Life Ceremony, page 16
“Okaaaay!”
Masashi looked a little incredulous, but he didn’t seem too annoyed. He was used to me being sloppy, and he was generally pretty cheerful and not too hung up on details. He’d been like that ever since we met. He was a little simple, but he had a sunny personality, and since we were both a bit messy, we got along well.
“Oh, and what are you doing about the speeches? I’ve asked my boss and a friend.”
“Oh, right. Um, I was thinking of asking Aki to do that.”
“Aki’s your childhood friend, right? That sounds like a good idea,” he said.
Just then my smartphone beeped on the sofa where I’d left it. I looked at the screen and saw that a message had come in from a friend from back home: “Hey, Prez, about the next lunch party—aren’t we celebrating Miho’s promotion? Should we prepare something special?”
Still lying on the floor, I quickly replied, “Sure, I’m on it. I’ve ordered flowers and one of those notebook covers she always said she liked, with her initials on it. It should be ready in time.”
The reply came instantly. “Fantastic. I should have known! You haven’t changed a bit since you were a kid, have you? Masashi’s gonna have it easy when he marries you. You always arrange things so efficiently.”
I was about to reply when another message came in. This time it was from Rika, a friend from film club in college.
“Princess, this is where we’ll be having next week’s celebratory drinks party.”
I replied immediately. “Rika, thank yooouuuuu ♡ ♡ ♡”
“We were all so excited when we heard you were getting married! After all, you were always our club’s princess!”
“Not at all! I’m sorry you had to contact everyone yourself, though, since I’m not on social media (;o;)”
“No problem, but you should get yourself online. Everyone else is!”
“I signed up once, but didn’t really get the hang of it (*>_<*)”
During this exchange with Rika, messages came in from someone I used to do a part-time job with in college days, a friend from high school, and a colleague from work. I quickly replied to all of them attentively, taking care not to mix up the addresses.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t really like drinks parties. Could you possibly give them my apologies?”
“You whaaaaat? Right on!!!! Send me a pic. Let’s brag about it to Okamoto!”
“I want a picture from university days. I’ve been looking for one, but can’t find anything good (*;▽ ;*) I want to use it in a slide show at the wedding.”
“For the lunch party, as well as the gifts, I’ve also arranged for a surprise cake. I’ll be going early to set everything up, so if anyone wants to come and help, please do!”
“What, really? I had no idea! I’d better send some flowers!”
I’d been so absorbed in replying to all the messages, before I knew it Masashi had already had a shower. He came out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel and sat down on the sofa.
“Haruka, you’ve still got a bunch of messages you haven’t replied to, haven’t you? You’re hopeless, really. So untogether!”
“I guess . . .”
“You really are! I’m closer to you than anyone, and even I’m saying that!” He started blow-drying his hair.
“I guess you’re right!”
I laughed foolishly, and Masashi couldn’t help breaking into a smile.
Soon after I started at university, I realized that I didn’t have a personality of my own.
When I was a child, I was a straight-A student. I always did what adults told me to, so I was nicknamed Prez. I was good at studying and was often charged with class rep duties, so I never doubted that it was my natural disposition.
After graduating from junior high and going on to senior high, I was the only one from my old school there. During the first class, when I took my textbook and exercise book out of my desk, a girl with dyed brown hair next to me said, “Wow, what on earth? You wrote your name on the textbook! Oh! And on your exercise book too.”
I’d only followed the instructions on the printouts distributed to us all at the opening ceremony. It never occurred to me that I’d be laughed at for it, so I simply smiled.
Seeing my expression soften, the girl seemed to relax and grew a little friendlier. I noticed that our facial muscles seemed to be moving in response to each other, and I couldn’t help smiling even more broadly.
“Can I see your other books?” she asked, reaching out to take them from my desk. “Wow, look at this kid! She’s written her name on everything! That’s hilarious!”
She held up the books on which I’d carefully written my name so all the others could see them. My expression must have been so sheepish that they interpreted it as permission to make fun of me, and they all burst out laughing.
I thought I could respond better to everyone’s expectations, and before I knew it, a goofy voice came out of my mouth. “Oh, but that’s what the teacher told us to do, isn’t it? I thought everyone would do it!”
Everyone laughed even harder at my inane way of speaking.
“What a goofball! This one’s a total basket case. So funny!”
“What? Hey, I’m not a goofball!”
Where did this way of speaking suddenly come from? I wondered. When I saw all the girls laughing, I’d suddenly started acting out the “me” they imagined me to be.
The brown-haired girl seemed to have taken a shine to me.
“You’re a hoot! What’s your name again?” she asked.
“Haruka . . . Takahashi . . .” responding to them in an inane voice, as if we were doing a jam session.
Before the day was out, I had turned into a girl who was a goofball and a bit dumb. The Prez of my junior high school days had gone, and before I knew it, everyone was affectionately calling me Peabrain.
“What the heck, Peabrain, you’re such a goof!”
The weird thing was, even if I did exactly the same things I did when I was Prez, everyone now laughed at me, stroking my head and nudging me affectionately.
“You’ll never get a boyfriend, Peabrain. You’re just too goofy!”
“Whaaat? No way . . .”
The way I spoke changed after I became Peabrain. But I didn’t feel all that different from when I’d been Prez. It wasn’t really me speaking, I was simply reacting automatically in the way everyone seemed to want me to.
I gradually got used to being Peabrain. Peabrain only ever said inane things and was loved by all her classmates.
Finally it was time to take the entrance exam for university, and I ended up going to a university where nobody else from my high school was going.
All my friends said things like “Peabrain, will you be okay without us?” and “We worry about you. You’re such a goofy Peabrain, after all.”
Everyone told me I should join a club at university to make friends, so I followed their advice and joined the Film Appreciation Club. All we did was watch movies, eat, drink, and make booklets of our reactions to the films. Even Peabrain me could do that much, I thought.
“Hello, everyone! I’m Haruka Takahashi! Are you a fresher too?” I asked one guy who was obviously older, trying to flatter him. Me, a newbie? Don’t be silly! he would say, slapping me on the head, and everyone would laugh. It would be a perfect Peabrain move.
“No, of course not!”
“Are you nuts?”
Just as I’d expected, the laughter spread. It looked like I’d easily be able to pass as Peabrain here, too. Just then a commanding voice rang out.
“How utterly adorable! I just love airheads like her!”
It was a strikingly beautiful older student called Reina. Since she made this declaration, other girls started whispering, “It’s true, she is an airhead” and “So cute!” In a flash, a completely different response from the Peabrain one spread like a chemical reaction.
“And I adore pretty girls like you, Reina!” I said, assessing the atmosphere of the place in an instant and giving Reina a hug.
“There, there,” Reina said, stroking my hair.
One of the guys said teasingly, “Hey, you’re just my type. Give me your address, won’t you?”
I was wondering how I should react to his half-joking tone when Reina said sharply, “Oi, Itaya, stop trying to pick her up. You’d better watch out, Haruka, the guys in this club can’t be trusted. I’ll look out for you.”
“Sure!” I said enthusiastically. I’d merely been adapting myself to the mood, but now everyone started spinning words in response.
“Haruka, that’s not fair!”
“Have you got a boyfriend, Haruka? If not, give me a chance, won’t you?”
“Let’s go out on a date soon!”
Now “I” was being rapidly turned into a new character without even saying anything else.
It became normal for guys in the film club to chat me up and for Reina to beckon me over to her side: “Haruka, come over here to me, I have to get you out of danger!” The same exchange was repeated over and over whatever the occasion, whether a party, a barbecue, or a movie night.
Before I knew it, everyone in the club had started calling me Princess.
It wasn’t as though my appearance had changed from when I was Peabrain, and I knew very well that the guys were actually after beautiful Reina, not me. But little by little, in response to the expectations of this new character, I started changing the way I dressed as Peabrain to outfits more suitable for Princess.
I replaced the sweatshirts with dumb cartoon characters and baggy pants that my goofy Peabrain character had worn, choosing pink or white lacy dresses appropriate for Princess. I had no sense whatsoever of what I wanted to wear, I just wore whatever was dictated by the character my surroundings had created for me.
I decided to take a part-time job at a family restaurant that had cutesy Princess-like uniforms.
“Well then, Takahashi, help all the others take these things to the storeroom, will you?”
“Okay!” I responded enthusiastically.
Clad in my uniform and pure white apron, I joined all the others who were moving a food delivery of vegetables, frozen goods, and other items, and made a beeline for the heaviest item, a barrel of beer.
This is what I always did as Princess. In the film club, whenever we held barbecues, or in other situations involving carrying things, I always took the heaviest item. Then one of the guys would always come over, saying, “I’ll help you with that, Princess,” and add teasingly, “So give me your email address, okay?” And one of the other girls would always say, “Stop that! You’ll get into trouble with Reina if you start hitting on Princess,” and then add, “Come on, Princess, come over here and help me prepare the vegetables.” That was the way it always went, so I’d done the same without thinking.
“Wow, you’re taking that? It’s really heavy!” I heard someone say, and turned to see a guy about my age. “Are you serious? A woman can’t carry that!”
I detected a faint expectation of my character in his words, so I flexed my arm muscles and lifted the barrel.
“You did it! Wow!”
“Not such a big deal,” I told him in a manly kind of voice.
“You’re so cool, Takahashi!”
“You look so girly, I wasn’t expecting that!”
And once again I simply responded to them. “Oh, come on. It’s easy enough!”
“Seriously? You must be a man after all,” a brown-haired guy said.
“Oh, do shut up and get that box, why don’t you?” I said lightly, and carried the barrel into the storeroom.
After that, everyone at work called me by a masculine version of my name, Haruo, and treated me like a tomboy figure.
Characters escalate in their community. As Haruo, I gradually became rougher, not just in the way I spoke but also in the way I behaved, and on workdays when I didn’t have to go to classes, I started changing my way of dressing to a boyish style, with simple shirts and jeans, completely unlike what I wore at college.
“Haruo, you should work in the kitchen. You’ll be better there—the girly uniform really doesn’t suit you!”
“Shut your face!” I said. “Oh, can someone serve that table?”
“What? You’re having steak and rice, in the morning? No way! Are you sure you’re a woman?”
I smiled and lightly kicked him.
“Ouch! Your kicks really hurt, Haruo!” He laughed, and everyone else in the kitchen laughed too. The more I acted like a boy, the more everyone liked me.
That’s when I clearly realized something: I did not have a personality of my own.
I simply spoke in a way that I would be liked within whichever community I happened to be in. I responded to wherever I was in order to adapt to it. I was just like a robot.
I was really popular in the film club and at my workplace. If I ever went back to my childhood home, then I’d be Prez again, or at a gathering of high school friends I’d be Peabrain. However many more characters I developed, the four me’s currently inside me did not contradict one another in any way. After all, I was just a machine that responded to the community in order to be liked.
Whenever I did something that was liked and praised, that part of me would develop, while if anyone said to me “That’s not like you,” I’d shed that part. As a result, the outline of myself was not mine at all.
But this quality was apparently not just mine. If I paid attention to other people, I often thought that a certain person was simply responding to those around them. We kept responding back and forth in our community, turned ourselves into a character, and started behaving according to that character. I began to think that maybe nobody had such a thing as a real self.
The only difference between a robot and myself was the desire to be liked or to blend in, that’s all. It’s not that I wanted affection, it’s just that it was rational and convenient to blend into and be liked by a community. Considering that humankind had already been living in villages by the Stone Age, it was basically human instinct. If you could blend in and be well-liked by a community, you would be safe and your life would go smoothly. That was my only motive for trying to be liked.
One Sunday, Reina came to the restaurant while I was working.
“Princess! I didn’t know you worked here!”
I dithered over which character’s speech I should use in my reply. Eventually I managed to match myself to Reina and responded “Sure!” in a Princess tone of voice.
“The uniform really suits you! If the guys in the club get to hear about it, they’ll start coming here in droves!”
“Oh, no! Please, please don’t tell anyone. I’m not used to the work yet, and I’d be so embarrassed . . .”
Reina nodded understandingly. “It would be a real nuisance if the guys in the club came here in pursuit of you, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, I definitely won’t say anything to them. I always look after you, after all.”
She ordered some coffee and a tea-flavored dessert. I went behind the counter to make the dessert, and my male coworker asked, “Haruo, who’s that gorgeous girl? A friend of yours?”
“We’re in the same club at college.”
“Seriously? You two are completely different, aren’t you? Introduce me to her, will you?”
“Give me a break. Go and clean up outside.” I lightly kicked his calf like I usually did, and he went outside, laughing at this typical reaction from “Haruo.”
I suddenly remembered Reina and looked over at her. She wasn’t looking at me. I breathed a sigh of relief and took her coffee and dessert over to her table.
“Thank you,” she said without looking at me.
When she went to pay her bill and I went behind the till, she said, “Princess, you’re so two-faced.”
I didn’t understand what she meant and stood there vacantly with her change in my hand. She snatched the coins from my palm and left.
After that, Reina ignored me whenever I went to the film club.
Another first-year girl in the club told me that she was telling everyone behind my back that I was two-faced.
The girls in the club reassured me, saying, “She’s just jealous of you, Princess. Before you came along, she was the Madonna of the club, and now she can’t stand how everyone says you’re cute.” I knew that wasn’t true, though.
I had a different character for each community I belonged to. Reina felt that this was sneaky of me, and that I was faking versions of myself.
Perhaps I was the only one who changed my character in this way. Seeing Reina being so cold to me, I suddenly felt ashamed. She hardly ever came to the club anymore, and I was left holding the masks of my split characters.
When I left college and got a proper job, I decided to do my best not to respond to my environment so much.
The company I started working for rented out scaffolding for construction sites. It was a homely work environment, and maybe because its headquarters were located in fun-loving Osaka, the employees often went out drinking together, but I didn’t join them very often. I ate my lunch alone and didn’t talk to anyone unless it had to do with work.
Before I knew it, everyone at work was calling me Mysterious Takahashi. When I asked why, an older female colleague smiled and, patting me on the back, said, “Well, it’s because you’re so cool, an enigmatic lone wolf. It’s a compliment, you know.”
Even when I did nothing, I was still made into a character. I simply couldn’t get my head around this.
Maybe many of my coworkers were indulgent, for Mysterious Takahashi was treated positively as being cool and mysterious. Whenever my superiors said things like “Do come drinking with us next time, Mysterious Takahashi,” I’d reply, “No, I have other things to do,” inadvertently responding to their expectations. At work I started wearing blue light-blocking glasses with a cool silver-rimmed design, and I rapidly developed into this new character.
