“Wow! Mom look at that guy juggling so many balls!”
A little boy's voice grazes my ears. I'm glad that he's pleased with my juggling, which I've only just started practicing, but I still feel a little embarrassed and ticklish. And, as always, people pass by on the street corners of Little Tokyo, and I become part of the scenery and time passes. My darkened elbows and hands are like a different creature as I go to pick up the balls that are falling rapidly. At this moment, I wish the California sun was a little softer.
While my body was still performing as a full-fledged juggler, my mind was wandering around various memories since I left Tokyo and came to Los Angeles. The look of surprise on my boss' face when I told him I was quitting my job. The final handshake with my grandmother, who was the only one to see me off at Narita Airport, despite my family being against my going to the US.
"It must be a little lonely that only Grandma is there to see you off. I'm sorry, your father is stubborn. But I believe you will achieve your dream, Sho-chan. Do your best." My grandmother was on my side until the end. I tried to act as calm as possible.
"Your father's opposition is understandable. Quitting your job and going to California to study juggling, which you've been doing as a hobby, is not a sane choice. But I've already made up my mind. When I return to Japan, I'll be a professional performer. Look forward to it!"
In the next moment, my memory jumped to my training for the performance after that. I met my classmates for the first time. Some of them were comedians who were already on stage, and some were talented female performers whose bodies were as flexible as a spring. Among them, I had never performed in front of people, and I had never properly studied juggling. However, I was fascinated by the feeling that time seemed to pass slowly when I was manipulating the balls, and that I had wandered into another world. For me, it was an ecstatic feeling, like I was under a magic spell that I had never felt in my life. So juggling is irreplaceable, and my dream of becoming a performer has not changed, but sometimes the fear that my dream might remain a dream and not come true steals the smile from my face. But somehow, I managed to stand on the street corner on weekends and inspire my dream.
* * *
I wonder how much time passed. Judging from the number of people passing by Japanese Village Plaza, it must have been late Sunday lunchtime. I looked at my watch and it was 1:30pm. Standing here every week, I found it amusing to be able to roughly tell the time from the way the people passing by looked. Usually, this is where the street performance reaches its climax, but today, perhaps because of the sunshine or just melancholy, I wasn't really into it.
"Well, I guess I'll take a little rest here today," I thought, as I sat down on the bench.
"Excuse me! Are you Japanese?" A woman who looked to be about a generation older than me started to speak to me. It had been a while since I'd last spoken Japanese, so I instinctively answered reflexively, all tension gone.
"Yes, yes."
"Thank goodness. I don't speak much English. I'm traveling right now. Is the Japanese American Museum around here?"
"Yes, it's right there. I'm on my way home for lunch, and if you'd like, I can show you the way to the entrance. I haven't seen inside yet, for some reason. It's just a stone's throw from here, and I'd like to go in sometime."
"Really? You're so tanned, so I thought California was the longer option. Oh! This is a bit sudden, but would you like to come with me? I also enjoy going with someone more than going alone. You see, I actually have some extra tickets."
Normally I don't accept sudden invitations like this, but for some reason I couldn't find the words to say no this time. Thinking back, maybe I was tired of my routine life of just performing on the streets, ever since I realized that the dream I was chasing was far away.
* * *
Once inside the museum, the cool, comfortable air seemed to make the heat disappear. "It was worth showing her around. Sometimes kindness pays off," she thought to herself, smiling to herself. She walked briskly through the museum, and as if she knew the inside of the building, she made her way to the stairs leading to the second floor.
"I heard that upstairs there are exhibits on Japanese-American camps during the war and old things that Japanese-Americans brought back from Japan. That's what I wanted to see."
"Is that so? I'm not that interested in the history of Japanese people, war, or immigration. Well, I am interested, but I don't think about it every day."
"What are you mumbling about? Whatever, let's go upstairs. Hurry up!"
I was urged to go up to the exhibit on the second floor.
Many of the items are stored in glass cases, many of which are reminiscent of the war. To be honest, it was a little scary. I'm from a generation that doesn't even know the first thing about war, so the whole thing looked like a movie set. I can't seem to connect the gap between the events of the war, which are beyond my understanding, and the harsh lives of Japanese Americans in America afterwards, and the quietly standing items in the collection. And yet, I am certainly in the 21st century, facing the things that survived this war. For a moment, I felt like I was the only living thing there. Her voice broke the silence.
"Wow, there's a wedding display of dresses and kimonos. How lovely. You've kept your wedding attire so well."
Inside the glass case were wedding attire that was indeed in very good condition: men in crested hakama and women in wedding dresses.
At that moment, something suddenly caught my eye and I couldn't help but scream.
"Ah, the family crest!"
"Huh? What? Don't scare me," she said, turning around in a bit of surprise.
"I recognize this family crest. It's the same as the one on my parents' house."
"Where, where?" She leaned forward and looked in. I continued, struggling to come up with a good explanation.
"You see, the groom's kimono has the family crest dyed on it, right? It's the one with a pair of deer antlers inside a round shape. It's the same as ours, so I was a little surprised. I was like, "Would you believe I see my family crest in Little Tokyo?"" I quickly played it off to hide my surprise, but inside my heart was still pounding.
"Really? What a coincidence. Why don't you read this?" she said, pointing to the explanation of the exhibit.
It said that the owner had the same family name as me, that they had gotten married in California, and described the occasion. I was struck by a strange sense of space, as if time and space were twisting and coming closer to me. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head, and even my whole body.
"You seem really surprised."
"Well, I was surprised. A long time ago in a faraway foreign land, someone with the same surname as me, who may have had a slight connection to me, was having an adventure here that I could never have had." I didn't say any more, because it would have been a bit too much to tell this to a girl I'd only just met, whose name I'd never even heard. Instead, I muttered to myself, as if to convince myself.
The realization came in an instant. It was enough to wake me up, as I had almost given up on the path I had chosen. What had I been so selfish about? I was about to ruin my dream. The moment I finally came to terms with my own incompetence, my grandmother, the only one who had supported me, flashed through my mind. Come to think of it, I hadn't contacted her once since I came here. As soon as I thought that, I couldn't help but want to hear her voice.
"Oh, sorry, I remembered I had to go! I'll excuse myself here. Thank you for the ticket. See you later!" He turned to her and bowed, then turned around and left the museum.
* * *
Trrrr, trrrr. My heart starts pounding as I hear the ringtone from my cell phone. I wonder if it's still early in the morning in Japan. I always calculate the time difference before making a phone call, but today I can't wait.
"Hello, hello," my mother's fresh-sounding voice came over the phone.
"Oh, mom? I'm Sho."
"Really, Sho? You haven't contacted me for over six months, what on earth are you doing?" my mother began, interrupting me as she began her familiar nagging.
"Sorry. I've finally been able to perform in front of people. Is Grandma here? I haven't yet thanked her for seeing me off at the airport."
"Oh, that's right. Granny's in the hospital right now. Her chronic condition has been getting worse since two days ago on Friday. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I told Sho not to tell anyone because I would worry. Don't worry, she's due to be released from the hospital next week. Granny's still doing well. By the way, what do you think Granny was doing on the day she was hospitalized?"
"What? Have you been cleaning the house again?"
"Well, it was pretty close if you like that kind of thing. Grandma suddenly dug out from the back of the dresser the family crested hakama that my late grandfather had worn at his wedding, and said that since Sho is Japanese, if he wore it for his performance, it might be a hit over there. She had sent it off to be washed clean. Funny, right?"
"That's a great idea, Grandma. I was just thinking of the same thing." A trickle of heat runs down my cheek.
"Sho? Are you crying?"
"No, kinda. Hahaha."
"Grandma was watching a Daikagura acrobatics show on NHK's entertainment programme. You know, the throwing acrobatics they do on New Year's and stuff. When she saw it, she imagined the juggling that Sho does." My mother's voice faded into my mind.
I got fed up with it all, left Japan, and ended up here in Little Tokyo, performing Japanese daikagura. There's a hypothesis that all these events are connected, and it's true. I was immersed in a feeling of satisfaction that I can't put into words, and I thought to myself. I'll keep this coincidence to myself.
*This story was one of the finalists in the Japanese category of the Little Tokyo Historical Society 's 2nd Short Story Contest.
© 2015 Yuriko Kondo
