“What do you want for your birthday?”

When my 15th birthday was approaching, mom asked me. 

I couldn’t think of anything. I’ve always been like that—my mind full of wants until the moment I’m asked, and then suddenly, everything feels unnecessary.

Also, I didn’t want to bother my mother. She was a single parent who was raising my sister and me. Though she never said anything about our finances, it was clear we didn’t have much to spare.

So I said to her that I didn’t want anything. I didn’t want her to spend too much money for me. I told her that I would be happy if I could have a piece of a birthday cake, and honestly that was all I could think of.

My mom seemed to be pondering something, but then smiled and said.

“OK, then, let’s go somewhere nice to have a birthday dinner.”

A few days later, she told my sister and me that she had booked a table at a French restaurant in Kobe. We were excited, but I was also a bit worried because it sounded like a very expensive place. 

“Mom, are you sure about this? I’d be happy with the local family restaurant—we even have coupons, don’t we?” I asked, feeling anxious.

“No, we will all be dressing up and celebrate Chiyo’s 15th birthday in a proper way. OK?”

So we agreed to go to this upscale fine dining in Kitano, Kobe on the April 5th 1997. I wore a belted dress with a collar. Mom was wearing a classy dark navy suit with shoulder pads, and a pair of golden earrings. 

We had a small argument at the Sannomiya station.

“Why do we have to take a taxi? We can walk. It’s not far from the station.” I complained to mom. It felt like a waste of money. 

“No, we have to get there by car.” Mom firmly said.

As our taxi approached the restaurant, I understood why. There was a porte-cochere in front of the entrance, and the cars parked in the valet area were all foreign brands; Mercedes, Porsche, BMW, even a Jaguar. 

The building was made of brick, its walls covered in ivy. Through the wave glass window, candle lights were flickering. When our taxi arrived, a garçon with a bow tie came out from the front door and opened the taxi door. 

“Good evening, ma’am.” He greeted to me. 

“Good evening.” I felt tense, because I have never been treated like an adult by an adult. 

He opened a heavy oak door with a decorative handle. Inside was dark. We hardly see each other’s face with a dim light of candles and lamps on the wall. The air was thick and heavy, laced with the scent of wine and charcoal. 

He took us to a table on the corner. The carpet was so thick that I had to pay extra attention not to tumble with my heels – They were only 5cm high, but to my sneaker-accustomed feet, they felt unsteady. 

Once we were seated, a sommelier brought a menu to Mom. He also handed other menu to me. I was surprised to see that there was no price indicated on the menu. I have heard about that custom. Some expensive restaurants have two menus; One for the person who is expected to pay, and the other for the ones who are treated.

Mom ordered a glass of champagne for herself and non-alcohol cocktails for daughters.

Although it was a Saturday night, there were not many guests. I looked around and realized that it was unusually quiet. I wondered why, and then realized that there was no background music. I was so nervous that I hardly remember the food. All I could remember was that the beef was very tender and delicious.

As we were finishing the dinner, a maitre d’ came to our table and asked if everything was okay. Mom said yes, and talked with him briefly.

“I registered this is a birthday celebration for this young lady,” he said.

“Yes,” mom replied, “She has just turned fifteen.” 

He brought a plate of dessert and a cup of tea. A birthday message was written on my plate with chocolate; ‘Happy Birthday Chiyo’.

“Thank you mom,” I was ecstatic. The whole experience was over-the-top.

Mom looked at me and said.

“In coming years, you might get invited to formal dinners or functions as a grownup. Now you know how to behave in such occasions. So remember, you do not let anyone undermine you because of your upbringing.”

I had no idea what “occasion” she had pictured in mind —a business dinner or a Nobel Prize banquet— but I nodded. 

And she added, smiling; “Also, remember that it is a pleasure for someone to treat you well too.”

Looking back, I think she wanted me to understand how I should be treated for the birthday, or how I should treat someone I care about. It is not about having an extravaganza, it is about celebrating someone with the best thing you can afford. 

28 years later on that day, I was having a dinner with my boyfriend at a fine dining located in northern Kyoto (We drove there). They served a very good pavlova topped with locally-grown organic strawberries. On its plate, there was a message read; “Happy Birthday Chiyo”.

And I thought to myself, “I’ve been trained for this.”