The other women didn’t say a word, just listened to the pair of them talk. Glen wanted to know how the ink had gotten onto her sleeve. She said she’d done it herself. When she couldn’t think of an answer in an exam, she’d drawn circles on her sleeve, ending up with a big blot. Glen said it could be washed off, and she said no, not possible; she’d tried everything. All eyes were on Professor Glen, then on Hongmei. There was something else going on here, but no one could tell what. Glen said, “You must be doing it wrong. Give it to me. I’ll clean it for you.” The women gasped, but Glen didn’t seem to notice. “Let me have it, and I guarantee I’ll hand it back tomorrow spotless.”

Hongmei already had a sense of Glen’s frankness, but even so, she didn’t know how to respond. Her mouth was full, so she could only blush. Then she said the professor should change his line of work and open Glen’s Laundromat.

He earnestly explained that he was used to doing housework. With fewer chores in China, he found he had too little with which to distract himself. He said, “If you don’t believe me, just watch—I promise I’m not as bad as you think. I can definitely clean clothes like a pro.”

The women departed soon after that, leaving Glen and Hongmei with a dozen dishes between them. There was an awkward silence, and she knew something was up.

This, she told the secret talker, had been a turning point in her relationship with Glen.

She more or less forgot that as a military interpreter, she was a first lieutenant, even though she mainly translated operating manuals. She couldn’t go around so openly with a foreigner. But the worst part and the most worrying, she forgot she was supposed to be happily married. Every day she spent with Glen made her situation more and more dangerous. Staring at the tableful of food, she glanced at Glen. “What should we do now?” At the time, she’d had no idea this ambiguous, innuendo-laden question would create a secret space clearly separating inside from out, and place enormous pressure on both of them. They were now forced to quickly define the nature of this relationship, as well as what they were to each other.

Glen looked at her as if he were a child. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Do you really want to wash my blouse?”

“Really.” He still had no idea what was wrong.

“You’re hopeless,” said Hongmei. She’d never felt so strange before. She had a sudden urge to stroke this overgrown child’s head and tell him what was in her heart, though she shouldn’t say the words out loud.