Aiki’s head snapped toward me. “Why did you laugh?” Her voice was sharp, suspicious.

I kept my eyes on the screen, feigning innocence. “Oh, the physical comedy is funny. The way he fell.”

“Sore wa…” her mother muttered from the armchair. “That was strange.”

“Un…” Aiki agreed quietly. “Yeah.”

A few nights later at dinner, I decided to twist the knife a little. Robert was carving a roast while the women set the table.

“You know,” I said casually, reaching for the potatoes, “I was thinking about downloading Duolingo for Japanese. It would be nice to understand what you and your mom talk about.”