Memoirs of a Geisha (46 page)

“You're looking very well, General,” I said, though of course this was a lie. “What a pleasure it is to see you again!”

The General switched off the radio. “You're not the first to come to me,” he said. “There's nothing I can do to help you, Sayuri.”

“But I rushed here so quickly! I can't imagine how anyone reached you before I did!”

“Since last week nearly every geisha I know has been to see me, but I don't have friends in power any longer. I don't know why a geisha of your standing should come to me anyway. You're liked by so many men with influence.”

“To be liked and to have true friends willing to help are two very different things,” I said.

“Yes, so they are. What sort of help have you come to me for anyway?”

“Any help at all, General. We talk about nothing these days in Gion but how miserable life in a factory will be.”

“Life will be miserable for the lucky ones. The rest won't even live to see the end of the war.”

“I don't understand.”

“The bombs will fall soon,” the General said. “You can be certain the factories will take more than their share. If you want to be alive when this war is over, you'd better find someone who can tuck you away in a safe place. I'm sorry I'm not that man. I've already exhausted what influence I had.”

The General asked after Mother's health, and Auntie's, and soon bid me good-bye. I learned only much later what he meant about exhausting his influence. The proprietress of the Suruya had a young daughter; the General had arranged to send her to a town in northern Japan.

On the way back to the okiya, I knew the time had come for me to act; but I couldn't think what to do. Even the simple task of holding my panic at arm's length seemed more than I could manage. I went by the apartment where Mameha was now living—for her relationship with the Baron had ended several months earlier and she'd moved into a much smaller space. I thought she might know what course I should take, but in fact, she was in nearly as much of a panic as I was.

“The Baron will do nothing to help me,” she said, her face pale with worry. “I've been unable to reach the other men I have in mind. You had better think of someone, Sayuri, and go to him as quickly as you can.”

I'd been out of touch with Nobu for more than four years by that time; I knew at once I couldn't approach him. As for the Chairman . . . well, I would have grabbed at any excuse just to speak with him, but I could never have asked him for a favor. However warmly he may have treated me in the hallways, I wasn't invited to his parties, even when lesser geisha were. I felt hurt by this, but what could I do? In any case, even if the Chairman had wanted to help me, his quarrels with the military government had been in the newspapers lately. He had too many troubles of his own.

So I spent the rest of that afternoon going from teahouse to teahouse in the biting cold, asking about a number of men I hadn't seen in weeks or even months. None of the mistresses knew where to find them.

That evening, the Ichiriki was busy with farewell parties. It was fascinating to see how differently all the geisha reacted to the news. Some looked as though their spirits had been murdered within them; others were like statues of the Buddha—calm and lovely, but painted over with a layer of sadness. I can't say how I myself looked, but my mind was like an abacus. I was so busy with scheming and plotting—thinking which man I would approach, and how I would do it—that I scarcely heard the maid who told me I was wanted in another room. I imagined a group of men had requested my company; but she led me up the stairs to the second floor and along a corridor to the very back of the teahouse. She opened the door of a small tatami room I'd never entered before. And there at the table, alone with a glass of beer, sat Nobu.

Before I could even bow to him or speak a word, he said, “Sayuri-san, you've disappointed me!”

“My goodness! I haven't had the honor of your company for four years, Nobu-san, and already in an instant I've disappointed you. What could I have done wrong so quickly?”

“I had a little bet with myself that your mouth would fall open at the sight of me.”

“The truth is, I'm too startled even to move!”

“Come inside and let the maid close the door. But first, tell her to bring another glass and another beer. There's something you and I must drink to.”

I did as Nobu told me, and then knelt at the end of the table with a corner between us. I could feel Nobu's eyes upon my face almost as though he were touching me. I blushed as one might blush under the warmth of the sun, for I'd forgotten how flattering it felt to be admired.

“I see angles in your face I've never seen before,” he said to me. “Don't tell me you're going hungry like everyone else. I'd never expected such a thing of you.”

“Nobu-san looks a bit thin himself.”

“I have food enough to eat, just no time for eating it.”

“I'm glad at least that you are keeping busy.”

“That's the most peculiar thing I've ever heard. When you see a man who has kept himself alive by dodging bullets, do you feel glad for him that he has something to occupy his time?”

“I hope Nobu-san doesn't mean to say that he is
truly
in fear for his life . . .”

“There's no one out to murder me, if that's what you mean. But if Iwamura Electric is my life, then yes, I'm certainly in fear for it. Now tell me this: What has become of that
danna
of yours?”

“The General is doing as well as any of us, I suppose. How kind of you to ask.”

“Oh, I don't mean it kindly at all.”

“Very few people wish him well these days. But to change the subject, Nobu-san, am I to suppose that you have been coming here to the Ichiriki night after night, but keeping yourself hidden from me by using this peculiar upstairs room?”

“It is a peculiar room, isn't it? I think it's the only one in the teahouse without a garden view. It looks out on the street, if you open those paper screens.”

“Nobu-san knows the room well.”

“Not really. It's the first time I've used it.”

I made a face at him when he said this, to show I didn't believe him.

“You may think what you want, Sayuri, but it's true I've never been in this room before. I think it's a bedroom for overnight guests, when the mistress has any. She was kind enough to let me use it tonight when I explained to her why I'd come.”

“How mysterious . . . So you had a purpose in coming. Will I find out what it is?”

“I hear the maid returning with our beer,” Nobu said. “You'll find out when she's gone.”

The door slid open, and the maid placed the beer on the table. Beer was a rare commodity during this period, so it was quite something to watch the gold liquid rising in the glass. When the maid had left, we raised our glasses, and Nobu said:

“I have come here to toast your
danna
!”

I put down my beer when I heard this. “I must say, Nobu-san, there are few things any of us can find to be cheerful about. But it would take me weeks even to begin imagining why you should wish to drink in honor of my
danna
.”

“I should have been more specific. Here's to the foolishness of your
danna
! Four years ago I told you he was an unworthy man, and he has proved me right. Wouldn't you say?”

“The truth is . . . he isn't my
danna
any longer.”

“Just my point! And even if he were, he couldn't do a thing for you, could he? I know Gion is going to close, and everyone's in a panic about it. I received a telephone call at my office today from a certain geisha . . . I won't name her . . . but can you imagine? She asked if I could find her a job at Iwamura Electric.”

“If you don't mind my asking, what did you tell her?”

“I don't have a job for anyone, hardly even myself. Even the Chairman may be out of a job soon, and end up in prison if he doesn't start doing as the government orders. He's persuaded them we don't have the means to manufacture bayonets and bullet casings, but now they want us to design and build fighter airplanes! I mean, honestly, fighter airplanes? We manufacture appliances! Sometimes I wonder what these people are thinking.”

“Nobu-san should speak more quietly.”

“Who's going to hear me? That General of yours?”

“Speaking of the General,” I said, “I did go to see him today, to ask for his help.”

“You're lucky he was still alive to see you.”

“Has he been ill?”

“Not ill. But he'll get around to killing himself one of these days, if he has the courage.”

“Please, Nobu-san.”

“He didn't help you, did he?”

“No, he said he'd already used up whatever influence he had.”

“That wouldn't have taken him long. Why didn't he save what little influence he had for you?”

“I haven't seen him in more than a year . . .”

“You haven't seen me in more than four years. And I
have
saved my best influence for you. Why didn't you come to me before now?”

“But I've imagined you angry with me all this time. Just look at you, Nobu-san! How could I have come to you?”

“How could you not? I can save you from the factories. I have access to the perfect haven. And believe me, it is perfect, just like a nest for a bird. You're the only one I'll give it to, Sayuri. And I won't give it even to you, until you've bowed on the floor right here in front of me and admitted how wrong you were for what happened four years ago. You're certainly right I'm angry with you! We may both be dead before we see each other again. I may have lost the one chance I had. And it isn't enough that you brushed me aside: you wasted the very ripest years of your life on a fool, a man who won't pay even the debt he owes to his country, much less to you. He goes on living as if he's done nothing wrong!”

You can imagine how I was feeling by this time; for Nobu was a man who could hurl his words like stones. It wasn't just the words themselves or their meaning, but the way he said them. At first I'd been determined not to cry, regardless of what he said; but soon it occurred to me that crying might be the very thing Nobu wanted of me. And it felt so easy, like letting a piece of paper slip from my fingers. Every tear that slid down my cheeks I cried for a different reason. There seemed so much to mourn! I cried for Nobu, and for myself; I cried at wondering what would become of us all. I even cried for General Tottori, and for Korin, who had grown so gray and hollow from life in the factory. And then I did what Nobu demanded of me. I moved away from the table to make room, and I bowed low to the floor.

“Forgive me for my foolishness,” I said.

“Oh, get up off the mats. I'm satisfied if you tell me you won't make the same mistake again.”

“I will not.”

“Every moment you spent with that man was wasted! That's just what I told you would happen, isn't it? Perhaps you've learned enough by now to follow your destiny in the future.”

“I will follow my destiny, Nobu-san. There's nothing more I want from life.”

“I'm pleased to hear that. And where does your destiny lead you?”

“To the man who runs Iwamura Electric,” I said. Of course, I was thinking of the Chairman.

“So it does,” Nobu said. “Now let us drink our beers together.”

I wet my lips—for I was far too confused and upset to be thirsty. Afterward Nobu told me about the nest he'd set aside. It was the home of his good friend Arashino Isamu, the kimono maker. I don't know if you remember him, but he was the guest of honor at the party on the Baron's estate years earlier at which Nobu and Dr. Crab were present. Mr. Arashino's home, which was also his workshop, was on the banks of the Kamo River shallows, about five kilometers upstream from Gion. Until a few years earlier, he and his wife and daughter had made kimono in the lovely Yuzen style for which he was famous. Lately, however, all the kimono makers had been put to work sewing parachutes—for they were accustomed to working with silk, after all. It was a job I could learn quickly, said Nobu, and the Arashino family was very willing to have me. Nobu himself would make the necessary arrangements with the authorities. He wrote the address of Mr. Arashino's home on a piece of paper and gave it to me.

I told Nobu a number of times how grateful I was. Each time I told him, he looked more pleased with himself. Just as I was about to suggest that we take a walk together in the newly fallen snow, he glanced at his watch and drained the last sip of his beer.

“Sayuri,” he said to me, “I don't know when we will see each other again or what the world will be like when we do. We may both have seen many horrible things. But I will think of you every time I need to be reminded that there is beauty and goodness in the world.”

“Nobu-san! Perhaps you ought to have been a poet!”

“You know perfectly well there's nothing poetic about me.”

“Do your enchanting words mean you're about to leave? I was hoping we might take a stroll together.”

“It's much too cold. But you may see me to the door, and we'll say goodbye there.”

I followed Nobu down the stairs and crouched in the entryway of the teahouse to help him into his shoes. Afterward I slipped my feet into the tall wooden
geta
I was wearing because of the snow, and walked Nobu out to the street. Years earlier a car would have been waiting for him, but only government officials had cars these days, for almost no one could find the gasoline to run them. I suggested walking him to the trolley.

“I don't want your company just now,” Nobu said. “I'm on my way to a meeting with our Kyoto distributor. I have too many things on my mind as it is.”

“I must say, Nobu-san, I much preferred your parting words in the room upstairs.”