Panda showed up at Fulla’s house on Thursday, Mokuyoubi, which translates to Day of Wood in Japanese—fitting, for a panda.
At first, I didn’t believe Fulla when she told me the panda was Japanese. “Pandas live in China, Fulla. The only pandas in Japan are captive.” But then she showed me the panda’s passport. Can’t argue with that.
I searched the Internet to see if any pandas had escaped the zoos in Japan. None had been reported. I even asked my high school friends in Tokyo. Nope. The Japanese tend to be very private about loss, though, and the few pandas in Japan are beloved and doted on by the populace. It would be a source of great shame for a zoo to lose its panda. Since the panda had obviously fled the country, this would be a great shame for the country too. Knowledge of such loss would devastate the country—impacting the stock market for sure at the very least and causing mass suicide of shame at most. Some people would inappropriately try to shoulder the national shame.
So, possibly, preparing for this unlikely event, the zoo had had a hologram made of the panda to use until the animal had been found, or until it became clear the animal most definitely wouldn’t be found. Luckily, pandas are always hard to spot, so it wouldn’t be too suspicious if the panda was seen only in bits and flickers.
In any case, the panda had arrived at Fulla’s and was definitely Japanese. Fulla called me, not because the panda was Japanese, but because the panda was a panda. I have a lot of children, a three-pound chihuahua, and houseplants. I also have a bird sanctuary and teach elementary school for a living. She figured I have a lot of experience with diverse living creatures. Oh, and I also tend a friendship bread starter.
I wasn’t very confident about how much help I would be with a panda houseguest, but I felt like I understood Japanese houseguests, so I gave her some advice for hers.
“Hospitality is very important for the Japanese, so you should be a very gracious host—not that you ever aren’t. You always are. Accommodate without appearing to accommodate. NO. OVER-accommodate as if all you’ve ever wanted to do in your entire life was host a panda.”
“A JAPANESE panda,” Fulla said.
“Yes. A Japanese panda.”
Fulla did not want to offend a Japanese houseguest, and also, she is Iraqi and thus comes from a very gracious culture herself, so she was very kind to the panda. She had them come into her home, and because she only had one bedroom, she gave them her room and slept on the couch—even though she had a new bed she loved very much.
In return, Panda shed all over the bed and did not apologize.
“I think Panda complained that my bed was not comfortable,” Fulla whispered to me when I went to visit the day after Panda’s arrival. It was five in the evening, but the panda seemed to be taking a nap, so we were trying to be very quiet.
“Do they speak English?” I asked.
“No. They don’t speak at all. But Panda very pointedly cracked their neck at breakfast.”
I was shocked.
“That is very un-Japanese!” I exclaimed. I was embarrassed on behalf of the panda and our country. I didn’t know what to do with this shame, so I poured Fulla more tea—even though it was her tea, her teapot, her home, so I was out of line to do so—and even though her cup was still full, so the tea spilled over and created a puddle around the mug.
“I can’t even,” I said as I wiped up the tea with my sweater sleeve. “That’s just so, so…”
“Extra?” Fulla offered.
“Yes. That’s just so extra.”
“As the kids would say.”
“Right,” I agreed, although Fulla almost could have been my kid if I had been a teen mom, so I’m not sure which kids would say it and which wouldn’t.
“Who does that?” I asked, rhetorically.
2
It was the third day of their stay, and Panda’s behavior had not improved. They ate all of Fulla’s snacks.
“That’s in addition to the three meals a day they demand,” she told me as she turned on her electric kettle. I prefer a stovetop kettle, myself.
“How do they demand? Do they speak now?”
“No. They still don’t speak at all,” said Fulla.
“So how do they demand?”
“They come out of the bedroom and plop heavily into that chair you are sitting in right now.” She pointed.
I jumped up. Then, just as quickly, I sat back down.
“They pound their fist once. Then grunt.”
“But, but…” I said.
“I’m speaking the truth, Mika. If I don’t get busy preparing food, they pound and grunt again.”
“But that’s so cliche!” I cried.
“Nobody said this panda was original.”
“No. Nobody has claimed that.”
We sipped tea in silence.
I told her I had found no new information about Panda or why they would be here.
She nodded.
“I’m worried,” I said, “about their impact on our friendship.”
“What? Why?”
“I feel responsible.”
She nodded again.
“I get it,” she said. This is why we are friends. Both of us have gone through enough to know the consequences of unexpected burdens. I am grateful she doesn’t deny it.
“What’s your limit?” I asked.
“Eight days.”
“Really? That’s a long time!”
“I’ve had demanding houseguests before.” She shrugged.
I finished my tea.
“Okay.”
3
B, a famous Celebrity Singer, was going to be in Chicago on tour. He had children who were going to be on tour with him, and he wanted to hire local tutors for them at each of the cities they were touring in.
Celebrity Singer B’s assistant, who had a lot of other responsibilities besides finding impromptu tutors, did not have the time to head a committee to conduct a national search for the best tutors in every city. Luckily, though, he had a brother who taught English at a college in Chicago, which was the first stop on their tour. “You’re a college English teacher. Could you tutor B’s children?” the assistant asked his brother. “Hard no on that,” the brother replied.“I’m a college professor, and I’m afraid of children.”However, because the college professor loved his brother very much, he promised to ask around.
The college professor asked his colleague who had children of his own. “You have children, and you teach English. Do you want to tutor some young children for two weeks?” The friend, who was also a college professor (although with children), said no, he did not want to tutor young children for two weeks. In fact, having children made him less interested in spending time with children in general. “But,” he said, “I’ll ask around.”
The college professor with children asked his fifth-grade son’s teacher if she was interested in tutoring a few young children in her spare time for a couple of weeks. “Spare time?” she said, offended. “I teach fulltime. I have no spare time.” But, she said, she’d ask around.
The fifth-grade schoolteacher asked one of the substitute teachers, whom she didn’t know very well, but who seemed relatively competent, pleasant, and unbusy. The substitute teacher seemed competent because none of the students in any of the classes she subbed in had lost any limbs while on her watch. She seemed pleasant because she was always smiling. She seemed unbusy also because she was always smiling; someone who had so much to smile about obviously didn’t have a lot on her plate. This is what the full-time teacher explained to the substitute teacher when she asked if she was looking for some extra income.
“Sure,” the substitute teacher responded with a smile, “that sounds like fun!”
4
That is how I became the temporary tutor for the children of Celebrity Singer B. I explained this to Fulla when I visited her on the third day of Panda’s stay.
“That’s so cool!” she said.
“Yes!” I smiled.
She poured me tea and offered me a mini Hostess chocolate donut.
“Should I take Panda with me for tutoring?” I asked Fulla.
I have visited Fulla every day since the arrival of Panda. Fulla, unsure about leaving Panda alone, has hardly stepped out of her apartment.
“It would be a nice break for me,” Fulla said.
“I think the kids would like it too,” I said. “It’s a treat to be able to hang out with a real panda.”
“A real treat,” Fulla said without looking up as she poured more tea into my cup.
“The children are elementary school age, so I was thinking I could read them a book about pandas, and then they can do a panda craft: a thematic lesson, of sorts.”
“That sounds fun,” Fulla said politely.
Admittedly, it wasn’t the most creative lesson plan.
“Was there a rigorous vetting process to get this position?” she asked. “Did they interview you? Do a background check? Call your references?”
“No. He asked me if X dollars an hour was okay, and I said it was. He said the kids are bilingual, and I said that was nice. He told me to come to X hotel at 5 p.m., and I said I’d be there.”
“What if you were a serial killer?” she asked.
“Well, I’m not.”
“Yet,” Fulla qualified.
“When did you start buying mini chocolate donuts?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Since Panda requested them.”
“Now do they speak?”
“Still no. But they drew a picture of their snack requests.” She pointed to the fridge. Panda was an impressive artist. The paper was full of very recognizable snack items.
“Did you buy Cheetos too? And gummy bears? Fulla, I have to say, your snack game has improved significantly.”
Fulla ignored my backhanded compliment. “When will you pick up Panda?”
“I’ll be here at four.”
“Go tell them.”
I hesitated at the thought of having to speak to Panda. Suddenly, this seemed like a stupid idea, but Fulla made it clear with her whole body that going back on the offer was not an option. I knocked on Panda’s door (really, Fulla’s door). Then I opened it.
“Panda-san,” I said in Japanese into the dark room. “I don’t know if you are a fan of Celebrity Singer B’s music, but I’m going to tutor his children today. I thought it might be a nice treat if you came—you know, for the children. I don’t know if you like children, but children tend to like pandas. So if you are willing, I’d like to pick you up at four.”
I couldn’t discern any movement, but I finished my invitation and closed the door.
5
Evidently, Panda was a fan of Celebrity Singer B. Fulla said Panda had his music on full blast all day. When I picked Panda up at four, they were waiting at the door, wearing a hat with a purple plume. And sunglasses.
At the hotel, we were instructed to go to the eighth floor. Once off the elevator, I announced ourselves to the security guard.
“I am the tutor, Mika, and this is the panda, Panda.”
“Yes. Please wait. Josh will be right with you.” Josh was B’s personal assistant.
When Josh appeared, he explained to us again that the children were bilingual, and he walked us to the hotel room that had been converted into a classroom. He introduced us. Then he left.
I was right about children. They like pandas. In fact, Celebrity B’s children loved Panda. The feeling seemed mutual, and the three got along famously. The children sat in Panda’s lap when I read the picture book. When it was time for crafts, they took the cotton balls and black pom-poms and stuck them all over Panda. Then they found paint and glitter in their own supply closet. Panda didn’t mind.
When my time with them was almost up, I gave them a five-minute warning.
They protested. “No, no!”
They pleaded with me in French.
I don’t speak French, but I speak children, and I knew exactly what they were saying.
“Will your father be okay with Panda staying with you, though?” I asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice. I wanted to seem neutral—professional—not at all like someone who wanted to pawn off a high-maintenance panda onto an unsuspecting Celebrity Singer B.
“Oui, oui!” they assured me eagerly.
I looked over at Panda. They nodded.
“Well, okay. If Josh says yes, then Panda can stay.” I assessed my voice. It sounded good: like a responsible adult.
Josh said yes.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow!” I said as I left.
Or not, I thought to myself.
6
“So you left him?” Fulla asked when I told her on the phone.
“Yes.”
“Do you think that was a good idea?”
Think?
“These are not ordinary times, Fulla.”
“True story.”
I asked her what she was going to eat for dinner. She told me she had a Chobani yogurt in her fridge, and since Panda wasn’t going to be there, she was looking forward to just eating yogurt in bed while she watched Terrace House.I don’t watch Terrace House, or any reality TV show, or any TV, really, but I was jealous of her yogurt-in-bed evening. I’ve been raising kids since I was fifteen, when my youngest sister was one and my mother decided to go back to work. At twenty-one, I was pregnant with my oldest. Twenty-five years later, I still have an eight-year-old and an eleven-year-old. I’ve been raising children forever. Maybe somewhere along the way, I had a night alone with a carton of yogurt, but I don’t remember. Certainly, never with a carton of Chobani. That’s some rich girl’s yogurt. Aldi’s Millville yogurt at forty-three cents a carton is probably what I’d have if I had a night with yogurt, which I’m almost certain I never have. Leftover Indian food, maybe, rice and raw egg, maybe. Rice and raw egg, that is the comfort food of all times. With a splash of soy, slurp it up. All the good things, none of the bad things.
7
Panda ended up staying with Celebrity Singer B’s children for the duration of their stay in Chicago. It was a convenient setup since the only people who would be inconvenienced were people whose job description included “being inconvenienced.” One of these people was Josh, the academic’s brother and personal assistant to Celebrity Singer B. Of course, I didn’t hear from Josh, directly, that he was inconvenienced.
“The children have been just over the moon about having Panda stay with them” were the exact words Josh said to me.
“Oh, I’m so glad, ” I said. I was glad.
“And of course, their father is happy that they are happy.”
“Oh, of course, ” I said.
“So we are so grateful you have been willing to let Panda stay with the children,” Josh said to me.
“Well, it’s not really my decision. They’re not under my jurisdiction. They are an accidental houseguest of a friend of mine. In fact, I’m only tangentially associated with them.” I wanted to make it clear that I was not responsible for the panda. “But I am glad that you have all been enjoying their company.”
“Oh, well, yes, the children have been enjoying their company immensely.”
The distinction was not lost on me, but I didn’t pursue it. If Josh had something he had to say, he could say it. I was just here to tutor children.
“I’m sure your friend is anxious to have her guest back, though?” Josh said.
“No.”
Sometimes I can have an immense capacity to be cruel. With a little compassion, I could have had more empathy for Josh’s situation. No one was asking Josh what life with Panda was like for him. I knew what life with Panda was like for him. Of course, the children enjoyed Panda. They were good with children and demanded nothing of them. The children, in turn, demanded very little of Panda…just that they be inert and allow themselves to be played with like a huge stuffed animal. Of course, Celebrity Singer B was happy that the children were happy. He had no physical responsibility for taking care of Panda. No, the burden that was Fulla’s was now squarely on Josh, the nanny, the full-time tutors, the other assistant, the housekeeper, and the security guard… These were the people who were not in charge of meeting Panda’s needs, and nobody was asking them if this was okay with them. No matter what they were being paid, I knew better than anyone, they were now definitely underpaid.
So I could have been kinder to Josh. I could have asked him, “Josh, has it been too much for you?”
But I didn’t.
8
Panda speaks.
Speaks French.
I took the elevator up to the floor that was fully reserved for Celebrity Singer B’s entourage. Before this, “entourage” was a word I’d only used as hyperbole. Now I’ve seen an actual entourage, and I know it requires an entire floor to accommodate.
I was cleared by security and walked up to the door of the converted classroom. From the other side, I heard the children and Panda talking in French.
When I knocked and entered, the children ran up to me and hugged me.
“Did you bring the stickers?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to ask them what they were talking about with Panda and if they knew whether Panda spoke other languages, but I felt a feeling I recognized. It was a feeling of trying to get information that wasn’t mine to have. I often succumb to this feeling. The results are always poor. So I didn’t ask the children. I looked over their heads and smiled at Panda.
“Hi!” I said.
Panda didn’t speak.
The children were excited to show me the work they had done in the books I’d made them. The books were three pieces of copy paper folded and stapled (this format is almost always successful with this age group).
Both of them had been writing stories about Panda, of course. Both of them titled their books Panda. Amelia wrote what seemed to be Panda’s biography. Emily was writing a wild steampunk fantasy.
“These are very good!” I said. I always say that, because I always mean it. If children are writing, that is always very good, and all they need to do to get better is to keep writing, so all they need is encouragement. “Very, very good.”
9
“He speaks French?” Fulla asked.
“Apparently.”
We were drinking tea in her apartment again, which was clean again. Panda had been gone for almost two weeks. Yet, even though the space looked the way it did before their arrival, it did not feel the same. What was different?
“It always takes a while,” Fulla said. “Energy lingers.”
This was true. No one enters a space without bringing in their own energy, and no one leaves a space without leaving some of it. What we did know was that Panda was not coming back. Panda was going to Los Angeles with the tour. He had become part of the entourage.
Mika Yamomoto has been published in Nelle, Noon, Writer’s Chronicle, Nimrod International, Green Hills Literary Lantern, and Lake Effect, among others. In collaboration with award-winning artist Craig Whitten, she published Come and Sleep, a limited-edition artist book that’s a feminist retelling of a Japanese folktale. She has an MA in English with an emphasis on fiction writing and teaches sixth and seventh grade at The Children’s School, a progressive independent school in Oak Park, Illinois, and lectures at the School at the Art Institute of Chicago.