The Shadow Dance
A motionless figure stood behind the screen then slowly began to turn, arms stretched out. Dancing to the gentle rhythms of “Energy Flow,” Mizuki, now stripped of her kimono, appeared to be naked.
The figure raised one leg and held it in the air, then slowly turned her body, casting pale shadows all around.
Enthralled by the spectacle, all my senses surrendered to the modern geiko’s shadow dance. I now understood what Stendhal syndrome was all about.
When the track finished, the lights in the loft went out. I remained where I was, sitting on the bed without a clue about what would happen next.
I heard the dancer’s barefoot steps coming toward me very slowly in the darkness. Suddenly, she was next to me, her voice whispering in my ear, although I couldn’t see her.
“Do you want me to call a taxi? You must be very tired.”
I accepted gratefully, although part of me didn’t want to leave.
The soft lights on the side of the loft where I was sitting came on. Mizuki, now calling the taxi on her phone, was wearing her kimono again.
I remembered her words at the barbecue place, before we’d gone to the bar with the sad songs. She’d claimed that tonight I’d be happy because she was happy. What did she mean? That the culmination of her desire was that shadow dance?
Surprising me again, Mizuki slipped between the sheets and took off her kimono.
With her face sunk into the pillow and her eyes closed, she said, “Watch the screen on my phone. When it lights up and vibrates twice the taxi will be at the door. Will you turn out the lights when you leave? The switch is next to the door.”
Thirty seconds later, her breathing was deep and even. She’d fallen into a peaceful sleep.
I sat in silence beside her. In her slumbers, she didn’t care whether I was there or not. Her black hair spread over the pillow like a strange creature with a thousand silken tentacles.
I took a strand and gently ran two fingers along it. It was even finer and more delightful to touch than it looked. I wondered if her skin still felt cold.
The phone on her bedside table lit up and vibrated twice.
It was lucky that the taxi had arrived in time to put an end to these thoughts. I’d watched a naked shadow while it danced and had been allowed to watch a geiko sleeping. Those two intimate gifts would be enough to nourish my imagination for the rest of my life.
Thinking about it, I needed no more than that.
I drew the sheet over her uncovered arm, turned out the light and went downstairs.
The taxi driver was waiting at the gate with the light inside the car turned on. He was calmly reading a book. As I approached, I felt deep admiration for Japan’s silently elegant people.