Enoshima (Part One of Two)

Enoshima (Part One of Two)

Some marriages aren’t meant to last. People meet in circumstances that create a fairy-tale; a confluence of chance occurrences that splinter into a future of cracked glass. This is what I tell myself when darkness comes again. Self-doubt circles like a shadowed harbinger in crow form, a bird to tear at your heart and steal what life essence you have left. It wasn’t always like this.

It was a hot summer in Japan where I was working as a civil servant for the Foreign Office. Average temperatures can often touch 30C; heat and humidity can be a challenge for a fair-skinned twenty-something from London. When the rain comes it can be the kind that slowly soaks, a drifting mellifluous substance that triggers a thousand umbrellas on streets. My brief involved a twelve month secondment after which I would return home. I met Atsuko at the real estate practice she was working at. I needed an apartment to rent in Tokyo city.

On this particular day, roiling clouds filled the skies, life in the capital oblivious in its constant flow of industry and pleasure. It was a busy, hurly burly scene of people milling about open-plan desks and laptops when I first saw her. She was sat staring at her screen, demure, focused, and beautiful in an elfin way. Her hair was raven-black and bobbed around her face, cupping her cheeks on both sides. Hovering with hands perched on the back of a plastic chair, the moment she looked up and stared into my eyes is etched into my memory always.

We sat and talked about my requirements in a detached, professional manner. She suggested looking at some places in Shinjuku where there was diverse nightlife with diners and restaurants to eat at. It’s funny how attentive you can be without listening properly. I could see her mouth moving and hear the words coming out but it was like I was wrapped in a sensory bubble where every expression, smile and twitch of her face drew me in through a silent tunnel all of my own. My Japanese was rudimentary having taken a crash course before leaving which was mildly comical as her English was equally basic having studied it at college. Sentences collided now and again which added to the endearing nature of the entire time we were together. Exchanges would prematurely end in gentle laughter, a connection growing like the Bonsai tree on her desk.

The next few months were a proverbial blur. Our first date was at an obscure diner down a narrow alleyway sheltered amongst bars, restaurants and other businesses. As we sat on stools ordering food, others would smile and engage us in conversation. It was a convivial, warm experience where a cross-section of society was present from police detectives to strippers. There was no social ladder cum pecking order in this particular establishment; for a while at least, everyone was equal. Atsuko had a preference for tan-men, a ramen noodle soup topped with stir-fry pork and vegetables whilst I often had a hankering for ham katsu.  There were no airs or graces about the options available, the chef being an austere, quiet man with a fetching smile and an aura of wisdom. He would take a cooked dish to a nearby shrine and leave it as an offering each day. It’s funny how you can find peace amongst the torrent of sound that comes with the endless cars, trains and human traffic of Tokyo. Shinto and Buddhism hold sway in this part of the world.

We didn’t only eat. There was beer and sake in the nightclubs, lyrics on scrolling screens at the karaoke booths and all kinds of electronica at the gaming emporiums. It was hard to keep up with the non-stop pace of things but, in time, everyone adapts and accepts it as the norm. Those were halcyon days. Whenever we had a weekend free, we would travel to see the sites of the islands: the magnificent temples of Kyoto with their Zen rock gardens, Yakushima off the coast of Southern Kyushu with its yakusugi trees in ancient forests and even a cat island nearby.

It was on a temperate day where the sun held sway high in an Eastern sky that we made the hike up Mount Fuji. 12,389 feet of myth and legend. It is one of Japan’s three holy mountains and, along with many others, we spent hours hiking up the pathway to the summit. Tattered and torn by the time we got to the top, at least mentally, the view was breath-taking. Clouds sat below us and it was as though we were looking out over the whole world. As we stood, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, Atsuko turned to me and said:

“Kimi to futari de iru toki ga ichiban shiawase”

I knew instantly what was being said - The happiest time is when I’m with you.

For a few seconds I just gazed into her eyes. It was a moment to last a lifetime.

Eventually, I replied “Anata ga daisuki desu”.

I love you very much or at least that’s what I hoped I had said. She buried her head in my chest and we stayed there for a while.

I knew things were moving in a serious direction when I was invited to meet Atsuko’s family who lived in Mie Prefecture. They seemed to like me albeit her father asking me what my intentions were towards his daughter made for an odd sensation when outside strolling in an ornamental garden. I hadn’t given it to much thought but, with that, the prospect of marriage appeared.

My time in Japan was nearing an end and there were decisions to be made. Over a quiet meal in, we talked about the future in adult overtones. There was a realisation that we did not want to be apart, whatever that meant. Within a few weeks, we were married. I had no parents to object to me getting hitched in a foreign land as both had died when I was young. My uncle had given it his blessing by telephone even if it was a time to reflect on what my mum and dad would have thought about it all.

The ceremony was at a Shinto shrine overseen by a priest where we underwent shinzenshiki or marriage before the Gods. According to Shinto beliefs, at the beginning of Japan's existence, primordial gods Izanagi and Izanami came down from above to an island. They set up residence, conducting marriage rites to mark their union. From this, Izanami birthed the islands of Japan. Atsuko looked stunning in her white kimono and headdress, her lips as red as blood, her complexion as pale as porcelain.  The celebrations afterwards took on an underlying sense of melancholy despite the sanguine nature of the day as my bride had announced that she would move to England with me once the paperwork had been sorted with the authorities.

It was three years later that she gave birth to our son. We called him Kai as that seemed to cross any cultural divide. Despite our best efforts, he was to be our only child. Thoughts would swirl from time to time that maybe we had disrespected ancient spirits somehow and perhaps that was why we were being denied further children. I knew this wasn’t rational but Atsuko was profoundly spiritual and, as time went on, I found myself resisting falling deeper and deeper into her belief system. Not that I was particularly religious even if I was officially attributed to the two percent of folks in Japan classed as Christians. What I did pride myself on was an objectivity that went with the type of work I did for a living. As bland and bleak as being a civil servant was, that vanilla existence of peddling mundane tasks to maintain structure and order reflected my logical approach to life for the most part.

Kai was our mutual joy. He grew up so quickly. Before we knew it, he was at senior school and hurtling through his teens. His mother took care to make sure he knew as much about the culture of her homeland as he did about anything else. Our house was a three-storey townhouse in Kensington that I had inherited from my parents. One of my fondest memories was of coming home one day to see them both in the kitchen. Kai was eating a bowl of cat rice, a dish he had come to love, a recipe imported from the Far East. Made with white rice and bonito flakes, it was something that was quick to prepare and easy to eat. It summed him up in many ways.

The low-level domestic bliss we had woven as a family wasn’t to last

Part Two at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/enoshima-part-two-two

Image free to use at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mount_Fuji,_view_from_Shiraito_no_Taki.jpg