Life is a Glass of Orange Juice

Sugiyama Nori

“I… I don’t know.”

Sugiyama downed a glass of orange juice as if it were whiskey. He slammed it down on the table, respectfully. He groaned. He licked his lips with a satisfied smile. Then, he let out a small laugh while he lifted his eyes to meet the gaze of the bartender, who seemed like he was inches away from punching him in the face.

Bar Low. This was Sugiyama’s best place to get a drink. It was five minutes away from his office, seven minutes away from KaraKOE, and about thirteen minutes from his condo unit.

The bar had a great ambiance. It smelled of sugar and wood, quite obvious given the amount of shiny oak-textured furniture the establishment had. Its overall rustic feel sometimes tricked his brain into thinking he was in a tavern somewhere in the world instead of being in the near-soulless yet bustling heart of the business block of Kanzakicho; the only thing that reminded him of that fact were the moments when the jazz music in the background would play equally smooth instrumental covers of anime openings.

The best part, in his opinion, was that there were not a lot of people around. Bar Low was considered to be one of the smaller, less popular bars in the block. Granted, not a lot of people would be drinking alcohol late in the afternoon, but that very fact made this bar special to his heart. But most importantly—

There was a playful chuckle.

“You seem a little too enthusiastic about drinking a glass of orange juice. That’s pretty cute.”

The voice of a woman. On the bar counter. Two seats away from him.

The white noise that was the bar’s background music suddenly felt a bit hostile. Sugiyama dared not look her way. Instead, he slowly closed his eyes and leaned more toward the counter, counting it as an effort to make himself look more mysterious. Then, he lifted his glass of orange juice, smiling at its sweet smell and realizing that he had just finished the motherfucker a minute ago.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

But wait.

He had to calm down.

He could tell that he was going to start visibly shaking very soon.

Quickly, before another thought came to mind, he imagined himself sitting in a park holding a box of chocolates. He was talking to an old lady. He did not know what kind of stress made him imagine this kind of bullshit at this instant, but it made him remember that life was a box of chocolates and that one would never know what they were gonna get.

That was a stupid fucking quote.

But—

It reminded him not to do something stupid. But if he was going to do something stupid, it had to be so deliberate that it would not be called stupid.

Sugiyama swirled his glass, widening his grin at the sound the ice made as it rolled over. Then, he proceeded to move the mouth of the glass a few centimeters from his nose, whiffing the watered-down smell of orange juice and his own saliva.

Only then did he find the courage to talk to the stranger at his side.

“I like the experience.”

Sugiyama tilted his head, adding more mystery to his air.

To keep it simple, the girl was cute. She seemed like a tired office worker or a shabby saleslady by the way she was dressed; from the looks of things, she had just ended her shift. Because if she was starting her shift looking like that, then… damn.

There was a faint smell of vodka in the air, particularly coming her way. With it mixing with the sweetness of her perfume, he could understand how others might find her presence intoxicating. But based on the condensation on her glass, either she had just gotten here smelling like this—like she had been bar hopping—or she had been drinking in silence so quickly that there wasn’t enough time for her glass to “sweat” just yet.

In short, regardless of the facts and his options on the table—she was more or less a fucking alcoholic.

“Besides,” Sugiyama continued coolly, “my shift starts at six and I can’t turn up to my office drunk. That’ll be a violation of the company rules and regulations, and I cannot have that on my ass right now after I’ve been called to HR just a few weeks ago.”

Still.

What he liked about Bar Low the most was that it was small and unpopular enough to ensure his safety while he tried his best to talk with people from all walks of life.

Most bars were populated by groups of older dudes, other office workers who looked like they were one problem away from jumping off a bridge, girls who are too clumped together for him to talk to, and—god forbid—thugs who would beat him up. It was also in these types of bars where he would sometimes encounter cute girls who were overly chatty; he didn’t like their smell, so he ran away from them.

Yes. With Bar Low, he could take his time.

After HR threatened to fire his ass—after he had threatened one of his team members that he would fire their ass for fucking up their entire schedule—he made a point to talk to at least one person outside of his workplace a day. Sugiyama believed that this would help him understand other people more and be receptive as to why people were fucking up their deadlines with little to no blockers.

Bar Low being a much smaller bar meant smaller groups and people who were chill, for example, this alcoholic right—

Now, she may have given Sugiyama a look of utter disgust and given up because she had perceived him to be ugly. But that was fine. Now, he understood that. She could get judgy. She was free to do that. That was the benefit of finding time to talk to other people. He could learn. It didn’t bother him. The fact that she slowly moved away from the counter to talk to a big, bearded foreigner at the corner of the shop—his name was Bob, by the way… he learned that he and his parents were visiting their country for the first time, he was a cool guy—instead of continuing her conversation with him didn’t bother Sugiyama at all.

Motherfucker.

Calm. He had to calm down.

And right, he had another entirely different conversation to get back to. That was also another reason why he came to Bar Low this time of day.

“So yeah… Tanaka, I’m sorry I got Noemi killed,” Sugiyama said to the bartender. “I know you had plans to turn your character into something like Jack the Ripper, but because of me—” he stifled a laugh. “—she got stepped on by a golem and got cracked like a cockroach.”

“Yeah—” Tanaka replied with a small smile as he served a drink to a different customer. “I was planning to punch you in the face, but seeing you try to pick up a girl and fail makes up for it. And now that I’m thinking about it, it is pretty funny—not sure about what Fujimaru thinks about it, though.”

“She threatened to stab me with a knife.”

Tanaka raised a brow.

“Kidding.” Sugiyama lowered his head, keeping his eyes on Tanaka. “More like the feeling I got when she glared at me. If she said that to me straight, I’d believe her and go to the police.”

“Well…” Tanaka continued, giving him a glass of ice-cold water. “Not sure if you knew this, but she told me days before the session that she commissioned someone to do the art for Ameen. Then, the session came along and Ameen got kicked by a golem and splattered into the nearby wall.”

“Like a bug…”

Sugiyama wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Fujimaru Kyoko. She was a fellow player and the person who played Ameen, a very sweet boy who served as the party’s healer. Imagining how Fujimaru glared at Sugiyama on the day Ameen died still made him want to sleep with the lights on with both his door and windows locked—his unit was on the seventh floor of the building.

“Man, Yoshioka liked describing our characters like bugs in that fight.” Tanaka grimaced, trying not to laugh. He was failing. “Then yeah, as per tradition, Yoshioka made Fujimaru tear her character sheet in front of everyone.”

“I can try reimbursing the money she spent for Ameen’s art. That might work, but she rejected my apology once.” Sugiyama sipped some water, holding the glass with both hands. “I can try again, but if I end up in the morning news… I’ll leave it to you to call the police.”

Tanaka smiled. “You need my help then?”

“Maybe.”

“No can do.”

“Wait. Why not?”

“I can’t make the time.” Tanaka served another customer and went back to him. “Unless you know exactly where she works or you could have us meet outside of everyone’s shifts, I can’t help you.”

Sugiyama leaned forward. “But what if I tell you—”

“You’ve stalked her that far already, huh?”

“I’m kidding,” Sugiyama stifled a chuckle, still confused if he should find this funny or offensive. “If I tried that on her, I’m afraid she would lead me to an alleyway and stab me to death. Then, she’ll make it look like a junkie did it to escape the police.”

“That’s—”

“I had a lot of time to think about it in the shower.”

“That’s not what I like to hear at all.”

Sugiyama breathed, pointing his eyes to the half-empty glass before him. “So, it’s true then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re quitting the game.”

“I mean…” Tanaka crossed his arms. “Yeah, it’s true. But it’s not your fault.”

Sugiyama furrowed his brow.

“Serious,” Tanaka continued. “I already told Yoshioka about it beforehand. My plan was to have Noemi step back from the party as soon as we were done with that dungeon—it just so happened that our party got wiped before we did so… yeah.”

“Did something happen?”

“My coworker’s mom got sick. She asked our boss if she could have more days off so that she could take care of her mom. Then, the boss asked me to cover for her for the next two months. And I like money, so…”

“Glad to know it wasn’t that serious.”

“It’s no biggie, really,” Tanaka snorted. “Characters die all the time, man. And like I told you before when you were making that self-insert, your characters are a part of you but they are never you. Fujimaru might stab you because of it—I highly doubt it, by the way—but I sure as hell won't. Because who knows, you may have fucked us over in that dungeon… I mean, if you didn't get us killed in the dungeon, I’m pretty sure that Noemi could’ve gotten you guys killed too.”

Sugiyama threw Tanaka a helpless smile. “Because you think it’s funny?”

“Exactly.” Tanaka let out a small laugh. “So, what about you? I mean, you said earlier that you don’t know what to do but… what’s your plan?”

“Hearing you talk about Noemi and how you think it’s funny for me to grief other players gave me a bit of courage.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But yeah, Yoshioka sent me a message. He said that he finished prepping and needed a party in Galemoore. He asked me if I was up for it.”

“Sounds pretty cool.”

“It is. He already sent me a reference document,” Sugiyama continued. “It’s not as gritty. He said that we could expect the same level of violence, but shifting it a bit to be more of a shounen style. Friendship and whatnot. The most important part is that Fujimaru is coming back to play and she’s bringing another player along.”

“So—”

“I think I learned a lot from my previous game. I think it was able to impact me in my real life as well. Not by a long shot, since I’m still very much hated by my team but… it’s a start.” Sugiyama faced Tanaka. “I’ll try working with my team this time around instead of focusing on my shenanigans.”

Tanaka smiled. “Please don’t turn Fujimaru into a criminal.”

“Yeah.” Sugiyama stood from his seat and left his payment on the counter. The change was for Tanaka to keep. “Thanks for the time. I think I’ll give tabletop RPGs another shot.”

He had to pretend he didn’t hear that.