Arthur Golden - Memoirs of a Geisha

“Just a moment!” I heard a muffled voice say; and soon the door rolled open. The girl kneeling on the other side was no older than Satsu, but thin and nervous as a bird. I handed her the kimono in its wrapping of linen paper. She was very surprised, and took it from me almost desperately.

“Who’s there, Asami-san?” called a voice from inside the apartment. I could see a single paper lantern on an antique stand burning beside a freshly made futon. The futon was for the geisha Mameha; I could tell because of the crisp sheets and the elegant silk cover, as well as the takamakura -“tall pillow”-just like the kind Hatsumomo used. It wasn’t really a pillow at all, but a wooden stand with a padded cradle for the neck; this was the only way a geisha could sleep without ruining her elaborate hairstyle.

The maid didn’t answer, but opened the wrapping around the kimono as quietly as she could, and tipped it this way and that to catch the reflection of the light. When she caught sight of the ink marring it, she gasped and covered her mouth. Tears spilled out almost instantly onto her cheeks, and then a voice called:

“Asami-san! Who’s there?”

“Oh, no one, miss!” cried the maid. I felt terribly sorry for her as she dried her eyes quickly against one sleeve. While she was reaching up to slide the door closed, I caught a glimpse of her mistress. I could see at once why Hatsumomo called Mameha “Miss Perfect.” Her face was a perfect oval, just like a doll’s, and as smooth and delicate-looking as a piece of china, even without her makeup. She walked toward the doorway, trying to peer into the stairwell, but I saw no more of her before the maid quickly rolled the door shut.

The next morning after lessons, I came back to the okiya to find that Mother, Granny, and Auntie were closed up together in the formal reception room on the first floor. I felt certain they were talking about the kimono; and sure enough, the moment Hatsumomo came in from the street, one of the maids went to tell Mother, who stepped out into the entrance hall and stopped Hatsumomo on her way up the stairs.

“We had a little visit from Mameha and her maid this morning,” she said.

“Oh, Mother, I know just what you’re going to say. I feel terrible about the kimono. I tried to stop Chiyo before she put ink on it, but it was too late. She must have thought it was mine! I don’t know why she’s hated me so from the moment she came here… To think she would ruin such a lovely kimono just in the hopes of hurting me!”

By now, Auntie had limped out into the hall. She cried, “ Matte mashita! ” I understood her words perfectly well; they meant “We’ve waited for you!” But I had no idea what she meant by them. Actually, it was quite a clever thing to say, because this is what the audience sometimes shouts when a great star makes his entrance in a Kabuki play.

“Auntie, are you suggesting that I had something to do with ruining that kimono?” Hatsumomo said. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Everyone knows how you hate Mameha,” Auntie told her. “You hate anyone more successful than you.”

“Does that suggest I ought to be extremely fond of you, Auntie, since you’re such a failure?”

“There’ll be none of that,” said Mother. “Now you listen to me, Hatsumomo. You don’t really think anyone is empty-headed enough to believe your little story. I won’t have this sort of behavior in the okiya, even from you. I have great respect for Mameha. I don’t want to hear of anything like this happening again. As for the kimono, someone has to pay for it. I don’t know what happened last night, but there’s no dispute about who was holding the brush. The maid saw the girl doing it. The girl will pay,” said Mother, and put her pipe back into her mouth.

Now Granny came out from the reception room and called a maid to fetch the bamboo pole.

“Chiyo has enough debts,” said Auntie. “I don’t see why she should pay Hatsumomo’s as well.”

“We’ve talked about this enough,” Granny said. “The girl should be beaten and made to repay the cost of the kimono, and that’s that. Where’s the bamboo pole?”

“I’ll beat her myself,” Auntie said. “I won’t have your joints flaring up again, Granny. Come along, Chiyo.”

Auntie waited until the maid brought the pole and then led me down to the courtyard. She was so angry her nostrils were bigger than usual, and her eyes were bunched up like fists. I’d been careful since coming to the okiya not to do anything that would lead to a beating. I felt hot suddenly, and the stepping-stones at my feet grew blurry. But instead of beating me, Auntie leaned the pole against the storehouse and then limped over to say quietly to me:

“What have you done to Hatsumomo? She’s bent on destroying you. There must be a reason, and I want to know what it is.”

“I promise you, Auntie, she’s treated me this way since I arrived. I don’t know what I ever did to her.”

“Granny may call Hatsumomo a fool, but believe me, Hatsumomo is no fool. If she wants to ruin your career badly enough, she’ll do it. Whatever you’ve done to make her angry, you must stop doing it.”

“I haven’t done anything, Auntie, I promise you.”

“You must never trust her, not even if she tries to help you. Already she’s burdened you with so much debt you may never work it off.”

“I don’t understand…” I said, “about debt? ”

“Hatsumomo’s little trick with that kimono is going to cost you more money than you’ve ever imagined in your life. That’s what I mean about debt.”

“But… how will I pay?”

“When you begin working as a geisha, you’ll pay the okiya back for it, along with everything else you’ll owe-your meals and lessons; if you get sick, your doctor’s fees. You pay all of that yourself. Why do you think Mother spends all her time in her room, writing numbers in those little books? You owe the okiya even for the money it cost to acquire you.”

Throughout my months in Gion, I’d certainly imagined that money must have changed hands before Satsu and I were taken from our home. I often thought of the conversation I’d overheard between Mr. Tanaka and my father, and of what Mrs. Fidget had said about Satsu and me being “suitable.” I’d wondered with horror whether Mr. Tanaka had made money by helping to sell us, and how much we had cost. But I’d never imagined that I myself would have to repay it.

“You won’t pay it back until you’ve been a geisha a good long time,” she went on. “And you’ll never pay it back if you end up a failed geisha like me. Is that the way you want to spend your future?”

At the moment I didn’t much care how I spent my future.

“If you want to ruin your life in Gion, there are a dozen ways to do it,” Auntie said. “You can try to run away. Once you’ve done that, Mother will see you as a bad investment; she’s not going to put more money into someone who might disappear at any time. That would mean the end of your lessons, and you can’t be a geisha without training. Or you can make yourself unpopular with your teachers, so they won’t give you the help you need. Or you can grow up to be an ugly woman like me. I wasn’t such an unattractive girl when Granny bought me from my parents, but I didn’t turn out well, and Granny’s always hated me for it. One time she beat me so badly for something I did that she broke one of my hips. That’s when I stopped being a geisha. And that’s the reason I’m going to do the job of beating you myself, rather than letting Granny get her hands on you.”

She led me to the walkway and made me lie down on my stomach there. I didn’t much care whether she beat me or not; it seemed to me that nothing could make my situation worse. Every time my body jolted under the pole, I wailed as loudly as I dared, and pictured Hatsumomo’s lovely face smiling down at me. When the beating was over, Auntie left me crying there. Soon I felt the walkway tremble under someone’s footsteps and sat up to find Hatsumomo standing above me.