Chapter 27 August 9th. Because it’s not too hot, not too cold, all you need is a small pub quiz
I stop right in front of the pub that Toby sent me to. My spirits were too high to ask the right questions in the moment. My judgement was too clouded by the girlish joy of a new blooming relationship to query very important information. But on the escalator, I typed out:
Fuko: So what friends am I meeting?
Toby: They’re my friends from Oxford.
I feel my determination deflate with every second.
I try not to judge anyone, but something about them all being from the numberone university in the UK makes me lose my confidence (number-two if you ask anyone from Cambridge).
I recall some kids at my Catholic school making fun of Sashka’s and my accents, constantly mispronouncing our names, and persistently pretending to not understand what we were saying the first time we said it.
Fuko: I’m outside, being a chicken.
Toby: I promise they are nice. I wouldn’t be friends with weirdos. We can dip if it gets to be too much.
He doesn’t make me feel silly or belittle my feelings. Takes his time to reassure me and gives me the option to leave if I don’t want to be there. Very hard not to swoon.
The pub is rammed with people eager to win the quiz, but I spot the group immediately.
Toby waves and brings a stool to the table.
He gives his seat with a proper back to me.
He dresses very differently when he’s not at work.
Black mock-neck short-sleeved shirt and pleated black trousers.
Oh god, his arms look great. Don’t stare, Fuko.
Look somewhere else. Not his hands, his hands have rings on.
‘Everyone, this is Fuko.’
‘Hi.’ I wave with both my hands and proceed to overthink the gesture. Did it look odd? Am I overdoing it?
‘Wah gwaan, Fuko. That’s a cool name. Is it Japanese?’ A man with curly black hair asks.
‘Yeah, it’s meant to be Fuuko.’
‘Ah, two moras on the u, that’s so cool,’ he says, looking genuinely excited to learn. ‘I’m Isaac.’
‘I do not know what a mora is, but Isaac is also fun, two a’s, yet it makes a kind of an i sound. Ai-zik,’ I say without thinking.
‘You know what, I have had this argument multiple times with people.’ He forcefully places his elbows on the table.
‘Here we go,’ says the woman with a blonde pixie cut.
‘Not again.’ The woman with braids and laid edges rolls her eyes.
He kisses his teeth at the others, telling them to stay in their lane. ‘I completely agree with you, Fuuko. A and a in Isaac makes an i sound, which to me makes it a digraph, like c and h make ch—’
A man to the left of Isaac puts his hands up into a T.
‘I am pausing this. We haven’t introduced everyone yet. Hi, nice to meet you, I am Kenley.’
Kenley is a tall man with a delicate flair in the way he flails his arms. He is hunched over, probably from not wanting to loom over people. His accent is very Northern and reminds me of my grandmother.
‘Nice to meet you!’
‘I am Freja!’ says the girl with a pixie cut. A slight Scandinavian accent slips through.
‘I am Zaria. Pleasure to meet you.’ The girl with braids smiles brightly, a slight gap between her front teeth.
‘Chloe,’ says the last girl, just as pretty as the other two, but there is something fae-like in her face. I have seen her before.
She forces a smile, but it was an obvious afterthought.
Uh-oh, she has decided that she doesn’t like me.
‘So, Fuko, you work with Toby, right? We heard of his suspension.’ Zaria chuckles.
‘How much do you know?’ I glance at Toby to see any clues on his face.
‘He won’t tell us anything, which is strange because he’s usually an open book,’ Kinley chimes in.
‘Only because it’s not up to me to tell it.’ Toby shrugs.
Chloe glances at him, at me, takes a sip of her drink and looks away. Right, there is some weird tension here. Mental note made—I’ll ask about it later.
Where have I seen her?
‘Let’s just say I have this thing of being mildly unlucky, which then kinda got Toby in trouble.’
‘I’m going to get you a drink,’ Toby whispers and brushes his hand on my back. ‘Zaria is about to bombard you with questions.’
I prepare to be asked about the juicy details of our illegal-in-the-eyes-of-HR doings, when she asks, ‘What do you mean by mildly unlucky?’
‘Oh.’ I am taken aback and then try to formulate my explanation.
‘In Japan, when you go to a shrine, you get an omikuji, a fortune on a piece of paper. It’s split into health, love, school, travel, and other things.
Next to them, there is a score of how blessed you are: big blessing, middle blessing, small blessing, small curse, middle curse, big curse. ’
Everyone is listening intently, nodding along. Not in a polite-English-nod way, in a please-continue way.
‘I have my own system that looks at luck as a whole: big luck, small luck, small misfortune, big misfortune. I kinda sort people into those categories. I’m mildly unlucky.’ Toby puts a beer in front of me. ‘Or not! Thank you.’
‘This is fascinating. I have so many questions. So... like, are all pretty and rich people lucky?’
‘No. Conditions of birth do not count. Neither do skill or appearance. I am talking about random events. Like...’ I think for a second.
‘Like a die roll. People who are lucky will roll more sixes than the average person. People who are unlucky will roll more ones. People who are lucky can still roll a few ones, and people who are unlucky can still roll sixes.’
‘So, you take the average?’ Kinley asks.
‘Correct. Toby, for example, has small fortune. I know he’s minted’—gets a strong laugh—‘but if there is a competition in a supermarket, he will randomly win something insignificant... like detergent. I would not win anything because there is no negative possibility. But if there are low chances of rain—I will get rained on, and Toby will not.’
‘So, like, in theory... you can quantify luck numerically. If we sit down for long enough, and I make you and Toby flip coins for hours—’
‘Please do not do that to them.’ Chloe shudders.
‘You bloody know she will, as well,’ says Freja.
‘Can luck change?’ Zaria completely ignores the rest of the table.
‘I think it can.’ Toby smiles at me.
‘It’s his working theory. I did something very fun and carefree today, so my luck has potentially improved.’
‘Fortune’s expensive smile is earned.’ Freja nods.
‘Precisely.’ Toby clinks his glass. ‘Good ol’ Emily D. So, what did you do today?’
‘John was involved.’ I test the waters.
Toby’s carefree smile fades, gradually replaced by a scowl. His friends laugh and point at him. I guess they were right about him being an open book. I pull out my phone and present John’s creation to the table. ‘You lot went to Oxford. What do you see?’
‘Oh goodness.’ Chloe, Freja, and Zaria laugh. Toby’s mouth is gaping. Kinley scrunches his nose uncomfortably.
‘What? What is it?’ Isaac brings the phone closer to his face. ‘Is it the name?’
‘Please be honest right now, man.’ Zaria kisses her teeth.
‘John filmed this?’ Toby asks. ‘Steven was fine with that? Did he throw—’
‘A Specsavers joke? Of course he did. But anyway, the whole team didn’t see the very obvious vulva.’
‘Oh, I see it now.’ Isaac hums.
‘So I basically took charge to reshoot it.’ I explain what had to be done and all the failures that we went through.
I answer some questions that the table has, about the type of equipment we used, types of bulbs. Kinley whistles with an approving nod when I mention Peli cases.
Toby is silent. I catch him staring from the corner of my eye. He is leaning into his fist; a satisfied smile floats on his face. When I look back, he straightens his back and grins away from me. Under the table, his warm hand squeezes mine. I blush but squeeze it back.
With each passing conversation, I relax.
I can’t believe I was worried about Toby’s friends.
They are going out of their way to make me feel included, explaining all of their jokes, asking me what I would have done if I had been with them when one or another event took place.
Even Chloe exchanged a few jokes with me.
The pub quiz starts. Our team (that we called the GIN-dependent source) gives the pen and paper to Chloe, who apparently has the most eligible handwriting.
She asks me whether I want to do it, but I inform her that spelling isn’t my strongest in either of my languages, and she chuckles, accepting the responsibility.
The first round is pretty easy: the capital of Canada, largest ocean, smallest planet in the solar system.
We are given ten minutes to answer ten questions. GIN-dependent source do so in seven.
Next round, pop culture. I am not great at it, Toby—weirdly good. Which pop singer joined Queen: Adam Lambert. Last Twilight book is called...
‘Breaking Dawn,’ Freja whispers so that the table next to us, lads in Chelsea club’s T-shirts, don’t hear.
‘Nuh-uh, Midnight Sun. From Edward’s perspective.’ Toby taps on the paper.
I am quite useless that round until the host says, ‘How many ‘doofs’ can be heard in the opening of Eastenders.’
‘Nine,’ I mouth, also noticing that the football fans are cheats and keep trying to copy our answer.
Kinley and Isaac are excellent at the history section. My only assist is answering which British general surrendered to George Washington. General Cornwallis. Mel Gibson stole his dog in The Patriot.
We are leading at half point.
The more niche the questions get, the more confident the table feels.
Between Toby, Zaria, and myself, all film questions are answered perfectly, I just know it.
Sports... now, that’s a let down. Freja and Chloe are the only two who know anything, but, honestly, my hopes are low.
If the question is about the bottom team in the Japanese basketball league, I will confidently give the answer of the Toyama Grouses, but alas, no question of the sort comes.
In the end, that is to our detriment. We lose to the bloody Chelsea fans.