October 3rd

I'm actually thankful and proud to have such bold people surrounding me in my life. Kimberly is a party-girl, but the most responsible one you can find anywhere. And my co-worker Keiko, who is 31 years young, not only exemplifies the woman that Kimberly is going to be one day, but has also taken over the role of a mother, aunt, and older sister all in one.

I get harassed a lot by both of them, actually. They want me to be like them, assertive and loud. Apparently this is a part of the growing-up process that I'm just not catching on to yet. I always believed that by being smart, quiet, willing to adapt to others' preferences, and the last person to ever start conflict, I was being the mature one. It takes way too much to be bold like them. It takes the kind of spirit and inner strength that I just don't think I have.

In the past few months following high school graduation I believe I have been bold in my own little ways. Keiko is to blame for my like of drinking and smoking. Kimberly, with her liberal display of her butterfly and flower tattoos, and navel piercing, egged me on to do something crazy until I finally broke down and dyed my hair. Silver.

As if I didn't get enough attention while out in public as it was.

Being half-Asian in Japan is weird sometimes. Kimberly and I both have similar stories about being stared at while in the United States, but here in Japan it is a curious stare: What is that girl? Kimberly's face is round and merry. I think she represents the carefree and fun image of American people. Her eyes are larger and rounded, similar to my own, and we both have eyelid creases that most Asians don't, also called "double-eyelids". My face is a little narrower, with high cheekbones, fuller lips, and a shapely chin. My last name, Niigaki, is from Okinawa, but people say I actually look more Korean than Kimberly does.

So throwing platinum-silver hair into the equation tends to make my life a bit more… interesting. Actually, it was almost empowering, since I did it right after Kenichi and I broke up. Makes it look like I have overeating and self-mutilation problems. And maybe it is a compulsion, but at least it's fun. I want a tattoo and a piercing just like Kimberly now.

Keiko and I are out on the balcony of a room we just finished cleaning, in our matching crimson uniforms. As I watch her cigarette smoke puff out and slowly dissipate in the air over downtown Atsugi, I remember how much she hated my new hair color. Now it doesn't bother her at all.

The more I get to know her, the more I think she and I will grow as a pair. From a distance, Keiko looks like a doll. She has a smooth, oval Japanese face with no blemishes, and a painted cherry mouth. She keeps her sleek, shiny hair back in a perfect chignon. Only when you stand close to her like this do you begin to notice her age. She has a long forehead with creases that become more pronounced when she's upset, and the corners of her eyes look tired. Still, I bet she was smoking-hot when she was young. And the way she talks sometimes, I'm quite sure she has tons of experience with male attention.

Which is why I can't talk to her about Kenichi very well.

Keiko, her hand adorned with golden bracelets and bright painted nails, shakes her soft pack of cigarettes at me until one slides out just a little. Marlboro Lights. One would never guess we had this kind of silent camaraderie -- every time we open up a new room to clean out, we look and act so pissed off. It didn't matter if we were finished with every room on one side of the hallway; we're still starting over every single time. The mood only worsens when we find what you just wouldn't believe, hanging out of the wastebaskets, thrown on the floor, left on the bed.

I still love the job, though. In the right mood. I like taking breaks like this out on the balconies, watching midmorning traffic, noticing when a brand new sign has been hung on the side of some building nearby. The construction men, short and cute in their helmets and ladders under their arms, are fun to watch because I want to buy one of their tobi outfits for myself.

This Holiday Inn just opened last year. A lot of military rotate in and out of the area, and this is one of the cheaper English-speaking establishments to stay in for their visiting families. That was the primary reason why I took the job here. Kimberly and I had taken Japanese classes together in high school, and while we both scored very well, I only actually learned enough to ace the class. My boss agreed that it would be a good idea to team me up with Keiko for my part-time shift. I'd learn the ropes from someone who spoke English fairly well, and learn some Japanese.

So far, all I've really learned from Keiko, aside from the job, is how to say things like "Fuck off" or "I'm gonna kick your ass". It took a few weeks before I realized that was her form of coming around and being humorous and affectionate, as I'm sure she hated being stuck with me at first.

"Hey," she says out of nowhere, crushing her cigarette out on the railing, "I missed your last birthday, didn't I?"

"Um… yeah," I say, confused. "That was random. Why?"

"Do you know about the Seijin Shiki?" As she puffs out her last breath of smoke, her eyes narrow as though she is scrutinizing me. It can mean anything when Keiko does this.

"No."

"Mmm." Seconds of silence pass. Then Keiko and I look down over the railing at a young man yelling his lungs out, advertising the morning's special at the new coffee shop. The picture of the latte cup drawn in chalk looks tempting; for a moment I imagine I can actually smell mocha.

"Well, you're turning 20 next year. In January they have what's called the Seijin Shiki. I'll help you find a kimono and I'll get you into the local coming-of-age ceremony, if you want. Then after that you get a nice fancy dinner, and go out dancing and drinking all night."

This puts an instant smile on my face. "Really!?"

Keiko shrugs her shoulders, having picked up this American gesture from me very well, and sneezes before folding her arms and leaning against the wall. She doesn't know what kind of fairytale fantasy this sounds like to me. She stares nonchalantly at the vacuum cleaner I left sitting in the corner of the room.

"I just always thought it was a shame that you are haafu and you still don't know much about Japan. We can talk more about it later. Right now I'm going to see if we can get an early lunch."

"Arigatou, Keiko-san!" I thank her deeply in her native language, bowing deeply like the peon subordinates do in the Yakuza movies.

She laughs at me.

"Maybe with a kimono you'll look less like a freak with your hair. It will remind people that you are part Japanese. And then maybe a handsome boy will be curious about you," she teases me, sticking her tongue out, before she disappears beyond the sliding door.

I bet Kimberly would know what this Seijin Shiki is. She'd say the same thing too, about the handsome boy.

Which I know is a really, really long way off, exploring the possibility of a new guy. But what excites me most about the idea is getting all dressed up in kimono, like a geisha. I wanted to learn all about that and everything else Japanese, but I can never get around to it.

My mother is from Okinawa. I've never been there. It's some island to the far south. I have heard that to this day there are still huge cultural and ethnic differences between there and Japan. Back home in the States my mother would dial her home once in awhile, and she would be hellbent on using Okinawan dialect. I guess I should have tried to dig deeper into those roots instead.

Oh well. I'm all sorts of jacked up right now. When it comes down to it, I'm not even sure that trying to fit in to a Japanese custom is going to fix it.