The day arrived unexpectedly that the curse by which I had been bound for a long time freed me finally.
Because my mother had nurtured excessive self-consciousness in me
since my childhood, I had cared about how I look, how I behave, and what
others think of me more than enough. I would be drenched in sweat from
chatting casually with others as a thought I should look my best tenses
me up abnormally. I’m now aware that this nature of mine was the culprit
that cornered me with pursuit of fame and wealth although I became a
singer-songwriter purely from love for music in the beginning.
On that particular day, I got in the communal spa of my apartment
building as usual.It was an evening bath time for the regular residents
and quite a few people were taking a bath there. Among them was this
woman who had moved in about two years ago. My bath time coincides with
hers every day and hostility toward her had gradually grown inside me.
She is thin and beautiful, a little younger than I am. She is always
posturing and self-assured. For some reason, she imitates almost
everything I do in the spa, from the way of taking a bath to bath tools
she brings in. Whatever she does gets on my nerves, such as her way of
walking, washing, and talking. She practices beauty exercises in the
Jacuzzi, and does the facial treatment in the hot tub. Those routines of
hers irritate me immensely when they happen to come into my sight.
Since I don’t figure out why I dislike her so much, I asked my partner
one day. According to his analysis, it’s because she is the one I want
to become but I know I can’t become. It sums up all envy. That explains
it indeed.
It’s common that people don’t wear a swimsuit at a spa in Japan. This
communal spa also adopts the Japanese practice, and the hot tubs, the
Jacuzzi and the sauna must be taken all naked. I’m not thin nor
beautiful, and I know it’s no competition between that woman and me.
Nevertheless, I hold my breath and squeeze in my chubby belly as much as
possible spontaneously whenever I pass her by. It’s so silly of me to
try to look better, even in vain, but I can’t help it.
And the thing happened. I was taking the Jacuzzi when she stepped in
and joined me. I stepped out right away because avoiding her was my
usual habit not to let her see my unshapely body. I was squeezing my
belly and walking beside her on the stone floor toward my shower booth
hurriedly because I was inside her sight. Then, right in front of her
eyes, my foot slipped and I saw in slow motion my body flying in the air
like in ‘Home Alone’. I landed on the stone surface with my buttocks
and my left hand.
Before a scare or pain, it was embarrassment that came first. I stood
up immediately as if the fall had been part of some sequence of motion.
Although other users were all washing their body in the shower booth,
the only one that was in the tub and witnessed what I did was, of all
people, the woman whom I didn’t want to let see most. She jumped out of
the tub worrying, and kindly asked me, “Are you all right?”. Oddly
enough, my instant reply was, “I’m OK. I do this all the time!” although
I had never fallen there before. Even in the case like this, I still
tried to make face by fabricating an accident into my custom. I laughed
and shrugged off, and walked back to my shower booth.
I noticed pain. But it was nothing compared to the massive amount of
embarrassment that overwhelmed me. I couldn’t believe it really
happened, nor could I imagine myself being any clumsier. I Home-Aloned
naked before the cool woman whom I had regarded as a rival by flattering
myself but in reality who had been way out of my league. I was
literally stunned with an extremity of embarrassment. I sincerely wished
to make time rewind. I took a hot tub with absence of mind in shock and
the woman joined in again. My mouth uttered weird words one more time,
“I’m sorry my fall disturbed you. It’s a usual thing to me, but
surprises others.” I was persistent to keep up appearances. She replied,
“Oh, it’s all right, only if you didn’t get hurt.”
Back in my apartment, pain assaulted earnestly in my hand and
buttocks. The palm of my left hand already turned purple and swelled. I
dreaded to think about broken bones. But the embarrassment appalled me
even more. I felt sick to my stomach with my outrageous
self-consciousness. I wondered why I couldn’t admit I did the folly.
I’ve been clumsy all my life. I’ve been a comic who makes a blunder
all the time. No matter how hard I pretend to be cool, it has never
worked. I should have stopped denying that long before. The fall ordered
me to accept it already. I felt as if I had looked at myself in the
mirror for the first time in my life. The reflection of myself
disappointed me but somehow relieved my burden. I came out of the
illusion that pretending can change who I am. I’ve felt easy on my
shoulders since the fall, walking around as my true self...
When I lived in California, the apartment I rented had an
outside Jacuzzi. I liked taking it at night, seeing the sky above.
Under the palm trees, I watched an airplane’s small dot of light
blinking and moving through the stars. It was the moment that I felt
like a winner who obtained a life in paradise by getting out of not only
Japan but also my family to which I had been a bound successor. Prices
in the U.S. were extremely low compared to Japan back then because of
the strong yen. It seemed to me that everything was on sale and I
literally lived in a bargain country. Sadly, my life in paradise didn’t
last long, though. The Japanese economy crashed and yen turned weak.
Inflation had edged up in the States as well. Price hikes assaulted me
in all directions. I became unable to pay the rent even if I had moved
into a cheap motel. I was practically kicked out of the States and the
plane brought bitterly-discouraged myself back to Japan where I returned
to a life of reality in a teeny-tiny apartment. Time went by, and I had
benefited from technological advances like the Internet and computers,
and also from the fall of housing value in Japan. Those benefits let me
live in a condominium that has a communal spa. I take a Jacuzzi there
watching a beautiful view of the mountains with lingering snow out of
big windows. One day, I felt so euphoric that I thought this wasn’t
real. I thought I may have already died from that northern Japan’s
severe earthquake or from the subsequent meltdown of the nuclear plant,
and must be in heaven now. That reminded me of the sensation I had felt
in a Jacuzzi in California. I had never expected that I would experience
an equally enraptured life here in Japan when I parted with it there.
If I traveled back in time with a time machine, I could talk to my other
self who was in despair on the flight to Japan from the States. I would
say to her, “Years from now, you will get another chance to live in
paradise!” I would tell her that she wouldn’t give up music and would
have completed two songs back in Japan that had quality she had been
craved for and entirely satisfied with. How easier the flight would’ve
been if I had heard those words there. I was too hopeless to imagine so
much as a speck of the possibility. I always find myself foolish in
hindsight whenever I look back later. There are tons of things I have to
say to my past self beforehand. The question is, what would my future
self tell me now if she looked at me taking the Jacuzzi here. Would she
say, “Embrace the moment. It’s the pinnacle of your life”? Or would she
say, “Prepare yourself. It’s just the beginning”? I desperately hope for
the latter…