EVEN ON WEEKDAYS, Ginza bustled with people. People from all nations, people of all walks of life. People, people, people. Such an absurd number of people that picking a single one out of the crowd was an exercise in futility. Languages jumbled together. Old, young, male, female—the place buzzed with tourists snapping photos.
I hid myself away from the hubbub. I was waiting for someone. They would be here any minute now, I told myself. Any minute now. With the building to my back, I scanned the crowds to my left and right. It was still another thirty minutes before we were supposed to meet, but knowing them, they could easily have shown up thirty minutes early and waited for me.
Besides, I didn’t mind waiting. I kind of liked it, in fact. I knew that if I waited long enough, someone would always come and join me. There’s no more indulgent use of time, I thought as my eyes traveled up a tall skyscraper. Just then, I heard a voice calling my name from far away.
“Seigi!”
The familiar sound elicited a wave of auditory nostalgia. Or maybe it was being in Ginza that did it.
I turned and was met with a beautiful man marching up to me smartly, a suitcase rolling behind him. Richard.
“Hey there! Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea—I just got here too early.”
“What a coincidence. So did I.”
“Well…okay then. So…?”
“Yes. So…?”
So, we went to Shiseido Parlor. Aka the building where we had agreed to meet. We had our usual back-and-forth about being hungry, what to eat, and yadda yadda. I said to myself that an omelet sounded good, and Richard smiled. It really was just like old times, his smile seemed to say. I felt the same way.
All through the elevator ride up to the parlor, I mulled over this bittersweet, this awkward, this wonderful and fascinating feeling. I watched myself through the mirrors on the ceiling. Whatever. I decided to ignore the feeling for the moment. This was my very last chance to do so.
The Ginza Étranger shop was closed on weekdays and open on Saturdays and Sundays. However, Saul was starting to complain that we had been closed too many weekends and were struggling to connect with our customers. I decided to pick up some of his favorite red bean jelly for him as a result.
Today, I was here on business. Mr. Seigi Nakata had come all the way from where he was based in Sri Lanka to formally visit Étranger.
“With no further ado, Mr. Nakata, allow me to offer you a hearty congratulations on acquiring your FGA.”
“Thank you, Saul. You were right. I ran out of time on that final exam, and I thought I was going to die.”
My boss laughed and said I hadn’t changed a bit. Then, he said, “Now, I should like to hear what your future plans are.”
That’s the question I was here to answer. That’s why I was told to come.
My two-year grace period was up. I was no longer that twenty-three-year-old. I was twenty-five. The time had come for me to make my choice: be a civil servant, or be a jeweler?
Saul arranged this meeting in honor of me completing my FGA. He called it a celebration, but I knew my boss well enough to know he would never do something so simple and charitable.
So.
I had put a lot of thought into my decision. I know, I know. Me, thinking? Surprising, right?
This was my one and only chance to say what I wanted to say. So, to begin with, I extended my thanks to Saul and Richard for giving me the opportunity to live in Sri Lanka and for everything else they’d done for me. There was so much to say that I struggled to convey it with words. Where language failed, I simply bowed as much as I could.
When that was done, I straightened up and faced Saul. Richard took his place standing behind me. That position, I thought, was maybe a blessing in disguise.
“I’m sorry, Saul. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a jeweler.”
“Oh? Well, that settles that.”
“But I don’t plan on going into civil service, either.”
Now Saul looked a little surprised. I owed him a bit more of an explanation than that.
So, I turned to the beautiful man behind me wearing a slight frown. “Richard, I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but can I pose a suggestion to you?”
“To me?”
“Yes,” I affirmed.
Never had I wanted to look so confident and trustworthy as I did in that moment. If only I was as courageous as I pretended to be.
“Could I be your personal secretary to support you in all your business affairs?”
A personal secretary—I didn’t know what other term to use, so that would have to do for now. A role that ideally encompassed every duty, even those outside the scope of traditional secretary or assistant positions. That included work for Richard the jeweler, Richard the wealthy aristocrat plagued by problems of inheritance, and, if it was ever necessary, anything and everything beyond that. I wanted to be his all-purpose assistant. To have his back in every way. Put another way, maybe it was like being a butler.
That, I declared, was what I wanted most.
Saul remained quiet for several moments before lifting a finger to ask a question. Go right ahead. If he had questions, I had answers.
“Am I understanding that you wish to support Richard’s business as a jeweler?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then why not make better use of your FGA diploma? Why not strike out on your own and become an independent jeweler yourself?”
“I never planned to leave the jewelry industry entirely. But I’d like to support Richard in a more comprehensive fashion, and I think it would be too risky to leave all my eggs in the one basket.”
“Risky in what way?”
It wasn’t just a matter of what-ifs—what if Richard wanted to leave the jewelry business someday, what if I wanted to, etc., etc. The problem was bigger than that. If I went off on my own with the intention of starting my own business, I knew I would be forced to put my clients’ needs first. As a jeweler, that entailed catering to the needs of people who wanted to look at gems or be introduced to Ms. Darling after her newest designs took off. As a civil servant, that was handling all the work that trickled down to me from above.
I had…well, kind of an issue with that. See, after some serious thought, I came to the conclusion that if Richard was in trouble on the other side of the planet, I was the sort of person who would drop everything and run to buy a plane ticket. My actions over these last two years—no, long before that—proved it. When I said as such to a student I had known since my university days who now posted his music all over social media, he said, “You’re actually the worst.” And that was the end of that.
Personally, I thought anyone who ranked their private interests—like their spouse, or kid, or whatever—over their professional interests would struggle in any field that required putting the customer first. Doubly so if they were a worrywart and the object of their concern was the kindest, most beautiful person in the world. For such a person, taking on a client was like taking on a level of risk on par with a natural disaster. They simply had to hope their loved ones wouldn’t get into any trouble in the meantime. I didn’t like that. Worse, I knew it would be a hassle for any hypothetical clients of mine.
I felt bad, but because that was just who I was… Why didn’t I combine personal and professional interests? Why not make a job of who I cared about?
During my job search, I had heard plenty of discourse on whether it was a good idea to make a job out of what you loved, although no one seemed to agree on the answer. It essentially came down to personality and disposition. There was a lot of freedom involved in finding a job. But when it came down to the wire—aka right now, thanks to my reckless behavior—there was no option for me but one.
Richard. It had to be Richard.
My job would be Richard. That was what I wanted. He was, to me and all the complete strangers out there, the safest and happiest option for my occupation. The problem was whether it would make Richard happy, too.
I told Saul all this with utmost sincerity. For the first ten seconds after, he stayed completely silent. Then, exactly at the ten-second mark, his wide mouth split open with laughter. He laughed so hard, his mouth yawned like a genie taking the form of a grandaddy hippopotamus. In the back of my mind, I worried that the owner of the sushi restaurant next door would ask me later what all the racket was about.
“I see! You’ve certainly made up your mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you realize people will think you’re leeching off an aristocrat?”
“Saul,” Richard rebuked.
I ignored him and barreled on. “I don’t mind. I mean, it’s true, isn’t it? People can call me what they want. What’s most important to me are my personal values.”
“Namely, being with the man you love?”
“Exactly. Well…maybe not in so many words. It’s embarrassing when you put it like that.”
“I would imagine most Japanese people feel the way you do, even if they do not express it in such terms.”
“Hm? Maybe… I don’t know if I would be the best judge of that.”
“Well, never mind then.”
With all my globe-trotting, I had started to feel like I had forgotten what it meant to be Japanese. But that didn’t matter. Saul was right—I did want to be with the man I loved.
Still, Richard and I were only human. It was entirely possible we could have a falling-out and find it difficult to get along on a professional level. Were that to happen, I hoped he would temporarily dismiss me and let me live off my savings or help out with the jewelry business on the side. If not, I figured I could always pick up a part-time job at a convenience store or land an interpreter gig. I could even try being a karate instructor for a bit. Karate was big in Sri Lanka. Now that I could get by in Sinhalese, that wasn’t too ridiculous of an idea. Then, once the argument simmered down, I could approach Richard about rehiring me.
I had thought the idea through, I told Richard and Saul with pride. I was daring them to lob objections at me, because I had already made up my mind: I was going to work for Richard, and that was that. Defiance could make people strong.
Saul stroked his luxurious moustache and threw his pupil a long glance. “And there you have it, Richard.”