Chapter 7 Pizza for the Rising Star #5
Iori and I joined Hozumi on the sofa. Wrapped in blankets, we scraped at the rock-solid ice cream with our spoons.
“You spent about seven years working for a corporate trading house, right?” I asked, suddenly remembering him telling me how he worked nonstop in his twenties. “I get the impression that people in that industry are ruthless. It doesn’t seem like that kind of work would have suited you…”
“It really didn’t.”
“I thought so. But you managed to stay for a while?”
“Well…I had made a promise to my father.”
“A promise?”
“After I got into UTokyo, the tide started to turn. Before then, my parents saw my brother as the only successor to Father. But…how can I put this? It seemed like Father started to consider me as an option.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My guess is that other people told him that he shouldn’t let a UTokyo student go to waste.
Father was the one who decided where I should work.
He gave me three choices: the civil service, a trading house, or a bank.
He told me that since I had the brain for it, I might as well get one of those jobs so that I could get a ‘learning experience.’ I couldn’t believe what he was saying.
On impulse, I looked at my mother, who was sitting next to him.
She held my hand and said, ‘Your father has picked out these companies for you.’ ”
I remembered Madame holding Hozumi’s hand. Come to think of it, we were now in the same spot where the two of them had sat earlier.
“Father showed me a list of around twenty companies. They were all big organizations that have been around forever.”
“But this is about you. What makes your parents think that they can choose your future? It’s your life!” I shouted, rising from my seat. “Didn’t you fight back? Didn’t you tell them that you had the right to pick your own path and that they should back off?”
“Momo-chan.” Iori pulled my arm lightly and tried to get me to sit back down.
“But, Iori…”
“Sit down. Let him finish.”
That was when I realized. If Hozumi had been able to fight back, then he wouldn’t be wearing that expression right now.
Regretting my accusatory tone, I lowered myself back to my seat.
“I couldn’t say the words.”
With a blank expression on his face, Hozumi set his spoon down in the bowl next to his half-eaten ice cream.
“I wanted to. Inside, I was screaming in protest over and over again. All these emotions—rage, sadness, and loneliness—were coursing through my body. But for some reason, I couldn’t say anything out loud. Not in front of my father. Not when my mother was holding my hand. I was too scared.”
His tone was matter-of-fact. It was as though it was the only way he could keep his emotions from exploding.
“I mean, I had been causing the Kuroda family to lose votes. I didn’t think I deserved to leave home without making amends.”
Iori took a sip of his whiskey. A melting ice cube in his glass made an audible cracking sound.
“I couldn’t muster the courage to go against my father, so I ended up joining the trading house that offered me a position.
Father was proud. He started taking me around the neighborhood again.
He made me bow my head to people as he bragged and laughed, ‘At last, the time has come for my youngest to be of use. I suppose I’m reaping the harvest of my hard work! ’ ”
“Why did you put up with that?” I couldn’t relate.
I didn’t know what it was like to be scared of your parents. I felt a wave of frustration at my inability to empathize.
“I’m not sure why. When I think calmly about it, I can see that the things my father said were unreasonable and terribly old-fashioned.
I read everything from books on child education and emotional trauma to sociology, psychology, and philosophy.
Every single book I read led me to one conclusion: It’s my father who is wrong, not me. I know that. I really do. But still…”
Hozumi pounded his knee with his fist repeatedly.
“Whenever I face my father, my heart shrivels up like it’s stuck inside a freezer and I can’t breathe.”
I had thought that a person’s worries were something that could simply be solved through talking to someone.
Once you vent, you need to hear someone say that they understand, that they can see how hard it was for you, and that you did your best. You need that bit of support.
That’s when you can finally start to feel that maybe you weren’t wrong, that everything you felt was justified.
But in this moment, I can’t do that for Hozumi. I can’t tell him that I understand. Because I don’t. If only I’d worked in a trading house. Then maybe I could have understood Hozumi’s feelings, even a little.
Several cars passed through the alley. For a while, we sat and listened; the noise made me think of an enormous whale rising to the surface of the ocean.
“I had been working for seven years when I finally felt like I could leave home.” Hozumi started his tale back up.
“It was the first birthday of my brother’s child.
Father and Mother were happily preparing for their first grandchild’s big day.
The walls were decorated with paper chains made of origami, and there was a huge balloon in the shape of the number one.
Mother kept saying, ‘It’s a special day today,’ as she carried numerous dishes to the table. That’s when I saw it.”
Hozumi pulled out a freshly pressed handkerchief and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck as well as his palms.
Iori gasped.
“You mean…”
I finished his question. “The star-shaped pizza?”
Hozumi gave a silent nod.
“Did she think that since it was my brother’s favorite, his son would like it, too? But the child in front of us was a one year-old who was still eating baby food. So then I wondered, did she make it for my brother? It didn’t make any sense. Then my brother said something.”
Hozumi finally took a sip of his hot coffee, as though he’d just remembered that it was there. He hadn’t put any milk or sugar in it, but he didn’t seem to take notice of its bitter taste.
“He said, ‘Please, Mother. How old do you think I am? I’m not a kid anymore.’ Then he added in a sulky tone, ‘Why don’t I ever get a fancy meal in an Italian restaurant like he did?’ and pointed his finger at me.’ ”
Slowly, Hozumi’s face contorted.
“Mother replied, ‘Don’t be silly. The eldest son always gets the pizza, because you’re our promising star, aren’t you?’ Then she poked at the plump cheeks of my brother’s tiny son. She looked so happy.”
A promising star.
“That’s when I finally realized. That pizza was only for the promising star in the family. It was a star that only those who carried the expectations of the Kuroda family could have.”
Hozumi laughed bitterly and leaned back into the sofa.
“I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t know why I had worked so hard. It was just a stupid pizza. But I longed for that pizza. I wanted to find a reason, however small it might be, that made it okay for me to be here.”
As if he was trying to hide his expression, Hozumi took another sip of his black coffee. His hand holding the cup trembled.
“The moment the star-shaped pizza that I wanted so badly was set down in front of a tiny human who’d only been born a year earlier, nothing mattered to me anymore.
I realized that there was no use in making an effort, because everything had already been predetermined.
I couldn’t contend with that. Do you see what I mean? ”
The rain beat hard and ceaselessly like bullets, large drops splashing and rippling on the concrete.
When I tried to open my mouth, I noticed that the back of my tongue wouldn’t move, as though it had been numbed by an anesthetic.
Right.
“You, of all people, shouldn’t have to say something like that…” I started to say.
I’m angry right now.
“…there was no use in making an effort, because everything had already been predetermined….”
These are not the words of someone as hardworking as Hozumi.
I pushed forward. “You’re the most self-disciplined person I know, Hozumi. You put your all into everything you do, whether it’s working out, sauna-sitting, eating desserts, or training as a monk. It’s like working hard is your hobby. And yet they made you believe something like that.”
I could feel my voice quivering. My eyes and nose suddenly flooded, as though my body had finally caught up with me. The backs of my eyelids were burning.
“Momoko,” Hozumi said.
What exactly was I angry at? I didn’t know myself.
But I couldn’t stand it. I just couldn’t.
It’s not like I know much about Hozumi. I’ve only known him less than a year. But I know that despite training so hard, he’s still full of worries, and that he’s been fighting to overcome his defilements, or “bonno” in Buddhist terms.
“Your curiosity for the little things. Your sufferings. Your struggles. The way you’re trying to change your awkward personality. All of these things make up who you are. Is the Buddha really watching you? Maybe he needs to get his eyes checked,” I said.
“Th-that is not an appropriate thing to say,” Hozumi stammered.
“I can’t help it!”
I rubbed at my drippy nose and turned to yell outside the window. “Hozumi is trying so hard. He trains hard in front of you every single day. So what makes you think he deserves this kind of cruel treatment?”
I wasn’t just ready to pick a fight with the Buddha. Unable to sit still, I picked up my vanilla ice cream and slid it into Hozumi’s bowl. It was the only thing I could do for him.
“Here, have my ice cream!”
“Oh, uh, I don’t need this much. Plus, it’s melted.”
The melting ice cream spilled over the side of his bowl and onto his fingers. Still sniffling, I started wiping him off with a hot hand towel. The sticky ice cream had run all the way down to his palm.
“I can do that my—”
“It frustrates me so much.”
I tightened my grip, squeezing Hozumi’s hand. His thick palm was like a rock, rough and hard and so different from mine.