giri as a thing of the past

So I am outside this evening, playing with some devil sticks in the courtyard of my apartment, like a kid, waiting for my fiance to come home.  There, I cross paths with the young lawyer from Bulgaria who lives on the sixth floor of my building.

"That juggling's pretty impressive," she says.

I bow to her, but say nothing.  Bowing is a great way to shrug off compliments.

"Join us for some drinks," she nods at the shopping bags full of Asahi Super Dry that occupy both her hands.

"I don't drink," I grin, somewhat nervously.

"Still?" she asked with a sense of surprise that has become familiar to me. "You're going to make me feel bad again now!"  Sometime last fall before I quit drinking, I was feeling the type of groundless generosity that only a drunk can possess and picked up a tab for her at a karaoke bar where a group of us had drummed up a pretty tall bill.  My refusal to let her return the favor is getting on her nerves.

"I have giri," she says seriously.  Though neither of us is Japanese, we understand the concept of "giri" (or "duty") very well.  And in this situation, giri dictates that if my acquaintance is not able to repay the generosity she once received from me, then she should feel unbearably ashamed.

I shrug, as if to tell her that she may as well commit harakiri now if she can't deal with the shame of being unable to pay me back.

"Well," she says, "stop by my apartment anyway.  This is the only night of the week that I finish work early."  I look at my watch, noting it's 9:30pm.

"Ok, maybe later," I lie, "I'm waiting for Trevor to come home."

"See you then," she says, making it my turn to feel guilty.

"Do you like me better now that I don't drink?" I ask Trevor, back in our room.

"Yes," he replies immediately.

"Is that the right answer?" I ask again, half joking and half curious.

"Is it?" he deflects my inquiry.

"But you liked me before I quit drinking too, right."

"You were the same person," he assures me, "but now you are a much more constant companion."

"I think that ever since you decided you didn't need to drink," he continues, "nothing but good things have been coming your way."

So much is undeniably true.  I am better at just about everything I do now, and for a goal-oriented type this is very satisfying.

"Then why do I miss it so much?" I want do ask, but I don't.  Actually, I only think to ask so much after I type up the above conversation.  But now he has gone to the store.  Besides, I don't think he knows.

I hear his key in the door now.  He's brought me back cucumber pepsi.

Comments

[Scout]

This is a very, very nice piece of writing.

Peace,
Scout
P.S. tell on yourself at your meeting