Face Time (23 page)

Lee Park

Me too.

Wait, what time is it there? 1:30am?

Laura Merchant

Hmmm, yes. I am baked. I sent Nicole and Justin home over an hour ago.

Lee Park

Baked? As in stoned? Smoked pot?

Laura Merchant

Yes, indeed. I’m thinking about eating again.

Lee Park

Lol. I can’t believe you smoke pot.

God, I’d give anything to somedays. It’s hard to come by in Asia and my firm drug tests.

Laura Merchant

Oh good. You sent that first text and I was wondering if you disapproved.

Lee Park

Not at all. I went to Berkeley, remember?

Laura Merchant

Right. Good point.
 

I don’t often. Justin brought it and left some for me.

He’s a prince… who likes other princes.

I should go raid the fridge. Tell me about the weird snacks in India before you board your flight.

My laughter startles the businessman next to me. I immediately regret that I don’t have enough time to go back to the snack shop and buy up a bunch of strange things for her like the curry flavored chips or tamarind candy I passed over at the checkout counter. Next time, Lee. Next time.

My phone buzzes again.

Cori Winslow

Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Things have been hectic around here.

Lee Park

Is everyone ok?

Cori Winslow

Yes, everyone’s fine. We’re all looking forward to your valiant return.
 

We’ll talk when you get back.

Hmmm, I wonder what’s going on in Seoul. I text back an
“I’m boarding. Xoxo.”
to Laura and put my phone in my bag as first class is called to board.

Lee’s Thursday morning, my Wednesday evening, I rush home from barre class, practically running down the streets even though my legs are made of jello. My Korean cooking class with Nicole was moved to next week, and I had nothing to do but exercise. I haven’t seen Lee in two weeks now, and I’m so anxious I could cry, cry from the frustration of us being so far apart, cry from the lack of actual face time, cry from the confusion I feel having fallen in love with someone I never see. Then I read the news about North and South Korea, and I shouldn’t have. I used to think of South Korea as a safe place, but with missiles flying into the sea from the North, it’s a country always threatened with war.

I tried to be patient this week as my book of boudoir photos flew its way to Lee in South Korea, and he has been jammed up at work with meeting after meeting. We wanted to FaceTime earlier in the week, but he was called into work for 7:00am meetings Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning. We’ve been texting, and I was hoping he’d mention that he made plans to come see me, but he hasn’t. Now I wonder if I’m mistaken about his intentions towards me. Maybe he’s not as into me as I believed.

I pull out my phone a few blocks from home and find a voicemail from my mother. Shit. Not now. I cannot deal with any more of her bullshit. I don’t even listen to her message and continue my fast pace home.

By the time I’m in the front door, tears are streaming down my face, and my nose is red along with the rest of me. Attractive. I hasten to my mother’s room and open the door. Her bed is made but most of her belongings from the top of her dresser are missing. The closet sits open, and her rolling bag is gone.

On the kitchen table is a note in her precise, looped handwriting:
“Richard and I are leaving for the Bahamas. When I return I will pack up and move in with him. I am sorry about the apartment, Laura. If I thought you could afford it, I’d hand over the mortgage to you, but I don’t think you can. I’ll call you when I’m back. Love, Mom.”

I rip the note into the tiniest shreds possible and toss them in the trash. Of course, I can’t afford to live in this place. Because, instead of graduating from NYU with honors, securing a good job, and building up a savings account, I traveled to Asia, spent all of my money on plane tickets, getting high on opium, and sleeping with every last man that would sleep with me. I then came home, pissed off my father by having an abortion, and lived the next five years starving and alone in New Orleans.

Mistakes. I’ve made way too many mistakes in my life, and I’m paying for them all now.

I swipe the tears from my face and open my computer I left on the kitchen table. Accessing my bank account, I take a deep breath before clicking on the “Savings Account” link. I haven’t looked at the balance in a few months. I get my paycheck deposited into my checking account and move money over to savings blindly.
 

When the page loads, a comforting but still depressing number faces me: $36,451.
 

This is enough to leave town but it’s not enough to stay. My guess is the mortgage on the apartment (which is actually a condo but this is New York City and these things are confusing) is around $2600 per month and the maintenance fee is at least $1000 per month. I can’t afford this place on my salary, and my savings would be gone in less than a year.

I’m due to call Lee in thirty minutes, so I stumble into the bathroom, wash my face, and brush my hair. I don’t have time to put on makeup. I just leave my face the way it is before grabbing dinner.

“Hi, gorgeous.” Lee’s sleepy face and messy hair appear before me, his apartment lit with beautiful and blinding morning light. Seeing his familiar face and surroundings, I burst into tears again. Dammit. I had just looked presentable before sitting cross-legged on my bed. A tear rolls off the end of my nose and lands right in my leftover lasagna on the plate in my lap.

“Oh no. Laura, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He sets his coffee cup down on the table next to him, and I set my lasagna aside so I can grab another tissue.

“It’s nothing, Lee. I’m super emotional today. Sorry. I’ve missed you, and, this day has not been good.”

“I’ve missed you, too. I’m really glad to be home in Seoul. I think this is the first time in five years I’ve walked in the door and been happy to be here.”

“Really?” I dab at my eyes and take a deep breath. “Why? I thought you liked living there.”

“I do. I definitely prefer Seoul over Seattle, but I used to come back here and feel lost. It didn’t feel like home.”

“It does now?”

He nods and sips his coffee. “I cherish this internet connection now. I keeps me connected to you.” He smiles at me, and I smile back. Don’t cry. “I was never so pissed off as that morning in India I couldn’t talk to you. I wanted to kick something. Hit something…”

“What did you do?”

“I ran it all off and went for a swim.”

“Exercise is the greatest stress reducer.” I pick up my dinner again and take a bite.

“I can think of a better stress reducer.”
 

I don’t need to look up to know what Lee is referring to. His voice is low and seductive, but I want to laugh (and have sex too but I need to eat).

“Lee, talk dirty to me in Korean.” I tip my head forward and let my hair fall across my face, trying to be as sexy as possible while shoveling lasagna into me. This is not an easy thing to do. Lasagna is messy.

Lee’s smile tilts to the side and he makes eye contact with me. Perhaps, if I lean in more to the iPad, I can kiss him. Sigh. He pulls back a little from the iPad on his end and starts speaking Korean. I have no idea what he’s saying but I catch two words he uses more than once,
yukgu
and
boji
, and his face speaks louder than anything. Whatever it is, it’s hot, and I want it.

“Do you think it’s interesting that…” I set aside my empty plate and pick up the
Dirty Korean
book Nicole gave me. “The first time you speak to me in Korean is to talk about sex. Particularly…” I hold the book up to the camera, and he starts laughing. I flip to the section on sex and scan through the pages. “Mmmm, sixty-nine, huh? And something having to do with my…” I point to the word “pussy” on the page and hold it up to the camera. “Lee, you have a dirty mind that has all the Korean sex words memorized.”

“I had an earlier version of that book when I was in college with no girlfriend and plenty of porn. I had translating to do.”

“For the ‘greater good’ then?”

“You could say that.” A sly smile stretching across his face. Adorable.

“Do you think we’d talk less about sex if we were actually having sex?”

“That would be an interesting experiment we should work on testing as soon as possible. Laura, I’m coming to see you. I leave this Saturday.”

He smiles at me, but my insides twist. The time has finally come. I want to see him, but I’ve told him nothing of my past, and I don’t think it’s fair for him to come all this way to visit me only to find out I’m damaged goods. Beyond damaged. I have no family, no home, and he’ll be horrified when I tell him everything about Asia and New Orleans. And not this fake happiness I’ve conveyed to him about my time there. I’ve only told him the good parts though they were few and far between.

I clutch my hands to my chest as my heart flutters with indecision. “You’re coming to see me?”

“Of course, Laura. I said I would. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you sooner. All the meetings I had this week were so I could shuffle around my schedule and travel to visit you.” He’s been eating cereal and the spoon is paused on the way to his mouth. “Are you okay? You look pale and unhappy. It wasn’t the response I was expecting.”

“I… Lee, I…” I can no longer speak. Reality is standing right in front of me. I’m not sure if I’ve completely won him over yet, and I’ve been fooling myself for the past month while Lee and I have dated online. I thought I was a normal girl who wanted to date a nice, successful guy but my past has caught up with me. “Lee, I have some things I need to tell you before you come here.”

He stops eating altogether and pushes his cereal bowl away from him. “What, Laura? What’s going on?”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. How do I start? I imagine the scene in my head:
“Lee, I slept with more than thirty men in Asia.” “Lee, I came home from Asia and I was pregnant…”
And they all sound so horrifying that I’m nauseated, and my vision starts to swim.

“Lee, don’t come,” bursts from my mouth instead, robotic and unfeeling. “You don’t want to date me. I am not the person you think I am.”

“Laura…” He winces, pain evident on his face and in his voice. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand. I promise not to judge.”

“But you will, Lee. Everyone does. Even my own mother. You’d hate me and think I was disgusting. Don’t come. Don’t call me. Get on with your life.” What am I doing? My mouth is speaking and my voice is coming out of it, but my heart is breaking and my soul is dissolving away.

“Laura, please talk to me.” Lee picks up the iPad on his end so I can see him better. I swiftly reach out and end the call.

The room is silent for a moment before the iPad jumps to life again with a new call from Lee. I sit and watch the screen ring, bile rising up from my stomach. I launch myself from the bed and run to the bathroom just in time to lose the lasagna I ate into my toilet. Bile and dinner come up in waves, a chill prickling my face, and sobs erupt once the puking ends. Thank God the cleaning ladies were here yesterday. My face bursts into flames of shame, so I press my cheeks against the cool wall tile and cry. In the other room, my iPhone is buzzing away. I’m sure it’s Lee texting or calling and wondering what’s wrong with me.

I need to ignore all the calls. I fucked it all up. Our relationship is over, and it’s better this way. In a few days, he’ll forget about me and meet someone new. Maybe he’ll find a woman who’s successful and perfect and he’ll be happy. I’ll never be happy again, but I don’t think it’s possible for someone like me. I made my bed. It’s time I lie in it.

I stare at the dark iPad for a long moment and then down at my phone on the table.
 

Lee Park

Please talk to me. I promise I’ll listen.

Laura, I’ve missed you so much.

Just text me back when you’re ready to talk.

But my iPhone remains silent. What could be so awful that she’d refuse to tell me? That she would break things off with me? I try to think of all the possibilities and my mind spins. Maybe she was abused as a kid? She said her father was an asshole. Maybe she has a disease? Maybe she used to be a man? No, okay, that’s going too far. But whatever it is, she’s afraid to tell me.
 

My doorbell rings and startles me so badly I jump back from the table and knock over my chair. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair to contain the mess it is before opening the door.

“Package for you, Mr. Park.” Jim, the doorman, is waiting in the hall, his rolling cart piled high with boxes, and he hands me a large, white FedEx box marked International Priority. I thank him and close the door, ripping open the top as soon as I identify Laura’s name on the return address. Inside I find two classic, dark wood frames surrounding four photos a piece of my travels to India. They’re stunning, and I can’t believe I took them with my iPhone. Laura must have edited and printed
 
them up for me. She saw my apartment and the lack of photos on the wall, and she knew what I needed. The box still feels heavy so I turn it upside down on the couch and out falls a photo book wrapped in ribbon with a note attached.
“To, Lee. You make me happier than I have ever been. I hope you enjoy these. From, Laura.”

I rip the ribbon off the book, and the pages fall open to a sexy picture of Laura in only a black bra and underwear. She’s smiling, coy and flirtatious, and my eyes run over her toned body from her head, down across her breasts to her flat stomach and curvy hips. No woman has ever sent me sexy photos before. It’s something every straight man dreams of happening but few ever achieve this goal. Just three days ago, Laura wrote that I make her happy. I think I still do. I’m sure I still do. Whatever caused her to hang up the FaceTime call, it must be pretty bad for her.