I couldn't do this. I was setting myself up for something horrible and wrong and I wouldn't allow myself to concoct these dreams and emotions of helping this man overcome his loneliness. For all I knew, he liked it that way. Maybe he had more time to himself. He was reclusive, right? That's what every article said about him, and even if they were similar to tabloids, entertainment gossip, why would anyone lie about that?
He liked being alone, and his wife liked to travel, so perhaps they were a match made in heaven. I had no right to judge their relationship, or them.
"Would you pour me some sake?" Asher asked, snapping me back to reality.
I stared at him. "Can' t you pour it yourself?"
He grinned. "I could, but it's Japanese custom for two people eating to pour each other's drinks. I'll pour yours if you'll pour mine?"
"Is that like 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours ?'" I asked in a fit of sassiness.
"Similar," he said with a laugh, "but not quite."
I stuck my tongue out at him. I don't know why. It was a silly, girlish thing to do, but he stuck his tongue out right back at me. I smiled, then reached for the ceramic pitcher and poured him a cup of the heated drink. The warmth of it let up a slip of steam. He returned the favor, leaving me with a cup of warm sake to drink.
I sipped at my drink, letting the hot, warmth of it trickle down my throat and leave a pleasant burn. Asher raised his cup in a toast. I wasn't used to this, to toasting, or customs, or anything at all like what he was treating me to, but I didn't feel as awkward as I'd first felt. Lifting my cup, I waited for him to speak.
"To your answer," he said. "Whatever it may be. I hope it leads us both to a revelation."
I laughed and tapped my cup against his when he tipped it towards mine. The sake rippled in our cups, and when I went to drink, it seemed more like a pond than a cup of spirits. Some infinite, endless, bottomless cup, where if I tossed something into it, that something would never come out again. But then, what if I tossed it into me? I drank the contents of my cup in one large, unladylike gulp.
I guess I'd find out? Philosophy wasn't my inherent strong suit, but I loved literature, and there was a certain amount of depth required to understand much of it, so I liked to think I had a knack for thought-provoking topics. Granted, sake was sake, no matter how I looked at it, but maybe it would change my life some day? It already had, in a way. I would never have gotten as drunk as I had before, fallen asleep on a park bench with a friend, if it weren't for sake. Not a lot of people could say the same.
I don't think a lot of people would want to, either.
"So, Jessika," Asher said, conversationally. With a pair of chopsticks he found wrapped in a napkin near his plate, he plucked up a few pieces of sushi from our platter. "What do you do?"
"I… what?" I asked, stalling. To possibly give me more time, I snatched up some sushi for myself, too. If need be, I could eat one and use the excuse of chewing? Not a very good excuse, as I probably shouldn't put something in my mouth right as I needed to answer a question, but the option was there.
"You work for a temp agency, but do you clean offices often? Are you looking for a more steady job? A career? You strike me as someone who has potential."
I smiled, though I felt faint. "You sound like a hiring manager," I said. I wanted that to come across as witty and a joke, but my voice cracked when I talked.
I didn't want to tell him. I wanted to retain some mystery about myself, safeguard any potentially disruptive information. If he knew I had no idea, that I worked as a temp because there just weren't a lot of "good" jobs requiring an English Language and Literature degree, would he dislike me for it?
"I…" I started to say. He refused to respond, merely sitting and watching me while he chewed an unagi roll. "I don't… well, I don't have anything lined up right now. I sort of…"
I stumbled, hoping he might catch me and go with it. Maybe he would see my anxiety and relieve me from having to continue? But, no, no he didn't 't. The only thing he did that was somewhat helpful was pour me another cup of sake. I sipped at it, plopped a cucumber roll into my mouth, chewed, and figured out where to go from there.
"The thing is," I said, thinking I could soften this if I used the right angle. "I graduated with a BA in English and Literature. It's not the most lucrative career option, I know, but reading and the English language have always been my passion. There's just so much more that you can describe in English that isn't in any other language. We have so many words for so many things, and multiple words for the same things that give entirely different impressions or contexts, and…"
I drank some more sake. I definitely felt like I needed it. "I don't know what to do with it, though. No one tells you when you're in school, but some degrees are worthless. I have a degree to have a degree, basically. I can't really do anything with it, except get a few jobs that require a general BA with no real focus. I could go into a writing related field, but the most surefire one is a technical writer, and I…"
"You'd rather clean offices and do menial labor than ruin your passion for the language by reducing it to a base, technical thing?" he offered.
"Yes," I said, letting out a sigh of relief. No one else had really understood that before.
And, sure, technical writing paid decently. It wasn't a bad job in the least, and I imagine a lot of people enjoyed it. But I couldn't make myself do it, no matter how hard I tried. If I could hold out hope, give myself a chance towards something else, then at least my dreams would survive, no matter what else died. If not for dreams, what did we have?
"What do you do, though?" he asked, pointedly. "You don't want to be a technical writer, but what do you want?"
"I…" I hadn't told anyone this, didn't intend to tell him, but it slipped out. "I do book reviews," I said all of a sudden. "Nothing formal, but I really enjoy it. I have a website dedicated to it, kind of like a blog, and I read books in my spare time and then write up a review. I can usually get one done every week, or sometimes if it's a longer book it takes a couple. I could do more, but I need to work, too. I don't think… I don't think it's a very profitable business, but…"
Asher grinned. He held out a sushi roll for me on the end of his chopsticks and instinctively I opened my mouth to receive it. Only when he let it go as I held it between my teeth and let it slip into my mouth did I realize what he'd just done. Feeding me like… like a pet? Or something more , something different?
"The way I see it," he said, "you obviously need to do something involving what you love. Books are a passion, but sometimes you need to make concessions in life, too. Have you thought of reviewing something else, or perhaps perhaps some other kind of book? A more popular genre, perhaps? Something more recent, like what's on the Amazon Kindle Best Sellers lists? What kinds of books do you prefer? Not everyone enjoys writing as literary as Dante's Inferno, you know?" He grinned a wicked grin.
"Asher, I'm so terribly sorry about that again. I really didn't mean to ruin your book. I still feel badly."
He waved away my concern. Then he scooted further to the side and patted the cushion next to him. "Sit here. It's easier to discuss things if we're closer."
Was that it? Yes, it made sense to some extent, but not really. Still, I went. I would have gone no matter what. I didn't know what it was about him, but I felt like I should hang on his every word, wait for him to demand something from me, and then do it as best I could. And not for any particular reason save for the fact that he seemed like the type of person who would never lead me astray. Why did I think this? What was it? I felt guarded and unsure around him, but I also felt a sense of trustworthiness.
When I went to sit next to him, moving slowly as if in a dream, he brought out a pen and pad of paper from his suit coat. As a random observation, I added, "You're still wearing your coat."