Face Time – Chapter 5

Laura

I suspect the relationship with Lee and this ex-girlfriend of his is not entirely over. I mean, look at him. He’s quite a catch. He’s handsome and exotic in the way men from the East are, but he’s American, successful, and living overseas. Why didn’t this ex-girlfriend pick up and move to Seoul with him? Why didn’t she want to travel the world?

I wish I could.

We step into the Starbucks on Broadway, and the cafe is busy this Friday night. Radiohead is seeping from the speakers and at least a dozen people on laptops are working with their headphones on. But I think if Starbucks were open twenty-four-hours a day in the city, someone would always be inside working. It’s such a cliche but New York really is the city that never sleeps. The city sometimes slows down as tired citizens turn their face to the first true sun of spring streaming down the streets or the late afternoon naps of summer Fridays before heading out to dinner and dancing. But this time of year, when the weather is cold, and you have to walk fast to keep warm, the city is speedy and awake.

“Let me get us coffee, and you find a place to sit, okay?” Lee pulls out his iPhone and lets go of my hand. I was getting used to his warmth.

“Sure. Get me a tall decaf latte.”

“That’s it. No crazy special order?”

“No. I like it simple.” I step away from him as he turns from me to get in line, and I blatantly check out his ass. Mmmm, his work trousers are just tight enough for me to tell his butt is muscular, firm, and absolutely perfect. Then I bump straight into the woman waiting behind me.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Sorry,” I straighten myself up and glance back at Lee who’s turned to see what I’ve done. “I, uh, got distracted.” The woman I bumped into raises her eyebrow at me, muttering, “I bet,” under her breath. She knows exactly what I was looking at.

Walk away. Walk away fast.

I slip past a few of the laptop workers and find a two-seat couch near the back being vacated by a couple grabbing their jackets. Nice timing. We smile at each other (no words need to be spoken in this sort of situation), and I take off my jacket and wait for Lee. Oops, I forgot to ask for sweetener. He’s across the cafe, but I don’t want to lose our spot so I pull out my iPhone.

—-

Laura Merchant

Two packets of Splenda, please.

—-

Sitting up as tall as I can, I see him take his phone from his pocket and smile at it.

—-

Lee Park

I thought it was too simple.

—-

Laura Merchant

I like it sweet.

—-

Lee Park

I’m intrigued.

—-

How can two little words possess such a crazy amount of sexual undertone? When I look up, he’s smiling at me from across the room so I slip the iPhone back in my bag.

I’m a stranger to myself. Who is this person enjoying a date with a man I find attractive? So far, he’s the perfect companion, and the way he looked at me on the street was intoxicating. He listens to me when I talk and doesn’t condescend. The last guy I went out on a date with mansplained everything to me. I hate that. I’m a woman with a college degree, and I don’t need a man to longwindedly explain to me how the fucking stock market works. When I told that guy (I don’t even remember his name now. Was it Ethan?) my father was an investment banker, and I understood what he was talking about, he got upset that I had a brain. At the end of dinner, he nodded sadly and said he didn’t think it would work out between us. Damn straight, asshole.

“What’s the frown for?” Lee asks, handing me my coffee and sitting down next to me.

“Nothing.” I shake my head to clear the cobwebs that grew in my brain two minutes ago. “I was thinking about the last date I had a year ago. It was a disaster.”

“Six months ago, back in Seoul, when Sandra and I were broken up for the fifth time, I tried to have drinks with a friend of a friend from work. She drank too much and talked about her ex-boyfriend the entire time. At the end of the date, she called him up, and they got back together.”

“Wow, Lee. You have talent. You should consider couple’s counseling instead of law.”

“That would require a whole lot more schooling, and I’m done with school.” He sits back in the couch and stretches out his legs. “I didn’t get a chance to exercise the last few days except for walking in the city. I’ll be glad to get back to Seoul and my usual running routine.”

“Seoul. Right.” This is why I keep having twinges of regret. He doesn’t live here.

“I haven’t been home in over three weeks. I miss my friends, and I hope Cori watered my plants or they’ll be dead… again.”

“Who’s Cori?” I ask, settling back into the couch.

“She’s my best friend’s wife. Chris and Cori, and they have a four-year-old girl named, Evie, who I adore. Chris and I work for the same firm.” He likes kids. I wasn’t expecting that from someone who travels and isn’t tied down.

“They’re all expats?” I’m back in interview mode, but I rest the side of my head on the couch and stare into Lee’s beautiful but tired eyes.

“Yeah, the majority of my friends in Seoul are expats, but I have family in South Korea too. Aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

“You speak Korean?”

“English, Korean, and Japanese,” he says with a nod. “A little Thai, though I butcher it pretty badly.”

“What’s it like to live overseas? Away from America? When I traveled in my early twenties, it was magical, and I always imagined myself living in those places, but it never happened. I just ended up back here.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and relaxes back into the couch so we can talk face-to-face.

“It’s disorienting, like living in an alternate universe some days. Seoul is modern, and, if you can ignore all the Koreans, you may think you’re in New York or even LA, but you walk around a corner and an ancient five-hundred-year-old temple is right in front of you. You can find all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies, but the measuring cups are different, and the oven, if you even have one (I do), works in Celsius. Sometimes it’s just the little things that throw me off like the lack of plain potato chips or the Korean subtitles on Hollywood movies. But maybe it wouldn’t be so strange if I spent more time there.”

“The lack of familiarity can be crushing, I suppose.”

“I make sure some parts of my life never change. I try to talk to my parents and siblings on a normal schedule. When my last suitcase died, I bought the exact same one again. And, maybe it’s stupid, but I always have coffee at a Starbucks in every city.” He waves his hand around and huffs. “They’re almost all the same with a few regional specialties…”

“And it’s a Seattle based company…” I point out.

“Yes, though I never go to one in Seattle. I don’t know why.”

“Probably because no one you know goes, right?” He shrugs his shoulders. “That’s the thing about institutions. The original becomes old and tired. The familiarity lost.”

He nods his head while stretching. “I think you’re right. So, where did you travel to in your twenties?”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but once I graduated from NYU…”

“What did you major in?”

“English. I wanted to write fiction which I now haven’t done in ten years. I graduated and didn’t have any job prospects. I would have had to continue schooling if I wanted to teach, so, instead, I packed a backpack and used the money I had in a trust from my father to travel Asia. I spent almost two months in Japan and then another six in various places in Thailand. Then I did a week or two in Singapore, then Malaysia, and the Philippines, before returning to Thailand. All in all, I was gone for almost a year and a half. I had a plane ticket to Korea when I found out my aunt died, so I came home. I’ve never been to Seoul.”

“Wow, so why Asia and not, well… South America or Europe?”

“The East is fascinating to me. So different. Plus, honestly, I hate cold weather.” I shiver and clutch my scarf around my neck. I’m tempted to put my coat back on. Lee leans forward and takes my free hand in his, squeezing it tightly.

“Ah, Laura, your hands are ice. Not even the coffee warmed you up.”

“No, I guess not.”

Radiohead is still playing, Thom Yorke’s desperate voice weeping into the cracks between Lee and me. It’s not silent by any stretch of the imagination though the two of us have stopped talking. His hand is trying to rub some warmth into mine, and we’re both staring down at this small bit of physical contact. I can’t believe I met him for the first time only twenty-four hours ago.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he whispers, setting down his empty cup and pressing my hand between both of his.

“I think I talk too much. Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t and then I regret them.”

“I’ve made a lot of decisions I’ve regretted.”

“Hasn’t everybody?” I ask, with a laugh.

“You’re right,” he says, smiling back. “We’re not unique.”

“No, we’re not. I’m currently in the middle of a life I’m living based on a decision I regret.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” He pulls my hand towards him, and we stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

It’s so tempting to give way to him, to confess all my secrets and troubles to him, and send him off to Asia without another thought. Caution has crept back, clouding my instincts to the point of numbness. I remember when I used to be carefree. I’m not anymore.

“It’s an even longer story than my travels in Asia, and I’m afraid you’ll miss your plane tomorrow if I start.” My heart is erratic, both beating wildly and seizing up when it’s had too much. I was certain the conversation would come to this since we’ve opened up so easily about our personal lives, but I don’t want to tell this story now and ruin the mood.

“My plane leaves at 9am,” he says, smiling and relieving me of my anxiety. I thought he may badger me until I came clean. “Which means I have to be at JFK at 7am, which means I have to be up at 5:30am, and I don’t even think my body knows what time it is now.” He sits back again, withdrawing and putting some space between us. “I’m sorry about your aunt.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I certainly miss her but, you know, time marches on.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Not far from here. Connecticut.” We release our hands, a little reluctantly. I keep things light and easy and tell him about my mother, Shannon, and her two sisters: Sally and Susan, and how I feel lucky to have escaped the curse of the S names. My Aunt Susan died of breast cancer in November of 2003, and after I made sure my mother was okay, I left again and traveled the South working on Habitat for Humanities projects until 2007.

“I spent time in New Orleans where rebuilding was happening after Katrina. Slept on a lot of couches and waitressed in a lot of restaurants. Then I ended back up here with a real job and an apartment my father gave me. He died a year later in 2008.”

Lee is studying me closely, knowing my story is only skimming the surface. But hell, I may never see him again after tonight, so what does it matter anyway?

“You’ve done a lot of traveling of your own. You said you didn’t have much of a relationship with your father the last ten years?”

I clear my throat, wishing my coffee cup wasn’t cold and empty. “Uh yeah. You have a good memory…”

“Comes with the territory.” He smirks, his tired eyes drooping at the corners.

“My father found religion about ten years before he died. He was always trying to save my soul. And trust me, my soul was lost a long time ago.”

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Is it hot in here?

“You don’t seem soulless to me.”

“Okay, maybe my soul is just corrupt then, but, regardless, it doesn’t need saving. So, he spent most of my life ignoring me, and the rest of his life nagging me. He died and his mistress showed up for the funeral to everyone’s surprise. Obviously infidelity wasn’t a recognized sin for him. Sorry. It’s complicated and a little too much for a first date.” I set down my cup on the table next to me. The cafe is growing silent, people packing up to go and the staff has already straightened the merchandise on the shelves. It’s closing time.

Lee’s eyes are bloodshot and tired, his rounded cheeks sunken in with fatigue, but it looks like he won’t leave unless someone comes along and peels him off the couch.

I hate to do it, but I lean forward and squeeze his knee. “Lee, you look so tired, and I know you have to be up early. We should call it a night.”

Disappointment falls over his face and he sighs, putting his hands on his knees and forcing himself to stand up. Once my coat is buttoned-up, he reaches out his hand and helps me up with a smile.

Outside, I direct him north on Broadway to Third Street where I can get a cab going west towards Chelsea and be home in ten minutes. I used to walk this area all the time when I went to NYU, and the corner of Third is as good a place as any to say goodbye. An NYU building towers over this intersection, fenced in by greenery and a large tree arcs out overhead. In a few weeks, the branches will be filled with buds and trees will explode with leaves all over the city. I can’t wait for spring.

“You live on Fifteenth Street, right? I saw the address you sent me.” Lee clutches my hand in his. “Over by Chelsea Market?”

“Yeah. I go there all the time. The neighborhood has grown in the last few years especially. It doesn’t look anything like it did when I moved in.”

“Seoul is always changing. After the war, it grew and grew and now new buildings are up every year there.”

Our conversation dies as we near the corner, and I slow down to a stop. I… I really don’t know what to do. This can’t go anywhere.

“I can get a cab going crosstown from here,” I say, looking down at my shoes. “If you walk back over to Lafayette, you can get a cab going uptown.”

“Okay. Laura…” He turns to face me, so very close. He withdraws his warm hand from his pocket and softly strokes the length of my chin, pushing my eyes up to his. I guess I’m not the impulsive one tonight. “I’d like to see you again. Somehow. I don’t know when I’ll be back in New York, though.”

“I understand.” I clench my legs together because a fire is burning right in the middle of them, and I haven’t had sex in so long I don’t know what to do with the feeling. My vibrator doesn’t count. “Maybe we can keep in touch, if you’re up for it.” I smile at his eager face, only three inches from mine.

“I think I’m up for almost anything when it comes to you. In fact…” He steps in even closer, letting go of my hand and pulling me in by the small of my back. “I’m going to kiss you, and I’m not going to regret it for a second.”

Pulling my face to his, our lips meet hesitantly at first, warmth growing between us as a breeze curls around my legs and up my jacket. His lips brush against mine, feathery light and playful, soft and sweet, the test kiss when you put your toes in the water to find out if the bath is hot enough. Then I lean in and bind my lips to his. This kiss goes all in, a deep inhale followed by the kind of release that makes my eyes roll back in my head. If I were paying closer attention, I’d notice the curry, the beer, and the coffee, but instead all I sense is the seed he’s planting in my soul, the one that takes root and convinces me I’m a worthy person again, worthy of love and affection, worthy of attention.

I set my hands free from their safe haven between us and wrap them around his waist, sighing and enjoying this regret-free kiss. It pushes Lee even closer, both of his hands on my cheeks, guiding my mouth into his, and his relief is evident in the release of his muscles along his waist and back.

Earlier, I wanted to pause time in several instances — when he took my photo, when he held my hand, when he smiled at me over the top of the coffee bar — but, now, this is what I want to remember. This is the moment when he likes me for all the right reasons, and I want to capture that blissful ignorance and never live without it.

The moment unsticks, our lips pulling away at the same time, and he kisses me along my left cheek to my ear. I hug him close and rest my forehead on his shoulder.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers in my ear, and I nod into his sweater, letting myself feel happy for this instead of sad he won’t be here tomorrow. We dislodge our arms from each other and do our best to smile at one another before he takes my hand, leads me to the curb, hails a cab, and puts me in it.

“Don’t be a stranger, Lee.” I lift my eyebrows at him while closing the door.

My last glimpse is the smile on his face, his hand raised in goodbye, as my cab speeds away down Third Street.

—-

I don’t remember anything about the cab ride, the stairs to my brownstone building, nor the path I weave up to my third floor apartment. I fumble with my keychain and drop it once before taking a deep breath and focusing all of my attention on the brass key that’ll permit me entry inside. When I get the door open, the hinges creak, and the bottom sweep scrapes across the front hall, catching on the carpet. The cleaning ladies were here again and didn’t move the carpet back the six inch clearance it needs, and neither did my mother. She’s pretty oblivious to this sort of thing.

I dump my bag on the floor, close the door, and lean back against it, staring down at our line of shoes along the white, hallway wall. My mother’s perfect pumps sit next to my flats and running shoes.

“Laura, is that you?” my mother calls out from the kitchen. The shuffling of slippered feet approaches the hallway. “How was dinner?”

“It definitely wasn’t just dinner, it was a date.” I stare back at the floor, concentrating so hard on the green and black pattern of the rug, I hope to pause time and go back.

“It was?” she asks, coming forward into the hallway.

“It was the best first date in the history of all first dates.” I unwind the scarf from my neck and pick up my bag from the floor. “And he’s going home to Korea tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey. That’s too bad.” Her mouth twists to the side, her eyes sad. I haven’t had a good first date in years. This should be laudable news but it’s not.

“It’s okay. I’m going to bed. Why are you still up?”

“I was talking with Aunt Sally on the phone and lost track of time.” She’s already in her pristine robe, tailored, pink pajama pants peeking out from under the hem, and her graying blonde hair is twisted neatly up at her neck. She opens her mouth and throws in some pills before swallowing them with a gulp of water. “And then Richard called, and he has all of these plans for us for the next few weeks…”

“That’s great, Mom,” I interrupt, not wanting to be subjected to all the details of events her newest perfect boyfriend has for them. I’m sure she’d open her mouth and tell me about the next trip to Monte Carlo Richard has planned, and then I’d want to barf. Mom is on her fourth perfect boyfriend in the last two years, and I’ve gone on one good date, tonight. “Really, I’m tired. You can tell me tomorrow.”

“Okay. Night, Laura. Sleep well.”

I walk to my bedroom, step over the basket of folded laundry in my doorway, and shut the door before bursting into tears. I’m a lonely thirty-two-year-old woman living with my midlife-crisis mother. I should stop wanting things I can’t have, but I don’t regret that dinner-that-became-a-date one bit.