Page 12 of When It Snows

His jaw drops. “Japanese?”

“Yes. Japanese.”

Here it comes. He’s going to make fun of me the way my family does. The way he did in high school.

“Holy cow. You always were super smart.”

My brow wrinkles. “You didn’t remember me yesterday.”

“The memories are coming back.” He tries the tea again. “It’s kind of good once you get used to it.”

“You don’t have to drink it. But I find it soothes my throat and thought it might help.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Now, tell me all about this job of yours. Do you travel to Japan to interpret often?”

“I’m a translator, not an interpreter.”

“What’s the difference?” He sets down his tea and settles in. As if he’s actually interested in what I have to say.

“An interpreter translates speech. A translator usually works on documents.”

“Makes sense. And you travel to Japan to meet clients?”

“Mostly. But also, because it helps to keep my language skills sharp. I love Japan. The food, the organization, the cleanliness.” I sigh.

“Why don’t you move there?”

I wrinkle my nose and my glasses fall down. I push them back up. “It’s super expensive. And really far away. I probably wouldn’t ever see my family again if I moved. They’d never visit me.”

“They wouldn’t? Why not?”

I glance away. I could lie and say Mom is afraid of flying but I hate lying.

“My parents aren’t exactly happy with my choices in life.”

He barks out a laugh and I glare at him. “Sorry. I thought you were joking.”

“Why would you think I’m joking?”

“Because it makes no sense. How can your parents not be happy with your choice of career? You must make decent money if you’re traveling back and forth to Japan often. And knowing how smart you are, you’re probably one of the most wanted translators in the US.”

“One of the?”

He grins. “Okay. You’re the most wanted translator.” He sobers. “I’m serious. They should be proud of you and support you the way parents do.”

“You and I had very different parents.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Do I? To my surprise, I actually do. It would be nice if someone could understand why my relationship with my family is strained. I’m tired of hearing ‘but they’re your family’. As if being family is an excuse to behave however you want.

I blow out a breath. “My parents never supported my academic endeavors. Whenever I got an A on a test, they’d claim I was ‘putting on airs’.” I drop my voice and imitate my dad, “What good is getting straight As in school when you’re going to be a farmer’s wife anyway?”

“A farmer’s wife?”

“Yep. My parents are farmers. It’s the only thing they know. Which is fine. There’s nothing wrong with being a farmer. It’s an honest profession and it’s critical to the survival of the human race. I can’t deny it’s important. But I have no interest in standing in a foot of water to harvest cranberries or shearing sheep or…” I shudder, “milking sheep.”

“I’m with you on the milking sheep thing. Ask me about the time my best friend and I decided we needed sheep’s milk to get over a hangover while we were still drunk.”

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