The Test

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You can do it, I said to myself. You can do it.

I bowed.

He bowed.

I looked around nervously.

He looked around nervously.

I gathered up my courage, cleared my throat and said in Japanese, “Konnichiwa.”
“Konnichiwa,” the pharmacist answered.

Some awkward time passed.

I gathered more courage and said, “Karen desu. Hajimemashita. Doozo yoroshiku. O tenki des ne? Kore wa pen desu.” OK, I admit it was a bit of a nervous rambling, but at least I said something.

The pharmacist looked around nervously.

I bowed.

He bowed.

I left.

You can do it, I said to myself. You can do it!

At the next pharmacy, I decided I would forego the pleasantries about the weather and, instead, just pin my hopes on sumimasen, the word that works miracles in Tokyo.

“Sumimasen,” I said to the pharmacist, “Stomach medicine ga arimas ka?” I pointed to my stomach. “Heartburn desu. Shujin wa stomacho achido o motte imas.” Is that right? No, that’s not right. I can’t do it.

I looked around nervously.

He looked around nervously.

I bowed.

He bowed.

I left.

You can do it, I said to myself.

You can do it!

“Ooooooh,” I said to the next pharmacist as I pointed to my stomach. I was determined not to go home empty handed. I had promised my husband that I would find some over- the-counter medicine for him.

“Ooooooh,” I said again. Then, I patted my stomach. Then, I rubbed my stomach. Then, I patted it again. Just for an extra dramatic touch, I touched my forehead to indicate that I wasn’t feeling well.

“Wakarimashita,” the pharmacist said as he wrapped up something for me. I didn’t even pay attention to what he wrapped up. I was so thrilled that I communicated!

I did it! I did it! I really did it!

I didn’t do it.

I did spend my morning at pharmacies. I did try my best. But I didn’t bring home stomach medicine. I had bought my husband a pregnancy test.

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