Summer Haikus – Chapter 40

I’m a bundle of nerves as I pace the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. I know Masa and his parents are in there waiting for me, but I can’t bring myself to open the door and walk inside, despite how ready I am. I’ve done all my research and made a dozen phone calls. My information is solid and primed for battle. Because what I have to do here tonight is going to change the course of our relationship for good, and I don’t even think Masa knows what’s coming.

“Isa! There you are.” Masa exits the restaurant and smiles as he walks up to me. “I had a feeling you’d be out here.”

“Oh thank god.” I throw my arms around his neck and he squeezes me tight. “I didn’t want to go in there alone. I was just about to text you.”

“Are you nervous?” he asks, searching my face for signs of distress, no doubt.

“I’m going to puke.” I feel the weight of my task right in my belly, making me nauseous.

He laughs. “No you’re not. I’m here. It’ll be fine. My mom is so excited to see you again, and my dad has calmed down a lot the past few days. It should be a chill dinner.” He grips my hand and pulls me into the restaurant. The place is super fancy, and I’m glad I went and bought myself a dress for the evening — a black dress with gold stripes, of course. A woman in kimono greets us and takes our shoes, placing slippers down for us, and then we’re led through a vast dark wood and paper screened walkway. Soft lighting illuminates us from above, and each private room we pass is filled with people talking, laughing and drinking.

“I got your gift.” He slips his hand in mine and squeezes. “It was a beautiful haiku.”

“Thank you.” I blush and avert my eyes from his smile. “I worked hard on it. Probably harder than anyone should work on a haiku.”

“It was lovely. Very Isa. And you should know my mom opened all the mail because snooping has become her full-time job.” He leans over and kisses my cheek as we come to a stop outside of a closed room. The hostess slides open the door and Masa’s parents are already seated at a table with a sunken well for our legs underneath.

“Good,” I whisper as his father moves to stand. Masa raises his eyebrows at me.

Masa’s father takes my hand while bowing. “It’s good to see you, Isa-chan. We haven’t seen you since Christmastime.”

“It’s been a while, and it’s good to see you too, Eguchi-san.”

Masa’s mother, dressed in a smart black skirt and flower-print shirt, smiles up at me. “Isa-chan, you look beautiful tonight.”

I bow to cover my blush. “Thank you. The dress is new. And your hair is short now! I love it.”

She primps the ends of her bob between her fingers. “The haircut is also new. I just went to the salon before we left the States.”

Our hostess hands me a hot towel, and I clean my hands as she arranges small bites to eat on the table: edamame, tofu, and tsukemono, Japanese pickles.

“Would you like to order some sake? We have a large selection from all over Japan,” the hostess asks in English.

I switch to Japanese. “Masa, do you remember that sake we tasted two weeks ago? The one we really loved?”

“Was that the one from Iwate?”

“Yes! Yes, it was. I’ve been trying to buy more sake for the ryokan from Iwate. I like to support the businesses that were affected by the earthquake there in 2011. The name was Asa-something.”

The hostess perks up and smiles. “Asabiraki Junmai.”

“Yes, let’s get a bottle of that to start. Thank you.”

Masa’s parents sit stunned on the other side of the table. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken Japanese in front of them before. Back in the US, we only speak English.

“Tell me about your family’s ryokan, Isa-chan,” Masa’s mom asks, switching our conversation back to English. “I looked it up just the other day. It’s very beautiful.” She sits forward to pluck a pickled cucumber off the plate and pop it in her mouth. His dad remains silent but focused on me.

“Hmmm, well, it’s been in the family for four generations. My grandparents remodeled it about eight years ago, in stages so they could still stay open, and my mom took over the business six years ago.”

Masa’s hand rests on my knee, so I scoot over in my seat a little so I can be closer to him.

“Your mother hasn’t been at the helm for long then.” Masa’s father drums his fingers on the table, so I try to relax and grab a pickle as well. It’s crunchy, salty, and tangy. Flavors I’ve come to love, growing up with a mom who makes and eats tons of Japanese pickles.

“Yeah. Things just changed this summer. She’s getting married to a wonderful man named Kosho and moving to Kofu to live with her new in-laws. I think the plan is to run a florist and ikebana classes.”

“Really?” Masa asks, glancing up as the door opens and our sake arrives. Our hostess fills up our cups for us. “That’s fantastic news.”

“Right? I overheard them talking about it this week. I’m happy for them. More and more people want to learn the old Japanese crafts and traditions. I’m sure their business will boom.”

We raise our cups and clink them together, chanting, “Kampai!” and drinking. The restaurant is a prix fixe establishment serving a multi-course modern Japanese dinner, so a first course arrives quickly. The mesclun salad with local Japanese spicy mustard greens and thin slices of smoked salmon on top looks delicious.

“Itadakimasu!” Masa and I say together while both his parents smile at us. We eat together so often, or had until he spent the last week in Kamakura, that this little Japanese saying, similar to “bon appétit” has become second nature for us.

“So, traditional Japanese arts are back in style, Isa-chan?” Masa’s dad is trying to be casual but his eyes are boring into Masa. Masa, though, pays no attention.

Perfect. He’s opened the conversation and I didn’t have to start it myself!

I nod my head and cover my mouth with my hand while I swallow. “Pretty much everyone who comes to the ryokan asks for classes on how to make traditional Japanese goods or meals, or to find out where they can go buy them. It’s one of the only markets besides tourism that’s seeing a resurgence of popularity. I’ve been doing research on this lately because I want to offer services to people who stay at the ryokan. The government has been investing in bringing back a lot of the older crafts by training young people to do them. It’s quite popular, and there’s good money in it.”

Masa turns to me, and his eyes are shining above a small smile, realization dawning on his face. I am here to fight for you, Masa.

“Have you heard Masa’s been learning ikebana and washi paper making?” I lean forward to Masa’s father across from me and shake my head. “He’s so talented, I’m jealous. I wish I had half of his skill. He’s been working so hard the past month. I’m sure you’re quite pleased with how far he’s come. You saw the paintings at the apartment, right?”

Masa’s father returns to his meal, but his forehead is breaking out in a sweat.

“We did see them. They’re beautiful. I love all of Masa’s artwork,” his mother says. She smiles as she returns to her meal.

Masa sets down his chopsticks, turns, and looks straight at me. “I love you,” he says, startling both his parents and me. I blink at the sudden declaration before I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

“I love you, too.”

I close my eyes and capture this moment forever. I held in my feelings for him for so long that saying them in the open is a triumph.

To break the tension around the table, I lift the sake bottle with both hands and switch on my hostess charm. “Let me fill up everyone’s cups.”

When I make eye contact across the table, Masa’s mother’s eyes are filled with tears and his father has the slightest quirk of a smile. I’ve seen that before on the face of his son. He’s coming around.

Now I just need to get them through the next few courses.

—-

When we leave the restaurant, everyone is in a great mood for probably the first time in several days. I’ve missed Masa and been lonely without him, and his parents have been stressed out, dealing with his grandparents. Besides mentioning that Masa’s grandparents are going to retire to a community in Kamakura meant for aging couples, Masa’s father avoids the subject altogether.

On the sidewalk, I bow my good-byes to Masa’s dad, but his mother takes me by the arm and leads me a short distance away from both men.

“I’m so pleased Masa finally got together with you,” she says with a smile and a squeeze of my elbow. “I know he’s been in love with you for some time. You’re all he’s talked about since Christmas, and you were popular way before that.”

I blush and look at my shoes.

“You have a good future here ahead of you, and I know you want him to stay. He wants to stay. It’ll be difficult because we’ve already spent money on three years of school for him, but I’m on your side.” She presses her hand to her chest and closes her eyes. “Nothing makes me happier than hearing him speak Japanese and show interest in our culture. I keep trying to get Sayako to take an interest in Japanese things, but she would rather just be American…”

Sayako, Masa’s younger sister, never did strike me as being very traditional, so this is not surprising.

“Which is fine, but I’ve always wanted the family traditions to continue on.”

We glance back at father and son talking quietly on the pavement a few yards from us.

“Did you know my father was an artist?” she asks, tucking her short hair behind her ear.

“No, I didn’t. I thought your family was in some sort of profitable business? Excuse me for saying that.” I bow for being impertinent and then roll my eyes at myself. She laughs at me.

“My father’s favorite thing outside of work was wood carving. He made the most beautiful little figures from wood. I still have many at home. I’m sure you’ve seen them.”

“Oh yes! I love the fox on the fireplace mantel. Was that one of his?” I remember rubbing my fingers along the pelt of the wooden fox before sleeping on the couch when I was there last summer. Perfect little hatches in the wood formed a symmetrical skin of realistic-looking fur.

She nods. “The fox was my favorite. Carving was his passion, and I’m sure he would have rather have done that than run the family business.”

“I completely understand. It’s a good thing I like my family business. I didn’t at first, but it’s grown on me.”

“Are you thinking of having a family someday?”

This line of questioning is making my thoughts whirl and my stomach cramp into a little ball.

“Yes. I’d like to. I’ve always said I thought I would enjoy my own kids better than someone else’s.”

She laughs, her head thrown back.

“I felt the same before I had Masa, and it was true.” She clutches her purse on her shoulder. “And how would you feel about being the main source of income in a family? Would you be able to have a family and the ryokan at the same time?”

I take a deep breath and look up at the stars shining over Tokyo. Only the brightest ones are visible over this neon-ridden city.

“I plan to make the ryokan a part of my children’s lives. I didn’t grow up with it, and there are days I wish I had. I want to give them the opportunity to run it one day too, if that’s what they want.”

She nods her head. “Then I’ll see what I can do. I can’t make any promises — my husband can be a stubborn man — but I’ll do my best. You’ve turned into a beautiful and talented young woman, Isa. I’m so pleased.”

I blush again and beam my smile at my feet, embarrassed by her high praise. I’ve always thought of her as a kind and wonderful woman. Her approval means a lot to me.

We return to the gentlemen, Masa takes my hand, and we all walk back to Tokyo Station together in amiable silence.