Aubrey, 1
Note: the following was written as an exercise for my advanced writing class. It's meant to be presented as a scene with an objective, fly-on-the-wall kind of POV (I wrote it in a kind of hybrid screenplay/prose format), hence the overly simple language and description. I literally just wrote this, and it's probably a terrible idea to post something so soon after it's been created, but here it is. Needless to say, you should consider this a very rough draft.
NAVIN and IAN are sitting on leather chairs at the terminal at Denver International Airport. A red LED sign nearby says “TOKYO.” Navin is fidgeting and nervous, not doing anything, with headphones on, and next to him Ian is flipping through a travel book about Japan. The two are silent and still, but everything around them is bustling and busy. Ian breaks the silence.
“It says here if you lose something on a taxi or in the subway or something, odds are good you’ll get it back,” he says, “if you can figure out where you left it. I guess no one ever steals anything in Japan.” He looks over at Navin. “I think we should try it. When we get there let’s find a park and we’ll leave your wallet sitting on a bench and come back for it in a day or two, yeah?” He stares at Navin for a moment, who gives him no response, then turns back to the book. After flipping through several more pages he turns to Navin again and reads out loud.
“’For an explanation of using Japanese toilets, see ‘Fast Facts: Japan’ in chapter 2.’ Jesus. Did you know we were going to have to relearn how to use the john?”
Still no response from Navin. He turns back to the book and flips through a few more pages, reads a bit further, and mumbles, this time without looking up, “Are you going to need a babysitter, Nav? I now feel confident that I can arrange one through our hotel, though we should expect to pay about forty-two dollars for two hours. So. Keep that in mind.”
A girl sitting across from the two, about fourteen years old, has begun to listen to Ian’s one-sided conversation. She pretends to be reading a magazine, but she’s not-so-subtly glancing up at them every few moments. Neither of them notices her watching them.
“Man, Japan is going to be great,” Ian says. “Even this totally straightforward travel book reads like a haiku. ‘Searching for old Edo—-a walking tour of Asakusa,’” he says, clearly enunciating each word. Navin hasn’t moved. The girl sitting across from Ian clears her throat and says, loudly, “Ah-sah-koo-sah,” and is silent again. She stares down at her magazine with a straight face. Ian looks up. He stares at her, but she doesn’t look up. He looks around on either side of him, and turns to look behind him. When he turns slowly and faces forward again, the girl has lowered her magazine and is staring at him.
“What?” Ian says to her.
“It’s pronounced ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah,’” the girl says. “Well, actually, it’s not really, but that’s probably how you should learn to say it at first, before you figure out how to pronounce it like Japanese.”
“How did I say it?”
“You said, ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah.’”
“And how did you say it again?”
“’Ah-sah-koo-sah,’” she says.
“Isn’t it—-it sounds the same.”
“But you’re putting emphasis on the third syllable. You should try to emphasize all the syllables the same. Americans tend to emphasize the third syllable in long words, for some reason.”
“How do you know I’m American?” Ian asks.
“You speak English.”
“I could be English.”
“You don’t have an accent.”
“I could be Canadian.”
“I haven’t heard you say ‘eh?’ yet, eh?”
“Canadians don’t really say ‘eh?’ all that much, do they?”
“I don’t know. Are you Canadian?”
Ian narrows his eyes, then shrugs and smiles. “No.”
“Are you American?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“New Jersey. Where are you from?”
“New Jersey!” she says.
“Really?”
“No. I’m from Canada, eh?” She closes the magazine and sets it on the seat next to her.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“What part?”
“Quebec. Montreal.”
“So you do say ‘eh’ up there.” Ian cloes the book and holds it up in front of Navin, who takes it, absent-mindedly, and holds it in his lap.
“Yeah. Every time. Plus we say ‘aboot’ and stuff.”
“I knew it. How’s your Japanese so good if you’re from Canada?”
The girl narrows her eyes. “They teach Japanese in Canada, too.”
“No kidding. How old are you?”
“Fourteen. Well, thirteen.”
“A lot of fourteen-year-old thirteen-year-olds in Canada learn Japanese, do they?”
“Well, I just started. I just know how to pronounce things, mostly.”
“Like ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah.’”
“Yeah. But really if you want to say it right you kind of have to not pronounce the ‘ku’ like ‘koo.’ Because some vowel sounds get collapsed in Japanese. So you kind of want to just make the ‘k’ sound with a tiny hint of the ‘ooh’ sound.”
Ian tries it. “Ah-sah-koo-sah.” The girl laughs.
“You sounded like a monkey.”
“You sounded like a monkey! What’s your name, monkey?”
“Aubrey. And you’re the monkey. What’s your name, monkey?”
“My name is Ian. So how do I say it, then, Ms. Aubrey the Precocious Japanese-Speaking Teenage Monkey?”
“Okay. Try to think of the ‘koo-sah’ part as one syllable, kinda. The easiest thing would just be to try to pronounce it like this: ‘ksa.’”
Ian tries it again. “Ah-sah-ksa.”
“Yeah, there you go. Now say it faster.”
“Asakusa.”
She smiles and applauds. “So much better!”
Ian beams. He turns and nudges Navin with his elbow, finally managing to rouse his friend from his daze. Navin first looks down at the book in his hands, the one Ian handed him, and stares at it for a second, then tosses it onto the seat next to him and pulls the headphones from his ears. He looks at Ian, who’s staring at him with wide eyes and a grin. He sees the girl looking at him, also smiling. He raises an eyebrow and looks back at Ian. “What?”
“Asakusa,” Ian enunciates.
“What?” Navin says. He looks back and forth between the girl and Ian again.
“Asakusa,” Ian says.
“What the fuck are you talking about, man?”
Ian and the girl say it together. “Asakusa.” The girl giggles.
Navin looks over at the girl again, then back to Ian, and whispers, “Who’s that?”
Ian gestures to her. “That’s Aubrey. She’s fourteen.” He looks at her, and back at Ian. “Well, thirteen.”
Navin stares at Ian. He doesn’t say anything.
“Asakusa,” Ian says again.
“Would you fucking stop saying—-”
“I learned Japanese,” Ian says. “Just now. All of it. So don’t worry. I’ll get us around when we get there. Because I learned Japanese. Aubrey taught me. So. Cool. Awesome. Alright.”
A chime sounds overhead and the passengers are informed that boarding is about to begin on flight so-and-so to Tokyo. Navin stares at Ian as he pulls the headphones from around his neck and begins to pack up his things. Ian sits there, smiling. The girl, Aubrey, picks up her magazine and her backpack and stands up.
“I better find my parents.”
Ian nods. “Thanks for the language lesson, Aubrey. It was good to meet you.”
Aubrey glances up at Navin, then looks back down at Ian, who’s still in his seat, and smiles. “Good to meet you too. Guess I’ll see you guys in Japan,” she says, turns, and walks off.
Ian stands up and pulls his backpack from under the seat. The two walk toward the line that’s beginning to form.
“You’re a fucking pedophile,” Navin says. Ian smiles and swings his bag, hard, into Navin’s chest. Navin catches it and staggers backward, almost slamming into the person standing behind them. Ian smiles triumphantly and steps into Navin’s place in line.
NAVIN and IAN are sitting on leather chairs at the terminal at Denver International Airport. A red LED sign nearby says “TOKYO.” Navin is fidgeting and nervous, not doing anything, with headphones on, and next to him Ian is flipping through a travel book about Japan. The two are silent and still, but everything around them is bustling and busy. Ian breaks the silence.
“It says here if you lose something on a taxi or in the subway or something, odds are good you’ll get it back,” he says, “if you can figure out where you left it. I guess no one ever steals anything in Japan.” He looks over at Navin. “I think we should try it. When we get there let’s find a park and we’ll leave your wallet sitting on a bench and come back for it in a day or two, yeah?” He stares at Navin for a moment, who gives him no response, then turns back to the book. After flipping through several more pages he turns to Navin again and reads out loud.
“’For an explanation of using Japanese toilets, see ‘Fast Facts: Japan’ in chapter 2.’ Jesus. Did you know we were going to have to relearn how to use the john?”
Still no response from Navin. He turns back to the book and flips through a few more pages, reads a bit further, and mumbles, this time without looking up, “Are you going to need a babysitter, Nav? I now feel confident that I can arrange one through our hotel, though we should expect to pay about forty-two dollars for two hours. So. Keep that in mind.”
A girl sitting across from the two, about fourteen years old, has begun to listen to Ian’s one-sided conversation. She pretends to be reading a magazine, but she’s not-so-subtly glancing up at them every few moments. Neither of them notices her watching them.
“Man, Japan is going to be great,” Ian says. “Even this totally straightforward travel book reads like a haiku. ‘Searching for old Edo—-a walking tour of Asakusa,’” he says, clearly enunciating each word. Navin hasn’t moved. The girl sitting across from Ian clears her throat and says, loudly, “Ah-sah-koo-sah,” and is silent again. She stares down at her magazine with a straight face. Ian looks up. He stares at her, but she doesn’t look up. He looks around on either side of him, and turns to look behind him. When he turns slowly and faces forward again, the girl has lowered her magazine and is staring at him.
“What?” Ian says to her.
“It’s pronounced ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah,’” the girl says. “Well, actually, it’s not really, but that’s probably how you should learn to say it at first, before you figure out how to pronounce it like Japanese.”
“How did I say it?”
“You said, ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah.’”
“And how did you say it again?”
“’Ah-sah-koo-sah,’” she says.
“Isn’t it—-it sounds the same.”
“But you’re putting emphasis on the third syllable. You should try to emphasize all the syllables the same. Americans tend to emphasize the third syllable in long words, for some reason.”
“How do you know I’m American?” Ian asks.
“You speak English.”
“I could be English.”
“You don’t have an accent.”
“I could be Canadian.”
“I haven’t heard you say ‘eh?’ yet, eh?”
“Canadians don’t really say ‘eh?’ all that much, do they?”
“I don’t know. Are you Canadian?”
Ian narrows his eyes, then shrugs and smiles. “No.”
“Are you American?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“New Jersey. Where are you from?”
“New Jersey!” she says.
“Really?”
“No. I’m from Canada, eh?” She closes the magazine and sets it on the seat next to her.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“What part?”
“Quebec. Montreal.”
“So you do say ‘eh’ up there.” Ian cloes the book and holds it up in front of Navin, who takes it, absent-mindedly, and holds it in his lap.
“Yeah. Every time. Plus we say ‘aboot’ and stuff.”
“I knew it. How’s your Japanese so good if you’re from Canada?”
The girl narrows her eyes. “They teach Japanese in Canada, too.”
“No kidding. How old are you?”
“Fourteen. Well, thirteen.”
“A lot of fourteen-year-old thirteen-year-olds in Canada learn Japanese, do they?”
“Well, I just started. I just know how to pronounce things, mostly.”
“Like ‘Ah-sah-koo-sah.’”
“Yeah. But really if you want to say it right you kind of have to not pronounce the ‘ku’ like ‘koo.’ Because some vowel sounds get collapsed in Japanese. So you kind of want to just make the ‘k’ sound with a tiny hint of the ‘ooh’ sound.”
Ian tries it. “Ah-sah-koo-sah.” The girl laughs.
“You sounded like a monkey.”
“You sounded like a monkey! What’s your name, monkey?”
“Aubrey. And you’re the monkey. What’s your name, monkey?”
“My name is Ian. So how do I say it, then, Ms. Aubrey the Precocious Japanese-Speaking Teenage Monkey?”
“Okay. Try to think of the ‘koo-sah’ part as one syllable, kinda. The easiest thing would just be to try to pronounce it like this: ‘ksa.’”
Ian tries it again. “Ah-sah-ksa.”
“Yeah, there you go. Now say it faster.”
“Asakusa.”
She smiles and applauds. “So much better!”
Ian beams. He turns and nudges Navin with his elbow, finally managing to rouse his friend from his daze. Navin first looks down at the book in his hands, the one Ian handed him, and stares at it for a second, then tosses it onto the seat next to him and pulls the headphones from his ears. He looks at Ian, who’s staring at him with wide eyes and a grin. He sees the girl looking at him, also smiling. He raises an eyebrow and looks back at Ian. “What?”
“Asakusa,” Ian enunciates.
“What?” Navin says. He looks back and forth between the girl and Ian again.
“Asakusa,” Ian says.
“What the fuck are you talking about, man?”
Ian and the girl say it together. “Asakusa.” The girl giggles.
Navin looks over at the girl again, then back to Ian, and whispers, “Who’s that?”
Ian gestures to her. “That’s Aubrey. She’s fourteen.” He looks at her, and back at Ian. “Well, thirteen.”
Navin stares at Ian. He doesn’t say anything.
“Asakusa,” Ian says again.
“Would you fucking stop saying—-”
“I learned Japanese,” Ian says. “Just now. All of it. So don’t worry. I’ll get us around when we get there. Because I learned Japanese. Aubrey taught me. So. Cool. Awesome. Alright.”
A chime sounds overhead and the passengers are informed that boarding is about to begin on flight so-and-so to Tokyo. Navin stares at Ian as he pulls the headphones from around his neck and begins to pack up his things. Ian sits there, smiling. The girl, Aubrey, picks up her magazine and her backpack and stands up.
“I better find my parents.”
Ian nods. “Thanks for the language lesson, Aubrey. It was good to meet you.”
Aubrey glances up at Navin, then looks back down at Ian, who’s still in his seat, and smiles. “Good to meet you too. Guess I’ll see you guys in Japan,” she says, turns, and walks off.
Ian stands up and pulls his backpack from under the seat. The two walk toward the line that’s beginning to form.
“You’re a fucking pedophile,” Navin says. Ian smiles and swings his bag, hard, into Navin’s chest. Navin catches it and staggers backward, almost slamming into the person standing behind them. Ian smiles triumphantly and steps into Navin’s place in line.
posted by Patrick at 12:12 AM
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