Harajuku Sunday (10 page)

"I came home… and he was standing there right at the balcony.
 
It was him!
 
That Chinese guy who pulled out a knife on Dominique!"

I can never quite understand where the believability factor kicks in, but the community being what it is, rumors again start to explode.
 
“Soren's friend” Shan (who ironically is actually the only person charged by the police; Soren is completely behind any claims he is under investigation or has committed any crimes) is now everywhere, is seemingly lurking behind every park tree and inside every trash can, ready to leap out and slash innocent girls newly arrived to Japan.
 
With all that sentiment in the air, impetus for the “Town Hall meeting” comes from two individuals Liam, a genial
Tokyo
City
international affairs coordinator (overseeing the young foreigner community in
Tokyo
) from
Dublin
, and Melanie, the artsy printmaker and design fanatic who's going out with Julian.
 
(Julian, who abuses his powers as volunteer website manager for the official
Tokyo
bulletin board to hack into accounts on the main expat bulletin board.)
 
Liam and Melanie between the two actually have enough pull to notify all aggrieved parties, including the socially-absent Soren as well as Redd himself.
 
So the emails go out, and on a Friday evening we assemble at the international affairs office in Ebisu city.

"So I'd just like to start this off by thanking everyone who took the time to come out tonight.
 
I know that there were a lot of fun things you could be doing and that everyone had other plans and places to go this evening, but the fact that you would all come out shows how much you value the community and how much you care about the extended family that we really are.

"Now I've been asked to deal with the matter of personal safety first—I've had a conversation with the security office at the
U.S.
Embassy…"

(Does Melanie throw me a quick glance here?)

"…and they have reassured me that nobody's safety is in peril.
 
There were some charges involving an individual menacing with a knife, but the matter seems to be simply a domestic dispute and the person charged with the crimes is being handled by the Japanese police.
 
There is no reason for anyone here to feel that they are going to be personally targeted or threatened by anyone."

A voice calls out from the back of the room.
 
"But how about my friend Judy?
 
She had an entire laundry load disappear off her outside clothesline last Thursday.
 
The people here are perverts."

Melanie looks up, ever so slightly, in frustration.
 
"Look, we live in a city of twelve million people.
 
In every major city of the world, if you leave delicate pink panties flapping in the…"

"No, no, no, what we're trying to say is that people don't feel safe here.
 
There's something wrong with
Japan
.
 
There’s something wrong with these people."

The room dissolves into a bunch of separate arguments and competing yells, but Melanie is able to restore order again.

"People, please, this is not the forum in which we discuss the totality of
Japan
.
 
We just need to deal with some of the wilder of the rumors going around, realize that we're all here for each other, and share whatever it is information that we do have.
 
Now if you need to talk one-on-one with me later, if you're not comfortable with this free-for-all public forum, that's fine too.
 
We can't order any two people to talk.”
 
Redd and Soren sit in opposite corners of the room, glowering.
 
“I'll be here all tonight, and I'm ready to talk about whatever issues you're facing, even if it's just a matter of you wondering how you can get cable and Internet hooked up.
 
Now right now, I think Liam wanted to talk about another issue facing us?"

"Thank you, Melanie."
 
The cheerful Irishman gets up and faces the dining tables.
 
"Now as some of you have heard, there's been a number of incidents online in which people have been posting personal information and private photographs in a public setting.”
 
Soren's face twists; some things have crossed the line.
 
“We know that there is a lot of frustration out there, and there have been things going on in the past that weren't always the correct way to act, but… some people are feeling that certain things being said are out-of-hand and possibly even against the laws here in this country.
 
We all know that regulations differ from country to country and customs are always greatly different, but I thought that was exactly why we came here.
 
Tolerance; respect for others; understanding—there is no nationality that has a monopoly on any of these."

“How about basic free speech?”

There's an anonymous cat-call from somewhere in the back.

"Friends, let's not argue principles but examine feelings and look for solutions.
 
If a person can write something online, that doesn't mean they should."

“That's exactly the problem Liam!
 
There are people who would never say something face to face, but they're putting it on the bulletin board because they can get away with it.”

I find myself agreeing.
 
More voices erupt.

"How about the Death List Shan wrote?
 
People are genuinely concerned about their safety!"

Soren smirks.
 
Finally average individuals are realizing that he is not the one who is being accused of any crime.
 
Liam shrugs.
 
"I do not know anything about this.
 
What is strange is that everybody seems to know somebody who knows somebody who's heard of it, but nobody's ever actually personally seen or heard anything like that from out of him themselves.
 
In any case, just like Melanie, if you need to talk to somebody in private, you can come talk to me, and I hope we can all come together as a community and not panic out on everybody all the time.
 
Especially if you're just arrived, I am sorry if you feel like you are entering a vortex, things are not usually like this."
 
Liam sitting down near me and looking flustered, comments, "Man, people don't know the half of things."

"Certain people are using the situation for their own ends," whispers one of the other CIRs.

"There was a time, you know, when you had to have a master's in Japanese or something to be able to work here, you had more of a stake, it wasn't just party as hard as I can for two years and get out."

"Some people think it was a little strange for a girl to just have her panties flying around in the sunshine on a first floor balcony and then get mad when they disappear.
 
Has anybody actually seen this prowler of hers?"

“What are you trying to say?
 
That she’s to blame for the sex crime?!
 
For being a victim of a crazed sex maniac?”

"After the Blair thing, you know, we must err on the side of safety.
 
I don't want to see that happen on my time here.
 
I would feel responsible."

"You're a misogynist!
 
You hate women!
 
You don't understand what..."

The meeting goes on in its plodding, bureaucratic way, although the real conflict, the one between Soren and Redd is on everyone's mind.
 
We all maintain this polite fiction that recycling separation, residency registration, and embassy notifications are what we all assembled to learn about.
 
But finally the meeting ends, and Liam announces that there will people going to the local restaurant to have dinner and drinks for anyone who wishes, and lo and behold, both Redd and Soren in their separate groups join this general procession, though with definite distance between them.
 
The evening air, hot and muggy, is just another one of those crazy prolonged heat wave nights that we still don't know the end of, but the walk to the restaurant is not far, and here we begin to eat and drink, noticing, of course, when Soren walks by and finally sits down next to Soren to launch the face-to-face confrontation so delayed and inevitable.

“Hi Redd.
 
How are you doing?”

“Hi Soren, how professional of you to come out tonight.”

“Well I certainly wouldn't miss the chance to hear your opinions said to my face for once...”

Soren's wit does not desert him.
 
For two hours they argue, matching each other drink for drink, and some stay and some go, but the hours on the clock pass by into the small hours of the morning.
 
Redd is beginning to get confused.
 
Julian swims in and out, insulting Soren and then walking off, too chicken to sit down and hear a retort.
 
Finally, at three a.m., and a reliable witness reports there might be a gleam in his eye, Soren goes off to buy beers for everybody at the table, except Redd, and this is entirely calculated; this is just one final calculated gesture of somebody who is definitely very drunk directed at somebody he has already left in a smoking heap that night; and finally, Redd erupts, he's totally lost control, he swings his arms wildly and knocks Soren's stein of beer over, spilling liquid all over.

"See, I told you!
 
I told you everyone!
 
That guy is a psycho!" yells Soren.
 
And his victory is complete; Redd, as a result of this wild arm-swinging, is now going to be characterized as a beer-stein throwing, truly violent psycho drunkard alcoholic.
 
Redd is screaming and out of control, and his face is completely red, and Julian's girlfriend Melanie finally intervenes; she comes over to soothe him and take him off, and it's just Soren's gang left; his friends from finance; neutral parties, Soren has finally won on the field of actual battle, his victory known to all.
 
I am pleased.
 
Sipping down my free beer, I reflect on the justice of things; the fact that little sniveling Internet twerps really don't have it in the end.

“Freakin' homosexuals,” mutters Soren, swaying and drunk beyond belief.
 
This is the last I see him, going off, barely able to walk, his friend of eighteen months or so, but a person with whom he will not again associate, as all our destinies are to come, looking back at me with blurry unfocused eyes one last and final time in a bar in late night Tokyo.
 
Actually the night ends with Soren in disgrace as well, blind drunk, being taken to the local lock-up by the police and apparently some ill-considered digs against homosexuals added to the list of Soren's offenses by square Redd allies, even if Redd's claim to moral authority is destroyed that night.
 
Redd's position always rested on that he was a professional and a teacher and mature, and with everyone now knowing that he is a violent beer-stein thrower, he is eventually to be hounded out of Japan, but somebody in Julian's crowd leaps to the forefront of the anti-Soren brigade, claiming to be "traumatized" by things said at an even in which he wasn't even present and then proceeds to start a blog dedicated exclusively to Soren, post after post, sighting after sighting, and this is really curious, this is really something special, this is strangely obsessive in its own way.
 
And so finally Soren does retreat again from the scene, this time for good, this time even from online defense, and all the weirdoes and people with strange little psychological tics can run free, enjoying their brief little heydey in the sun, the victory dance of the losers and geeks and weirdoes over the fallen god, believing themselves equals because they are the only ones who remain.

V.

There's no one moment when I become the sole survivor and heir to a kingdom.
 
No official transfer ceremony, no coronation, no specific event marks my accession to a position precarious yet refined, a strange and unintended outcome to the collision of massive forces in the night, great battleships that have unleashed titanic broadsides against each other, leaving the smoke and dust slowly clearing to reveal only the tiniest of tugboats, the smallest of steamers, still mightily chugging onward as its larger counterparts have sprung great leaks and are settling slowly into the fathomless sea.
 
Rather, there is simply this one Saturday morning when my phone starts ringing—and doesn't stop—a succession of people who not only want to know the latest happenings, but are also looking to plan and undertake new get-togethers and social occasions of their own.
 
I have become the mediator and communicator of plans; the fount of life and activity, the alpha dog of
Tokyo
if by fate and not design.