by Ioana Lee
“I wasn’t speaking Japanese… I don’t even remember how I was before speaking this language. I don’t believe I truly existed. I don’t recall living anything important or interesting before speaking Japanese. Actually, I take it back. The most important thing was that I was born and had my family. It’s so annoying that my parents don’t speak the language. It’s unnatural for them. Mom and Sorana speak a few words, but they’re not fluent.”
“I don’t want to drown in the lake,” he said.
“Much better… No need to die drowning. I’d like to die here in the park, close to your ancestors, but I can’t. I can’t do this without visiting the tombstones of my grandparents. I don’t know why in Romania we don’t honor our ancestors as you do here in Japan. Sorry… What I’m saying doesn’t make any sense... Ken, you’ll eventually forget me. Find a Japanese woman… Many writers say in their books that Japanese should only marry Japanese. If they ever go against this rule and marry a foreigner, that person must be very understanding…”
“Do you remember your favorite quote?” he asked me.
“Which one? There are so many of them…”
“I’m referring to that quote by Agatha Christie, which matches you so, well right now… Some women are so damned possessive, so dog-like and devoted, their emotions slopping all over the place, I’d hate that. With you I never know. I’m never sure. Any minute you might turn around in that cool, detached way of yours and say you’d changed your mind, quite coolly, like that… without batting and eyelash. You’re a fascinating creature. You’re like a work of art. Finished.”
And he continued…
“That’s why I’m so crazy in love with you. You’re not suffocating me with your presence or with millions of questions. You always maintain a high level of uncertainty in our relationship. One moment you love me with passion, the next moment you detest me. You want to leave or not? You want to commit suicide…”
“No, no Ken! I don’t want to commit suicide. Here in Japan I allow myself to think this way, but I must not forget that I’m a Christian. My religion forbids suicide. It’s considered a mortal sin. Actually, suicide shouldn’t be accepted as normal anywhere in the world. What happens with all those left behind? What happens with their love for us? It’s selfish and cruel to do something like this to anyone. It’s also a sign of tremendous weakness. I know that the soul can hurt more than anything else and that this might be the quickest solution to get rid of the pain, but…. No, Ken… This is unacceptable and you know it very well.”
“What are you referring to when you say that there are people who love us… that you have to think of them? Do you have somebody else in Romania?”
“Ken, you’re absurd! I’m referring to my family. I’m also referring to the responsibilities that I have as a daughter, sister and friend… the respect for life itself. I’m not referring to a lover. Just to assure you, I don’t have anyone in Romania. What’s even worse than this… Romanian men don’t like me at all.”
He laughed.
“They all must be crazy about you.”
“No, Ken, they’re not. They don’t like me. Honestly, this really bothers me. They simply don’t like me. They treat me with indifference. They are amiable and nice, but that’s pretty much it. I don’t know why. I must emanate a negative energy or perhaps I’m impossible to live with. On top of this, none of them speak Japanese.”
“Are you telling me that no one ever courted you there? You must be lying.”
“Courted? No! I’m not lying. I wonder what’s wrong with me. It’s obvious that I’m not what they want. Oh, actually…. Someone courted me for a while, but I didn’t think that he wanted to be with me… I thought that he was just nice. One evening he told me I love you in Romanian (Te Iubesc). Can you imagine that? No one has told me that for more than 10 years…”
“And what did you say?”
“I got so intimidated that I dropped my cell phone. Then I started running. I didn’t know how to reply. What do you say to a Romanian who says Te Iubesc? I actually believe that he was fascinated with my work and he mixed that idea up with love.”
“Didn’t you tell him that you’re married?”
“But… I’m not married. Not in my heart. Yet I’m not available either.”
“I don’t want anyone else to have you. Ever!”
“Ken, I won’t remarry again. Don’t worry. One marriage failure is enough for me. More than this… I really enjoy my freedom.”
“Our marriage didn’t fail Ioana. Why do you even say this? We’re very different, which makes it hard for us to live together, but we’ll always belong to one another… We’ll belong to each other in a way that no one will ever understand. I love you! If you want, we can divorce now, but in a couple of years we’ll remarry again. We can’t be separated. Promise me that we’ll get married again?”
“Why remarry Ken…So that we can divorce for the second time?”
“Ioana, you’re very cold, yet I know that your heart is filled with love and passion.”
“I don’t know why some people think that they know me better than I know yourself… Let’s go Ken! Eiji and his wife are coming. Is he happy? I can’t believe how much things have changed since I left Japan.”
I had already been in Japan for two weeks and no one in the family opened the delicate subject—divorce—that was the main reason I had returned after one year. Divorce… a bad word in any language, which can also mean freedom, finding your lost self and the desire to start an unknown path in life. I tried to open the subject on several occasions yet it was changed or avoided. I was between a rock and a hard place and didn’t know what to do about it. I even got to a point where I thought that it wasn’t really necessary to divorce Ken, as long as the family was ok with the situation—to live on separate continents. It didn’t bother me as long as I could go on with my life and career in Romania. Our marriage was hanging by a piece thread though.
I didn’t want to get married again. I didn’t think that I was the type of woman that men would want by their side, especially as a wife. Honestly, had I been a man I wouldn’t marry me. Why would anyone else do it? I gave up the thought of divorcing Ken and patiently waited to see what was going to happen next. I knew that it was going to be painful to explain to my family and friends that I was still married to Ken yet we lived on separate continents. I found it impossible to believe that my Japanese family would ever accept such a thing.
The Kurosawa name had to be perpetuated. For this to happen, Ken had to have children. The family was probably waiting for me to change my mind about the divorce, because otherwise I couldn’t explain their avoiding talking about it. It was indeed painful but continuing to not talk about it was not an option. I knew that I couldn’t return to Romania without clarifying the situation. Or could I? I thought to myself: “I could come on vacation twice a year…”
I was the one who said yes to that complicated and crazy life. I had to be the one finding the way out. I had no one to talk to about it. I found comfort in the words of Graham Greene in The End of the Affair”… It was as though our marriage were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death. I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.” It was brutal, but nonetheless real…
I was puzzled. I thought about it all night long and fell asleep only in the morning. I woke up around noontime. Obaachama was the only one in the kitchen. I found a breakfast tray on the kitchen table, specially prepared for me. I ate quietly. Obaachama was looking out through the glass door, while Kiku was quiet, sitting next to her. There was too much sadness and silence around me. I stopped eating and sat on the chair, close to Obaachama. She saw that I was there and for a few seconds our eyes intersected. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. Her glance was weak yet her presence strong. I felt like a guilty child. I turned my head and gazed out the window, admiring the beauty of the Japanese garden. She was still looking at me. I sensed her wanting to read and understand my thoughts and soul. People fear having o
ther people read their thoughts, thinking that they are somehow related to their soul. I was astounded at the discrepancy between the two within me. My mind was thinking about the divorce and the fact that I had to return to Romania, while my soul wanted everything to end there, in Japan. It was painful.
I felt morally naked in front of Obaachama. I could hardly breathe. The silence was heavy. I could feel and hear my heart beating.
“Ioana-san, today it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
My face got brighter and the tension seemed to disappear. Silence always scares and paralyzes me. I don’t know how to react to it. I feel much better when talking…
“Yes, indeed, it’s a superb day… weather wise,” I added.
“Everyone is happy to see you. We missed you.”
“I feel the same. I appreciate that everyone came together to see me.”
“You and Kenijiro will get a divorce?”
I flinched.
“I am sorry Obaachama. I wasn’t capable of being a good enough member for this family. I wasn’t a good wife either. I am so sorry for all the problems I have created. I love and respect each and every one of you. I am still very attached to everyone and everything… but… Ken and I won’t be able to live together anymore. Thank you for asking me about it… I haven’t had the chance to talk to Ken about it, but maybe you could explain this to him. I love you very much. I apologize again.”
In that exact moment Otoosan, Okaasan and Ken entered the house. I took advantage of our conversation and continued my dialogue with Obaachama about the divorce. I kept on apologizing for being a failure as a daughter in law, wife and descendant of Shin Kurosawa. By the time Ken and his parents made their way into the kitchen we ended our conversation. We started talking instead about summer and all the fun things that come with it. That afternoon I spent time playing with my nieces. We all preferred to speak about meaningless things, as they were less painful than the subject of divorce was. We went to have lunch out.
As soon as we arrived at home, I went into my room. Ken followed me shortly. He talked to his grandmother and finally understood that we needed to clarify the situation once and for all. Shortly after I left Japan, one-year prior, I asked Ken to go to the Romanian Embassy in Tokyo to file for divorce. So he did and by the time the divorce papers arrived in Romania he called me crying, begging me not to use it because he and his family didn’t want that. The Kurosawa family wanted to avoid a public scandal. I listened to him. I didn’t want to hurt anyone or ruin the family’s reputation. As far as I was concerned I got what I long wanted—the freedom to live by myself, to analyze and redefine my life.
“Ken you know very well that I didn’t file for divorce when you sent the papers to me a year ago. But I don’t think we can continue this way…” I told him in a sad tone, looking down.
How easy it would be if there would be a company to facilitate divorces so that you don’t have to rip apart your soul, talking to your partner and his family, having to explain why it’s all happening… Or, if it would have been at all possible to have an identical copy of me, perhaps less sensitive, to take control of the situation. I needed a physiologist to guide me and lessen my pain. I would have done and paid anything to have someone else do it for me. It’s always so easy and wonderful to get married. How come no one tells you that you could also become unhappy? How come no one gives you a heads up that marriage can also end up in disaster? That some couples grow apart? Marriage is truly a lottery… But it’s worth it, because even if the ending is sad, the beautiful things and moments don’t go away just because it ended. The soul preserves everything you lived—good and bad. I was happily married until one day when I stopped being so. It’s fairly simple. I wouldn’t change anything except the ending…
“So, you want a divorce?”
“I can’t stand this word anymore Ken. What is it that YOU want?”
“I want to be with you but I’m afraid. You’ll leave me anyway. It’s better to end it now. I appreciate that you waited for so long. I’ve thought about it lately… It’s not normal for my wife to live in a different country, on a separate continent. You are right—some things cannot be repaired. On top of this, we love each other anyway. We don’t need documents to prove it. I have a copy of the divorce papers in Japanese. It’s much easier here. You simply pick up the documents from the city hall and sign them. There’s no need for a lawyer. You have to handle it by yourself in Romania. I don’t want to be involved.”
You come into the world alone and you leave alone. Between the two there’s what we call life. All the good and bad things in life are done alone too, except that you have some sort of a public that sees what you’re doing.
“Ok, let’s end this once and for all. Read me what it says on those papers to make sure that I understand what I’m signing for,” I told him.
Everything sounded fairly simple, considering that it was such a big step.
“Ioana, let’s throw away these divorce papers now,” said Ken, looking at the signed documents.
We both laughed like two children who didn’t seem to understand the gravity of their deeds. I still liked him but no longer loved him. I couldn’t stop but think how much he used to mean to me. I never understood him, but that was what attracted me. I wondered if I’d miss him a lot and carry his memory in my heart wherever I’d go. He asked me to “hide his heart in a little corner of mine” and take him everywhere with me.
We both decided to let the family know about our divorce. Ken and I couldn’t touch any food during dinner. Right after they all finished eating, part of the family spread around the house, except Ken’s Parents and his grandmother who were still with us in the living room. I thought that that would be a good moment to share the news, as there were fewer eyes pointing at us. Ken asked everyone for their attention, as he had something important to tell them. He did it on a very authoritative and calm voice. I felt so embarrassed and guilty that I put my head down. It was painful. I heard Ken say:
“… After many conversations we have both decided to divorce. These are the signed divorce papers.”
As soon as he finished his sentence I turned around and ran down the stairs. I couldn’t look them in the eye. I didn’t want to see and feel their pain. Their silence was excruciating. Whenever I’m scared to death or things are too unbearable, I just run away. I don’t know how to deal with it.
Ken ran after me and with tears in his eyes he asked me:
“Why are we divorcing if we still love each other? Why Ioana? Why?!”
He pulled me in the Japanese room and we both crashed on the tatami crying. He didn’t understand that we weren’t crying for the same reason. It wasn’t love. I was crying because of how ironic life was. I was crying because I caused those around me pain. I was also crying out of selfishness. I didn’t want to lose anyone or anything—parents, sisters, friends, my country, a job, a book or a husband. “I wanted to have everything, everywhere. I was afraid of empty.”[xxxvii] He was crying because of his ego. He was hurt that he couldn’t stay married to me; he was hurt that he lost me, not Ioana, the human being, but Ioana, the exotic accessory, who had impressed everyone around him… Or perhaps I judged him to harshly. I don’t know!
I wanted to go back to my bedroom, fall asleep and wake up to a better day and a different reality. Ken stopped me and asked:
“Can you please allow me to sleep in the bed next to yours… or on the chair? I want to watch you sleep?”
“No, Ken. This is not possible. If you want, you can stay here in the house. You don’t have to go to your Parents’ house, but you won’t be able to sleep with me in the same room. It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no going back. From now on we have to forget our past and move on. We should both try to enjoy the present and prepare for our unpredictable future, with its new challenges and opportunities.”
“Do you love me?” he asked me begging for an answer There he was, Ken, the same man with the same question. His eyes were lost an
d his voice was weak. He implored me for an answer. I answered through a doitsu:[xxxviii]
You and I are
Two halves of pine cones
That dry up and fall
Always together…
The next day, I didn’t want to go out of my bedroom. I was afraid to face the family and answer their questions. I had nothing else to say about the situation, nothing else to explain or apologize for. I sneaked out of the room and slipped into the bathroom to take a shower. Obaachama was the only one at home.
Later that day, Otoosan talked to me on behalf of the whole family. He apologized to my family and I that their son, Ken, wasn’t capable of holding himself up to our expectations. He apologized for all the trouble caused and blamed themselves for the failure of our marriage. Otoosan said that they would never be able to forgive themselves. Ken, who sat by my side, started crying uncontrollably in front of his father. That was the first time ever. Okaasan was on the verge of crying as well. It was embarrassing, as Japanese culture doesn’t allow people to show their emotions in public. The Japanese must control their feelings regardless of the situation. The tension built up. I saw tears coming down Okaasan’s porcelain face. I forced myself not to cry.
