He arrived at the mechanic’s building, buzzed the intercom, and rode the elevator to Mack’s floor. He knocked on the door.
“Hey punk,” greeted the mechanic.
“Hey, big guy.” They hugged.
Mack looked the emo up and down and noticed he was wearing his regular clothes. “I wasn’t sure what to wear,” admitted the mechanic, half-dressed like he was about to go to a wedding. An untied tie hung around his neck. “I’ve never been to visit a Japanese family before. I don’t know the customs or anything. I half-expected you to rock up wearing a business suit or a martial arts gown like the fuckin’ Karate Kid.”
Yoshi laughed. “We should’ve had this conversation earlier. Wear your normal shit. They’re regular people.”
Mack grimace came with a sharp intake of breath. “Are you sure about the clothes, punk? I don’t want to fuck this up for you.”
Yoshi wrapped his arms around the mechanic’s hairy half-naked waist and tilted his face up. “I just want you to be yourself. There’s no need for you to pretend to be anyone other than you.”
Mack joined the emo in a tender, meaningful kiss. “OK then. If you’re sure, let me take this penguin bullshit off. How the fuck do people wear suits in Queensland anyway? Good thing I don’t work in an office, I’d be sweating bullets before I put my fuckin’ shoes on.” His short rant ceased. “Back in five minutes, punk.”
Yoshi sat on the couch, flicking through socials on his phone while he waited. The mechanic returned looking like he was ready to go to the pub or to a rugby game. “Perfect,” smiled the emo. He shook his head in disbelief that he’d landed such a sexy dude. “You’re so fucking hot, big guy.” He looped his thumb through the mechanic’s belt and they kissed again. His fingers were mere inches from Mack’s fat meat. “I really want you to take me to bed, big guy, but we should probably hit the road.”
“I know,” replied the mechanic, parking his growing libido. He grabbed his keys. “Been ages since I last went to Ipswich.” He closed his apartment door behind them, and they rode the lift down to the basement carpark. They climbed into Mack’s ute and rolled out into the street.
*
Half an hour later, Mack’s wheels pulled up in front of an outer suburban house. For the most part, the building looked quintessentially Australian, and the mechanic guessed it was built in the late 1970s. A pair of Japanese maple trees grew on either side of the narrow concrete path that led to the front door. A small rock garden crouched against the elevated verandah. The lawn, a uniformly deep green, was immaculate.
Mack killed the engine and looked across at the emo. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Nervous as fuck. I’m trying not to puke.” He paused for a second, trying to centre himself. He took a couple of deep breaths. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you OK?”
The mechanic smiled. “Yeah, I’m OK, punk, don’t worry about me.”
Yoshi remained silent.
“So this is where you grew up?” asked Mack.
“Yeah.” Memories came flooding back.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” said the mechanic.
Yoshi reached for the door handle. He pushed it back and exited Mack’s ute, stepping down onto the suburban street. He and Mack walked side by side up the path, not touching. “Nice trees,” commented the mechanic. Yoshi didn’t reply.
They climbed the short flight of stairs up onto the wooden deck of the verandah. Yoshi rang the doorbell. His mother opened the door. “Ohayō gozaimasu, okāsan,” said the emo, bowing slightly at the waist. “Genkidesu ka?”
His mother opened the door. The hinges creaked softly. She glanced at her son’s friend, instantly knowing he wouldn’t speak a word of Japanese. “In answer to your question, I’m very well, and thank you for asking. But let’s speak English today, please, Yoshi.”
“Hai,” replied the emo, bowing slightly again. He gestured towards the mechanic. “This is my… friend… that I mentioned on the phone the other night. His name is Mack.”
The mechanic literally had no idea what to do or say. In a panic, he froze. “Err… g’day,” he stuttered.
Yoshi’s mother smiled gracefully. “Hello. Very nice to meet you. Welcome to our home. Please come inside.”
“Take your shoes off first, big guy,” whispered the emo as he frantically unlaced his Docs and ripped them off. He pointed to some small wooden shelves just inside the frame of the front door. “Put them in this rack. Fuck, sorry, I should’ve mentioned this before.”
Mack followed the emo’s directions. He bent down, slipped off his laceless Blundstone boots, and delicately placed them on an empty shelf. “Socks too?” he asked Yoshi.
“No, socks are fine,” Yoshi whispered.
Yoshi’s mother let them inside. “Gozaimashita,” said the emo.
“English, please,” chided his mother.
“Thanks, mum,” smiled the emo, stepping onto the living room floorboards. “Where’s dad?”
report Right on cue, Yoshi’s father appeared from the kitchen. “Good morning, Yoshi. Very nice to see you again.”
“You too, father.” The emo bowed stiffly. “By the way, here is the friend I mentioned on the phone the other evening. His name is Mack.”
A million thoughts fired through the mechanic’s synapses. Am I meant to bow too?
To Yoshi’s relief, his father strolled across to Mack and held his hand out for a handshake. Mack gripped Yoshi’s dad’s hand, making a concerted effort not to squeeze too firmly or too softly. “Nice to meet you… errr… umm… Yoshi’s dad.”
“Please, Mack, call me Kenji. And my wife is Natsumi.”
The mechanic began to relax. “Very nice to meet you both.”
“Please come through,” invited Natsumi. “Welcome to our home. We have some tea and cake for you.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” replied Mack. “Thank you.”
Yoshi remained respectfully silent as they padded through to the kitchen. Kenji invited the mechanic and their son to sit down at their kitchen table. Natsumi brought across a teapot of green tea and four dainty cups. Delicate slices of sponge cake were arranged on a plate. She sat down and poured the tea.
The mechanic looked around the room. A massive sword hung on the wall; he assumed it was a family heirloom and wondered how they got it through Customs. “Your house is very nice,” he complimented. He noticed a half-empty jar of Vegemite sitting on a shelf beside the fridge.
“Thank you,” replied Kenji. “We have lived here happily for many, many years.”
“Yoshi’s bedroom is almost the same as how it was when he moved out to go to university,” Natsumi informed the mechanic. “All of his old posters are still on the wall.”
The emo sipped his tea and consumed a small slice of cake. Mack looked across at him. He’d barely said a word since they arrived. He couldn’t work out whether this was a cultural thing, showing deference and respect to his parents, or whether his nerves were shot to hell because of the situation. It felt ironic that the emo told Mack to be himself, but Yoshi was displaying a side of himself that the mechanic had never seen before. He wondered where the brave, fearless Yoshi he’d fallen in love with had gone.
“Would you like to see my old room?” asked the emo.
“Yeah,” replied the mechanic, seizing the circuit-breaker. “That’d be nice.”