Taste Test

Erin knew that they lived nearby, had the same days off, and had not tried these particular bars, so he was glad to drink with them at Gala Brothers. It was a series of bars in the area near their ESL school that varied from Gala Brothers to Gala Cabin to Gala Set. Erin knew about a Gala Jalibu, but he never found it. This one would be enough.

Their Japanese students were never in these bars. Erin knew this and they all agreed to be there after seven. There had been some problems with students asking teachers out for dinner and dates; phone numbers were passed during private lessons and some couples were spotted in the park by managers and staff at the school. Frederick had at least two students on his list of potential dates that month. Even Chris did not do too badly with them, although he was more careless about being caught. Erin had to lie to their managers more than once about whom it was that they saw with him in the park at lunchtime. The last time he was called in to speak to them in the conference room, he noted how it was impossible to spot a student from behind when they all had the same hairstyles and sense of fashion. Chris agreed with this, but was so nervous that he could not stop nodding until Erin kicked his leg under the table and he forced a pinched smile. He would learn how to lie about such things soon. They all did eventually.

It was a basement bar and he loved the murals that framed the entrance (palm trees, toucans and a girl in a bikini whose face had faded as she lay on a beach in some imagined paradise). Through the door was a vestibule with rules in Japanese about behaviour and information on what to do in an emergency (Erin could read part of this). Inside, he noted that Christmas lights were still up and framing the bar. There were separate panels of mirrors stained with patterns that reminded him of yellow fog. The same bottles were in their usual places, along with photographs of the staff and their friends torn up and rearranged like a mosaic. Erin paid a lot of attention to this collection of images. He recognized Moses and Ben, two tall and very large Kenyans who introduced him to the place when he first arrived in Tokyo. They met in the nearby park after sharing a crowded space under the cherry blossoms. The season was very brief and beautiful.

Frederick and Chris were already in. Erin noted that they sat near the small kitchen on the far side of the bar. This area was separated by a wire mesh wall covered in the same Christmas lights and other reminders of the island paradise on the outdoor mural. No one else was in. There was one wall with lounge seating and all the other tables were set up like a cabaret. Erin usually sat at the bar when he was on his own, waiting for a chance to talk to the staff if they were free.

He would admit that he only went there to talk to someone who was not an English teacher. He liked the brothers and the staff that he had made friends with over the last year. Suzuki – dreadlocked and bearded – was always at the front with the bottles, pipes, and the stereo system next to a stack of CDs covering the best years of dub reggae, acid house, and techno. He nodded and smiled when he saw Erin. There was an earnest dub reggae mix coming out of the speakers. This worked when Erin thought about the drinks he wanted to try tonight. It would not be a nuisance

He asked about Michiko - in Japanese - and Suzuki told him that she would be in later. She was also a good reason for choosing this bar. Erin loved to hear her voice; a half-purr/hiss that sounded like a cat testing the language. The others behind the plastic screen leading to the kitchen he did not know very well. He only smiled and thanked with a polite bow when they prepared him the small dishes that were perfect if he felt the need to snack. From the bar, he could see that there were three tall men in tonight, working under a set of grey fluorescent lights around one small cooking station and the two grills that were not in use. He wondered if he should try to talk to them more than he did and try to include them in the stories he shared with Michi and Suzuki.

Erin also wondered if Frederick and Chris liked rum. He chose Gala because it had the largest selection he could find in the entire city (some places did not even carry that liquor). Some of the bottles he saw on the wall and on the menu were a mystery to him. Erin did not think this was possible (his family would be surprised back home). He preferred some of the dark and spiced brands labelled as Jamaican exports (straight from the heart of the Bahamas, England and the U.S.). Erin ordered a rum and coke (no ice) and walked over in the dim light to see his two friends look up from their drinks and smile.

Friends? Erin had the word in his head but was not sure if it was the right one. Frederick – only called Fred when you could get away with it – came to their school as a temporary transfer for a week from another district and then became regular staff when some turnovers needed to be covered. He was not a manager; not yet. This was strange to Erin, and some other teachers, because almost every other British person they knew with their schools was either a manager or working at the head office. Frederick almost seemed to belong to that clique. He wore tight dress shirts that suited his thinness and expensive suits with cuff links (a little much, thought Erin, but he admired the nerve needed to get away with them). His hair was often slick with gel and combed into a wave from the scalp. There was a handkerchief in the top suit pocket of his jacket and he mentioned the idea of growing a mustache. Erin, and anyone else who asked about the matter, suggested anything but that; he would have looked like an aristocratic with dark intentions. No one mentioned something else to Fred. There was something very unpleasant about the man, not just because he left behind in London a woman he had intended to marry (he mentioned this at the office without embarrassment), or because of his eye for the Japanese schoolgirls who always filled up his particular teaching schedule on the shared timetable they all used to prepare their work day. It was felt that no one at the office would like to be in a situation where they would have to rely on him for something important, some action that would prove they really were on the same side. How did Erin become friends with someone like that?

Chris was not like that. He could never be like that. Chris was just off the plane from Australia and was one of the nicest people that Erin had met at the school. In fact, he was too nice. Erin remembered how Chris tried to press money on him when they were in the break room and Erin mentioned a camera that he wanted to buy. It was comical at the time; now it seemed to Erin a real weakness. Chris had never lived in a big city; he had never lived outside of his own small town. His father and uncles – and this really charmed Erin – were farmers who raised prizewinning sheep (Chris once showed him a photograph of himself holding up a young lamb with a ribbon attached to its head). The family was also religious (Erin quickly forgot their denomination) and had warned Chris not to get involved with the wrong people, meaning women who were not Australian and people who drank anything stronger than beer. Erin wondered privately why Chris agreed to spend any amount of time with two heathens like he and Frederick in a subterranean reggae bar. In vino veritas, he thought. He picked up the laminated menu and looked at the other brands.

*

It was Lemon Hart; not Lemon Heart. Erin knew this one. The bottles at the bottom of the laminated menu were the strongest. He saw the proofs and percentages of alcohol. Same with the wine – what little they had – vodka, brandy, whiskey). They did dip in, but this was a rum night. He had never tried that brand before; wondered about the spelling, not the drink.

No, they – each of them – had never tried it before. All of them were rookies around that light-coloured rum that Suzuki carefully measured out in three glasses. Some Captain Morgan Dark had already passed their test. Bacardi, Malibu (just syrup for alcoholics, Erin thought and said), Montego Bay, Cutlass… There was more of a taste of bay leaf in the last two. He could taste it and remember the number of times he had it before. It was a sense memory.

Frederick was not in the best condition after the last one. What a wuss, Erin thought. Or was that even true? The glow of fluorescent light seemed to be dancing on his eyelids, coaxing him to sleep. Chris was all right, still in his chair; or he seemed okay.

He loved them. Frederick spilled another glass and Chris had to go to the bathroom. Erin really loved them both. Suzuki was looking at them from behind the bar. Chris was on the floor and had started to crawl for the bathroom (he was headed in the right direction so Erin did not try to help). Frederick started at another bottle on their table. The label was black with lettering that was taken from a blue and green map of Jamaica. Well, it would be, wouldn’t it? Erin saw Michiko behind the bar. She had very black eyes in the dim light of the bar. And she was in green.

Yes, he loved everybody. Chris never came back and Freddy (Frederick) had his head on the table. The light in the overhead lamps seemed stronger. Erin could not even stare at the candlelight on the table. He said something to Michiko. They were joined behind the bar by someone that Erin did not know. He could not hear what they were talking about. The reggae was a dub mix with a DJ chanting over the beat. And it seemed so loud.

Where did Moses and Ben come from? He was now in the park, trying to figure out a way of getting home that would not involve passing under any of the lights that seemed brighter than before. They did not have to grab him like that without any warning. He was stupid but they were his friends; they were real friends. Frederick was still in there; Chris – what about him? There was no one else in the park; he walked without thinking about the way home.

Erin could not go back there. There was something hard and sour in the back of his throat, something he had never tasted before. He wondered why he behaved that way that one night. He had never even thought of behaving that way before. Michiko was not happy; Suzuki did not say anything. Ben had been behind him somehow and Moses came out from the kitchen so quickly. They did not bother with Freddie (Frederick).

There was nothing Erin could think of saying when Michiko began crying. The dress was ruined and he never got the chance to offer her some money for a new one. He was out on the street in a minute and Moses told him that he was a lucky man. Ben was the quiet one. Erin noticed that he still had the menu in his hands. He held it up and Moses grabbed it from him. It did not belong to him. The tasting was over.

*

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