Face Time – Chapter 21

Laura

The lasagna is almost ready by the time my iPhone buzzes. I peek into the oven and the top is bubbling away, cheese and sauce dotted with mushrooms and spinach that I lovingly put together last night in prep for my guests this evening. I’m so hungry, I could die. I left work at 5pm today and took a 5:30 spin class before coming home and putting the lasagna in the oven. I have two bottles of red wine and a loaf of Italian semolina bread from Chelsea Market. I’m all set. I even asked Justin to come over too because I think he’ll get along with Nicole. He’s free on a Friday night. Either Justin’s sick of dating or he’s found someone who’s not available tonight.

—-

Nicole Kapur

What’s your apartment again? I forgot to write it down.

—-

Laura Merchant

It’s 3B. I’ll buzz you in. 3rd floor.

—-

We’re all outgoing and nonjudgmental, laid-back and easy, so I’m not worried about this evening at all. If anything I’m worried about Lee coming to visit me. I want him to come, want to see him, am aching to touch him or hug him, but it will come with the price of my confession. I’ve been debating back and forth all day: tell him about the abortion and what I really did in Asia before he spends thousands of dollars on a plane ticket to come here and find out I have a horrible past, or tell him over FaceTime, which seems wrong and impersonal for something of this magnitude? I don’t know what to do but maybe it’ll all work out. And if I just repeat that in my head over and over, maybe it will.

“Hi! I brought some dessert.” Nicole enters the front hallway and kicks off her shoes without me having to ask her. That’s one of my house rules. I like to leave the dirt of the city at the door. “I hope you like cannoli.”

“Mmmm, I do. Who doesn’t?” I grasp the pastry box from her hands by the red and white twine and place it on the kitchen table.

“My ex hated cannoli.”

“Well, he was obviously a loser with bad taste in desserts.”

Nicole bursts into a laugh and hangs up her rain coat in the hallway. Today, the dull, gray sky pissed down rain all day long. Cold, dreary, unapologetic rain from the morning straight through to tomorrow, according to the weather reports. I’m staying home tomorrow to pack boxes.

“Right on both accounts.” She nods and grasps my left arm with a smile. “Hey. When did you get the bracelets? We’re twins now.”

“Lee sent them from India.” I run my hand over them and twirl them around my arm. “I didn’t even tell him about yours. He sent me a sari too. I have no idea how to wear it.”

“Is it silk?”

“I think so. It certainly is pretty. I can show you later.” Opening the oven, the scent of lasagna fills the whole kitchen and both Nicole and I mmmm at the same time.

“Make sure you box up the sari in a cool, dry place but not in plastic. I lost a few saris to bad storage in my early twenties. My grandmother lectured me for months.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that. Okay, I’ll let this sit for ten minutes before cutting into it.” The buzzer rings again as I’m trying to wrestle the pan onto the stove. “Nicole, can you buzz in Justin, please? Just hold the ‘door’ button.”

Clomping echoes up the stairwell. Justin takes the stairs two-at-a-time and is never late for anything because he’s the fastest walker in New York. He often says I’m the only friend who can keep up with him when he goes out.

“What’s up, bitches? It’s so fucking nasty outside. Please tell me we’re not going anywhere else tonight.” Justin leaves his Converse at the front door, the bottoms of his black jeans are soaked, and he’s layered a short sleeve vintage shirt over an old Morrisey concert tee. He must have a drawer full of shirts like that. “Oops, sorry, New Person. I don’t know if you like to be referred to as ‘bitches.’”

Nicole laughs, waving her hand. “I’m Nicole, and I don’t care what you call me. But, this does remind me.” Nicole reaches into her bag while Justin hangs up his coat in the hall and drops his umbrella at the front door. “I brought you a little gift.” She hands me a slim paper bag and inside is Dirty Korean: Everyday Slang from “What’s up?” to “F*%# Chapter off!”.

“Thank you! Wow, I need this book.” I flip it over and read the back, laughing. “I want to talk dirty in Korean.”

“It’s good to know when people are insulting you in another language, too. You never know.” She shrugs her shoulders with a smile. “I once had an old man in the fish marketplace in Seoul call me a ‘cheap bitch’ and I gave him a stern talking to in Korean. He was so embarrassed. My boyfriend stood back with his arms crossed and nodded. Man, my Korean has nosedived.”

“I’m sure it’ll all come back to you. You have a few months before you move. You said summer, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, straightening out her shirt. “I’d like to be in Seoul for my birthday at the end of July.”

Justin slips past Nicole and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I have a gift too.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small baggie containing three rolled joints. “This is all for you. I owe you from the last time you brought to my place.”

“I could kiss you. This is exactly what I need tonight.”

“Ew, don’t.” But before he can move away, I grab his face and lick his cheek. His skin is wet with rain and stubbled, tickling my tongue. “God, Laura. You’re gross.” Using his entire palm, he wipes off his cheek as Nicole doubles over in laughter. “Is that your idea of foreplay? Because it needs work.”

“It’s how I show affection. And with Spring Fever in effect, you’re lucky I don’t pin you to the ground and hump you senseless.”

“Thanks, doggie. Maybe next time.”

“Nicole, will you?” I wave the bag at her and she nods.

“Absolutely. That’s the best way to spend a Friday night. And we should smoke now before we eat, am I right?”

“Yes!” Both Justin and I shout at the same time. I dash to my bedroom and grab the lighter from next to the scores of candles still on my dresser. This is definitely what I need tonight, to forget about the complications in my life for a bit. It’s too bad Lee is so far away (though I say this one hundred billion times per day) because I love sex while stoned. Oh well.

In the kitchen, I pull the ash tray I keep for this sort of occasion from the cabinet over the stove, and we all sit down. The joint is lit as I stuff a towel under the front door, and we pass it around a few times, inhaling and not coughing. We’re all obviously pros.

I pour everyone a glass of water before cutting the bread and lasagna while Nicole and Justin chat about what they do for a living. Nicole is a lot like me. She’s working as an administrative assistant to save money for her career change to Korean English teacher in the fall. Her parents and younger brother live in New Jersey and help pay her rent, and she went to Rutgers for her undergrad in English. It’s strange how much we have in common.

“I want to write novels, but I sit down and nothing comes.” Nicole passes the joint to me in the kitchen, and I inhale and hold before blowing the smoke into the hood of the stove. If anyone were on the roof, they’d get a good second-hand hit out of that, but it’s raining and everyone has their windows closed. Mmmm, my ears are tingling, and I’m jumpy and happy as I cut the lasagna into decent-sized squares. I made enough to feed an army — leftovers for a week and some for the freezer.

“Give it time. Going back to Korea should give you something to write about.” Setting down the knife, I stare at the stove, a prick of memory at the back of my skull. “Did you ever journal when you traveled?”

Justin chugs his entire glass of water, so I bring the pitcher from the fridge to the table.

“I have stacks of journals from when I lived in Europe,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “I wrote about every place I went, saved every last receipt, and drew pictures of all the locations I spent time in: Venice, Florence, the Alps, Berlin.” He rubs his face, his pupils dilated and whites of his eyes already red. “Hmmm, I wonder where they are? Probably at home.”

“How long ago was that?” Nicole asks, reaching for the bottle of wine and corkscrew. I get up to retrieve wine glasses. Up and down. Up and down. I have trouble sitting still.

“Ten years ago. I think when I was traveling Europe, Laura was in the East.”

“I was.” Slowly, through the fog of pot and repressed memories in my head, Asia is coming back to me. I arrived home from Bangkok a total mess. My hair was braided and in dreads because I had let it go in the oppressive heat and humidity, and I was about thirty pounds underweight. My stomach refused to digest food properly, and I had to take a two-week course of antibiotics when I landed back in the States. Dozens of bruises dotted my legs from letting my backpack knock against them in crowded buses. My own father didn’t recognize me when he picked me up at JFK.

I got the email my aunt died sitting in a 100-baht-per-hour internet cafe along Khaosan Road. My mom and her sisters were close and Aunt Susan was my biggest supporter, there for every milestone of my youth and held my hand throughout David’s funeral. I slumped over the keyboard of the computer and cried until some Thai prostitute who was sitting next to me gave me a tissue. The kindness of strangers. I went back to my insect-infested hotel, threw out all of my clothes but two outfits, and left for the airport without saying goodbye to the guy I was sleeping with at the time. When I arrived in Bangkok two weeks prior, I stored a box of items I picked up in Malayasia and Japan, including all of my journals, at the airport luggage lockup. I retrieved them and boarded the next flight home.

Those journals are sitting in the back of my closet. I haven’t looked at them in years. I didn’t even open the box when I took them from my parents’ house and moved in here.

“Laura?” Both Nicole and Justin are looking at me frozen in the kitchen holding wine glasses. “Should we eat now?” Nicole asks.

“Yes. Sorry. I was sucked back in time for a moment. The pot…” I wave my hand by my head and roll my eyes.

“I’ll help.” Justin rises from the table. “Did you hear Nicole say she blogged her entire trip to Korea?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” I unstick my feet from the floor and pass Justin opening my cabinets to get out plates. “Is it still online? Send me the address. I’d love to read it.”

“Sure,” she says, pulling out her phone. “It’ll give you a good idea of what to expect in Korea.”

“Wait. Are you going to Korea?” Justin dishes out lasagna while I fill up wine glasses. “Things must be working out with Lee.”

“They are.” I blush, the pot making my head spin. “And yeah, I want to visit and at least see what Korea is like. I think he wants me to come. We’ll see.”

“This lasagna looks amazing, Laura.” Justin inhales over the dish on the stove. “I love that you’re such a good cook and will cook for me. I have no other friends that do this.”

“Nicole and I are taking a Korean cooking class on Wednesday at the Whole Foods downtown. Bibimbap and barbecue. Mmmm. I can’t wait.”

“Then you just need to learn to make pickles and kimchi and you’re all set. Trust me. Cornerstones of the Korean diet.” Nicole nods her head knowingly. Okay, pickles and kimchi next.

“Fantastic.” He brings three plates to the table, expertly balancing a dish along his forearm, which makes me smile. This is another thing that united the two of us: he also waited tables in his twenties. “So I’ll be over on Thursday to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Fine. You know I’m always happy to cook for others.”

“You’d make a excellent housewife.” Justin winks at me, and I’m reminded of my mother. I never wanted to be anything like her, but the idea of living in Seoul, cooking for Lee and his friends, and entertaining his coworkers, excites the hell out of me. It’s so strange. It’s not even something I dreamed of doing six months ago. The idea of the perfect American housewife was repulsive, but the adventurous, overseas, traveling wife sounds grand.

“All I need is an apron.” I raise my glass. “To new, old, and absent friends.”