History Lessons – Toshiya Kamei

Rather than coherent answers, more questions bubble up and fade away before I can articulate them. Still, Dr. Nakai’s questions haunt me as I walk to the parking lot. I text to Jimmy to let him know I’m on my way home, and he texts me back a heart emoji. Is there an emoji for undying love? Because my guy deserves it.

I stop at a downtown pawn shop. The recent surge of anti-Asian violence has made me feel jumpy.

“Show me your ID.” A pimple-faced man of indeterminable age says.

I hand him my driver’s incense in silence.

“Yasumi Kawashima? So are you some kind of Asian?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” He sneers as he hands me a used revolver. “You should get together with my girlfriend sometimes. You guys can talk in your own language. She’s from the Philippines.”

“Sure,” I say. Never mind that our respective languages aren’t mutually intelligible. I remind myself he means well and maintain a polite smile. It’s not my job to enlighten everybody I meet. Who knew it was so easy to purchase firearms? It’s crazy. I slip the gun in my backpack and hide it at the bottom.

Back in my one-room studio, I stand in front of the sink and rinse vegetables with tap water. I glance across the room and catch Jimmy’s blank gaze. He usually smiles at me, but not this time. A dark shadow creeps across his smooth face.

“Your mom called,” Jimmy says.

“What did she want?”

“Can’t say.” His voice becomes a bit tense. “She doesn’t really talk to me.” There’s a wounded tone in his voice. “You know that, sweetie.”

My mother used to ask me why I didn’t find myself an American boyfriend. Annoyed, I kept reminding her that Jimmy was American. But in her eyes, he wasn’t American enough. And I know what she meant by American. “But she seems to be coming around—she wished us a happy Chinese New Year. She wants you to be careful with firecrackers.”

“Jimmy.” I give him a protesting frown. “Stop making fun of her. She’s my mom.” We used to joke we both had momzillas. Ever since we lost his mom to COVID-19 last year, I can’t bring it up. It was a thorny issue early in our relationship, but it’s just too painful now. Sometimes I even suspect he wishes it were mine who passed away.

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