by Philip Kan Gotanda
TAKAMURA, forties, is a master potter and ceramic artist with a serious drinking problem. He tells his story to YACHIYO, a young Japanese girl who has come to study the art of the Japanese tea ceremony with TAKAMURA’s wife, OKUSAN (also called SUMIKO).
Scene
Outside Takamura’s studio in Okusan and Takamura’s house in the lush cane fields of Kaui, Hawaii.
Time
1919.
TAKAMURA
What did she tell you? That she was the poor misunderstood wife? That I was cheating on her behind her back? I never lied to her. Right from the beginning she knew what I was. She knew exactly what she was getting.
[Pause.]
She liked me. Why, I shall never know. She became infatuated with me. Had to have me. Begged, cajoled her father until—ah, the father. He was a shrewd, shrewd bastard. He cared little about anything but what he could buy and sell for a profit. And he could do that better than any man I’ve ever met. Have you down on your knees begging him to stick his hands into your pockets. And he could smell a man’s weak spot a mile away. Profit, that’s all he cared about. That is, except his daughter. His only child. That was his weak spot. And since his daughter wanted me, he made sure she got me. The old man offered me a proposition. I get a second chance to be the artist, to redeem myself in my family’s eyes. In exchange, I marry his daughter and—ah, here’s the catch—I give up my name.
[Pause.]
I don’t know if I really cared one way or the other at the time. So you see, her father bought me for her. Like a pet dog. And she knew what I was. What she was getting.
[Pause. Unsure whether to reveal more.]
We had an agreement. This one was between Sumiko and me. Her father didn’t know. I told her I didn’t love her. And that she must allow me my freedom. That I would be discreet and never bring her shame. This was my side of the bargain. She agreed. Maybe I am getting a bit careless of late—ever since the old bastard died. I guess you could say I’ve been celebrating. He’d like me drinking, though. That’s the one thing we had in common.
[Silence. He drinks from his bottle.]