ought of a man throwing up 
into one of these exquisite decorative gardens, but the Minister certainly wasn't the first. We 
geisha try to help a man down the hallway to the toilet, but sometimes we can't manage it. If 
we say to one of the maids that a man has just visited the garden, they all know exactly what 
we mean and come at once with their cleaning supplies. 

Nobu and I did our best to keep the Minister kneeling in the doorway with his head 
suspended over the snow. But despite our efforts he soon tumbled out headfirst. I did my 
best to shove him to one side, so he would at least end up in snow that hadn't yet been 
vomited upon. But the Minister was as bulky as a thick piece of meat. All I really did was turn 
him onto his side as he fell. 

Nobu and I could do nothing but look at each other in dismay at the sight of the Minister lying 
perfectly still in the deep snow, like a branch that had fallen from a tree. 

"Why, Nobu-san," I said, "I didn't know how much fun your guest was going to be." 

"I believe we've killed him. And if you ask me, he deserved it. What an irritating man!" 

"Is this how you act toward your honored guests? You must take him out onto the street and 
walk him around a bit to wake him up. The cold will do him good." 

"He's lying in the snow. Isn't that cold enough?" "Nobu-san!" I said. And I suppose this was 
enough of a reprimand, for Nobu let out a sigh and stepped-down into the garden in his 
stocking feet to begin the task of bringing the Minister back to consciousness. While he was 
busy with this, I went to find a maid who could help, because I couldn't see how Nobu would 
get the Minister back up into the teahouse with only one arm. Afterward I fetched some dry 
socks for the two men and alerted a maid to tidy the garden after we'd left. 

When I returned to the room, Nobu and the Minister were at the table again. You can 
imagine how the Minister looked-and smelled. I had to peel his wet socks off his feet with my 
own hands, but I kept my distance from him while doing it. As soon as I was done, he 
slumped back onto the mats and was unconscious again a moment later. "Do you think he 
can hear us?" I whispered to Nobu. "I don't think he hears us even when he's conscious," 
Nobu said. "Did you ever meet a bigger fool in your life?" 

"Nobu-san, quietly!" I whispered. "Do you think he actually enjoyed himself tonight? I mean, 
is this the sort of evening you had in mind?" 

"It isn't a matter of what I had in mind. It's what he had in mind." "I hope that doesn't mean 
we'll be doing the same thing again next week." 

"If the Minister is pleased with the evening, I'm pleased with the evening." 

"Nobu-san, really! You certainly weren't pleased. You looked as miserable as I've ever seen 
you. Considering the Minister's condition, I think we can assume he isn't having the best 
night of his life either . . ." 

"You can't assume anything, when it comes to the Minister." 


"I'm sure he'll have a better time if we can make the atmosphere more . . . festive somehow. 
Wouldn't you agree?" 

"Bring a few more geisha next time, if you think it will help," Nobu said. "We'll come back next 
weekend. Invite that older sister of yours." 

"Mameha's certainly clever, but the Minister is so exhausting to entertain. We need a geisha 
who's going to, I don't know, make a lot of noise! Distract everyone. You know, now that I 
think of it... it seems to me we need another guest as well, not just another geisha." 

"I can't see any reason for that." 

"If the Minister is busy drinking and sneaking looks at me, and you're busy growing 
increasingly fed up with him, we're not going to have a very festive evening," I said. "To tell 
the truth, Nobu-san, perhaps you should bring the Chairman with you next time." 

You may wonder if I'd been plotting all along to bring the evening to this moment. It's 
certainly true that in coming back to Gion, I'd hoped more than anything else to find a way of 
spending time with the Chairman. It wasn't so much that I craved the chance to sit in the 
same room with him again, to lean in and whisper some comment and take in the scent of 
his skin. If those sorts of moments would be the only pleasure life offered me, I'd be better off 
shutting out that one brilliant source of light to let my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. 
Perhaps it was true, as it now seemed, that my life was falling toward Nobu. I wasn't so 
foolish as to imagine I could change the course of my destiny. But neither could I give up the 
last traces of hope. 

"I've considered bringing the Chairman," Nobu replied. "The Minister is very impressed with 
him. But I don't know, Sayuri. I told you once already. He's a busy man." 

The Minister jerked on the mats as if someone had poked him, and then managed to pull 
himself up until he was sitting at the table. Nobu was so disgusted at the sight of his clothing 
that he sent me out to bring back a maid with a damp towel. After the maid had cleaned the 
Minister's jacket and left us alone again, Nobu said: 

"Well, Minister, this certainly has been a wonderful evening! Next time we'll have even more 
fun, because instead of throwing up on just me, you might be able to throw up on the 
Chairman, and perhaps another geisha or two as well!" 

I was very pleased to hear Nobu mention the Chairman, but I didn't dare react. 

"I like this geisha," said the Minister. "I don't want another one." 

"Her name is Sayuri, and you'd better call her that, or she won't agree to come. Now stand 
up, Minister. It's time for us to get you home." 

I walked them as far as the entryway where I helped them into their coats and shoes and 
watched the two of them set out in the snow. The Minister was having such a hard time, he 
would have trudged right into the gate if Nobu hadn't taken him by the elbow to steer him. 

Later the same night, I dropped in with Mameha on a party full of American officers. By the 
time we arrived, their translator was of no use to anyone because they'd made him drink so 
much; but the officers all recognized Mameha. I was a bit surprised when they began 
humming and waving their arms, signaling to her that they wanted her to put on a dance. I 
expected we would sit quietly and watch her, but the moment she began, several of the 
officers went up and started prancing around alongside. If you'd told me it would happen, I 


might have felt a little uncertain beforehand; but to see it ... well, I burst out laughing and 
enjoyed myself more than I had in a long while. We ended up playing a game in which 
Mameha and I took turns on the shamisen while the American officers danced around the 
table. Whenever we stopped the music, they had to rush back to their places. The last to sit 
drank a penalty glass of sake. 

In the middle of the party, I commented to Mameha how peculiar it was to see everyone 
having so much fun without speaking the same language-considering that I'd been at a party 
with Nobu and another Japanese man earlier that evening, and we'd had an awful time. She 
asked me a bit about the party. 

"Three people can certainly be too few," she said after I'd told her about it, "particularly if one 
of them is Nobu in a foul mood." 

"I suggested he bring the Chairman next time. And we need another geisha as well, don't 
you think? Someone loud and funny." 

"Yes," said Mameha, "perhaps I'll stop by . . ." 

I was puzzled at first to hear her say this. Because really, no one on earth would have 
described Mameha as "loud and funny." I was about to tell her again what I meant, when all 
at once she seemed to recognize our misunderstanding and said, "Yes, I'm interested to stop 
by ... but I suppose if you want someone loud and funny, you ought to speak to your old 
friend Pumpkin." 

Since returning to Gion, I'd encountered memories of Pumpkin everywhere. In fact, the very 
moment I'd stepped into the okiya for the first time, I'd remembered her there in the formal 
entrance hall on the day Gion had closed, when she'd given me a stiff farewell bow of the 
sort she was obliged to offer the adopted daughter. I'd gone on thinking of her again and 
again all during that week as we cleaned. At one point, while helping the maid wipe the dust 
from the woodwork, I pictured Pumpkin on the walkway right before me, practicing her 
shamisen. The empty space there seemed to hold a terrible sadness within it. Had it really 
been so many years since we were girls together? I suppose I might easily have put it all out 
of my mind, but I'd never quite learned to accept the disappointment of our friendship running 
dry. I blamed the terrible rivalry that Hatsumomo had forced upon us. My adoption was the 
final blow, of course, but still I couldn't help holding myself partly accountable. Pumpkin had 
shown me only kindness. I might have found some way to thank her for that. 

Strangely, I hadn't thought of approaching Pumpkin until Mameha suggested it. I had no 
doubt our first encounter would be awkward, but I mulled it over the rest of that night and 
decided that maybe Pumpkin would appreciate being introduced into a more elegant circle, 
as a change from the soldiers' parties. Of course, I had another motive as well. Now that so 
many years had passed, perhaps we might begin to mend our friendship. 

I knew almost nothing about Pumpkin's circumstances, except that she was back in Gion, so 
I went to speak with Auntie, who had received a letter from her several years earlier. It turned 
out that in the letter, Pumpkin had pleaded to be taken back into the okiya when it reopened, 
saying she would never find a place for herself otherwise. Auntie might have been willing to 
do it, but Mother had refused on the grounds that Pumpkin was a poor investment. 

"She's living in a sad littl