Overdose

by Kuili, Ray N.

  But who these days remembers that decades-old movie? Plus, searching for yourself is a risky business. Who knows what you might find if you search long enough . . .

  “First time in Japan?”

  The question had the air of a statement. I turned and found a man at the next table looking straight at me with a nearly invisible smile. I nodded.

  “Just arrived. Apparently it shows. Did I do something wrong?”

  The man’s smile became more pronounced.

  “Everything. But they have fairly low expectations for foreigners in this place.”

  “How nice of them. So what did I do?”

  “Well, for example, you handled the bill incorrectly. The waiter handed it to you with both hands. You accepted it with a single hand and without paying much attention.”

  “Did I offend him?”

  “No. You were just impolite. But it’s all right. You’re a gaijin, after all. As long as you keep your feet off the table, you’re good.”

  “I’m what?”

  “A gaijin. A foreigner.”

  I nodded again, this time indicating that I had found the information useful. I knew his type. He had probably spent a few months in Japan and now was having a great time dropping local words in front of visitors. A cheap but effective way to assert oneself.

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was already breaking rules without trying. I was told that in Japan even foreigners are better off if they know something about local etiquette, but honestly I didn’t expect it to be that different.”

  “You were told right,” he approved. “A business trip?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then indeed you would be better off if you knew a thing or two. People here take you more seriously if you show some effort.”

  “I was short on time,” I said, trying to make out his face in the shadow. “Someone else was supposed to fly out next month. But our partners threw an unexpected tantrum, so here I am. I hardly had time to pack, let alone study the local etiquette.”

  Dim yellowish light was shining on his face from the overhead lamp, leaving his eyes in the shadow.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “We’re always short on time, aren’t we? You know, if you’d like, I could teach you the basics.”

  The unexpected proposal sounded rather appealing, but I was hesitant to accept it. I had never been a big fan of making random acquaintances, especially those that smelled of insistent altruism. But there was that meeting next morning and even without his comments I knew that my knowledge of Japanese culture was limited to samurai, sushi and hara-kiri. For the tenth time I thought that going on this trip had been a mistake. They should have picked someone else. Someone who at least had been to Japan. Then, for the tenth time, I told myself that perhaps that was exactly the reason they had picked me. Some people’s failures are inexpensive.

  My neighbor waited patiently.

  “Well, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said, finally.

  “No trouble at all,” he assured me, getting up.

  “Tom,” he introduced himself, joining me at the table. “Sumimasen.”

  For a moment I thought it was his last name, but then I realized that he had simply called the waiter who was just passing by our table.

  While Tom was conversing with the waiter in Japanese (to my unsophisticated ear his pronunciation sounded very fluent and accent-free), I studied his face. He was, or at least looked to be, in his early forties. His slightly angular Caucasian face, with a prominent jaw and a well-shaped chin, seemed very fresh, as if he had just taken a shower and shaved after a relaxing, long sleep. He appeared completely at ease with everything—the odd-sounding foreign words that he pronounced so effortlessly, the posh, laid-back ambiance in the bar, and the dazzling lights shining above the streets outside the enormous windows. His immaculate fitted shirt was accentuated by a watch that shone dimly on his wrist every time he made a gesture. It seemed as if that entire place had been built just as the backdrop for his effortless presence.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, finally letting the waiter go. “I didn’t want us to have to wait for him later. They get rather busy around this time. As I was saying, I’m Tom. And you are?”

  “Norm,” I said, following his lead and limiting my introduction to the first name.

  “Nice to meet you, Norm.”

  He extended his hand for a handshake.

  Now that his eyes were no longer hidden in a shadow, one feature of his face became very prominent—his exceptionally open and honest look. It had that rare—in fact very rare—authentic benevolence, not tainted by a desire to make a good impression or to appear nice. It was the look of an old friend, the look of someone who had known you for many years and whom you could trust implicitly. Someone who implicitly trusts you in return and has nothing to hide from you.

  That look in itself was a perfect reason not to trust Tom. Not for a single second.

  “That meeting tomorrow;” he said, after the handshake, “is it important?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then try not to do what you just did.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Don’t go for direct eye contact. For you it’s a demonstration of your honesty and confidence. For them it’s borderline rudeness.”

  “Really? No eye contact? So where should I look?”

  “Anywhere. Look at the person’s cheek. Or the neck. Or don’t look at them at all. Just don’t give that stare in the eye.”

  “All right. Thanks, that’s a good tip. Let me make a note. No eye contact . . . What else?”

  He smiled and that made his face look even more benevolent.

  “Let’s start with business cards. They are very important.”

  “Okay,” I said half an hour later. “What do I say in a case like this? Domo arigato? I’m done for tonight. This is already more than I can memorize anyway. And I suspect I’ve got enough rules to learn for a three-day visit.”

  “True,” Tom agreed. “You won’t remember a half of it tomorrow. But it will still help.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sure it will. Thank you. It was a great lesson in pretense.”

  “Pretense?” he repeated after me with an odd expression, slightly tilting his head.

  “What else would you call it?”

  “Etiquette.”

  “It’s a synonym.”

  “I take it you don’t like it when people are polite with you?”

  I shrugged.

  “Of course I like it. But I know better than to take their politeness at face value. That waiter who has bowed to me a hundred times tonight couldn’t care less whether I get hit by a bus tomorrow. Same goes for the people with whom I’ll be exchanging niceties in the morning.”

  “Same goes for how you think about them,” he said with that honest, disarming smile.

  “Of course. That’s exactly my point. This is business. If you want to get anywhere, you put a mask on. When you’re done, you take it off.”

  “You mean you replace it with another one.”

  “Well, it depends on where you are.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Tom. “Wherever you go, whatever you do, a mask is a must.”

  The look he was giving me now was exactly of the kind that I had to avoid using tomorrow—open, warm and friendly. Now I knew whom I was dealing with.

  He was a rare yet familiar type. One I that had ran into a few times on business trips. A philosophizing businessman. Typically they were less charismatic, but there’s an exception to every rule. Without a doubt, some quotes were about to follow. In ten minutes he was about to start quoting Jung, Hesse, Confucius or Groundhog Day—all depending on his level of sophistication and his tastes. Next, there would be another order of drinks in that flawless Japanese, accompanied by an effortless gesture and a long and pointless conversation. One ridiculously expensive drink would follow another, as he would speak about the fake values of our society, meaningless
existence of the modern man and the importance of expressing oneself honestly. And finally, at the end of the evening, there would be a drunken attempt to swear eternal friendship or—even worse—a long, drunken confession.

  “Certainly,” I said, understanding that the pause was getting long. “That’s a great point. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take off. I didn’t get much sleep on the plane. Thanks a lot for all the information.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Sounds very believable.”

  For a moment I thought I had misheard him.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said your explanation was very believable. It was a perfect excuse to get rid of an annoying stranger.”

  “You got it all wrong,” I said, trying to hide my irritation. “I really am very tired and I do need to get up early in the morning.”

  He slowly sipped from his glass, as if giving me a chance to get up and leave.

  “I’m not accusing you of lying,” he said, setting the glass back on the table. “I’m simply pointing out the fact that you didn’t feel too tired while I was giving you information you found useful. Now that we’re done with the lesson and I’m about to start a boring conversation about masks, your tiredness and the morning meeting come in very handy.”

  He quieted, looking straight at me, as if trying to demonstrate a perfect eye contact.

  “No, you’re mistaken,” I insisted, even though it was clear that the moment was lost. “It’s a very interesting topic, but, as I already said—”

  “It’s so tempting to take the mask off, isn’t it?” he asked suddenly.

  His smile, his voice full of understanding, his smiling eyes—all of it was making any further denial pointless.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m not that tired yet. But as a rule I don’t discuss topics like this with people I’ve just met.”

  “Actually,” he retorted, “discussing them with people you know is much worse. A conversation like this may cost you a friendship. Why don’t you sit down? Let me tell you a story.”

  I felt gloomy satisfaction.

  “Listen, Tom,” I said. “You want an honest answer? Here it is: I don’t care for your story. And to be perfectly honest, I no longer care for your company. That’s what you wanted to hear—right? So why don’t you talk to someone else? Thank you again for the etiquette lesson—I truly appreciate it, and I mean it—but please, do not try to drag me into philosophical chitchat. All right? There’s your honest answer. No mask.”

  I stood up. Tom folded his hands and studied me with an expression I couldn’t quite fathom. For a moment, he looked as if he felt sorry for me, but the thought was so absurd that I dismissed it immediately. One thing was clear, though: he didn’t seem even slightly disturbed by my answer. If anything, he seemed pleased.

  “You are wearing at least twenty of them now,” he stated, finally. “Maybe even thirty.”

  “Thirty what?”

  “Masks. You’re wearing between twenty to thirty masks.”

  I lost my patience.

  “Whatever. It was nice—”

  “A businessman, a foreigner, a corporate employee, a man in his thirties, a well-educated person, a well-off person, an independent thinker . . .” he started enumerating.

  “Listen, what are you trying—”

  But he went on, his voice even and crisp.

  “A frequent traveler, a skeptic, a Westerner, a man . . .”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “About the masks you’re wearing at the moment. You have at least another dozen on you but they haven’t shown up yet.”

  “A man is a mask?”

  “Of course. Why don’t you have a seat, Norm?”

  And I sat down. After all, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. I never had managed to overcome jet lag.

  Also by Ray N. Kuili

  AWAKENING is the story of eleven rising-star managers who gather together in a secluded luxury lodge for a mysterious five-day leadership training course. Asked to pick a leader from amongst themselves, they soon realize that nothing is what it seems at this place where managers are compared to ancient conquerors and one corporate taboo after another gets broken.

  As the group exercise progresses rapidly from a friendly election to a twisted web of no-holds-barred power plays, the players don't realize that soon some of them will be facing the harshest challenge of their lives. The unconventional workshop is about to take a very dangerous turn, testing the values and characters of its participants in the most brutal ways and presenting them with the ultimate question: how high a price are they willing to pay for power?

  “The biggest thing that struck me was the sheer bombardment of ideas throughout the book. If I were a high school or even college literature teacher, this is the kind of book I would assign my students. Awakening is ripe for classroom discussion.”

  — Probably Fiction

  “Without giving too much away, the ending leaves the reader positively shaken. With a twist that is just as curious as the rest of the story, I was left entertained yet contemplative. This is truly one of the more admirable qualities of this novel. It does not simply serve as a good read, but one that leaves the reader thinking about broader issues. Awakening is a novel I would recommend for those who are looking for a thriller that is unique and powerful in its own right.”

  — OneTitle Magazine

  About the Author

  For information, contacts, updates, and extra materials, visit: raynkuili.com