Tyranny thy name is sister
I asked my sister one thing I worried about. “He’s not going to live here, is he?” She said, of course, he was. I told her I wouldn’t have agreed to move in with her had I known it. I grilled her, how could she do that? She became angry. She’d always defend with fury. “We are lovers. Lovers want to live together!” We had already moved in, and he had already nailed his butt on the best seat. I resented my sister and Nobu, but I also tried to live happily in the new apartment. Having my sister around was still a comfort after a year of living alone.
Nobu worked as a bartender. He and my sister met when he came to her bar as a customer. He was scrawny, swarthy for someone who worked indoor and at night, with hollow cheeks and pointy jaw. My sister thought he was handsome. He loved cars and owned a second-hand red Audi, but he couldn’t afford the 30,000 yen monthly fee at the apartment building’s designated parking space. He didn’t contribute to the rent nor the utility bills, either.
I had read and seen in films about men who took money from women. It was always depicted as immoral and abusive. Such a man didn’t love her but just took advantage of her. We’d condemn the man, but we’d also blame the woman for being stupid for catching such a phony man. But if the roles were reversed, it wasn’t so dramatic. There was no shame on men who provided for women or women who received financial support from men. My sister earned more than Nobu did. She signed the apartment contract, not Nobu. If she decided to pay for everything, it was her choice and money, because she had the power.