A Touching Tale

by Gary W. Cantor

     It was sizzling outside as I approached Okada�fs Hair Salon, and I sure was glad when I opened the door and felt the coolness of the air conditioning that turned this tiny one-chair shop into a kind of summertime oasis.

     Mr. Okada was the only one in the shop, and that was a relief.  I�fm not a very patient person, and waiting an hour for a haircut isn�ft my idea of a good time.  On the other hand, I�fve always enjoyed sitting in a barber�fs chair and gabbing with the barber, so as I sat down and waited for Mr. Okada to start his cutting, shampooing and shaving, I looked forward to a pleasant half hour or so of relaxation.

     However, as soon as he started working on me, I found myself feeling very uncomfortable and couldn�ft help feeling that something was awfully wrong with this person who had been cutting my hair for the past three years.  For one thing, his normally smooth cutting was much rougher than usual, and on several occasions I grimaced with pain as he yanked my hair with his scissors.  In addition, he was almost completely silent.  One of the reasons why I liked going to his shop, which was somewhat out of the way, was that we were both sports fans and baseball nuts, and so, as he worked, we would usually go on and on talking about games, players, and our mutual hatred of the Yomiuri Giants.  However, that wasn�ft to be on this day.  Whenever I said something to him or asked a question, Mr. Okada would just grunt and go about clipping and tugging at my hair.

     As he continued to work on me, I thought about what might be wrong with him, but decided not to ask, since I had learned long before then that one of the best ways to end a friendship is to delve too deeply into another�fs personal affairs, and to do so in Japan is of course doubly dangerous.  And so, after a rough cut and a painful shampoo, I decided not to push it ? whatever �git�h was.  Rather, I just closed my eyes and waited for the hot towel, and the lather, and then the usually luxurious shave.

     The towel felt good.  True, Mr. Okada did slap it down a bit harder than usual, but still it was awfully refreshing.  As it stood on my face, I could almost feel my pores open up and breathe in the cool barbershop air.  Then, Mr. Okada took the hot towel off and spread the shaving cream on.  It seeped deeply into my skin, and I waited with great anticipation for the razor, which Mr. Okada had sharpened a few moments earlier, to start its work�cBut nothing happened.  I waited and waited and waited, but the shaving didn�ft commence.  So I opened my eyes and looked up, and to my great surprise, Mr. Okada wasn�ft there.  He should have been standing right over me, but he wasn�ft.  So, I sat up and looked to my left and then to my right, and finally saw him standing in a corner of the shop about five feet away from me.  He held the razor in his hand, and had a rather bizarre look on his face.

     �gIs something wrong?�h I asked.

     In response, he cleared his throat and then spoke the first real words that I had heard from him since entering the shop.

     �gDid you know that I have never been married?�h he asked.  I was, of course, surprised by the question.  But I was also caught off balance by the way he spoke. Since the second or third time that I had gone to his shop, he had spoken to me in very informal Japanese.  But when he asked that question he used very polite forms of the language and it was as if we hardly knew each other.

     �gNo,�h I managed to answer, telling the truth.  I hadn�ft recalled him ever talking about a wife or family, and beyond that, given our relationship as barber and customer, I had never thought about asking him about things like his marital status or history.

   �gWell, it�fs true,�h he said somberly.  Then he looked at me with very sad eyes.  I didn�ft know what to say, so I just waited for him to continue with whatever it was he had started.

     �gI almost got married, though,�h he then said, followed by a deep breath.  Then, he moved slightly closer to me, and went on with his story.

     �gAbout fifteen years ago, I thought that I was going to get married.  At the time I was still working in someone else�fs barbershop and was trying to save up enough money to open up my own.  That shop, and marrying the woman that I loved were my two great dreams.  The woman�fs name was Naoko.  Isn�ft it a nice name?�h

     I suddenly felt very awkward.  My own wife�fs name is Naoko, and I almost started to say that, but then I realized that that might not be the best thing to say, so I just kept quiet and forced a little smile on my face.  And so, Mr. Okada continued with his story.

     �gNaoko and I,�h he said, �ggrew up together and were classmates all throughout school.  After high school, she went off to college, but I didn�ft have the money for that sort of thing.  So, I went to work for my father�fs cousin, who was a barber, and after a while, he took me under his wing and taught be his trade.�h

     At this point, Mr. Okada once again edged closer to me, and I could see that he was practically crying.

     �gI won�ft bore you with too many details,�h he said, �g but to make a long story short, things went quite well for several years.  I learned my trade and slowly but surely saved some money, and Naoko and I continued to see each other all through her days at college.  We planned to get married a year or so after she started working, and after she got a job, we started to make concrete plans for our wedding.  But then, about six months after she started work, something happened.�h

     �gOh?�h I said.

     �gYes,�h Mr. Okada said, moving yet a bit closer to me.  �gAll of a sudden, Naoko started to place some distance between the two of us.  She made excuses not to see me, and didn�ft even return most of my phone calls.  Of course, I�fm not stupid.  I realized that something was wrong, and so one day I confronted her and demanded that she tell me what was going on.�h

     �gAnd what did she say?�h I asked.

     �gShe wouldn�ft give me a straight answer.  But then, a few days later, I got a letter, and that letter broke my heart.  She explained that she had met someone else, and wanted to break off our relationship.�h

     �gI see,�h I said.  �gThat�fs too bad.�h

     �gYes, it really was terrible,�h said Mr. Okada.  �gAnd do you know what makes it even worse?�h

     �gWhat?�h I asked.

     �gThe worst part of it is that the guy who took her away from me was you.  Your wife is my Naoko.�h

     �gWhat?�h I said.  �gWhat are you talking about?    That�fs the strangest thing I�fve ever heard in my life.�h

     �gStrange perhaps,�h Mr. Okada said, �gbut true.�h  He once again inched closer to me, and as he did, I could see that the sadness that I had noticed earlier in his eyes had turned to anger.  I didn�ft know what was going on, but I started to suspect that perhaps the guy was nuts.

     �gWhat in the world,�h I asked, �gmakes you think my wife is your old girlfriend?�h

     �gWhat�fs your wife�fs name?�h he asked, with a sardonic smile on his face.

     I didn�ft answer.

     �gAnd when did you meet her?�h

     I did a quick calculation in my head, and then once again remained silent.

     �gIn that letter,�h he said, �gNaoko told me that the man she had met was a foreigner.�h

     I laughed nervously, and then smiled.  �gWell, what does that prove?�h  I asked.  �gThere are hundreds of thousands of us in Japan.  You�fre being ridiculous.�h

     �gWell,�h he said, �gI won�ft tease you any longer.  The fact is that I saw you with her last week.  You were walking through the park near the station.  It�fs amazing, but she hasn�ft changed a bit.�h  Then, after a long hesitation, he added, �gAnd so, after all these years I came to realize that the man who stole the love of my life was a customer.�h

     �gThere must be some mistake, Mr. Okada,�h I muttered.  �gMaybe my wife just looks like your old girlfriend.  Isn�ft that a more logical explanation?�h

     He didn�ft answer.  He just inched a bit closer to me, and now, standing almost directly over me, asked, �gDid you ever once think about the man you stole your wife from?�h

     At that point, for the first time in years, I suddenly remembered that Naoko had once told me that before she met me she had been seeing someone else.  And I remember her telling me that �git wasn�ft really very serious.�h   Could this have really been that guy, I wondered.

     I looked up, and all of a sudden was completely overpowered by the hate that emanated from Mr. Okada�fs eyes.  �gSayonara,�h he said, and then I saw a quick flash of light and felt the coolness of sharp metal as it started to slice into my throat. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

     �gAhh!  Help!�h 

     And then, everything went black.


     �gQuiet!  You�fll wake up the kids.�h

     When I heard those words, I opened my eyes, and was temporarily blinded by the light of the bedside lamp.  When things finally came into focus, I saw Naoko staring at me with a look that seemed to express both anger and surprise.

     �gOh, my God!�h I said.  �gIt was a dream!�h

     �gYes,�h Naoko said.  �gYou must have had quite a scare.�h

     At that point, she laughed, and I wondered why.

     �gWhat�fs so funny?�h I asked.

     �gOh,�h she said, �git�fs nothing.  It�fs just that for the longest time I�fve been trying, in my own sneaky way, to wake you up.�h

    �gWhat?�h I asked.  �gWhat are you talking about?�h

     �gWell,�h she said, �gwhile you slept, I was sort of playing with your hair, and rubbing your cheeks, and I even stroked you a bit like this on the neck.�h

     Having said that, Naoko then moved her right hand very slowly toward my neck, and then slid a long fingernail ever so softly across my Adam�fs apple.  Then, she said, �gI was hoping I could put you in the mood.�h