side of the road and pulled Christy into his arms. They kissed long and ardently.
“Oh, Glenn, you have wonderful kiss!” she said.
“And I have a full head of hair,” he said laughing. “Even though I have a lot of gray. I’ve been working out at Gold’s Gym since meeting you — trying to get rid of the flab before making love to you. I feel very self-conscious about being older.”
“Don’t be silly. What is age? What is flab? You are you. Right? I had a boyfriend with one testicle. I loved him anyway.”
Glenn did a double take. “What happened to him?”
“He marry another girl. They have two children now. We were not suited. Were you and your wife suited?”
“No. not suited.”
“Why you marry her?”
“I really don’t know. But I did. And then we had children. And then we were married for 31 years. I wasn’t miserable, but I wasn’t happy. I don’t think she was either. But I’m not sure.”
“Let’s make love. You see if you like me.”
“I’m sure I will like you. Maybe you won’t like me.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I will like you. We see if we are suited.”
Making love to Christy was Glenn’s fantasy come true. She was a willing lover — beyond willing. She led him into kissing her entire body. She went down on him. She had multiple orgasms. She convinced him he could have multiple orgasms. And he did, although he worried about having a heart attack first!
“You will not always be able to do this,” Christy said stroking his face and chest. “Being new is very, very, what do you say, explosive.”
“Intoxicating,” Glenn offered.
“Yes, intoxicating. But I will always try to be intoxicating.”
“How can I refuse?”
“So we marry, yes?”
“Marry? Are you sure you want to consider marriage?”
“Of course I do. You are intelligent man. Most important, you like me. You alone. Me alone. We should get together.”
“What about your family in Japan? Would they approve?”
“Probably not. I not care. Did my father care what I think when he leave with another woman? No. He do his own thing. I do my own thing.”
“What about your mother?”
“She be OK. I sponsor her to come to America. She like that.”
For the briefest moment, Glenn felt confused. Christy grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. The confusion passed.
Telling Glenn’s three adult children was another problem altogether. They were united in their opposition. Gracie, the youngest, ranted and raved and cried big tears. Sophie, the middle daughter, knitted her brows and stared at the floor while saying over and over, “I can’t believe you are this much of a fool!” Darla, the oldest, and her lawyer husband discussed all the legal repercussions of such a union. They suggested a pre-nup at the very least and signing over wealth to Glenn’s heirs before the marriage was accomplished.
“Can’t you see that she’s using you to stay in this country?” Darla said.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Gracie concurred. Sophie nodded yes and held her head.
“Once she’s your wife, she’s a legal resident. If she walks out on you in an hour, she’s still IN. You don’t know how she feels about you because you CAN’T know. She may have ulterior motives,” Darla continued.
“She’s a good person, Darla. She may be young. She may be here on a student visa. But she’s a good person. She may want to be a citizen; I can’t take that desire away. It’s a good goal, isn’t it? But she loves ME.”
“You’ve known her for — what? — six months? How could she love you? She doesn’t even know you. You don’t know her. Recall what it was like with Mom. You didn’t know each other when you got married, and you didn’t like each other one little bit for decades afterward. How do you know it won’t be like that with this, this Christy person?”
Glenn didn’t know what to say. He only knew how he loved Christy, the feel of her neck, her lips, her nipples. He and Christy would have to get married in a ceremony attended by who? Arnold and his wife maybe. Just two witnesses. No family on either side. The only thing that would make it right was success over time. It was either success or “I told you so.” That was the same for everybody, right?
Glenn and Christy applied for the marriage license, happy as larks. They got married with strangers as witnesses. Arnold refused to participate. Glenn took two weeks off from work, and they flew to Hawaii. Christy had been there, but Glenn was pleasantly amazed by the climate, the hotels, the Hawaiian shows, the tourist shops. When they came back, Christy proceeded to clean Glenn’s house from top to bottom.
“You don’t have to do that, Christy,” Glenn said, squeezing her from behind.
“Yes, I do, Glenn. I want house to be clean for Mother. She apply to come. I will fix up bedroom for her.”
“You didn’t tell me your mother would live with us, Christy. Do we really want that?”
“Why not, Glenn? Americans talk about family — and then they live separate. It’s not natural.”
Glenn agreed that it was rather strange. Other cultures had extended families. Americans just talked about it. He hoped his mother-in-law would be an agreeable person.
When Glenn went back to work, Christy made him a big breakfast, dressed in her housecoat.
“When do you go back to work, Christy?”
“I not going back. I married now. I housewife, not nurse.”
“You can be both, Christy. You don’t have to quit because you’re married.”
“I make things better for you if I don’t have to work.”
Glenn was concerned. Not at night. Every night they made love. But the surprises kept piling up as the days went by.
“Don’t touch toaster, Glenn.”
“What?”
“I polished it. If you want toast, I make. I not make prints.” Then Christy fried the toast in a skillet to avoid making prints on the toaster.
“Christy, don’t be ridiculous. The toaster is meant to be used for toasting, not as a mirror!”
Christy burst into tears. Glenn offered her the dish towel to wipe away her tears. “Sometimes you act like a child, Christy. Stop it.”
Christy stomped her foot. “You say bad thing to me! Now that I am wife, you think you can say bad thing.” Glenn folded her in his arms, and she sobbed against his chest.
“I’m sorry. It’s just a small thing. You can polish your toaster. I don’t care.”
“I will fix toast. You will miss nothing. I will be perfect wife.”
Glenn wanted to say, “I don’t want a perfect wife. I want an ordinary, nice wife who gives me blowjobs in the middle of the night.” But he knew he would not be understood, so he refrained from carrying on the tiff.
Two months later, Christy’s mother arrived. She was a tiny, apple-doll of a woman, with wrinkled face and stooped shoulders. But there was nothing tiny about her aggressive approach. She greeted Christy with a big hug and then stepped back to size up Glenn.
“So . . . you are BIG!”
Glenn laughed. “Does she speak English?” he asked Christy.
“Of course! All educated Japanese people speak English!”
“OK.” Glenn bowed to Mrs. Yamashita and welcomed her to America.
“Show me house,” Mother Yamashita said. They processed her paperwork and went to the car. Christy and Mrs. Y talked in Japanese while Glenn drove. When they drove up to the house, Mother stepped out of the car and stared with hands on hips. “Hmmm. Not as big as I thought. Maybe we have to buy new house.”
“This house is somewhat close to the university hospital. I understand you are studying to be a nurse.”
“No more. Now I am mother-in-law.”
Glenn knew better than to argue that point. He had already lost the argument with his wife. He carried in the few bags that Mrs. Y had with her. The rest were coming by freight. Christy and Glenn then showed her to her room.
“I don’t like,” she said. “Too dark. Show me another room.” She walked ahead of them opening doors. When she got to the master bedroom suite, she said, “I like this. This is where I will live — until we buy new house.”
“This is OUR bedroom, Mrs. Yamashita,” Glenn said.
Mrs. Y pursed her lips and slapped Christy across the face. Christy burst into tears and threw herself on the bed. Mrs. Y simply walked away, gathered up her biggest suitcase, walked in front of Glenn and deposited the suitcase on the floor of his bedroom. Glenn had a vision of Agnes rising up from the dead. What could he do? Walk in and carry this little woman out of his bedroom and throw her into the other room? If he was a different kind of man, he would do that. But he wasn’t a different kind of man.
Glenn agreed to sell the house. He agreed to buy a bigger, more expensive house with two master bedrooms so Mrs. Y could have a large, bright space with her own bathroom. Christy and her mother cleaned house and shopped all day. When Glenn came home, Mrs. Y would direct him to his chair, give him a cup of green tea, which he couldn’t stand, and inform him how long he would have to wait for dinner. Dinner was eaten with chopsticks, and Mrs. Y would allow no conversation during meals.
“Bad for digestion,” she said.
“Being silent is bad for my digestion,” Glenn answered.
“What you want to say?”
“For starters: I can’t afford the house payment this month.”
“What? You must get promotion. More money. We need this house.”
Christy was silent. Only her eyes were moving back and forth from her mother to Glenn as they rallied back and forth.
“YOU might need this house, Mother. Christy and I don’t need it. And I can’t afford it.”
“Christy DO need this house. If I need it, Christy need it. I her mother!”
Glenn turned his gaze to Christy. “You don’t need this house, do you, Christy? If we can’t afford it on my salary?”
Christy looked terrified. Mrs. Y was staring at her. “Tell him, Christy. Tell him we need this house. He need promotion.”
Christy burst into tears and flung herself away from the table.
“You see? You abusive husband. You make wife cry and go without dinner!”
Glenn no longer felt like comforting Christy after her tears. He could see how this was her way of manipulating her mother — and everyone else. It wasn’t going to work with the loan company, however, and he was not in line for promotion. Since Christy’s mother had moved in, his work had been called “passable, needs work,” so there was no chance for a better job or higher pay. He didn’t really want it. What was the point? To make his mother-in-law happy?
Glenn finished his dinner in silence to spite Mrs. Y, who had left the table to console Christy. Then he took his plate to the kitchen sink and went to his office, a huge room that looked out over the Rocky Mountains. He loved it here, away from the women, but there was no way he could afford it unless Christy started working. Her work potential is what carried the loan application in the first place. She had batted her eyelashes and explained to the loan officer that she was between jobs because she was a bride and had to prepare for her mother. The loan officer blushed and bought it — on the basis of her expected salary.
Glenn had already received two delinquency notices from the loan company. He had no intention of paying another month’s mortgage. He wanted foreclosure, which would take time. They wouldn’t have to move for at least six months. But the loan company would make it very obvious to him and to Christy that foreclosure was going to happen without a mortgage payment.
That day arrived. Glenn was at work. Mrs. Y answered the door. The loan officer told Mrs. Y who he was. Mrs. Y pretended she didn’t understand English and went for her daughter. Christy burst into tears. The loan officer, the same one who processed their application and was in trouble over the default, remained stoic this time.
“Mrs. Lewis, we are starting foreclosure proceedings against your house. It has been four months since you made a payment, and you have ignored our notices.” Christy continued to bawl, but the loan officer, whose name tag read “Jon,” stood there. “May I come in and go over the figures with you, Mrs. Lewis?”
“No. No. No. Wait for husband. Wait for husband.”
“When does he get home?”
“Oh, about 5:30. Maybe 6.”
“I’ll wait in my car. It’s 4:30.”
Glenn showed up at 4:45. Mrs. Y had called him at his office. The loan officer introduced himself again on the pathway to the door.
“Hello. Jon, isn’t it? I have been expecting you,” Glenn said and shook hands.
“What is going on here, Mr. Lewis? You just bought the house. Now you don’t pay. What’s happening? You can fix this. Otherwise you will be in foreclosure.”
“Come in, Jon. We’ll talk.” Glenn took Jon into his office and closed the door. He explained that he had hoped Christy would resume her nursing when she understood that he couldn’t make ends meet by himself. He thought she loved him, but apparently her acceptance of his marriage proposal was just a ruse to be supported and to get her mother into the United States. “Apparently, Christy wanted to live like a geisha or something. And her mother wanted to tag along. I don’t intend to pay the mortgage, Jon. Foreclosure is fine.”
“How can it be fine? It will follow you on your credit rating.”
“I’m a tired man. I lived with a woman who ran the show for 30 years. She died. Then I met Christy, and I thought my life had become a fairy tale. Well, it IS a fairy tale, isn’t it? Fairy tales always have their monsters. I’m an accountant, as you know. I’m going to fight this time — the only way I know how, by escaping through the figures.”
Jon nodded his head yes. “I understand, I think. But this has been a great embarrassment to me, Mr. Lewis. . . “
“Call me Glenn, please.”
“Glenn. My boss is not happy that I pushed through this loan. It’s a black mark for me. If I could get you to work with me on this, the black mark would disappear. I would report that your wife got sick and couldn’t work, so we could work with you on the payments until she recovers.”
“She will not recover, Jon. That’s the problem. She will not work as long as I am in the picture. She and her mother have some crazy idea that I can waltz up to my boss and double my salary. They are both entranced by their image of America, the land where wives can keep house, cook meals, sometimes make babies and live the upper middle class life. They don’t understand that we have to work within limits, too.
“I should be able to talk with Christy but she won’t understand. Her mother will intervene and say “get promotion, get promotion.” The idea is that I should live for them. Love has nothing to do with it. Marriage is a business arrangement. I go to work. They clean and watch TV. Christy will allow me to have sex with her because it’s part of the deal.
“My late wife looked at marriage the same way. When Christy asked me why I married her, way back when Christy and I first met, I said “I don’t know.” I think that was Christy’s clue that I would not fight her marriage arrangement. Well, I WILL fight it this time. I won’t pay for this life anymore.”
Jon stood up and extended his hand. “I get it. I will go to my boss with the illness story, but I’ll say that Mrs. Lewis will not recover in time to make good on the house. And I’ll work up the paperwork for a foreclosure. What will you do now?”
“Hard to say,” Glenn laughed. “I’m going to lose my job, I think. My performance has been poor and a foreclosure will clinch it. I’m OK with that, too. I never liked accounting. I want to work with disabled kids. Sounds kinda pie-in-the-sky, but my younger brother was born with Down Syndrome. He died in his 30s, and I’ve wanted to do something to help kids like him. There are no big salaries there!”
“Depends on how you define “pay,” doesn’t it?” Jon said. “It sounds highly compensated to me.”
“Maybe you should do something else, too,” Glenn said. “Don’t wait forever like I did.”
Jon left the office and headed for the front door. Christy and her mother were standing at the entrance to the dining room.
“What’s happening?” Christy asked with tears falling down her face.
“We’ll have to foreclose.” Jon said.
“What is meaning?” Mrs. Y asked.
“It means the bank will take back the house and sell it to someone else. You will have to move.”
“We not move!”
“The sheriff will put you in the street if you don’t go willingly,” Jon said.
“That tyranny!” Mrs. Y shouted. Christy was sobbing ever harder. Glenn was standing in his office door.
“I hate you,” Christy cried and ran up to Glenn, pummeling him with her fists. Glenn held her by the wrists until she tired and sunk to the floor. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” she sobbed.
“Gladly. You and your mother can live here until the law forces you out. That will give you a few months probably.”
Jon nodded at the front door. “It takes awhile. But I would be planning ahead. You will have to find a place to rent.”
“Glenn is husband. He will have to pay!” Mrs. Y screamed.
“Well, you’ll have to work that out,” Jon said and tipped an imaginary hat to Glenn as he closed the door.
“We will divorce you and get alimony!” Mrs. Y shouted.
“You can try. But I promise you this: I will disappear and live under a bridge before I give you another cent of my money.” Glenn walked to the staircase, stopped and turned around. He looked at Christy, who had stopped crying and was clenching her fists in anger on the floor. Her mother was standing over her, red in the face, purple veins standing out in her temples.
“I’m going upstairs to pack my tooth brush.”
