He crosses his arms. “Yes,” he says after a while. “Shou ga nai, na. It can’t be helped.” He explains to Yoshino in Japanese, please tell Cybelle to tell me as soon as she knows, but please tell her how bad it will be if she has to take vacation before April. Maybe she should go home during New Year’s vacation instead. Yoshino looks like she’s trying to think of the politest way to reply but the elevator doors chime with the arrival of a guest or a student, so she leaves us alone. “Ah, Cybelle, do you remember Sotaro?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Ah, good, good,” Manager nods, rubbing his hands. “Sotaro will come back tomorrow for a trial lesson with … you … and Yoshino-sensei, so please … ah, please prepare a trial lesson. For Sotaro.”

“Okay, no problem.”

“Tomorrow morning. After Zippo and Zappo.”

I nod.

“Please.”

I have run out of ways to respond. He still isn’t budging from the doorway.

“So … when will you prepare for the trial lesson? Before you go home? Ne?”

“I already have a trial lesson kit ready.” I’m trained to have things ready for such occasions. The other nine times out of ten that he doesn’t tell me beforehand about trial lessons I am still prepared. What is this man’s problem? I’m starving.

“Ah, ah, okay. That’s great. Well …” He still doesn’t move. His eyebrows are still furrowed as he concentrates on what I hope is my purse and not my boobs. “Ah!” he claps his hands like he just remembered something. “Head Office sent you a form about re-contracting!”

“I know.”

“Have you … thought about it? You must think about it.”

Is he serious? “That form isn’t due for another three weeks.” There’s no point in explaining that I haven’t decided what to write on it, but he’s never been this anal about it before. I’m always the one who harasses him for the form in the first place. Why does he want a decision now? What’s the rush?

“Ah, ah, okay. That’s great …” Manager trails off, resuming his X-ray vision again. Room Five opens and a chorus of polite Japanese spills out into the hallways, diverting Manager’s attention. Finally, he relinquishes my personal space. I squeeze out from the staff room with a genuine, time-for-dinner smile. I’m free.

“Well, have a great night, Manager! Osaki ni —”

“Ah!” Manager cuts me off. “Wait! You stay. I mean, don’t go home. I mean, one moment!”

My freedom is short-lived. After he and Lieko bow to the polished-looking office workers, Manager gestures to me and speaks in super-fast, super-polite Japanese. I smile and pretend not to understand a word while I wait for the English translation.

“This is Cybelle-sensei, the Native English Teacher.” The office workers all take turns saying their names, “nice to meet you,” and shaking my hand. “She is from Canada. She is very good at English,” Manager continues. They ooh and aah and applaud. “And she is very good at making food.”