He then called for a toast, and everyone raised their glasses. This was followed by equally flattering tributes from other executives, and then from Steve Hayashi, who made everyone laugh with his story of Hanako as a teenager, eating French fries in a diner with chopsticks. After the tributes were finished, we all settled down to eat, and several kimono-clad waitresses moved quickly about balancing black-lacquered boxes of food. When they laid the first course out before us—unagi so tender it fell apart at the touch of our chopsticks—the young woman beside me turned and asked, “So how do you know Miss Minatoya? Were you part of her theater company?”
“No,” I replied, “I was only in theater for a short time.”
“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” the girl said. “She was my acting coach, you know, and I just got my first part in a film. It’s called The Angels and it’ll be out in two months.”
Her date considered me more closely. “You look familiar,” he said. “Are you sure you weren’t ever in movies?”
I laughed. “I did appear in a few films when I was younger. Probably nothing you would know.”
“I’m a film buff,” he said. “I probably would know. In fact, I’m the one who pushed the studio to hire Hanako for this role, because I was familiar with her earlier work.” He raised his chopsticks and pointed them at me, and I suppressed the urge to tell him how rude this was. “I know who you are. You’re that actor from Sleight of Hand. What’s your name again? Jin? John?”
“Jun,” I said. “Jun Nakayama.”
The man waved his chopsticks like a conductor’s baton. “Oh my God! I loved that old film! You were so dashing and dastardly. But I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything else. Whatever happened to you, anyway?”
He was speaking loudly, and other people began to look in our direction.
“I made many films, actually,” I said, lowering my voice. “The film you mentioned just happened to be the one that received the most notice.”
One of the people who was drawn by the young man’s voice was Steve Hayashi. “Jun? Is that really you?”
This drew the attention of Seiichi Nakano, who got up in order to see me. “Jun! What a pleasant surprise!”
Head after head began to turn in my direction, both those who knew me and those who were simply curious about what was causing the sudden commotion. The eyes felt probing, intrusive, and I wanted nothing more than to wriggle away. But it was too late. And now Hanako, noticing, stood up and made everything worse.
“Everyone,” she said, “I want to acknowledge the presence of a great and renowned actor, one who has had a tremendous impact on my work. Sitting in back there, trying not to be noticed, is the incomparable Jun Nakayama. If you want to see acting in its highest form—not to mention a very handsome young man—I recommend his films The Patron and The Noble Servant. And if you want to see what I used to look like, so you can appreciate how old and ugly I’ve become, you can see us together in The Stand and Jamestown Junction. Mr. Nakayama was a wonderful friend in the early days of my career. Since I know how much he hates to come out in public, I especially want to thank him for being here. This success I’m enjoying recently is his as much as mine. So much of what we struggled for is finally happening.”
She looked at me meaningfully, and while I knew she had meant this gesture kindly, it somehow only made me feel worse. And it felt no better when the room dissolved into a general buzz, people talking, no doubt, about who I was and what I was doing there. A moment later, Steve Hayashi kneeled beside me. Despite being in middle age now, his features had settled into a kind of permanent youth. I could see how his elastic face lent itself to both comedy and menace, the two most common types of roles he still appeared in.
“It’s good to see you, Jun-san,” he said. “We’ve really missed you.”
I told him it was a pleasure to see him as well, and then did not know what else to say. He had always been a decent sort, although only a second-rate actor—but now his continuing career and friendship with Hanako were more than I could bear to consider.
Around me, the glances and whispers continued. “Why do you think … fi” I heard one person start. “It’s such a shame …” said another.
This was precisely the reason why I had avoided such gatherings—in order to stay away from people like Steve Hayashi.
