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Is there anything more insulting to a host than an uncomfortable guest? The space, designed to welcome a stranger, met with indifference and ingratitude. But worse than this is a guest who refuses to disclose the root of his discomfort. Thus, the problems go unresolved, his displeasure abounds, and all are left unhappy.
‘Insulted’ is not the adjective Miss Mariko Yashida would have used. After all, most of her guests made themselves at home for the time they spent at her estate. She would have picked “satisfied”, “pleased” even. These guests were a diverse group, certainly, but their manners were all equally commendable; a young Russian man, a charming German devil, a regal African woman, and a noble American man. All of them were more than satisfied with their accommodations, and she was more than satisfied to serve them. The Lady of the House had no greater calling than to be hospitable, after all.
But there was another guest, marginally less content. It was strange. He asked for additional bedding on his fellow guests’ behalf with such decorum, but he always seemed just a bit uncomfortable. He never met Mariko’s eye, he never spoke more than a few sentences to her, he never made small talk. A scowl seemed to be etched onto his face. Strange, she thought, considering how polite he was a few days before.
He found her in the garden, enjoying a moment of reprieve. Her cousin announced the arrival of foreign guests for an indefinite amount of time, moments before the foreigners announced their arrival themsekves by breaking into their home. He seemed so intimidating at first, and yet, he became so gentle. Mariko recalled how he carried her to safety when an earthquake suddenly erupted. Now he seemed different- abrasive, cold, perhaps a little self-concerned.
By the third day, his behavior became quite grating. Mariko wondered, 'How could this be the man whom my cousin so highly esteemed? His manners are atrocious. When he is absent from the table, he is nothing but rude to me. Well,’ she thought, ‘I ought to just ask him what the trouble is. Better a momentary inconvenience than another god-knows-how-many days of his poor attitude.’ When she found herself alone with her perturbed guest in the hallway outside the garden, Mariko seized the opportunity and stopped her inconsiderate guest in his tracks.
“Excuse me, sir?” she said, “Are you uncomfortable in my home?”
“Pardon?” he said. Taken aback, his face flushed. The lady worried she had embarrassed him.
“I apologize- you just seem so…discontent here. I know you’ve been to Japan before, unlike the rest of your teammates. I would hate to think my efforts to provide hospitality have fallen short of what you are used to.”
She could see the wheels turning in his mind- reevaluating his behavior over the past few days, she hoped. He put his hands on his hips and put on a poor attempt at a smirk.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Darlin’, but I’m perfectly fine. Sorry if I’ve come off as a little uncomfortable these past few days.” He put his hand on neck. “I guess it’s just been the- uh- jet lag.”
“Jet-lag?”, she repeated. She thought the prospect was ridiculous, but kept the thought to herself. “Yeah, yeah,” her guest insisted, “It’s messed up all my-uh-circadian rhythms and alla’ that. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, hon.” He started to walk past her.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like another blanket, or a different pillow, or something else?” Mariko asked, “I’d hate for you to feel unwelcome here. This estate is a home to any friend of Shiro’s,.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” her guest replied, “the pillows are soft, the blankets are warm. I swear, the Ritz-Carlton couldn’t show me a better time. Don’t worry about it, Mariko.”
This man was a horrible liar. Still, what could she do about it? Mariko resolved to leave their interaction with a hand extended. “If you say so, ‘Wolverine’,” she replied, “but tell your friends if they are interested in learning about the history of this estate, I would be happy to show them. And if you are interested in telling me the truth about yourself, I would be happy to hear it.”
Her guest looked over his shoulder back at the good lady, a little surprised by her offer. “I…will let my teammates know about your offer.” He paused. “And I think I could swing that second part sometime after dinner, maybe in the garden like last time.”
Mariko grinned. “It’s a date,” she said, and continued her path down the hallway, satisfied with current state of affairs. Likewise, her guest started in the opposite direction, his hand over the bottom of his face. Thick fingers gripped his chin, hiding a cringe and the ever-present scowl etched into him. ‘What a mess, Logan,’ he thought, ‘You’re outta practice with this stuff. Wearin’ my flaming heart on my sleeve- some tough guy you are.’
Logan put his head back and sighed. ‘It was real cute, seeing her all concerned on my behalf. Real endearing...that’s for sure.’