“You took it that hard?”
“Of course I did. That’s why I’m still working as a bartender,” Keiichi retorted, intentionally making an indignant expression.
“I didn’t think you were the type to be so frank about your feelings,” Uneta commented, laughing cheerfully. When Keiichi quipped that he was the one who should’ve been saying that, he laughed even louder.
“Uneta-san, while I was working at the main bar, I was doing hydroponic cultivation at home.”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to be a chef, so I thought that if I didn’t know how the ingredients I used were grown, then I wouldn’t be able to select them on my own. So first, I tried growing mini-tomatoes.”
Uneta listened, not even bothering to make noises to prove it.
“While they were putting down their roots and growing vines and leaves, they sucked up enough water to wet the tank for two days. But once they’d flowered and bore fruit, they barely took in any water at all. They just stayed where they were, quietly waiting for their seeds to be carried away. Though seeing as we were inside, their seeds didn’t go anywhere.”
It seemed like Uneta didn’t really get what he was talking about, because he gave Keiichi a searching look. When Keiichi saw that, he realized that he had the same habit and wondered if he’d gotten it from the older man.
“I was shocked. I knew how vegetables grew, but you know all the sayings, right? ‘Your efforts bearing fruit,’ ‘a tree is known by its fruit,’ ‘in the flower of youth’—they’re all positive things. But once a plant has flowered and borne fruit, it’s over. Life is putting down roots in a new place and growing all over again,” he explained, eyes naturally drawn to Uneta’s right hand.
“Kajiwara, is that supposed to be your idea of encouragement?” the other man asked, looking confused.
“I don’t think it’d be a bad thing to build up your skills all over again. I’ve inherited the technique you had before, after all.” As Keiichi spoke, he was shocked at how smoothly the words came out of his mouth. Had he reconsidered his feelings toward Uneta, or did their face-to-face talk here change things? “Life is short, y’know? Might be better to acknowledge what you can’t do and enjoy it upfront.”
And Uneta probably couldn’t do that. He’d get on one track and never be able to stop himself at “just a bit.” Keiichi was aware that they had the same mentality. And it might have been because Uneta realized that fact that he’d been so strict with his training, to test if he could feel gratification in a job that was always halfway, with no end or completion.
“Kajiwara, you should do what you want now while you can. You can’t guarantee that tomorrow is going to be the same as today. You never know what might happen.”
“I do nothing but what I want. Come to my bar next time. I’ve started offering some food lately.”
Putting the shop card for Undecimber Garden that doubled as his business card down on the counter, Keiichi drained his Talisker, then left the bar.
By the time he started seeing the neon lights of Kabukicho glow, the streets were already overflowing with people looking for somewhere to eat and drink. No matter what sort of person passed them by, no one ever looked back. Shinjuku, the city where so many different people gathered that individuality didn’t stand out. When he saw the crowds, he felt like he’d come home.
Once he arrived at the Undecimber Garden in Shinjuku’s Golden Gai, he unlocked the door. After hanging up his coat, he leaned over the counter to flip the switch for the indirect lighting. The five counter seats were illuminated. Behind them was a bookshelf filled with novels that featured cocktails or whiskey.
Keiichi pulled a book stand off of the shelf and set Sayaka’s book on it.
“Let’s get started.”
Slipping behind the counter, he rolled up his sleeves and secured them with an armband. Today’s first drink would be a cocktail in the image of this untitled book.
He grabbed a wide-mouthed saucer-type champagne glass off of the back bar shelf and thought about Sayaka’s serious eyes. Her plain appearance might have been a shell to hide her passion.
Keiichi set the shaker’s body on the counter. He measured out Tanqueray, Dita, Gran Marnier, and fresh orange juice with a measuring cup, dropped a bar-spoonful of grenadine syrup, and mixed it up. Then he filled it to the limit with pure chipped ice before placing a strainer and the top on the shaker in that order.
From then on, it was a timed match. He placed his right thumb on the top, his left thumb on the side, and his middle finger on the bottom. He shook it up and down, paying attention to how the ice moved as he gauged the temperature of the drink with his fingertips.
Holding the glass’s base down with one hand, he poured the cocktail into it. It was an Amapola, a cocktail for adults in love that was vivid orange, like the evening’s glow. It was a drink Uneta used to frequently make for one of his regulars at the main bar.
The regular was a woman who had a bit of a thing for Uneta. He must have felt the same, but whenever she came to the bar, he’d always prioritize making it a place that she could rest, making sure not to step too close. She’d come to ask for advice about going independent out in Okayama, but seeing her go from being uncomfortable in formal wear to rocking it made Keiichi impressed by how obviously love could change people.
Taking a sip of the drink, the notes of lychee shot through his nose. As it slipped down his throat, the sour bitterness of the orange and the sharpness of the dry gin chased after it.
“How many years has it been since I’ve really gotten the right recipe?”
He never would have expected that he’d willingly make one of Uneta’s cocktails. Keiichi tucked the hair that was too long to settle back behind his ears.
Finishing off the drink, he enjoyed the feel of the paper as he opened the book. Sayaka’s words flashed through his mind. You couldn’t ever know even yourself completely, so it’s enough to just face other people and try to understand them. The words made the things that were hidden in the clouds clear. Just what was she so worried about, when she had the insight to guess something that wasn’t there correctly?
I’ll support you so that you can keep on writing. He hadn’t even read one word yet, but he felt that way.