by John Jeng
feeling a little down.”
“Why? Did something bad happen to you?”
“Yeah, sort of. I got fired today, and I might have to go back to America if I don’t find another job right away.”
“What a bummer. Anything else?”
Anything else? The question unblocked a dam in Tabitha’s tear ducts. She shielded her face with her hands. “Yeah, there’s a lot else. The stupid company I’ve been working for for the last six months is evicting me. And then I got a text from my best friend from college who just got engaged, and I suddenly felt really lonely, you know? I’m already 30, and I don’t have anyone, and tomorrow’s Christmas, and it’s like this huge lovers’ holiday in this country. Then this lady at the café called me fat, said I should go on a diet, and next week I won’t even have a place to live!” She realized she was crying now and wiped the tears away with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry, you’re just a kid, and I’m probably boring you, aren’t I?”
Tabitha looked up when she heard a sakusaku sound from ten feet away. Inaho was sitting on a railing, munching on a rice cracker, and watching her like a television set. “How’d you get all the way over there? Oh, never mind. Say something, won’t you?”
Inaho cleared her throat again. “Pish posh, do not sweat such trifles, such vicissitudes of life. What is important is that you pick yourself right back up. Incidentally, do you know this song?” Inaho sang a few lines.
Cause you had a bad day
You are taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you do not know
You tell me do not lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
The camera does not lie
You are coming back down and you really do not mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day
Although Tabitha was annoyed that Inaho could dismiss all her problems, she had to admit Inaho’s acapella voice wasn’t half bad. “That’s Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day.’”
“Yup, I was listening to it when you called out to me, so our meeting must be fate. Do you believe in fate?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.”
“Well, there are some people who choose their fate and others who let fate happen to them. Which one are you?”
She’s getting more and more tangential, Tabitha thought. “I want to choose, but I’m always afraid I’ll make the wrong choice.”
“When fate happens, you can curl up into a ball while someone kicks you around, or you can stand up and yell, ‘Hey fate, I am better than all this crap you are giving me, I am going to choose a new fate for myself.’ The trick is having a little faith in the fate you choose.” Inaho winked.
“Faith? What do you think faith is, exactly?”
“I know that one,” Inaho replied. “Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see. That verse is from the Bible, you know.”
“How do you know all this?” Tabitha asked, surprised at the girl’s worldliness.
Inaho shrugged, hopping off the railing and tugging Tabitha by the wrist. “I was a Catholic altar girl and Zen Buddhist monk before working here. I guess I must have learned something at those jobs.”
The statement was full of meaning, yet it didn’t exactly answer the original question. Instead, it piqued Tabitha’s curiosity so much she forgot she’d been crying. “Hold on. If you were Christian and Buddhist before, then-”
“No, not before!” Inaho cried. “I have three religions right now. Roman Catholic, Zen Buddhist, and Shinto. Like Pi in Life of Pi.”
“Sorry,” Tabitha amended. “I mean, how is it you ended up working here?”
“Because,” said Inaho, stopped in front of a stone basin, “I asked Inari-sama for a favor, and he or she gave me this job.”
He or she did? Tabitha wondered if all of Inaho’s answers were going to beg further questions. Just let it go, she repeated to herself. Just let it go.
“Before you pray, you have to perform ritualistic ablutions at this here temizuya,” Inaho instructed. She showed Tabitha how to wash her hands at the purification trough where water filtered into the stone basin. She took the ladle and filled it with fresh water and rinsed both hands. Then she gargled the fountain water and spat it beside the fountain. Tabitha followed Inaho’s example but skipped rinsing her mouth.
Next, Inaho led Tabitha to the offertory altar, where she pulled a thick rope that hung from the eaves, sounding a bell. From the pocket of her pleated red skirt, she pulled out a gold coin and threw it into the offering box. She bowed twice, clapped twice, and then bowed once more.
“After the third bow, you pray to God in thanksgiving and supplication.”
“Which god do you pray to, Inaho?” Tabitha asked, curious of the shrine maiden’s real religious affiliation. “To Inari, or someone else?”
“I pray to the God of Israel, of course. Zen Buddhism does not have any gods and Shinto has too many, so no conflict there.”
“No conflict!” Tabitha spluttered, unable to stand it any longer. “B-but isn’t this an Inari shrine? And don’t you participate in all the Shinto rituals? How can you follow three religions at once?” Even for Tabitha who didn’t believe in any particular god or belong to any organized religion, the idea of having more than one religion at once sounded like sacrilege.
“Oh, I get what you mean!” Inaho said, comprehension dawning on her face. “No, no, no, you got us totally wrong. Inari-sama is just my boss, not my god! These rituals are just part of my job.”
Tabitha swallowed the tiger in her throat that wanted to leap out and object to every dubious thing Inaho had said and done. She didn’t know why she was getting so worked up over the topic of religion, except that this irreverent high school girl had a job while she didn’t. Thinking back, Tabitha couldn’t see anything in common between any of her students at the Iwai Girls’ School and the Shinto shrine maiden singing the Daniel Powter song with oversized headphones slung around her neck. This girl was happy-go-lucky to the point that made Tabitha wonder where she’d gone wrong. Had she been too serious in front of her students at school? Would it have been better had she loosened up more during her lessons? Perhaps then, the girls would’ve found her more interesting.
Tabitha spun back to face the offertory altar. She didn’t believe in prayer and being newly unemployed, she didn’t want to waste her money. She reached into her purse, feeling around for the 5-yen coin that had a hole in it. When she pinched one, she withdrew it only to realize she had picked a gold 500-yen coin by mistake. Tabitha could feel Inaho’s gaze burning a hole into her back. She sighed, tossed in the 500-yen coin, and went through the motions. The tiger inside her was still angry about being fired, and if there was a god, she was angry at him too for how unfair her new life in Japan had turned out.
Next, Inaho solicited 300 more yen from Tabitha to draw an omikuji from a red coin-operated vending machine. Tabitha twisted the lever and reached into the slot. The fortune came in a clear plastic capsule. She twisted it open and unfolded the slip of paper inside, revealing a wall of Chinese characters. She flipped it over looking for a translation. More kanji. How she hated being illiterate!
“What does it say?” Tabitha asked, relinquishing the slip of paper for interpretation.
Inaho looked bug-eyed at the result. “It says ‘Awesome Luck!’” the girl declared. “You will have auspicious results in romance, marriage, and all your endeavors.”
Tabitha’s “Great Curse” omikuji detailing from top to bottom unhappy prospects in Desires, Conflicts, Romance, Lost Articles, and Marriage.
Tabitha very much doubted Inaho’s interpretation and asked for the fortune back.
“Trust me, you do not need a second opinion.” Inaho laughed, tying the slip onto a withered tree branch with all the other discarded fortunes. “Fortunes are just for fun anyway.”
Inaho to
ok the omikuji’s plastic capsule and fired it into a trash can five feet away. Another 300 hundred yen down the drain, Tabitha thought as the plastic capsule sank into the black abyss.
“What are those?” asked Tabitha, pointing to a wall of wooden plates.
A rack of ema at a shrine.
“Ema,” said the girl. “You write wishes on them and then leave them the rack in hopes that your wish will come true. Here, I will read you some.” She pointed to a scribbled piece. “Bad example: ‘Please let me win the lottery.’ A wish that depends on chance is made in vain. A shrine is where people give thanks that springs from the bottom of the heart, not a wish-granting factory.” She pointed to another. “Good example: ‘Please help me pass my Tōdai entrance exams.’ A wish that depends on effort will come to fruition.”
“Do they work?”
“Sure do. If the wish is practical enough, I can send it to Inari-sama, just like that,” said Inaho with a snap of her fingers. “And they are a real steal for only 1,000 yen.” She swept her hand toward the fifty or so engraved torii around the shrine courtyard. “All the torii around here were donated by worshippers who got their wish. Would you like one?”
“When in Rome,” Tabitha sighed and placed a thousand-yen bill onto a plastic blue tray Inaho held out to her. Smiling like a luxury car salesperson, Inaho handed her a blank ema and a Sharpie.
Please help me find someone who needs me, Tabitha wrote, conscious of the upstart girl peeking over her shoulder.
“What? Is that all