Memoirs of a Geisha (50 page)

During the rest of the flight, I struggled with these thoughts. I could never have imagined myself scheming in this way, but in time I began to imagine the steps involved just like in a board game: I would draw the Minister aside at the inn—no, not at the inn, at some other place—and I would trick Nobu into stumbling upon us . . . or perhaps it would be enough for him to hear it from someone else? You can imagine how exhausted I felt by the end of the trip. Even as we left the airplane, I must still have looked very worried, because Mameha kept reassuring me that the flight was over and I was safe at last.

We arrived at our inn about an hour before sunset. The others admired the room in which we would all be staying, but I felt so agitated I could only pretend to admire it. It was as spacious as the largest room at the Ichiriki Teahouse, and furnished beautifully in the Japanese style, with tatami mats and gleaming wood. One long wall was made entirely of glass doors, beyond which lay extraordinary tropical plants—some with leaves nearly as big as a man. A covered walkway led down through the leaves to the banks of a stream.

When the luggage was in order, we were all of us quite ready for a bath. The inn had provided folding screens, which we opened in the middle of the room for privacy. We changed into our cotton gowns and made our way along a succession of covered walkways, leading through the dense foliage to a luxurious hot-springs pool at the other end of the inn. The men’s and women’s entrances were shielded by partitions, and had separate tiled areas for washing. But once we were immersed in the dark water of the springs and moved out beyond the partition’s edge, the men and women were together in the water. The bank director kept making jokes about Mameha and me, saying he wanted one of us to fetch a certain pebble, or twig, or something of the sort, from the woods at the edge of the springs—the joke being, of course, that he wanted to see us naked. All this while, his son was engrossed in conversation with Pumpkin; and it didn’t take us long to understand why. Pumpkin’s bosoms, which were fairly large, kept floating up and exposing themselves on the surface while she jabbered away as always without noticing.

Perhaps it seems odd to you that we all bathed together, men and women, and that we planned to sleep in the same room later that night. But actually, geisha do this sort of thing all the time with their best customers—or at least they did in my day. A single geisha who values her reputation will certainly never be caught alone with a man who isn’t her
danna
. But to bathe innocently in a group like this, with the murky water cloaking us . . . that’s quite another matter. And as for sleeping in a group, we even have a word for it in Japanese—
zakone
, “fish sleeping.” If you picture a bunch of mackerel thrown together into a basket, I suppose that’s what it means.

Bathing in a group like this was innocent, as I say. But that doesn’t mean a hand never strayed where it shouldn’t, and this thought was very much on my mind as I soaked there in the hot springs. If Nobu had been the sort of man to tease, he might have drifted over toward me; and then after we’d chatted for a time he might suddenly have grabbed me by the hip, or . . . well, almost anywhere, to tell the truth. The proper next step would be for me to scream and Nobu to laugh, and that would be the end of it. But Nobu wasn’t the sort of man to tease. He’d been immersed in the bath for a time, in conversation with the Chairman, but now he was sitting on a rock with only his legs in the water, and a small, wet towel draped across his hips; he wasn’t paying attention to the rest of us, but rubbing at the stump of his arm absentmindedly and peering into the water. The sun had set by now, and the light faded almost to evening; but Nobu sat in the brightness of a paper lantern. I’d never before seen him so exposed. The scarring that I thought was at its worst on one side of his face was every bit as bad on his damaged shoulder—though his other shoulder was beautifully smooth, like an egg. And now to think that I was considering betraying him . . . He would think I had done it for only one reason, and would never understand the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Nobu or of destroying his regard for me. I wasn’t at all sure I could go through with it.

*  *  *

After breakfast the following morning, we all took a walk through the tropical forest to the sea cliffs nearby, where the stream from our inn poured over a picturesque little waterfall into the ocean. We stood a long while admiring the view; even when we were all ready to leave, the Chairman could hardly tear himself away. On the return trip I walked beside Nobu, who was still as cheerful as I’d ever seen him. Afterward we toured the island in the back of a military truck fitted with benches, and saw bananas and pineapples growing on the trees, and beautiful birds. From the mountaintops, the ocean looked like a crumpled blanket in turquoise, with stains of dark blue.

That afternoon we wandered the dirt streets of the little village, and soon came upon an old wood building that looked like a warehouse, with a sloped roof of thatch. We ended up walking around to the back, where Nobu climbed stone steps to open a door at the corner of the building, and the sunlight fell across a dusty stage built out of planking. Evidently it had at one time been a warehouse but was now the town’s theater. When I first stepped inside, I didn’t think very much about it. But after the door banged shut and we’d made our way to the street again, I began to feel that same feeling of a fever breaking; because in my mind I had an image of myself lying there on the rutted flooring with the Minister as the door creaked open and sunlight fell across us. We would have no place to hide; Nobu couldn’t possibly fail to see us. In many ways I’m sure it was the very spot I’d half-hoped to find. But I wasn’t thinking of these things; I wasn’t really thinking at all, so much as struggling to put my thoughts into some kind of order. They felt to me like rice pouring from a torn sack.

As we walked back up the hill toward our inn, I had to fall back from the group to take my handkerchief from my sleeve. It was certainly very warm there on that road, with the afternoon sun shining full onto our faces. I wasn’t the only one perspiring. But Nobu came walking back to ask if I was all right. When I couldn’t manage to answer him right away, I hoped he would think it was the strain of walking up the hill.

“You haven’t looked well all weekend, Sayuri. Perhaps you ought to have stayed in Kyoto.”

“But when would I have seen this beautiful island?”

“I’m sure this is the farthest you’ve ever been from your home. We’re as far from Kyoto now as Hokkaido is.”

The others had walked around the bend ahead. Over Nobu’s shoulder I could see the eaves of the inn protruding above the foliage. I wanted to reply to him, but I found myself consumed with the same thoughts that had troubled me on the airplane, that Nobu didn’t understand me at all. Kyoto wasn’t my home; not in the sense Nobu seemed to mean it, of a place where I’d been raised, a place I’d never strayed from. And in that instant, while I peered at him in the hot sun, I made up my mind that I would do this thing I had feared. I would betray Nobu, even though he stood there looking at me with kindness. I tucked away my handkerchief with trembling hands, and we continued up the hill, not speaking a word.

By the time I reached the room, the Chairman and Mameha had already taken seats at the table to begin a game of go against the bank director, with Shizue and her son looking on. The glass doors along the far wall stood open; the Minister was propped on one elbow staring out, peeling the covering off a short stalk of cane he’d brought back with him. I was desperately afraid Nobu would engage me in a conversation I’d be unable to escape, but in fact, he went directly over to the table and began talking with Mameha. I had no idea as yet how I would lure the Minister to the theater with me, and even less idea how I would arrange for Nobu to find us there. Perhaps Pumpkin would take Nobu for a walk if I asked her to? I didn’t feel I could ask such a thing of Mameha, but Pumpkin and I had been girls together; and though I won’t call her crude, as Auntie had called her, Pumpkin did have a certain coarseness in her personality and would be less aghast at what I was planning. I would need to direct her explicitly to bring Nobu to the old theater; they wouldn’t come upon us there purely by accident.

For a time I knelt gazing out at the sunlit leaves and wishing I could appreciate the beautiful tropical afternoon. I kept asking myself whether I was fully sane to be considering this plan; but whatever misgivings I may have felt, they weren’t enough to stop me from going ahead with it. Clearly nothing would happen until I succeeded in drawing the Minister aside, and I couldn’t afford to call attention to myself when I did it. Earlier he’d asked a maid to bring him a snack, and now he was sitting with his legs around a tray, pouring beer into his mouth and dropping in globs of salted squid guts with his chopsticks. This may seem like a nauseating idea for a dish, but I can assure you that you’ll find salted squid guts in bars and restaurants here and there in Japan. It was a favorite of my father’s, but I’ve never been able to stomach it. I couldn’t even watch the Minister as he ate.

“Minister,” I said to him quietly, “would you like me to find you something more appetizing?”

“No,” he said, “I’m not hungry.” I must admit this raised in my mind the question of why he was eating in the first place. By now Mameha and Nobu had wandered out the back door in conversation, and the others, including Pumpkin, were gathered around the go board on the table. Apparently the Chairman had just made a blunder, and they were laughing. It seemed to me my chance had come.

“If you’re eating out of boredom, Minister,” I said, “why don’t you and I explore the inn? I’ve been eager to see it, and we haven’t had the time.”

I didn’t wait for him to reply, but stood and walked from the room. I was relieved when he stepped out into the hallway a moment later to join me. We walked in silence down the corridor, until we came to a bend where I could see that no one was coming from either direction. I stopped.

“Minister, excuse me,” I said, “but . . . shall we take a walk back down to the village together?”

He looked very confused by this.

“We have an hour or so left in the afternoon,” I went on, “and I remember something I’d very much like to see again.”

After a long pause, the Minister said, “I’ll need to use the toilet first.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I told him. “You go and use the toilet; and when you’re finished, wait right here for me and we’ll take a walk together. Don’t go anywhere until I come and fetch you.”

The Minister seemed agreeable to this and continued up the corridor. I went back toward the room. And I felt so dazed—now that I was actually going through with my plan—that when I put my hand on the door to slide it open, I could scarcely feel my fingers touching anything at all.

Pumpkin was no longer at the table. She was looking through her travel trunk for something. At first when I tried to speak, nothing came out. I had to clear my throat and try again.

“Excuse me, Pumpkin,” I said. “Just one moment of your time . . .”

She didn’t look eager to stop what she was doing, but she left her trunk in disarray and came out into the hallway with me. I led her some distance down the corridor, and then turned to her and said:

“Pumpkin, I need to ask a favor.”

I waited for her to tell me she was happy to help, but she just stood with her eyes on me.

“I hope you won’t mind my asking—”

“Ask,” she said.

“The Minister and I are about to go for a walk. I’m going to take him to the old theater, and—”

“Why?”

“So that he and I can be alone.”

“The Minister?” Pumpkin said incredulously.

“I’ll explain some other time, but here’s what I want you to do. I want you to bring Nobu there and . . . Pumpkin, this will sound very strange. I want you to discover us.”

“What do you mean, ‘discover’ you?”

“I want you to find some way of bringing Nobu there and opening the back door we saw earlier, so that . . . he’ll see us.”

While I was explaining this, Pumpkin had noticed the Minister waiting in another covered walkway through the foliage. Now she looked back at me.

“What are you up to, Sayuri?” she said.

“I don’t have time to explain it now. But it’s terribly important, Pumpkin. Truthfully, my entire future is in your hands. Just make sure it’s no one but you and Nobu—not the Chairman, for heaven’s sake, or anyone else. I’ll repay you in any way you’d like.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “So it’s time for a favor from Pumpkin again, is it?” she said. I didn’t feel certain what she meant by this, but rather than explaining it to me, she left.

*  *  *

I wasn’t sure whether or not Pumpkin had agreed to help. But all I could do at this point was go to the doctor for my shot, so to speak, and hope that she and Nobu would appear. I joined the Minister in the corridor and we set out down the hill.

As we walked around the bend in the road and left the inn behind us, I couldn’t help remembering the day Mameha had cut me on the leg and taken me to meet Dr. Crab. On that afternoon I’d felt myself in some sort of danger I couldn’t fully understand, and I felt much the same way now. My face was as hot in the afternoon sun as if I’d sat too close to the hibachi; and when I looked at the Minister, sweat was running down his temple onto his neck. If all went well he would soon be pressing that neck against me . . . and at this thought I took my folding fan from my obi, and waved it until my arm was tired, trying to cool both myself and him. All the while, I kept up a flow of conversation, until a few minutes later, when we came to a stop before the old theater with its thatched roof. The Minister seemed puzzled. He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky.

“Will you come inside with me for a moment, Minister?” I said.

He didn’t seem to know what to make of this, but when I walked down the path beside the building, he plodded along behind me. I climbed the stone steps and opened the door for him. He hesitated only a moment before walking inside. If he had frequented Gion all his life, he’d certainly have understood what I had in mind—because a geisha who lures a man to an isolated spot has certainly put her reputation at stake, and a first-class geisha will never do such a thing casually. But the Minister just stood inside the theater, in the patch of sunlight, like a man waiting for a bus. My hands were trembling so much as I folded my fan and tucked it into my obi again, I wasn’t at all certain I could see my plan through to the end. The simple act of closing the door took all my strength; and then we were standing in the murky light filtering under the eaves. Still, the Minister stood inert, with his face pointed toward a stack of straw mats in the corner of the stage.