A Tale of Friendship and Sushi

After running with my pooch Lana, I realized that I was starving. I decided the time had come to get on my bike and go downtown for a long overdue visit to a friend of mine who works as a chef at a Japanese restaurant downtown called Sushi King. Truth be told, we met because I would go there for lunch once a week when I worked for the Forest Service and finally he suggested in his thick Thai accent that perhaps we should know each other’s names. He finds my name impossible to pronounce and calls me “B.” Assuming that I would find his name equally impossible to pronounce he told me to call him “O” - and so it stands. This was all the more amusing two years ago when I went to Thailand and he gave me his sister’s phone number. Her name? Ah.

After parking my bike on the sidewalk (I LOVE that about owning a motorcycle!) I walked in and sang out “Sawadee-ca!” imitating the inflections of the women I heard at the street markets in Surat Thani before giving O a hug over the rice cooker and sliding into my seat at the bar. He told me that I looked “better” and I wondered what I had looked like last time he saw me, or if he had simply misspoken when meaning to tell me that I looked good.O always does his best to hook me up with extra treats on the side, which is one of the perks of having to visit him at the restaurant. Like most immigrants, he works an impossible amount of hours and our attempts to socialize outside of the restaurant have met with failure. That night he concocted a delicious spicy citrus salad with chunks of raw fish hidden amongst the leafy greens for me. It was entirely delectable and upon seeing how much I enjoyed it, he promised to make it for me every time I come in from then on out. He and I chatted about his nieces and nephews and his upcoming travel to Thailand. He asked what I wanted him to bring back for me and laughed as I described how I helped build my own house, exclaiming “most girls don’t do that!”

As the restaurant grew quiet he slipped into the back, promising to be back in a few minutes. When he reemerged, holding two dishes of red bean and ice cream, something happened that had never happened before- he came around the bar and sat down next to me so we could eat together. As I sat there letting the smooth, cold sweetness slide down my throat I marveled at the strange privilege of sitting side by side with my friend. It was a reminder of how many simple things we can take for granted.