how we arrived at this point

L

It’s crunch time. At least that’s what the Americans call it when everything comes together and a major decision or action needs to be made.

You’ll no doubt recall that I have a girlfriend in Japan, Yumi. We met on a previous trip I made to Japan and over time, as people do, we have become closer. It’s not going too far to suggest that we’re in love. Now, love can exist in almost as many ways as there are people in the world. Simply put though, I can see myself being with my Yumi for a very long time, if not for life and she has told me that she feels the same way.

Some background on Yumi’s and my upbringing and characters would be helpful at this point before I get to the crux of this entry. Firstly something about me, then Yumi.

You already know I’m Lisa and you probably know that I’m twenty-six. I am a London girl. My main home is in Knightsbridge, a suburb of London known mostly for its expensive shops like Harrods, Harvey Nics, and designer shops like Prada, Gucci, et al. The family I was born into has a history almost as long as the country. Close to five years ago my parents died in an accident whilst on holiday in Europe, leaving me alone, being an only child, as heir to the family’s extensive business, or rather businesses, I was left in charge – kinda.

At twenty-one I was still at university, having completed a degree in Business, and a little way into a Masters, when the call came and everything changed. Mummy and Father were gone and I was alone.

Over the next few weeks the board convened several extraordinary meetings to determine the future of the businesses. I was asked what my plans were and was given an outline of directions, it was suggested, in which we could go. It would take the rest of the day and an entire book to detail all of the details, so I’ll spare you that suffering and just say that the board was confident they could maintain the status quo while I completed my Masters. The businesses would remain unchanged until I took up my position as CEO, except for day-to-day running issues, of course. I determined to take a run at an accelerated program at uni and to finish the degree within the next year. I negotiated, with some great difficulty, to then take off four years, curtailed to just over two as it happened, and go out into the world and have some fun.

I got my way, with some conditions attached. I could not travel completely alone but would be accompanied by a minder and a PA. Rodney has been with the family since he was a very young man and was loyal and formidable, and still is. He was to make sure that I would be safe at all times but being determined to be a ‘bad girl’, at least for a while, I made a sport of ditching him every chance I got, especially when there was someone tasty about or a party to go to that wasn’t something ‘appropriate’.

For those two years I traveled the world, exploring every kind of back street, main street, and anything thrilling, I could find. I used my body to explore every imaginable kind of thrill, position, challenge, that I could. From some of the poorest and roughest men and women in some of the seediest dives I could find, to the richest, and often well-known, men and women whose tastes I can assure you, are far more bizarre than those in less ‘polite society’. It was an entirely conscious effort to be the most indulgent slut I could be. It was a blast! I learned so much about my body and my mind and about other people and how they respond and react to me and each other. If you want a glimpse of some of the things I did during those two years, check out my blog and especially the earlier parts, my ‘100 things I’ve done’. It should answer some questions and maybe titillate you as much as they did me.

During all of those just over two years, Rodney was always there to pull me out of messes if I got stuck. I must sound like a bitch but it was necessary for me, to know the world I would be working in. I love Rodney as a kind uncle who is always there to catch me when I slip. In many ways he replaced the father I lost.

The end of those years came to an end abruptly and caught me by surprise. It was only the beginning of this year that I was drawn into the business fulltime but it feels like I’ve been doing it for years already. Thanks to the things I learned during my ‘wild years’ I find that I’m able to be kind and generous of spirit to the people who make up our family of several thousand employees. On the other hand I can be as tough as steel with others who choose to disrupt the harmony of our family. I know they mostly don’t know that I know, but around the offices they have some nicknames for me. ‘The Ice Queen’, ‘Miss Chilly’, ‘Queen Bitch’, ‘Prada Priss’, ‘Poor Little Rich Girl’, and some others. They have no idea what I like to do in my spare time which is far less than it used to be. If they had any clue about how un-icy I can be they’d freak. Of course there are rumours about my sexuality, which are mostly true, as you people know, *giggle*, but I make a huge effort to divorce private from business.

Oh yes, and to answer (kinda) the questions of how big the businesses are altogether, think nine zeroes, and we’re not a public company, still family, although a lot is outsourced these days. And we’re moving into more ‘modern’ areas in addition to the more traditional areas of stones, metals, antiquities and art, property, shipping, etc. Don’t imagine it’s all glamour though. I work upwards of twelve to fourteen hours a day, and mostly that’s seven days a week, in a crisis. As the sole heir and only remaining family member, the responsibility rests squarely on me. The board is there to advise and make decisions, up to a point, but the final say is mine. That is not glamorous or easy.

That explains why it’s hard to come here, to my playground, as often as I’d like. Friends are hard to keep because I can’t keep in touch as often as they’d like. Still, there’s Yumi.

Yumi’s life couldn’t have been more different from mine. She was born in the northern part of Honshu (arguably Japan’s ‘main’ island) twenty-four years ago. Her family is about as traditional and old-fashioned as it’s possible to imagine in this modern world, and especially in the modern world that is Japan. Her father is the village’s repairman. He goes about people’s houses fixing anything that needs fixing. Although quite poor he is proud of the traditions of his village and those of his country. His marriage is, likewise, traditional. He is very much the master of the house, only allowing his wife limited freedom to work. She helps out at a charity organisation two days each week for a few hours but otherwise confines herself to household duties. The house, though very modest, is always spotless, meals are always prepared with care and on time, and Yumi’s mother rarely speaks out of turn. On those occasions when she does speak in opposition to her husband, she is beaten. Before Yumi told me about this I wouldn’t have thought such things went on anymore in modern countries. There are, believe it or not, some things I can be quite naïve about. Are they happy? Well, by the modern way of thinking they’re not really but their standards are from a time when happy was not necessary. You do your duty, live your life, and don’t complain.

As a young girl Yumi followed the rules of her father and those of her tiny world in the village. On occasion she would be beaten for upsetting the world her father had made, simply by being a little girl and making the mistakes any little girl would make. As she grew closer to puberty and rebellious thoughts occurred to her, Yumi would go out looking for what adventure there was to be had and more and more often she would run up against the rules of the house. By the age of sixteen Yumi’s back and legs were almost constantly bruised from father’s strap or imprinted with the shape of his hand. It was all she knew apart from images on TV that never seemed quite real.

Yumi had always seen her path as fairly clear into the future. She would finish school, find some work in the village, and marry one of the local boys. It wasn’t a desire but rather an inevitability she didn’t question. Summer came, her birthday came, and an anthropologist came from the city. She was examining, she explained, village life in modern Japan and how it was impacted by influences of technology and the shrinking world. Being holiday time Yumi was able to guide Miss Yamada about the village and surrounding areas, introducing her to local people of varying ages. With Yumi along the people were more open and gave generously of their time and knowledge.

Over the several weeks that Miss Yamada spent in the village she and Yumi formed a friendship. They were surprised to find that they shared quite a few views about life and its meaning. While working together on some notes and tapes made during the day, one evening, a silence fell. Yumi found herself gazing in Miss Yamada’s eyes. First a finger, gently placed on Yumi’s lips, then Miss Yamada’s lips were there. Soft breath, a moist, probing tongue; and work was forgotten. Yumi had found the missing piece and it wasn’t a boy. The village seemed suddenly so small and the world of once-unknown possibilities, so vast.

Keeping an affair quiet in a village is always a difficult thing. Discretion is rarely enough. An overheard conversation or a gasp in the night heard by an unoccupied neighbour is sufficient to get tongues wagging.

Within a very short time the affair between Miss Yamada and Yumi was exposed, shame fell on Yumi and her family; Yumi’s father beat her so badly that she was unable to leave her home for three days. A stone cold silence fell on their house and a week after Yumi had recovered enough to move about unaided by her mother and at seventeen, she was ejected from her home. Yumi’s father quite literally flung her out, followed by a few possessions wrapped in a tablecloth and a few thousand Yen.

Fortunately she had kept Miss Yamada’s phone number, secreted in a shoe. The call to Tokyo cost most of the money Yumi had but Miss Yamada suggested that she find a place to wait and she would leave immediately to collect her. Many hours in the dark, tears flowing in an almost constant stream and grazes still stinging from when she’d landed hard in the dirt in front of her house propelled by her father, Yumi waited. She’d fallen asleep and was awoken at almost midnight by a gentle shaking. Miss Yamaka, Aki, had arrived.

Yumi lived with Aki in her tiny Tokyo apartment for the next year and a half. Aki was kind and attentive, never suggesting Yumi should go to work. While exploring her new world especially during the long weeks that Aki was away doing her research, Yumi discovered that there was a nightlife in Tokyo she’s not even begun to imagine could exist. In her small village there was a monthly dance but it was strictly supervised by adults and the young people were never allowed to spend more time together than it took for a dance to start and end. Over time Yumi was drawn toward the lights and energy of Tokyo’s nightlife. The raves, some soft party drugs, and a modest taste for alcohol became her world after dark. People she met led her into meeting an agent from a modeling agency and her career began, modestly at first, then interest rose. Aki noticed the difference in her, concerns were raised, arguments followed mostly about control which Yumi had come to hate, and after a few more weeks of uncomfortable silences, Yumi moved out.

At a few months short of her nineteenth birthday was alone for the first time in her life.

By the time she was twenty Yumi had established herself as a model who was sought after, especially when difficult shoots were involved. She gained a reputation for being strong-willed which put some limits on her ability to work with all the people she wanted to but she was successful despite this. There were a number of short-lived affairs with girls in the business and through friends but never anything serious and if demands were put on her, Yumi would be gone. Her father had damaged her so seriously that she was loath to let anyone close enough to control her, even a little.

When she was alone though, she longed for a proper relationship and she often cried when she imagined that her one love might have slipped away without her noticing. Yumi was never superficial as some suspected. She had so separated her inner life from her outer life that one could exist almost without knowledge that the other existed. She learned to do that very early in life, out of necessity. The beatings didn’t hurt as much if she was mentally somewhere else.

Fast forward four years. A nightclub thumps, bodies move to the sounds, there is an aroma of perspiration, perfume and alcohol. Nobody can be heard above the massive sounds pounding from the speakers. Two women, one blonde and holding aloft a glass of clear liquid, the other raven-haired with streaks of red and grasping a bottle of something blue find each other and dance, or at least move within each other’s space. The dark, Japanese one is cool and unsmiling. Her reserve contrasts sharply with the sensual movements of her body. There is intent in her twists and thrusts. The blonde, English one measures every inch of the dark one’s gyrations and responds with her own. Unlike the dark one, blondie’s eyes betray a growing desire. Both women continue to move in each other’s space until the hundreds of other dancers no longer exist. A cool-down beat mellows the crowd and the dark one takes the blonde one’s hand, leading her to an empty booth which seems strange until it becomes apparent that this is the dark one’s booth; hers alone; others’ by invitation.

It was right there at that club early in 2006 that I met Yumi. Normally I won’t respond to her kind of haughty semi-disregard. In most people it just comes across as arrogant and self-indulgent. In Yumi it grabbed me and its grip was like iron.

We fell for each other in a way that shocked both of us. It was sudden and intense and within a short time mellowed only slightly until now, at the beginning of a new year, we have communicated our commitment to each other and although much of our time will be spent apart and in far distant parts of the world, we are determined that this relationship is something that will last.

Realistic expectations are at the heart of our commitment. Yumi acknowledges that my, declining, interest in men is there and may always be a part of our lives but insists on knowing about any episodes. She seems confident that in time I will need only her. As each day comes and goes I find myself closer to accepting her assessment.

To lead the kinds of lives we lead and be romantically involved requires quite a large measure of discretion. In my business life some business opportunities could be compromised if my sexual orientation became known and in Yumi’s modeling life and burgeoning acting opportunities, in Japan, it would be professional suicide. It may be a modern country in many ways but for a woman to be successful in Yumi’s profession one must be seen to be ‘into men’.

For the foreseeable future then we are only ‘out’ to close friends and as far as public shows of affection go we must appear playful but merely that. In and around my homes in Europe we’ll be able to let ourselves go more but Yumi’s career is in Japan and here she will stay, for now, except for holidays. In our hearts we are, in a very real sense, ‘engaged’.

As in any relationship, especially in a new one, there are discoveries and compromises made every day. We expect to encounter difficulties but we’re determined to face every challenge together.