I didn’t think of kimono in terms of money. They were an essential component of my craft, and the finer the kimono I was wearing the better I was fulfilling the obligations of my job. Customers come to Gion Kobu to enjoy the appearance of the maiko and geiko as well as their artistic accomplishments. And no matter how accomplished one may be, the hard work is to no avail if one doesn’t have the proper clothes in which to appear in public.
In any event, I was still foggy about the whole notion of money. I rarely saw it, seldom touched it, and never paid for anything myself. I did get all those envelopes, the ones with the cash tips in them. I realize now that I was getting thousands of dollars every night, but, frankly, I wasn’t paying attention. I often pulled an envelope out of my sleeve and gave it away as a tip myself, to the kanban in the kitchen or to the shoe man in the entranceway of the ochaya.
But there were always more. When I got home at night and took off my kimono, little white envelopes would come tumbling out all over the floor. I never opened these to see how much was inside, just handed over the evening’s take to the staff of the okiya as my way of saying thanks, because I couldn’t make the nightly transformation into “Mineko of the Iwasaki” without all of them.
I knew that the term “100,000” yen ($1,000) was used often when people were discussing financial matters. I was becoming curious about these things and one day I asked Mama Masako “What does 100,000 yen look like?” She pulled a billfold out of her obi and showed me ten 10,000-yen notes (about the same as ten $100 bills).
“It sure doesn’t look like much,” I said. “I guess I should be working harder.”
30
IWAS UNWORLDLY IN MANY WAYS, but I felt, now that I was an adult, that I should move out of the okiya and try to live on my own. I told Mama. She was skeptical but didn’t try to stop me. “That’s an interesting idea. You are welcome to try, though I doubt you will be able to handle it.”
In February of 1971, when I was twenty-one, I rented a large apartment on Kitashirawa Ave. The rent was $1,100 a month, which was an exorbitant amount of money at that time. I hired professionals to move me in and decorate the apartment.
As soon as I was settled, one of my girlfriends came to visit.
“Mineko, this is fabulous. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Mari. May I offer you a cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
I felt so grown up. I went into the kitchen to prepare the tea. I put water in the teakettle and put it on top of the stove. But nothing happened. The burner didn’t light. I wasn’t sure what to do. I realized that I had never actually used a stove before.
“What’s taking so long?” Mari poked her head into the kitchen.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “The gas isn’t coming out and the flame isn’t lighting.”
“That’s because you have to do this,” she said and flicked on the burner.
I was very impressed. It’s like magic.
She tells this story to this day. It still gets a big laugh.
One day, I decided to clean the apartment and got the vacuum out of the closet. I pushed it but it didn’t start to move. I thought it must be broken and called home. Our appliance man came rushing over to see what was wrong. He quickly sized up the situation.
“Mine-chan, the thing about electrical appliances is that you have to take the plug and stick in into an outlet or they won’t work.”
“You mean it isn’t broken?”
Even I was embarrassed at that one.
Next I decided to cook a meal. First the rice. I had already been to the rice shop and placed my order. I went to the shiny new rice canister sitting on top of the counter and opened it. But there was nothing inside! I called home.
“My order from Tomiya’s never arrived. Did you forget to pay the bill?”
Mama called the shop and the proprietor, with whom we had done business for years, came over right away.
As soon as I saw him I started to complain.
“Really, gramps. You shouldn’t tease me this way. I really need my order.”
“It’s sitting right here in the entranceway. In this bag. The one that says rice on it.”
“But why isn’t it in the container? I took the lid off and it was empty.”
“Mine-chan, my job is to deliver the rice to your door. You are supposed to put it in the container yourself.”
Before I moved I went to a big department store and charged everything I needed to the okiya’s account: furniture, bedding, cooking utensils, and dishes. I never looked at the price tag on anything. Mama was horrified when she got the bills but paid them anyway.
At that time (before credit cards) we still paid for small purchases in cash. I couldn’t charge things like groceries. These I would have to shop for myself. Accordingly, Mama gave me an allowance for incidentals. “You’ll need money for food,” she said and handed me $5,000. I put the money in my purse and went out shopping in the neighborhood. I found the butcher, and the grocer, and the fish store. I had no idea how much anything cost but figured I had enough to get what I wanted.
The first shop I went into was a vegetable store. I bought potatoes and carrots and a daikon radish. I peeled off a ten thousand-yen note ($100) and gave it to the shopkeeper. My heart was racing. It was the first time I ever gave somebody real money to pay for something.
After handing him the bill I picked up my purchases and proudly left the shop. But the shopkeeper came running after me, yelling something. I was sure I had made some terrible blunder and started apologizing, vociferously, “I’m so sorry. I’m just not used to this. I didn’t mean to make a mistake. Please forgive me.”
The man must have thought I was out of my mind.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss. But you forgot your change.”
“Change? What change?”
“Your change, Miss. I’m sorry but please take it. I’m busy. I don’t have time for these games.”
And that’s how I learned about change.
Now I was really shopping!
Returning home, full of a sense of accomplishment, I decided to make a meal. The first thing I cooked was a huge pot of nikujaga, a kind of meat and potato stew. I made enough for ten people. It took me from noon until four o’clock. When I thought it looked done I wrapped it up, called a cab and carried it carefully to the okiya.
“I’ve cooked something for you all,” I announced proudly. “Come everybody, eat and enjoy!”
My family dutifully sat around the table and sampled the fare. They each took a mouthful and exchanged looks among themselves. Nobody said a word and nobody was chewing
Finally Kuniko spoke up. “It’s not bad for your first try.”
Mama and Auntie Taji were looking at their plates. They still hadn’t said anything. I was insistent.
“Relish and be thankful for whatever you are served. Isn’t that what the Buddha taught. Isn’t it?”
Mama said, “That’s true, but everything has it limits.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Mineko, did you bother to taste this before serving it to us?”
“I didn’t have to. I could tell it was good from the way it smelled.”
Shows you what I knew about cooking.
“Here. You take a bite.”
It was absolutely the strangest thing I have ever tasted. I was actually impressed with myself that I could have concocted something that tasted so weird.
My first reaction was to spit it out, but I held back. If the others had managed to get down one or two mouthfuls, then I would too. I remembered my father’s dictum “The samurai betrays no weakness when starving.” But this time I changed it to “The samurai betrays no weakness when eating,” and swallowed hard.
Standing up, I said, “It could use more work,” and started to leave.
“What shall we do with the leftovers?” Kuniko called after me.
“Throw them out,” I called back, as I hurried
to the door.
My prospects for independent living did not look good.
I came to the okiya every day to get dressed for work. Mama kept asking when she was going to meet my beau. I still hadn’t spent any time with Toshio outside of the ochaya, but our three-year contract would be up that May. I decided that I’d better get her opinion. I made arrangements to introduce them.
If I reminded her once I reminded her a hundred times. “Promise me you will dress as simply as possible.”
She came out looking like she was going to a wedding. She was wearing a formal black kimono.
“Mom! What are you doing in that getup? After you promised! Please go back to your room and change into something simpler.”
“But why? Don’t you want me to look nice when I meet your friend?”
“Just change. Please.”
“Into what?”
“Any old thing will do.”
“I don’t understand you, Mineko. Most girls want their mothers to look pretty.”
“Well I don’t. Especially if you look prettier than I do.”
We were sniping at each other before we even left the house.
We met at Toshio’s customary ochaya.
It didn’t go well. I was totally unhinged. Thinking of Toshio as a customer was one thing. Thinking of him as my boyfriend was a different thing altogether. I became painfully self-conscious. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was blushing from head to toe and my mind was as blank as a white sheet of paper. It was agony.
My hand shook as I went to serve the sake. My professional composure had completely disappeared. When we got home, Mama taunted me mercilessly. “Mine-chan, I’ve never seen you so uptight. It was a riot, everybody. Our cool princess was blushing to the roots of her hair. She was trembling so badly she could hardly pour the sake. And she had nothing to say. This is great. I think I’ve finally found your weak spot.”
I knew all along that introducing them would be a mistake.
31
ON MAY 23, 1971, three years to the day I laid down my challenge, I received a message from Toshio through the okasan of his ochaya asking me to meet him at the Ishibeikoji Inn. The message said there was no need for me to come in costume. This meant it was a private meeting, not an ozashiki. Plus it was noontime.
So I wore a simple kimono of black Oshima pongee patterned with red roses and a red and white obi patterned with embroidered maple leaves done in black.
When I arrived at the inn Toshio was playing mahjong with a group of his friends. The game soon finished and the other people left.
Except for that one stolen kiss, it was the first time I had ever been alone in a room with him.
He came right to the point.
“I have come to see you every night for the last three years, just as you asked. Now I want to talk about us. Do I stand a chance? What are you thinking?”
I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. I knew he had a wife and children, but right then it didn’t seem to make a difference. I couldn’t help myself. I answered honestly.
“I’m not sure. I mean, this has never happened to me before. But I think I’m in love with you.”
“In that case,” he said, “I think we should make the proper arrangements so that we can be together.”
I demurely cast my eyes downward and silently nodded yes. We got up and went directly to see the okasan of the ochaya. She listened while he explained the situation. I can’t imagine that she was surprised by what he had to say.
“Toshio-san, you are one of my most valued customers,” she responded. “And the two of you truly seem to care about each other. For these reasons, I will agree to become party to this discussion. However, things must go through the proper channels. If you want to be with Mineko, you must first receive permission from her family.”
I knew the rules. I was in such a tizzy that I had forgotten them.
The “flower and willow world” is a society apart, complete with its own rules and regulations, its own rites and rituals. It allows for sexual relationships outside of marriage, but only if those relationships adhere to certain guidelines.
Most long-term relationships in Japan, such as those between man and wife and teacher and disciple, are arranged by a third party who continues to act as a go-between even after the two have been joined. Thus, Mother Sakaguchi arranged my apprenticeship to the iemoto and remained ready to intervene whenever there was a problem. The okasan of the ochaya was making a serious commitment when she agreed to be a “party to the discussion.” It effectively meant that she was accepting the role as our go-between. On her advice, we immediately went to the okiya to confer with Mama.
“I believe that people who love each other should be together,” she said, ever the romantic.
Toshio promised Mama Masako that he was going to divorce his wife.
Mama Masako gave us her blessing.
Begging illness, I cancelled all my appointments for the rest of the day and returned with Toshio to the inn. We went to his room. Neither of us said much at first. We just sat there, resting in each other’s presence. Finally we began to speak, bits and pieces of conversation. Out of habit, our talk turned to aesthetics. The afternoon gradually faded into evening.
A maid served us dinner in the room. I could hardly swallow a thing. The maid returned to tell us that the bath was ready. I had already bathed twice that day, once when I got up in the morning and once before I got dressed to come see Toshio, so I declined.
I wasn’t planning on spending the night and was surprised when the maid laid out two sets of futon, side by side. I wasn’t sure what to do so I kept talking. Knowing his unending interest in the arts, I brought up one topic after another: music, dance, the theater. Before I knew it midnight had come and gone.
Toshio said, “Mineko, don’t you want to get some sleep?”
“Thanks,” I said, with as much vigor as I could manage, “but I don’t sleep much. I’m still wide awake. Please, why don’t you lie down and rest?”
I was struggling to keep my eyes open and hoping that Toshio would simply fall asleep so I wouldn’t have to make any kind of decision. He stretched out on top of one of the futon, without getting under the covers, and kept right on talking. I stayed where I was, sitting at the low table. Neither of us changed position until the sky began to brighten.
I couldn’t hold my head up any longer. I decided to stretch out for a little while but promised myself I wouldn’t fall asleep. I lay down gingerly on the second futon. I thought it was rude to turn my back on Toshio so I lay facing him, curled up like a shrimp. He asked me to come closer.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I answered, “but I don’t think I can do that.”
So he made the first move. He edged closer. Then he put his arms around me and pulled me to him in a snug embrace. I lay there stiff as a board, though inside I was trembling and trying not to cry. We barely moved from that position until the sun was up.
“I have to get to class,” I said, and got up to leave, thus ending our first night together.
Now that I was a full-fledged geiko, I began to take some time off, a week in February after the Setsubun holiday and another one in the summer. That year I planned on taking a short vacation when the Gion Matsuri was over. Toshio had to go to Brazil on business. We decided to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity and rendezvous in New York City when he was finished.
Toshio flew into Kennedy on his way home to Japan, and I took a Pan Am flight to meet him at the airport. He had to wait for me for six hours. Toshio wasn’t used to waiting for anything, though he was definitely in the habit of making other people wait for him. I half-expected him not to be there when I arrived. But he was. I was overjoyed to see him standing there when I walked off the plane.
We went to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. We ran into Elizabeth Taylor in the lobby while we were checking in and chatted for a few moments. But we couldn’t wait to get up to the room, and rushed off as soon as it was polite to do
so.
I couldn’t wait to be alone with him. The bellboy shut the door and I turned towards Toshio. He promptly burst out crying. I had never seen a grown man weep like that before.
“Oh, my darling, what ever happened? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve tried everything I can think of, but my wife absolutely refuses to give me a divorce. I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. Or what I say.”
Toshio sounded on the edge of despair. He talked to me for hours. About his wife. About his children. About his anguish over the whole situation. I was too concerned about him to think about myself. I couldn’t stand seeing his pain, and, at last, I reached out to him. For the first time. I put my arms around him and felt him sink fully into my embrace. This intense closeness, I thought, this is love. This is it.
I put two final conditions on our relationship.
“I will stay with you as long as it takes to convince her. But you have to promise me two things. You will never keep secrets from me and you will never tell me a lie. If you do, it’s over. No questions asked. You’ll go your way and I’ll go mine.”
He promised, and I was his.
I was amazed at the power of the animal lust that we unleashed in each other. I opened myself to him hungrily, feeling no shyness or shame. The specter of my nephew’s assault was laid to rest on that bed.
When I looked down and saw the blood on the sheets my heart leapt with joy. I had given Toshio my most precious possession, and had done so in love. In one way it was the first time for both of us. He told me that he had never deflowered a virgin before. I was filled with indescribable happiness.
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