Memoirs of a Geisha (30 page)

Mameha left, and I waited in my chair a long while. I was hot and nervous, and I worried that my perspiration would cause my white makeup to turn into a crumpled-looking mess as bad as a futon after being slept in. I looked for something to distract myself; but the best I could do was stand from time to time to catch a glimpse of my face in a mirror hanging on the wall.

Finally I heard voices, then a tapping at the door, and Mameha swung it open.

“Just one moment, Doctor, if you please,” she said.

I could see Dr. Crab in the darkness of the hallway, looking as stern as those old portraits you see in the lobbies of banks. He was peering at me through his glasses. I wasn’t sure what to do; normally I would have bowed on the mats, so I went ahead and knelt on the rug to bow in the same way, even though I was certain Mameha would be unhappy with me for doing it. I don’t think the Doctor even looked at me.

“I prefer to get back to the party,” he said to Mameha. “Please excuse me.”

“Sayuri has brought something for you, Doctor,” Mameha told him. “Just for a moment, if you please.”

She gestured for him to come into the room and saw that he was seated comfortably in one of the overstuffed chairs. After this, I think she must have forgotten what she’d told me earlier, because we both knelt on the rug, one of us at each of Dr. Crab’s knees. I’m sure the Doctor felt grand to have two such ornately dressed women kneeling at his feet that way.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in several days,” I said to him. “And already the weather is growing warm. It seems to me as if an entire season has passed!”

The Doctor didn’t respond, but just peered back at me.

“Please accept these
ekubo
, Doctor,” I said, and after bowing, placed the package on a side table near his hand. He put his hands in his lap as if to say he wouldn’t dream of touching it.

“Why are you giving me this?”

Mameha interrupted. “I’m so sorry, Doctor. I led Sayuri to believe you might enjoy receiving
ekubo
from her. I hope I’m not mistaken?”

“You are mistaken. Perhaps you don’t know this girl as well as you think. I regard you highly, Mameha-san, but it’s a poor reflection on you to recommend her to me.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” she said. “I had no idea you felt that way. I’ve been under the impression you were fond of Sayuri.”

“Very well. Now that everything is clear, I’ll go back to the party.”

“But may I ask? Did Sayuri offend you somehow? Things seem to have changed so unexpectedly.”

“She certainly did. As I told you, I’m offended by people who mislead me.”

“Sayuri-san, how shameful of you to mislead the Doctor!” Mameha said to me. “You must have told him something you knew was untrue. What was it?”

“I don’t know!” I said as innocently as I could. “Unless it was a few weeks ago when I suggested that the weather was getting warmer, and it wasn’t really . . .”

Mameha gave me a look when I said this; I don’t think she liked it.

“This is between the two of you,” the Doctor said. “It is no concern of mine. Please excuse me.”

“But, Doctor, before you go,” Mameha said, “could there be some misunderstanding? Sayuri’s an honest girl and would never knowingly mislead anyone. Particularly someone who’s been so kind to her.”

“I suggest you ask her about the boy in her neighborhood,” the Doctor said.

I was very relieved he’d brought up the subject at last. He was such a reserved man, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d refused to mention it at all.

“So that’s the problem!” Mameha said to him. “You must have been talking with Hatsumomo.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he said.

“She’s been spreading this story all over Gion. It’s completely untrue! Ever since Sayuri was given an important role on the stage in
Dances of the Old Capital
, Hatsumomo has spent all her energy trying to disgrace her.”

Dances of the Old Capital
was Gion’s biggest annual event. Its opening was only six weeks away, at the beginning of April. All the dance roles had been assigned some months earlier, and I would have felt honored to take one. A teacher of mine had even suggested it, but as far as I knew, my only role would be in the orchestra and not on the stage at all. Mameha had insisted on this to avoid provoking Hatsumomo.

When the Doctor glanced at me, I did my best to look like someone who would be dancing an important role and had known it for some time.

“I’m afraid to say this, Doctor, but Hatsumomo is a known liar,” Mameha went on. “It’s risky to believe anything she says.”

“If Hatsumomo is a liar, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“No one would dream of telling you such a thing,” Mameha said, speaking in a quiet voice as though she really were afraid of being overheard. “So many geisha are dishonest! No one wants to be the first to make accusations. But either I’m lying to you now or else Hatsumomo was lying when she told you the story. It’s a matter of deciding which of us you know better, Doctor, and which of us you trust more.”

“I don’t see why Hatsumomo would make up stories just because Sayuri has a role on the stage.”

“Surely you’ve met Hatsumomo’s younger sister, Pumpkin. Hatsumomo hoped Pumpkin would take a certain role, but it seems Sayuri has ended up with it instead. And I was given the role Hatsumomo wanted! But none of this matters, Doctor. If Sayuri’s integrity is in doubt, I can well understand that you might prefer not to accept the
ekubo
she has presented to you.”

The Doctor sat a long while looking at me. Finally he said, “I’ll ask one of my doctors from the hospital to examine her.”

“I’d like to be as cooperative as I can,” Mameha replied, “but I’d have difficulty arranging such a thing, since you haven’t yet agreed to be Sayuri’s
mizuage
patron. If her integrity is in doubt . . . well, Sayuri will be presenting
ekubo
to a great many men. I’m sure most will be skeptical of stories they hear from Hatsumomo.”

This seemed to have the effect Mameha wanted. Dr. Crab sat in silence a moment. Finally he said, “I hardly know the proper thing to do. This is the first time I’ve found myself in such a peculiar position.”

“Please accept the
ekubo
, Doctor, and let’s put Hatsumomo’s foolishness behind us.”

“I’ve often heard of dishonest girls who arrange
mizuage
for the time of month when a man will be easily deceived. I’m a doctor, you know. I won’t be fooled so readily.”

“But no one is trying to fool you!”

He sat just a moment longer and then stood with his shoulders hunched to march, elbow-first, from the room. I was too busy bowing good-bye to see whether he took the
ekubo
with him; but happily, after he and Mameha had left, I looked at the table and saw they were no longer there.

*  *  *

When Mameha mentioned my role on the stage, I thought she was making up a story on the spot to explain why Hatsumomo might lie about me. So you can imagine my surprise the next day when I learned she’d been telling the truth. Or if it wasn’t exactly the truth, Mameha felt confident that it would be true before the end of the week.

At that time, in the mid-1930s, probably as many as seven or eight hundred geisha worked in Gion; but because no more than sixty were needed each spring for the production of
Dances of the Old Capital
, the competition for roles destroyed more than a few friendships over the years. Mameha hadn’t been truthful when she said that she’d taken a role from Hatsumomo; she was one of the very few geisha in Gion guaranteed a solo role every year. But it was quite true that Hatsumomo had been desperate to see Pumpkin on the stage. I don’t know where she got the idea such a thing was possible; Pumpkin may have earned the apprentice’s award and received other honors besides, but she never excelled at dance. However, a few days before I presented
ekubo
to the Doctor, a seventeen-year-old apprentice with a solo role had fallen down a flight of stairs and hurt her leg. The poor girl was devastated, but every other apprentice in Gion was happy to take advantage of her misfortune by offering to fill the role. It was this role that in the end went to me. I was only fifteen at the time, and had never danced on the stage before—which isn’t to say I wasn’t ready to. I’d spent so many evenings in the okiya, rather than going from party to party like most apprentices, and Auntie often played the shamisen so that I could practice dance. This was why I’d already been promoted to the eleventh level by the age of fifteen, even though I probably possessed no more talent as a dancer than anyone else. If Mameha hadn’t been so determined to keep me hidden from the public eye because of Hatsumomo, I might even have had a role in the seasonal dances the previous year.

This role was given to me in mid-March, so I had only a month or so to rehearse it. Fortunately my dance teacher was very helpful and often worked with me privately during the afternoons. Mother didn’t find out what had happened—Hatsumomo certainly wasn’t going to tell her—until several days afterward, when she heard the rumor during a game of mah-jongg. She came back to the okiya and asked if it was true I’d been given the role. After I told her it was, she walked away with the sort of puzzled look she might have worn if her dog Taku had added up the columns in her account books for her.

Of course, Hatsumomo was furious, but Mameha wasn’t concerned about it. The time had come, as she put it, for us to toss Hatsumomo from the ring.

  chapter twenty-one

L
ate one afternoon a week or so later, Mameha came up to me during a break in rehearsals, very excited about something. It seemed that on the previous day, the Baron had mentioned to her quite casually that he would be giving a party during the coming weekend for a certain kimono maker named Arashino. The Baron owned one of the best-known collections of kimono in all of Japan. Most of his pieces were antiques, but every so often he bought a very fine work by a living artist. His decision to purchase a piece by Arashino had prompted him to have a party.

“I thought I recognized the name Arashino,” Mameha said to me, “but when the Baron first mentioned it, I couldn’t place it. He’s one of Nobu’s very closest friends! Don’t you see the possibilities? I didn’t think of it until today, but I’m going to persuade the Baron to invite both Nobu and the Doctor to his little party. The two of them are certain to dislike each other. When the bidding begins for your
mizuage
, you can be sure that neither will sit still, knowing the prize could be taken by the other.”

I was feeling very tired, but for Mameha’s sake I clapped my hands in excitement and said how grateful I was to her for coming up with such a clever plan. And I’m sure it was a clever plan; but the real evidence of her cleverness was that she felt certain she’d have no difficulty persuading the Baron to invite these two men to his party. Clearly they would both be willing to come—in Nobu’s case because the Baron was an investor in Iwamura Electric, though I didn’t know it at the time; and in Dr. Crab’s case because . . . well, because the Doctor considered himself something of an aristocrat, even though he probably had only one obscure ancestor with any aristocratic blood, and would regard it as his duty to attend any function the Baron invited him to. But as to why the Baron would agree to invite either of them, I don’t know. He didn’t approve of Nobu; very few men did. As for Dr. Crab, the Baron had never met him before and might as well have invited someone off the street.

But Mameha had extraordinary powers of persuasion, as I knew. The party was arranged, and she convinced my dance instructor to release me from rehearsals the following Saturday so I could attend it. The event was to begin in the afternoon and run through dinner—though Mameha and I were to arrive after the party was under way. So it was about three o’clock when we finally climbed into a rickshaw and headed out to the Baron’s estate, located at the base of the hills in the northeast of the city. It was my first visit to anyplace so luxurious, and I was quite overwhelmed by what I saw; because if you think of the attention to detail brought to bear in making a kimono, well, that same sort of attention had been brought to the design and care of the entire estate where the Baron lived. The main house dated back to the time of his grandfather, but the gardens, which struck me as a giant brocade of textures, had been designed and built by his father. Apparently the house and gardens never quite fit together until the Baron’s older brother—the year before his assassination—had moved the location of the pond, and also created a moss garden with stepping-stones leading from the moon-viewing pavilion on one side of the house. Black swans glided across the pond with a bearing so proud they made me feel ashamed to be such an ungainly creature as a human being.

We were to begin by preparing a tea ceremony the men would join when they were ready; so I was very puzzled when we passed through the main gate and made our way not to an ordinary tea pavilion, but straight toward the edge of the pond to board a small boat. The boat was about the size of a narrow room. Most of it was occupied with wooden seats along the edges, but at one end stood a miniature pavilion with its own roof sheltering a tatami platform. It had actual walls with paper screens slid open for air, and in the very center was a square wooden cavity filled with sand, which served as the brazier where Mameha lit cakes of charcoal to heat the water in a graceful iron teakettle. While she was doing this, I tried to make myself useful by arranging the implements for the ceremony. Already I was feeling quite nervous, and then Mameha turned to me after she had put the kettle on the fire and said:

“You’re a clever girl, Sayuri. I don’t need to tell you what will become of your future if Dr. Crab or Nobu should lose interest in you. You mustn’t let either of them think you’re paying too much attention to the other. But of course a certain amount of jealousy won’t do any harm. I’m certain you can manage it.”

I wasn’t so sure, but I would certainly have to try.

A half hour passed before the Baron and his ten guests strolled out from the house, stopping every so often to admire the view of the hillside from different angles. When they’d boarded the boat, the Baron guided us into the middle of the pond with a pole. Mameha made tea, and I delivered the bowls to each of the guests.

Afterward, we took a stroll through the garden with the men, and soon came to a wooden platform suspended above the water, where several maids in identical kimono were arranging cushions for the men to sit on, and leaving vials of warm sake on trays. I made a point of kneeling beside Dr. Crab, and was just trying to think of something to say when, to my surprise, the Doctor turned to me first.

“Has the laceration on your thigh healed satisfactorily?” he asked.

This was during the month of March, you must understand, and I’d cut my leg way back in November. In the months between, I’d seen Dr. Crab more times than I could count; so I have no idea why he waited until that moment to ask me about it, and in front of so many people. Fortunately, I didn’t think anyone had heard, so I kept my voice low when I answered.

“Thank you so much, Doctor. With your help it has healed completely.”

“I hope the injury hasn’t left too much of a scar,” he said.

“Oh, no, just a tiny bump, really.”

I might have ended the conversation right there by pouring him more sake, perhaps, or changing the subject; but I happened to notice that he was stroking one of his thumbs with the fingers of his other hand. The Doctor was the sort of man who never wasted a single movement. If he was stroking his thumb in this way while thinking about my leg . . . well, I decided it would be foolish for me to change the subject.

“It isn’t much of a scar,” I went on. “Sometimes when I’m in the bath, I rub my finger across it, and . . . it’s just a tiny ridge, really. About like this.”

I rubbed one of my knuckles with my index finger and held it out for the Doctor to do the same. He brought his hand up; but then he hesitated. I saw his eyes jump toward mine. In a moment he drew his hand back and felt his own knuckle instead.

“A cut of that sort should have healed smoothly,” he told me.

“Perhaps it isn’t as big as I’ve said. After all, my leg is very . . . well, sensitive, you see. Even just a drop of rain falling onto it is enough to make me shudder!”

I’m not going to pretend any of this made sense. A bump wouldn’t seem bigger just because my leg was sensitive; and anyway, when was the last time I’d felt a drop of rain on my bare leg? But now that I understood why Dr. Crab was really interested in me, I suppose I was half-disgusted and half-fascinated as I tried to imagine what was going on in his mind. In any case, the Doctor cleared his throat and leaned toward me.

“And . . . have you been practicing?”

“Practicing?”

“You sustained the injury when you lost your balance while you were . . . well, you see what I mean. You don’t want that to happen again. So I expect you’ve been practicing. But how does one practice such a thing?”

After this, he leaned back and closed his eyes. It was clear to me he expected to hear an answer longer than simply a word or two.

“Well, you’ll think me very silly, but every night . . .” I began; and then I had to think for a moment. The silence dragged on, but the Doctor never opened his eyes. He seemed to me like a baby bird just waiting for the mother’s beak. “Every night,” I went on, “just before I step into the bath, I practice balancing in a variety of positions. Sometimes I have to shiver from the cold air against my bare skin; but I spend five or ten minutes that way.”

The Doctor cleared his throat, which I took as a good sign.

“First I try balancing on one foot, and then the other. But the trouble is . . .”

Up until this point, the Baron, on the opposite side of the platform from me, had been talking with his other guests; but now he ended his story. The next words I spoke were as clear as if I’d stood at a podium and announced them.

“. . . when I don’t have any clothing on—”

I clapped a hand over my mouth, but before I could think of what to do, the Baron spoke up. “My goodness!” he said. “Whatever you two are talking about over there, it certainly sounds more interesting than what we’ve been saying!”

The men laughed when they heard this. Afterward the Doctor was kind enough to offer an explanation.

“Sayuri-san came to me late last year with a leg injury,” he said. “She sustained it when she fell. As a result, I suggested she work at improving her balance.”

“She’s been working at it very hard,” Mameha added. “Those robes are more awkward than they look.”

“Let’s have her take them off, then!” said one of the men—though of course, it was only a joke, and everyone laughed.

“Yes, I agree!” the Baron said. “I never understand why women bother wearing kimono in the first place. Nothing is as beautiful as a woman without an item of clothing on her body.”

“That isn’t true when the kimono has been made by my good friend Arashino,” Nobu said.

“Not even Arashino’s kimono are as lovely as what they cover up,” the Baron said, and tried to put his sake cup onto the platform, though it ended up spilling. He wasn’t drunk, exactly—though he was certainly much further along in his drinking than I’d ever imagined him. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he went on. “I think Arashino’s robes are lovely. Otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting here beside me, now would he? But if you ask me whether I’d rather look at a kimono or a naked woman . . . well!”

“No one’s asking,” said Nobu. “I myself am interested to hear what sort of work Arashino has been up to lately.”

But Arashino didn’t have a chance to answer; because the Baron, who was taking a last slurp of sake, nearly choked in his hurry to interrupt.

“Mmm . . . just a minute,” he said. “Isn’t it true that every man on this earth likes to see a naked woman? I mean, is that what you’re saying, Nobu, that the naked female form doesn’t interest you?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying,” Nobu said. “What I’m saying is, I think it’s time for us to hear from Arashino exactly what sort of work he’s been up to lately.”

“Oh, yes, I’m certainly interested too,” the Baron said. “But you know, I
do
find it fascinating that no matter how different we men may seem, underneath it all we’re exactly the same. You can’t pretend you’re above it, Nobu-san. We know the truth, don’t we? There isn’t a man here who wouldn’t pay quite a bit of money just for the chance to watch Sayuri take a bath. Eh? That’s a particular fantasy of mine, I’ll admit. Now come on! Don’t pretend you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“Poor Sayuri is only an apprentice,” said Mameha. “Perhaps we ought to spare her this conversation.”

“Certainly not!” the Baron answered. “The sooner she sees the world as it really is, the better. Plenty of men act as if they don’t chase women just for the chance to get underneath all those robes, but you listen to me, Sayuri; there’s only one kind of man! And while we’re on this subject, here’s something for you to keep in mind: Every man seated here has at some point this afternoon thought of how much he would enjoy seeing you naked. What do you think of that?”

I was sitting with my hands in my lap, gazing down at the wooden platform and trying to seem demure. I had to respond in some way to what the Baron had said, particularly since everyone else was completely silent; but before I could think of what to say, Nobu did something very kind. He put his sake cup down onto the platform and stood up to excuse himself.

“I’m sorry, Baron, but I don’t know the way to the toilet,” he said. Of course, this was my cue to escort him.

I didn’t know the way to the toilet any better than Nobu; but I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to remove myself from the gathering. As I rose to my feet, a maid offered to show me the way, and led me around the pond, with Nobu following along behind.

In the house, we walked down a long hallway of blond wood with windows on one side. On the other side, brilliantly lit in the sunshine, stood display cases with glass tops. I was about to lead Nobu down to the end, but he stopped at a case containing a collection of antique swords. He seemed to be looking at the display, but mostly he drummed the fingers of his one hand on the glass and blew air out his nose again and again, for he was still very angry. I felt troubled by what had happened as well. But I was also grateful to him for rescuing me, and I wasn’t sure how to express this. At the next case—a display of tiny netsuke figures carved in ivory—I asked him if he liked antiques.