Pink Rainforest
Part 4 in my serialised short story. For those who haven’t read part 3, or want a recap, I’ve attached a link below. Hope you enjoy.
Several large foreign men with tasteless tattoos had charged down the street and shoved me to the side where I almost toppled an unsuspecting girl. She looked at me with a disgusted expression as if she thought I’d tried to grope her.
We faced each other for a few seconds, and I noticed her hair, long and flowing like a black river. As I looked at her, I became flooded with the overwhelming sense that she was all alone. I understood it like a sixth sense and it made me want to protect her against all the pain and sin in the world. People crowded around on the Kabukichō street, but I was wrapped in a blanket of isolation with her.
“Cat got your tongue?” she said before walking away, heels clacking against the concrete. I reached out but she was swallowed in the crowd.
Shaken by the encounter, I wanted another drink.
I headed to an izakaya called Sauna off Kabukichō’s main street. Testuko and Fumio, the old couple running the place, claimed that when you left, you felt fuzzy, warm and refreshed.
“Shota-kun, good to see you,” Tetsuko smiled as I entered. She sported a funny afro which added to her otherwise short stature. “There’s a table over there. Give me a moment and I’ll clean it up for you… Fumio! Shota’s here!”
An old man popped his head from behind the kitchen wall, a white towel wrapped around his forehead. He spoke as if he were trying to get all the words bubbling in his head out at the same time.
“SHOTA! Take a seat, take a seat. Beer? You want beer? Hold on sir, I’ll be with you in a minute — Or sake? Sake? We got our hands on some good sake recently, cheap too. Everything’s on sale around this time, Christmas, New Years and all. You look cold, take a seat, take a seat… Tetsuko! Clean Shota’s table he’s SHIVERING can’t you SEE?”
Some of the other customers stopped eating and looked at me, wondering why I received special treatment. Their gazes burned and I felt like the most hated person in Shinjuku. I took a seat and lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, convinced I might pass out from their attention until Tetsuko came over.
“Shota-kun, what can I get you started with?” she asked, her voice slow and dissolving in my ears like drops of honey. “You look a bit tired, have you been getting enough rest? I worry about you Shota-kun, a construction worker needs to keep as fit as possible, especially in such cold weather.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing for a second. I smiled at her touch, feeling protected for a moment.
“I’m okay, Testsuko-san, really, I’m used to the cold,” I replied, before glancing at the handwritten menu, asked, “Can I get a bottle of sake?”
Testuko nodded, jotted something down on a pad, then looked up.
“Nothing to eat?”
“I’m okay for now,” I replied. “I had something earlier.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “You can never have too much.”
“Really, I’m fine Tetsuko-san.”
“Okay, just a bottle of sake then,” she replied, though she sounded unconvinced. She went to the kitchen.
After taking a long drag of my cigarette, I closed my eyes and felt like I was floating in a dream. The girl with black hair swayed and pointed her fingers in my direction, coaxing me to come over. I moved towards her but every step I took, she stepped further away. I grew frustrated and ran at her, but like a matador she took a step to the side and made me trip.
“Shota-kun?”
Tetsuko stood over me, puzzled. I wiped the spittle from my lip with hasty embarrassment as she placed a bottle of sake down, along with a bowl of oden.
“We had some left over,” she explained. “I know you said you had some food before you came, but I know how much you like oden, so have this bowl, and don’t worry about paying — it’s on us.”
I sat upright, staring at the steaming bowl of oden. “Are you sure?” I said, feeling my mouth begin to water.
“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Tetsuko replied, “you’re a good boy, let me at least do something nice in return. Now, don’t hesitate to tell me if you want another bowl, okay? We’ve got enough left and you need to eat well if you’re going to keep working.”
Steam rose from the oden, kissing my lip. I swallowed the saliva in my mouth, then turned to Tetsuko, whose body seemed to catch the warmth of Sauna’s lighting and gave her a saintly look, as if she were the holy Mother.
“Yes, uh, thanks, that’s very kind of you,” I stammered, blushing a little. “Please tell Fumio-san thank you as well.”
“Don’t you worry about it, Shota-kun, now eat up before it gets cold,” Tetsuko said and shuffled away.
I stared at the oden for a moment, wondering at my luck and whether I actually was dreaming. But no, the smell of the oden caused an all too real grumble of hunger.
The first spoonful burned my tongue but I was ravenous and I ignored the pain. I shovelled mouthful after mouthful down my throat, slurping the last bit of broth before finishing the meal with a healthy gulp of sake. I sunk into my seat and placed a hand on my belly while I watched the other customers. That all-too-familiar sense of separation washed over me as they chuckled, smoke lingering above their heads as I sat alone.
“Good? Glad you enjoyed it,” Fumio started, suddenly pulling a seat across from me. I turned to him with a startled expression, trying to smile to appear cordial, though I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Been sitting there for a couple days now,” he continued, oblivious to my discomfort, “Oden, like an Italian ragù, tastes much better a couple days AFTER it’s been made, that’s the secret, yeah, yeah…” Sweat fell from his temple to his damp t-shirt, which smelled strongly of pork. Fumio once told me it was his favourite cut of meat.
“Anyways, anyways, how’s work going?” he asked, hands placed on each knee. “Must be tough in this damn cold. Some nights I feel it inside the kitchen, even with all the fire — THAT’S when you know you’re getting old.”
“Yes, uh, work is good,” I replied, looking away. “I’ll have to start looking for more opportunities next week, I’m running low. Again” — I placed my chopsticks atop the bowl and bowed — “Thank you for the oden, it was delicious. Please thank Tetsuko-san as well.” Searching for Tetsuko across the room, I found her speaking to some customers at the other end. She seemed so far away then, almost fading amidst the cigarette smoke.
“No, no, not at all Shota,” Fumio replied, “don’t worry about that. You’re our favourite customer, HA! Tetsuko says that, it’s true. You come in alone, are polite, never cause a ruckus,” Fumio glanced at the others in the room as he said this, pausing with what appeared for an instant like disgust before continuing, “Still, you’re a bit of a mystery, if I’m honest — I can be honest, can’t I? I’d like to think I can. I know you might feel differently, but we’re alike, you and me — Anyways, anyways, any plans for the evening?” — lowering his voice, he leaned in — “I hear there’s a new place, have you been yet? It’s great, let me tell you, there’s a — ”
“Thank you, Fumio-san,” I said with a cough, pushing the bowl towards him before finishing the remainder of my sake, adding, “Is there any chance I can have another bottle?”
Fumio narrowed his eyes, seeming to peer into my head. He got up with a grunt, then relayed my order to Tetsuko.
I finished two more bottles of sake before leaving. Tetsuko checked on me a couple times and commented about pacing myself, but other than that, I was left alone.
I slouched into the wall as the alcohol made my eyelids droop, listening to the laughter of other’s without being in on the joke. Both a part of the group and invisible. It was a safe space to be in and one of the reasons why Sauna was my favourite joint in Shinjuku.
I eavesdropped on a pair of salarymen beside me. They wore identical suits but one was clearly older, cheeks sagging like a bulldog. The younger one had a sharp, triangular face, contributing little to the conversation apart from when he agreed with what the other said.
“You see,” the older one began, tapping his bloodshot temple, “there’s only one way of making it as a salaryman. You need respect. Respect for others and respect for the rules. You respect others and the rules, you’ll get along with everyone. You don’t respect others and the rules, everyone will hate you — You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the younger one replied, and added with urgency, “I respect you.”
Their conversation continued, revolving around the older salaryman imparting what he called, “Secrets to Success.” Some were practical. For example, when he said, “Keep extra undershirts at the office, you’ve got no idea how sweaty you can get on a rush hour train,” I felt he wanted the best for the younger salaryman.
Only, the drunker they became, the more outrageous the secrets became. Finishing another slurp of beer, the older man pulled out a cigarette, waved it in front of his face and explained, “These cancer sticks save a salaryman’s life.” He went on to recall previous times he’d felt crushed by the pressure of work and if it were not for the relief of nicotine, he joked he would’ve killed himself.
“And that brings me to my next secret,” he paused, holding up his left hand, “What do you see? Don’t think about it too much, just what do you see?”
The younger one stared at the hand in front of him with a frown. “Your hand?” he faltered, sure this was some trick question he’d failed.
“That’s right,” the older salaryman tittered, “my left hand. But not just my left hand — you see? My left hand without my wedding ring… My next ‘secret to success’ is the secret of sex. I don’t know how long you’ve been married, but there comes a point when you’ve got no energy. You’ve smoked too many damn cigarettes and are too damn tired from being at the office all day, you’ve got no energy to fuck — if your wife’s anything like mine, neither does she. Ha! You still respect me?” He laughed, revealing a set of discoloured teeth.
The older man continued, “You can talk to me all about romance and how she’s your Juliet, but I’m telling you the truth.” He held up his empty glass to Tetsuko who fetched another. At that point, I wanted him to stop talking, but no matter how hard I focused my attention elsewhere, I still heard him, like he was addressing me directly.
“Men like you and me, working in a place like Tokyo, we need something to keep us going. We work too damn hard not to be allowed it.” He took a hearty gulp of beer and slammed it on the table, spilling the amber liquid. “That’s why we smoke and drink and why sometimes we visit women for company. Think of it not like you’re doing it for yourself. Think of it like you’re doing it for others. You understand? Your wife, kids, co-workers, company, strangers… HECK! The girl you pay! She’s got to make a living, doesn’t she?”
The younger salaryman hesitated as if he didn’t understand. Then, he cleared his throat, “If my wife and I ever stop having sex, I will consider it,” he replied, smiling lamely.
The older salaryman slapped the younger one of the shoulder, “HA! I like that kid, maybe she is your Juliet,” he teased and raised his glass. “Here’s to love,” he said, finishing the rest of his beer, dribbling some down his chin.
They left shortly after, talking about where to go next. By then I’d approached the state of drunkenness where my nights took a turn for the better. I was no longer anxious about talking to strangers, I could talk about anything, I didn’t need an icebreaker. I could say, “Hello, how are you? Good? Sweet, let’s go!” And we’d go, wherever and with whoever I wanted. Go and laugh because I’d be drunk and I loved it when I lost sight of myself and only saw blurred neon.
