Venice-red tears

“What are you crying for?” Gong Hailan handed me a tissue.

I took the tissue and retrieved a compact mirror from my bag as well. My God! My tears were crimson also. That unforgettable dusk was reflected in my Venice-red tears.

Kefeng met me at the pier in Yokohama, rented a van and brought me back to his place in Tokyo's Itabashi district.

Upon entering the small wood-framed house, I couldn't even sit down. The traditional tatami space was no more than twelve square meters in size. Sliding doors split the room in half and when closed turned the inner room into a sleeping space. There was a toilet, but no shower, and a single-burner stove.

I made a phone call to Uncle Hu to let him know I had arrived safely. I thanked him for all his help and asked him to let my mother know I was in Japan and all was well.

I couldn't sit still. I thought of the excitement I had felt as the ship docked at the Yokohama pier. I felt like a tiny bird, finally free. I felt happy beyond belief. But in an instant, I had been transformed into a caged pigeon, locked up in this miniature pigeon house. I didn't know where to turn - what about tonight? Were we, a man and a woman, supposed to spend the night together in this tiny crawl space?

"Kefeng, there's no place to shower here and I would really love a shower."

"Oh, that's no problem - downstairs and across the street. It's really convenient. I've got everything ready. I'll show you the way."

This was the first time I had ever been to such a luxurious shower house. There were all different types of massage baths available: the blue were called forest baths, the green were loofah, red indicated wine baths, and yellow was lemon. There were several kinds of medicinal warm spring baths as well. I relaxed in the warmth of the wet, smoky room, closed my eyes and planned for the next day. Once I was settled, what would I do?

I decided to first write a few letters, then chat for a while with Kefeng about Japan. Tomorrow morning I'll go to school to register, then move into the student dormitory.

Upon exiting the bath, just as I was about to head for the shower room - my God - a middle-aged man walked by casually. I took a quick breath and struggled to cover my chest with my arms. I noticed that his appearance hadn't bothered any of the other women in the room. I rinsed off quickly and moved on to the changing room.

"Miss, why was that man in the women's shower?" I spoke in Japanese to an older woman who was getting dressed.

"What's wrong with that? He runs the place! Before, men and women used to bathe together. The Kandagawa shower house in the old Asakusa district still retains that same tradition. There's nothing better than a unisex open-air, warm spring bath." She shook her head, then continued, "Ha, when I was young I was ugly, not a man was interested in looking my way. I wasn't lucky enough to have your looks. Men can't help but stare. Beautiful women are so lucky!"

I was disgusted and swore at her beneath my breath.

Later I discovered that Japanese women needed men to look at them lustfully. That's how they felt valued. The traditional culture of bathing together had left Japanese women with few bodily secrets. They eventually became known across the world for their "loose pants", but that reputation wasn't due to their abilities to seduce. It had come from somewhere else.

I got dressed and politely bid farewell to the other woman.

I returned to Kefeng's apartment and lied down upon the tatami to write. In order to save my mother some trouble, I purposefully wrote a letter to her. I asked her to forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye and apologized for being a bad daughter. Such a letter would make it easier for my mother to face Ah Gen.

Then I wrote to Ah Gen.

 

Ah Gen:

You're a good man, but I wasn't a good wife. I knew I wasn't right for you on our first night together. I failed the white cloth test.

When I arrived at the port in Yokohama and saw the Japanese flag flying high, I realized that white cloth was meant to be reddened.

Ah Gen, forgive me for leaving on that New Year's morning without a word. I'm never going back. I'll always remember the love you showed me. I only hope all the misery left with me.

I want you to have a good life, find the right girl, and fill the Li household with the sound of children's laughter. As long as your life is better than mine, I'll be content.

My departure had nothing to do with anyone. Please don't blame your mother. Everything she did, she did because she loves you. How sad the fate of parents all over the world.

We can talk more later about how to handle the divorce.

Chunjie

Tokyo , Japan

Finally I wrote to Sheng Yanzi in Paris. I wrote of our past, my misfortune and told her a bit about that red tie she had given us as a gift. I told her how I admired her vision. She knew even then that in just half a year, my marriage would be over.

By the time I finished writing, it was already midnight. I glanced over at Kefeng. He was yawning, so I suggested that we go to sleep. We could talk more in the morning.

I lay down on the tatami by the window fully clothed. Kefeng curled up by the door. We turned out the light. Silence surrounded us. All we could hear was the sound of trucks outside the window. I was exhausted from the trip, so fell asleep almost immediately.

What was that noise? It sounded like the cry of a monkey. With each burst, the moans grew louder and closer together, waking me completely. I finally figured out that it was the sound of two people making love. The walls were less than soundproof. What was this Japanese woman moaning for? Was she in pain or ecstasy?

Things quieted down after a while, but I just couldn't sleep. I heard Wang Kefeng tossing and turning. I listened to the rhythm of his breathing in the night air.

Suddenly I was afraid. What if he were to crawl over next to me? All he had to do was roll once and he'd be beside me on the tatami. If it were to really happen, I'd just have to put up with it. I owe him. He had been punched and kicked by Ah Gen, all because of me. And he spent so much time handling my university application. Even though I don't feel anything for him, if he were to roll in my direction, I just couldn't tell him to get away.

I thought of that moment of misunderstanding in the hotel in China and I was filled with resentment. Subconsciously I wanted to make Ah Gen pay. I wanted that feeling of revenge.

"Chunjie, you're not asleep yet? I'm so sorry I had to bring you to this terrible place," Wang Kefeng said.

"Don't say that. I've already put you to enough trouble. I'm so sorry," I said quietly.

"What trouble? I was glad to be able to help. This is the most unforgettable night of my life." His voice cracked.

I closed my eyes and felt something warm sidle up to me. It was there to warm me on my first night in this cold foreign place.

Before I knew it, he really was beside me. He put his arms around me and held me tightly. I whimpered, "Please, no…" This strange man beside me frightened me and made me extremely uncomfortable.

For the first time, I realized that my personality had two sides; one was romantic and rebellious and the other quite conservative and realistic. While there was a soft side to me, I also had a hard side.

"Chunjie, don't worry. I just wanted to hold you. I've liked you since your first year at university," he said in a deep voice.

I loosened up a bit and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't say any more. Keep those beautiful things inside of you."

He moved away and returned to his corner. "I'm sorry, Chunjie, you're my dream woman. But I know that you could never be mine."

"Kefeng, I'm not the same person you once knew. Do you remember our last winter break? We traveled to Piano Island in Xiamen. I was in love then and was full of hope for the future. But now my marriage is over and my heart is empty." I sounded like an old woman.

We talked and talked and before we knew it, the sun was coming up.

I went to Tokyo University the next day and registered for the International Journalism PhD program. Then I moved into a student dormitory in Ochanomizu. A few days later, I got a job as a pianist at a nightclub in Ginza. Everything was finally coming together.

One afternoon I was waiting by the gates of Tokyo University for Kefeng to bring a book by. I was enjoying the scenery when I noticed a group of uniformed high school students exit the campus. They looked as if they had just had a tour. I felt two eyes upon me.

I looked him over - he was quite handsome, with a square face and a lingering bit of baby fat around the edges. He was average height and his hair was a bit wavy. His round black eyes gave him a serene look. His nose was straight and his lips full and well defined. He looked a bit like a young version of the actor Tamura Masakazu. When he noticed that I was looking at him, he smiled shyly, baring a mouth full of beautiful teeth. He was very cute.

"What are you looking at?" Kefeng stood before me with the huge book I had asked him for. "Thanks so much," I brought my eyes back to where he was standing. Just as we were about to cross the street to have a snack, I noticed that the boy had left his classmates and was craning his neck in my direction, looking at me.

While we were eating, Kefeng told me that the day after tomorrow he would be leaving Tokyo for Kyoto. Kyoto University had given him a full scholarship. I congratulated him. I was so happy for him; he'd no longer have to go to class during the day and work at night to make ends meet.

One day four or five months later at dusk I was sitting in a tea shop near school drinking coffee and reading. Suddenly someone walked up to me and said hello: "Hi, I'm Chishima Amataka; "ama" as in "ocean" and "taka" for "sky". It's nice to meet you."

I looked up to see a young man bowing before me. At first I thought it was someone from the same department, so I introduced myself quickly: "I'm Wang Chunjie. It's nice to meet you too."

Once the introductions were over, I noticed that his face was awfully familiar. Then I remembered that day by the university gate and that cute boy.

"Actually, we've met before. I'm a freshman studying computer engineering. And you?" Amataka asked.

I motioned for him to sit and asked what he'd like to drink. He asked the waitress for a large iced cappuccino, then checked to see if I wanted anything else. I shook my head no.

I told him that I remembered seeing him once by the gates to the university.

"When I first saw you that day, I thought you couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen - so cute!" I felt comfortable around younger guys and liked to tease them like I would a brother.

"That was only four months ago. Have I aged that much?!" he laughed.

"No, that's not it. But you're a university student now. You should have at least let go of some of that peach fuzz by now, don't you think?" I smiled at him.

He mentioned that he had come to campus that day with a group of classmates from his international boarding school.

"An international school? Rich kid, huh?" I looked right at him.

"No. I'm just a wanderer who's wandered far from his parents." He took a giant sip of his iced cappuccino. His tone of voice had cooled several degrees.

He turned his head a bit, then returned to normal and said, "I saw you once before that day at the university gate."

"Really? Around campus?"

"No, actually it was on the cruise ship from Shanghai to Yokohama." He avoided my eyes and his voice grew timid.

It was as if I had been hit by something. I just sat there dejectedly, my mind a complete blank.

"You stayed on deck most of the time. The ocean wind was quite strong and tussled your hair. You leaned against the railing and cried. When you finally went below deck, your face was stained with tears. I watched you from afar for a while. I couldn't figure you out. What was such a beautiful girl so upset about? I wanted to speak with you, but I couldn't get up the guts. Finally, I was brave enough to walk over to you, but I couldn't even say "Hi". I could only stand by and watch as you walked away. I cursed myself for being such a coward." He talked on and on.

Oh, no wonder, that's the reason he looked at me so warmly that day at the university gate. We had both traveled here on the same ship.

My mind filled with memories of that voyage.

I reached out my two hands and forcefully closed the door he had just opened. I didn't want to remember. Casually, I spoke, "Would you begrudge a girl a few tears on her first trip away from home?" I had planned to go on, but I could feel the sadness coming on. I couldn't say another word.

Who knows why, but I felt a connection to this eighteen year-old in front of me. Growing up isn't easy. I sat for a moment, then changed the subject: "Where are your parents?" I asked.

"In the US," Amataka told me. His grandfather had brought him back to Japan from Los Angeles when he was ten. His parents and a younger sister were still there. His grandfather was determined that he learn to read and write Japanese and to master Japanese national traditions, as the samurai once did generations before him.

"So you were born in the US?" I asked.

"I guess you could say that. Actually I was born on a luxury cruise liner bound for Cuba. My parents had taken a vacation to celebrate their third wedding anniversary and I joined them half a month early. My mother began to experience contractions and before they knew it, I was here. That was October 21, 1970. The only thing that welcomed me into this world, other than the vast ocean, was a sky full of stars. So my parents decided to name me Amataka, Sea-Sky. Not bad, huh? Of course, I have an English name as well - Bobby, which stands for 'precious'. I'm the only boy in the Chishima family." Amataka smiled innocently, obviously quite proud of himself.

He was a very cute kid. There was something about him that made you want to take care of him.

That evening, we went to a restaurant nearby and ate barbecue. I watched him as we ate, all the while wondering what it was about this down-to-earth boy that moved me so. I couldn't figure it out. From that day forward, we spent lots of time together and an equal amount of time apart. I would even don a wedding gown for him, only to take it off just a moment later. Throughout, I never figured out exactly what it was that touched me so that first evening together.

Maybe it was his simplicity, his clarity, the purity of his youth. Like the earth absorbs rain, he didn't need to waste time protecting himself.

By the time I finally figured out what it was that had touched me, twelve or thirteen years had passed. I had traveled to Venice, Italy to visit a Chinese artist residing in Europe whom I had met in Japan, Gong Hailan.

It was early evening and Gong had invited me to dinner at a restaurant overlooking one of Venice's canals. I was drinking a huge glass of beer and munching on tiny Italian pizzas. All the while taking in the brilliance of the sun as it set over the gondolas in the canal. Everything looked crimson, my hands, the plate, the table, the artist's face. Even the cigarette that he held between his fingers was crimson red - deep, deep crimson. It was as if the sun was casting all of its light on this one place.

At that very special moment, I thought of a very special person, Amataka. I suddenly realized what it was about him that had touched me so deeply. It was the purity of his love, the directness of his desire, his naivete; it was the kind of genuine youthful hope that would never be realized, could never be realized. I had let go of all of those things so long ago. And now I felt them again and I was overcome with grief.

"What are you crying for?" Gong Hailan handed me a tissue.

I took the tissue and retrieved a compact mirror from my bag as well. My God! My tears were crimson also. That unforgettable dusk was reflected in my Venice-red tears.

Amataka was a very special guy. He never should have ended up as he did, taking the same road that his idols Mishima Yukio and Kawabata Yasunari had taken before him.

Ever since the day I ran from our wedding at the Imperial Hotel, we had lost all contact. He had given up; misery had become his very best friend. A year later, the computer company that he had founded single-handedly and turned into a mid-size corporation declared bankruptcy. After leaving an eight-page letter for me, he climbed Mount Fuji, a national symbol, and jumped to his death.

His sister, Chishima Kayoko had written me of the news of his death, mailing the letter via express mail from Los Angeles. The editorial offices of the Japanese newspaper Asahi Shimbun had provided her with my New York address. She had just returned from the funeral in Tokyo. Her brother had written me a final letter and she had enclosed it.

I held the letter in my trembling hands, unable to open it for almost half the day. I had to down an entire bottle of Canadian ICE before I could tear open the seal and read the letter from my long lost young lover.

I had lost a lot in Amataka's death. I was filled with sadness, lay down on the bed and sobbed. The pain was excruciating. I ripped up everything I could get my hands on - except for the letter on my desk.

When my fiancé Graham returned home that evening, I was a different person. I paid him no attention. He quietly cleaned up the mess and I went about the business of facing my reality. I dwelled in that place for quite a while. I refused to make love, or even to allow him to hold me. Amataka had died because of me. I had left him because of Graham, because of my uncontrollable love for Graham.

I often blame myself for destroying Amataka. I admit that we shared something unique, an especially Platonic love. Whenever he would lose himself in his drunken desire for me, my heart would fill with a certain kind of love for him, like the love a mother has for her child. And that love left me with a great sense of guilt.

I wasn't even five years older than him. I was twenty-three years old, young and beautiful. It should have been the time of my life, but my spirit had been wounded, my wings had been clipped. I was unable to fly very high. I needed love to recover. The first time a woman experiments with sex, regardless of whether she has an orgasm or not, she discovers something about herself and her body via her partner. She discovers how much she needs, how empty she is, and she begins to desperately want to fill that need. Each morning when she wakes up next to that man, loneliness and hunger surround her like smoke. "I want you, I want you, please, feed me." Women often say such things to their lovers.

The love between Amataka and me was both singularly beautiful and pure. We waited for a long time before we consummated that love. Not only until I was finally free, did I let him make love to me. For almost a year, we simply walked each night, hand-in-hand, stopping in darkened corners to steal a kiss here and there. We grew into the habit of counting stars as we walked. I was Amataka's first love, and he felt like my first love as well.