No sooner had the publican served us our bitters—a whole pint for Danny, a half for me—than he went right back to the conversation he’d been having. About Jeremy Wright. It took a few seconds for that reality to filter in, though. The pub was noisy, filled with rough-and-tumble builders (“construction workers,” to us Americans) there for an after-work pint. One of them delivered a fresh round to his mates. In return, he was greeted with hearty cheers and manly laughter. Danny locked eyes with him. The builder looked away first. Apparently satisfied, Danny raised his glass to me. “Kanapai!” It meant (roughly) “cheers!” in Japanese—something you might hear in an izakaya, the Japanese equivalent of a pub. I recognized it. I was the one who’d taught it to Danny. But I wasn’t sidetracked. I returned his toast and duly took a sip. Then I nodded at the builder. “What was that all about?” “Nothing.” Danny rotated his shoulder, then took a big slurp of his pint. Our bitters looked dark and tasted darker.
What do You think about The Semi-Sweet Hereafter (2016)?
