Free The Salaryman's Wife by Sujata Massey

rigged between on and off. I tried turning it, but it wouldn’t budge.
    Oh, God. The personal prayer I hadn’t been able to think of on New Year’s Eve came to me now. I needed to get out. I pulled myself along on my stomach toward the thin wedge of light shining under the door.
    I had locked the door before bed. Now the knob wouldn’t turn at all; some force held it tight. I pounded and tried to call out, but couldn’t manage more than a cough. Feeling along the wall for the switch to the fluorescent overhead light, I flipped it with no effect. My energy spent, I curled up on the floor for a minute, trying to calm myself. As my hand stretched up once again to try the door, it suddenly opened. I fell gasping into the lighted hallway and onto a pair of large, Argyle-covered feet.

7
    “What are you doing in there? The smell!” Hugh coughed.
    I sucked in the hall’s fresh, frigid air for a minute before croaking, “Gas leak.”
    He swept past me into the bedroom, and I heard first a tearing sound of the shji paper screen and then the window slamming open. The next sound was of the heater’s tubing being yanked from the wall. He came back and half-dragged me across the hall and into his room.
    From my place on his futon, the shadowy room seemed to spin in a cool while light flowing from a laptop computer on the tea table.
    “Don’t be sick, I beg you.” I heard him pouring liquid, and he put a glass to my lips.
    “That smell,” I said before sucking down the most delicious glass of water I’d ever had.
    “A harmless hydrocarbon mixed in with the naturalgas. It’s there to warn you, thank God for it.” Hugh coughed again and drank straight from the thermos.
    “Someone rigged the heater,” I said after I’d regained my normal breathing. “And my light wouldn’t turn on, and the door was locked!”
    “My overhead light’s not working either, so it’s probably a tripped fuse.” Hugh sounded thoughtful.
    “Why were you outside my room in the middle of the night? What time is it?”
    “It’s just after midnight. I’ve been awake, working. A few minutes ago I heard a pounding sound which made me think either the Ikedas were having an awfully good time or someone was meeting his maker.”
    We both jumped at a new sound, three sharp knocks on the door. Before Hugh could move, the door was thrown open by Mr. Yamamoto, whose eyes widened at the sight of me sprawled on the futon.
    “Excuse me for intruding, but I heard something—I was worried—”
    “Rei had a wee accident, left her heater halfway on, and woke up to a bad smell,” Hugh said. “We’re airing the room. In the meantime, she’ll rest here.”
    I started to shake my head, but Hugh camouflaged that by laying his hand heavily on my hair. “She’s feeling a bit grim, but it’s nothing serious.”
    “I smelled gas when I came down the hall,” said Yamamoto. “It is very dangerous and also difficult for foreigners to understand.”
    “Yes, you always tell me that,” Hugh was trying to close the door, but Yamamoto stayed squarely in the way. “My heater’s on now, but I promise to extinguish it when I go to sleep.”
    “That’s a good idea, I am very glad Miss Shimura is safe. Do you wish me to wake the innkeepers and see if another room can be found for her? Or if it is more convenient, she can have my room and I will sleep with you, Hugh-san.”
    “Are you kidding?” Hugh’s low chuckle was full of innuendo. “Do me a favor and keep things quiet. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “You had no right to say that,” I protested when Yamamoto was gone and Hugh began shaking a second futon out of the closet. “This is Japan. I’m supposed to be an innocent flower, especially when I’m traveling alone.”
    “Stay where you are. You’ll have your own bed, but you shouldn’t be alone tonight.” Hugh tucked the blankets around me tightly, as if to prevent escape. “We’ll talk more about what happened tomorrow.”
    I closed