Arthur Golden - Memoirs of a Geisha

“You’re the oldest fourteen-year-old I’ve ever seen. Here, take this,” he said, and handed me his empty sake cup.

“Oh, no, thank you, sir,” I replied, “for I’m only a novice…” This was what Mameha had taught me to say, but Mr. Snowshowers didn’t listen. He just held the cup in the air until I took it, and then lifted up a vial of sake to pour for me.

I wasn’t supposed to drink sake, because an apprentice geisha-particularly one still in her novitiate-should appear childlike. But I couldn’t very well disobey him. I held the sake cup out; but he scratched his head again before he poured, and I was horrified to see a few flecks settle into the cup. Mr. Snowshowers filled it with sake and said to me, “Now drink up. Go on. First of many.”

I gave him a smile and had just begun to raise the cup slowly to my lips-not knowing what else I could do-when, thank heavens, Mameha rescued me.

“It’s your first day in Gion, Sayuri. It won’t do for you to get drunk,” she said, though she was speaking for the benefit of Mr. Snowshowers. “Just wet your lips and be done with it.”

So I obeyed her and wet my lips with the sake. And when I say that I wet my lips, I mean I pinched them shut so tightly I nearly sprained my mouth, and then tipped the sake cup until I felt the liquid against my skin. Then I put the cup down on the table hurriedly and said, “Mmm! Delicious!” while reaching for the handkerchief in my obi. I felt very relieved when I patted my lips with it, and I’m happy to say that Mr. Snowshowers didn’t even notice, for he was busy eyeing the cup as it sat there full on the table before him. After a moment he picked it up in two fingers and poured it right down his throat, before standing and excusing himself to use the toilet.

An apprentice geisha is expected to walk a man to the toilet and back, but no one expects a novice to do it. When there isn’t an apprentice in the room, a man will usually walk himself to the toilet, or sometimes one of the geisha will accompany him. But Mr. Snowshowers stood there gazing down at me until I realized he was waiting for me to stand.

I didn’t know my way around the Komoriya Teahouse, but Mr. Snowshowers certainly did. I followed him down the hall and around a corner. He stepped aside while I rolled open the door to the toilet for him. After I had closed it behind him and was waiting there in the hallway, I heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs, but I thought nothing of it. Soon Mr. Snowshowers was done and we made our way back. When I entered the room, I saw that another geisha had joined the party, along with an apprentice. They had their backs to the door, so that I didn’t see their faces until I’d followed Mr. Snowshowers around the table and taken up my place once again. You can imagine how shocked I felt when I saw them; for there, on the other side of the table, was the one woman I would have given anything to avoid. It was Hatsumomo, smiling at me, and beside her sat Pumpkin.

Hatsumomo smiled when she was happy, like everybody else; and she was never happier than when she was about to make someone suffer. This is why she wore such a beautiful smile on her face when she said:

“Oh, my goodness! What a peculiar coincidence. Why, it’s a novice! I really shouldn’t tell the rest of this story, because I might embarrass the poor thing.”

I hoped Mameha would excuse herself and take me with her. But she only gave me an anxious glance. She must have felt that leaving Hatsumomo alone with these men would be like running away from a house on fire; we’d be better off to stay and control the damage.

“Really, I don’t think there’s anything more difficult than being a novice,” Hatsumomo was saying. “Don’t you think so, Pumpkin?”

Pumpkin was a full-fledged apprentice now; she’d been a novice six months earlier. I glanced at her for sympathy, but she just stared at the table with her hands in her lap. Knowing her as I did, I understood that the little wrinkle at the top of her nose meant she felt upset.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Such a difficult time of life,” Hatsumomo went on. “I can still remember how hard I found it… What is your name, little novice?”

Happily, I didn’t have to respond, because Mameha spoke up.

“You’re certainly right about it being a difficult time of life for you, Hatsumomo-san. Though of course, you were more awkward than most.”

“I want to hear the rest of the story,” said one of the men.

“And embarrass the poor novice who’s just joined us?” Hatsumomo said. “I’ll tell it only if you promise that you won’t think about this poor girl as you listen. Be sure to picture some other girl in your mind.”

Hatsumomo could be ingenious in her devilishness. The men might not have pictured the story happening to me earlier, but they certainly would now.

“Let’s see, where was I?” Hatsumomo began. “Oh, yes. Well, this novice I mentioned… I can’t remember her name, but I ought to give her one to keep you from confusing her with this poor girl. Tell me, little novice… what is your name?”

“Sayuri, ma’am,” I said. And my face felt so hot from nervousness that I wouldn’t have been surprised if my makeup had simply melted and begun to drip onto my lap.

“Sayuri. How lovely! Somehow it doesn’t suit you. Well, let’s call this novice in the story ‘Mayuri.’ Now then, one day I was walking along Shijo Avenue with Mayuri, on our way to her older sister’s okiya. There was a terrible wind, the sort that rattles the windows, and poor Mayuri had so little experience with kimono. She was no heavier than a leaf, and those big sleeves can be just like sails, you know. As we were about to cross the street, she disappeared, and I heard a little sound from behind me, like ‘Ah… ah,’ but very faint…”

Here Hatsumomo turned to look at me.

“My voice isn’t high enough,” she said. “Let me hear you say it. ‘Ah… ah…’ ”

Well, what could I do? I tried my best to make the noise.

“No, no, much higher… oh, never mind!” Hatsumomo turned to the man beside her and said under her breath, “She isn’t very bright, is she?” She shook her head for a moment and then went on. “Anyway, when I turned around, poor Mayuri was being blown backward up the street a full block behind me, with her arms and legs flailing so much she looked like a bug on its back. I nearly tore my obi laughing, but then all of a sudden she stumbled right off the curb into a busy intersection just as a car came zooming along. Thank heavens she was blown onto the hood! Her legs flew up… and then if you can picture this, the wind blew right up her kimono, and… well, I don’t need to tell you what happened.”

“You certainly do!” one of the men said.

“Don’t you have any imagination?” she replied. “The wind blew her kimono right up over her hips. She didn’t want everyone to see her naked; so to preserve her modesty, she flipped herself around and ended up with her legs pointing in two different directions, and her private parts pressed against the windshield, right in the driver’s face…”

Of course, the men were in hysterics by now, including the director, who tapped his sake cup on the tabletop like a machine gun, and said, “Why doesn’t anything like this ever happen to me?”

“Really, Mr. Director,” Hatsumomo said. “The girl was only a novice! It’s not as if the driver got to see anything. I mean, can you imagine looking at the private parts of this girl across the table?” She was talking about me, of course. “Probably she’s no different from a baby!”