Zen Queen

by Kirsty McManus

  David casually takes one and sucks the middle out, before putting the shell back on a dish in front of him.

  “Excuse me David, but that seems a bit gross.” If I’m going to be polite, he should at least make an effort too.

  “What is?” He looks genuinely confused.

  “Putting half chewed food back on the plate.”

  He laughs. “They’re edamame. You don’t eat the shell. That’s why the plate is there.”

  “Oh.” Now I feel silly. How was I supposed to know? Man, I’m tired. I could really use a lie-down.

  “Don’t worry. I was the same as you when I first arrived. You’ll get used to it.”

  I smile weakly. David is so strange. One minute he’s lecturing me, and the next he’s Mr Sympathetic.

  The waitress comes back with a bottle and three glasses. She proceeds to fill two of the glasses with water from a steaming teapot and then tops it up with whatever is in the bottle.

  “Try it,” David gestures. He lifts his glass to clink with mine. “Kampai.”

  I take a sip and spit it straight back into the glass. I’m sure it’s some sort of poison. Then I remember where I am and slowly raise my eyes to meet David’s. I can’t believe I just did that in front of my new manager.

  David looks back at me disbelievingly.

  “Jessica, this is really expensive liquor. Try not to be so overtly rude.”

  I blush. This isn’t going well at all.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that this is all new to me. And I’m so tired, I can barely think.”

  “Look, just wait until Hiroshi arrives and I’ll make an excuse about how we have to leave because we need to organise you a bank account and cell phone this afternoon.”

  “Thanks. I would appreciate that. I really think it would be best if I met Hiroshi when I was more prepared.”

  “It’s just his way. He likes to keep people on their toes. Ah! Here he is now!”

  Hiroshi smiles beatifically and removes his sandals before joining us on the floor around the table. The waitress quickly fills his glass and he sips it reverently. I wonder if it’s all an act—he can’t possibly like the taste.

  “Excuse me,” I ask the waitress. “Could I please get a vodka and orange?”

  She looks at me blankly.

  David shoots me an annoyed glance, but relays my message in Japanese. I distinctly hear the word “Screwdriver”. Well, if I knew we were going to be using outdated cocktail names, I could have done that myself.

  Hiroshi is watching me interestedly.

  “You don’t like our local brew, Jessica-san?”

  “I’m afraid it’s wasted on me. I’m a girl of fairly simple tastes.” I decide that being truthful is the best way to go. But maybe my tolerance for pleasantries is lower because I’m about to keel over from exhaustion.

  He smiles. “I like your honesty. So, what do you think of Japan so far?”

  “It seems quite lovely, but I haven’t really had a chance to see anything yet,” I say apologetically. “I came straight from the airport.”

  “David!” Hiroshi admonishes him. “You should have told me that the girl had just flown in. I would have let her go and check in to her hotel first.”

  David looks as if he’s about to protest but thinks better of it. “I’m sorry, sir. I will be sure to mention it if a similar situation arises in future.”

  I stare at David. Is he for real? Could I have really put this off until later?

  “I’m sorry I’m not better prepared,” I say to Hiroshi. “I would like to talk to you about my ideas and find out what kind of campaign you would like to run.”

  “Plenty of time for that later. Today we relax!”

  “David tells me you’re flying out tonight?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I have to go to Hokkaido for a meeting at one of our regional offices.”

  David pipes up. “I hear there’s great skiing in Hokkaido. I would love to go there myself one day.”

  Hiroshi looks momentarily caught off guard. “Ah, yes. But I won’t have a chance to do anything as frivolous as that. It’s all work, work, work when you’re in charge of a large division like I am! Besides, it’s completely the wrong time of year for skiing.”

  David smirks, but only so I can see. Hiroshi is oblivious. I get the feeling I’m missing something. David is so weird. One minute he’s spouting the virtues of respect, and the next he’s publicly insulting his boss. What a hypocrite.

  I try and cover for David’s strange behaviour. “Well, I just want to say thank you for having me here for the duration of the project. It is a little longer than I had anticipated, but I hope to make the most of it and help Bella become one of the foremost names in beauty.”

  Hiroshi looks delighted. “Excellent. I’ll have to tell Don what a great choice he made. He’ll be visiting during the campaign, you know.”

  “Yes, he mentioned that he might.” The memory of him saying something along those lines resurfaces. I’m already looking forward to seeing a familiar face.

  Hiroshi looks distractedly at his watch. “Oh, is that the time? I must get back to the office. So many things to do before I leave.”

  I blink. Are we done already?

  David rolls his eyes and we all stand.

  “It was lovely to make your acquaintance Jessica-san. I hope to see you around the office sometime.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  I shake his hand and he leaves.

  I stare at David. “What was that all about?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No, come on. Tell me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You can go to your hotel now.”

  “Do you not like Hiroshi?”

  “He’s my boss. It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not.”

  I’ll take that as a no. “But I don’t understand why you were defending him earlier and just now you were being so scornful.”

  “I just wanted to get rid of him before you embarrassed yourself, that’s all.”

  Ooh. Harsh.

  “Okay, I appreciate that. Then how about you take me to my hotel and I’ll do my best not to say or do anything embarrassing along the way?”

  David doesn’t seem to know whether I’m being sarcastic or not. To be honest, I’m not sure either.

  I think I’m going to have re-think my whole approach to this trip.

  ***

  We head back outside and through a maze of streets. I’m barely paying attention—I’m dead on my feet. The lunchtime vodka didn’t help, and the heat is making me extra tired. It feels like there’s a thick wet blanket hanging over me. I really want to look about and get a feel for things, but it’s quite overwhelming. The traffic is crazy and there are thousands of people out on the pavement. I have to dodge a few commuters to avoid being bowled over.

  We get to my hotel and David checks me in. My eyes glaze over while I wait. I start fantasising about how great it will be to finally have that shower and then flop down in bed.

  David hands me my key and nods as if his duty is done.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. You remember the way?”

  “Ah, no. And isn’t tomorrow Saturday?”

  “Yes, but we do corporate social activities on Saturdays until lunchtime. It’s mandatory.”

  Oh. “Well, I guess I’ll make my own way there. I’ll call if I get lost.”

  “Okay, then.” He thrusts his business card at me and leaves abruptly.

  What have I let myself in for?

  ***

  I take the elevator to the ninth floor and unlock the door to my room. It’s comically tiny. I have to squeeze myself and my luggage down the narrow hall, which is no wider than the doorway, into a cavity where the bed takes up nearly the entire floor area. In the remaining space there’s a miniature compartment for the bathroom. So the cliché about space being at a premium appears to be true. The bathroom is the size of my shower cubicle at home, but they’ve crammed a
toilet and basin in there too. The floor, walls and ceiling are all moulded plastic.

  But right now I don’t care. All I want to do is get clean and then sleep.

  It takes me ages to work out how to switch on the hot water. There’s a temperature panel on the wall that looks like a spaceship control. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. And I’m too scared to use the toilet. There are so many buttons on it that I’m worried I might accidentally order room service if I press the wrong one.

  After some frustrated bashing at the panel, I seem to achieve tepid water. It’s better than ice cold, particularly as the room’s air conditioner is working overtime. Everything is one extreme or the other here. I hope this isn’t going to be a continuing theme throughout my time in Japan.

  Once washed, I slip into my PJs and throw myself onto the bed.

  Big mistake. It’s like landing on a slab of concrete. Haven’t they heard of foam mattresses? How am I supposed to sleep on that? Even the pillows are hard.

  I pull the curtains closed to block out the daytime sun and close my eyes.

  I can’t sleep.

  I think I’m so tired that I’ve gone beyond the ability to switch off.

  Maybe a little TV will help me relax.

  I turn on the flat screen mounted on the wall at the foot of my bed. Bright colours flash across the display. A panel of hosts are sitting around a table and talking about a clip of a man eating noodles. Fascinating.

  Another channel is airing an old episode of Full House dubbed in Japanese.

  Wow. I haven’t seen this show since I was a kid.

  Then I remember that I have my laptop. Maybe I’ll log on and check the news.

  While I’m waiting for it to boot up, I raid the mini bar. My stomach has started to rumble and I realise I haven’t eaten since breakfast on the plane. I’d left most of it, because it was fruit salad and I hate melon.

  There’s not much to choose from. A small pack of Pringles looks kind of appealing, but it’s a weird flavour. Las Vegas spareribs? Those crazy Japanese!

  There’s also a package of some sort of shredded seafood. It looks odd but I eat it anyway. It’s kind of sweet and chewy.

  I open up my e-mail and delete a bunch of spam. There’s a message from Alex saying he hopes I’ve arrived safely and to contact him when I get the chance. I quickly type a reply, letting him know I’ll write properly later.

  There’s an e-mail from work outlining the project in more detail. It confirms the duration of six to twelve months. I want to strangle Meg. It’s a bit late now. She could have given me a bit more notice! I wonder if I should ask her for Don’s contact details. She’d probably freak out. Even though we’re not as obviously hierarchical as Japan, we still have an unofficial chain of command. I wonder if I could ask Meg about my promotion. Don said not to mention it to anyone, but does that include my team leader? Dilemmas, dilemmas.

  I absent-mindedly glance down the list of remaining new messages. Then something in my subconscious tells me to pay attention. There’s an e-mail from Facebook and it says I have a friend request from a Luke Miller.

  I close my laptop quickly. This is all a bit too much for my fatigued brain to cope with. Maybe I should ignore it and come back to it later.

  No, that’s silly. I open it up again and click on the link.

  There he is. That smiley face. Those beautiful eyes. I wonder how he found me. Has Alex been meddling again?

  I debate what to do. Should I accept him as a friend? Even though there’s next to no chance we’ll ever see each other again?

  Why not? I hover my mouse over the Yes button.

  I’m just about to click it when the room starts to shake. I panic. My hand clamps down on the mouse in a death grip. I may or may not have pressed a button. At this point, I have bigger things to worry about. I think my building is about to collapse.

  EIGHT

  It feels like whole minutes pass until the tremor subsides. I somehow manage to stagger to the bathroom door and stand under the frame. I’m sure that’s what they say to do during earthquakes.

  When it finally stops, I’m a blubbering mess. I wait an extra minute or two to make absolutely sure that the ground has stopped trembling, and then race to the window to look out at the street. It looks exactly as it did a few minutes before. Why aren’t there people running about and screaming? Where are all the collapsed ruins? Surely that would have been at least a ten on the Richter scale.

  I scrabble around for David’s business card and call him from the phone on my bedside table.

  “Moshi Moshi.”

  “David, it’s Jessica.”

  “Oh. Hi. Is everything okay? I hope you’re not using the hotel phone—it costs a fortune.”

  “Listen, never mind that. What about the earthquake?”

  “What earthquake?”

  I stare at the phone dumbfounded. Is he joking?

  “The whopping great seismic convulsion we just had. Like two minutes ago?”

  “Oh, the tremor. Yeah, they happen all the time. You’ll get used to them.”

  “But it felt like my building was about to fall over!”

  “They’re designed to do that. They’re on rollers and constructed of bendy metal. I didn’t feel a thing down here.”

  “I don’t know how you can stay so calm! That was a major earthquake!”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It probably wasn’t even a two. Look, I have to go. I’m meeting some clients. Only call me in future if it’s important.”

  He ends the call without saying goodbye. I suddenly feel very lonely.

  I’m never going to get to sleep now.

  Somehow I do actually get some sleep. Too much, in fact. I sit bolt upright when I hear my bedside phone ringing. “Jessica! Where are you? We’re all waiting.”

  My favourite person.

  “Huh? What? What time is it?”

  “It’s 9:15. Don’t tell me you’re not even out of bed yet.”

  “Of course I’m out of bed. I was just on my way out the door when the phone rang. I thought we started at ten.”

  “Well, you were wrong. We started at nine. Now hurry up.”

  I just can’t seem to catch up. I jump out of bed, throw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and run out the door. My clothes are completely inappropriate—I’m going to die in long pants and a black shirt—but I hadn’t anticipated how hot it would be and I brought all the wrong stuff. I assumed it would be a little warmer than our August, so I brought lots of pants and light tops—but no summer stuff. I’ll have to do some shopping later.

  Thankfully the receptionist at the front desk speaks English and is able to show me on a little map how to get back to Bella.

  I jog through the streets and arrive less than fifteen minutes after hanging up the phone.

  David is standing out the front waiting for me.

  “You’re going to have to make more of an effort if you’re going to succeed here,” he scolds me.

  “I’m sorry, but you didn’t tell me a time,” I pant, sweating already.

  “I just assumed you knew that we started at nine. Like everywhere else in the developed world.”

  “Yes, but it’s Saturday,” I point out. “Most other workplaces in the developed world are closed.” I’ve almost given up trying to be polite.

  “Stop arguing with me. The bus is waiting. Come on.”

  Bus?

  We head down into the basement car park where a large vehicle is waiting, full of people. I hide behind David as he climbs on. I didn’t know we were going on an excursion. I feel like I’m back at school and my mum was late dropping me off. I wait for everyone to give me dirty looks for holding them up, but they just seem to ignore me. Half the passengers are Japanese and the other half are Western.

  David sits down in a single seat right at the front, leaving me to fend for myself. A friendly redheaded woman gestures for me to sit near her. I accept gratefully.

  “Hi, I’m Sarah.”
r />   “Jess. Thanks for the seat.”

  “No problem. You’re new, I take it?”

  “Yes. I feel so bad I was late. David didn’t explain to me exactly what was happening today.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s a bit strange.”

  I giggle. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  “We’re not all like that, I promise.”

  “What about Hiroshi? What’s his deal?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a chance he might actually think he’s Japanese, but I can’t be sure. And as you probably already know, we’re discouraged from questioning our superiors.”

  “How do you cope?”

  “It’s not that hard. I only see Hiroshi once a month, if that. And it’s almost never one-on-one. You just do your job and go home.”

  “Sounds like good advice. But don’t you get lonely?”

  “Oh no, there are quite a few of us who socialise outside of work. Mostly within the team.”

  “What team is that?”

  “Human Resources.”

  “Oh. I was kind of hoping it might be marketing. Then we’d get a chance to work together.”

  “At least we’re on the same floor. I’ll show you around on Monday.”

  “That would be great. I don’t want to bother David any more than I have to.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  This is more like it. Finally someone normal.

  “So where are we headed?”

  “To play baseball.”

  Bleugh.

  “That sounds like… fun,” I choke out.

  “It’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, I’m not very good at sports.”

  “No one is. Except for David.”

  “Great.”

  She laughs.

  “But it’s only until lunch?” I clarify.

  “That’s right. Then you can choose whether to stay and eat with the group or go home.”

  “I think I’ll go back. I need to do some shopping.”

  “I’ll come with you if you like. Show you around.”

  “That would be nice. Thanks.”

  I feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe I’m not destined for months of social destitution after all.