Face Time (8 page)

My apartment is in a high-rise complex right on the northern edge of Cheongdam-dong, and I was lucky enough to score one of the last one-bedroom apartments with a view of the river and west towards Seongsu Bridge. Chris and Cori live here, too, in the same building, but five floors down and on the other side. I had only been in Seoul a week, living in a hotel on the other side of the river near work, when Chris asked me out for drinks and to meet his family. Cori went home that evening, spoke with the management, and I signed the lease on this place two days later. The firm pays for everything. It even came with furniture. The only thing I did to personalize my space was to keep my suitcase by the front door and my computer, iPad, and iPhone are always charging on the kitchen table when I’m here.

A storm is moving in this morning, threatening rain for most of the region. Black, rolling clouds sit in the sky, ready to start the onslaught of spring precipitation. March isn’t too bad, but in spring and summer, it rains all the time. I’m never without an umbrella when I’m back here. Sipping my coffee at the window, I can’t believe I got up at 7:00am when I don’t need to be in the office until noon, but I wanted to make sure I’m showered and dressed before Laura calls. Checking the time again, it’s only 7:40am now. I should get breakfast before 8:00am.

The shelves are empty in my fridge, as per usual, except for an unopened box of soy milk. I need to grocery shop for some basics since I’ll be here for two solid weeks before leaving for India. In the cabinet are a few boxes of cereal I keep around just for these moments. When I return to Seoul after being away for so long, it takes me at least two days to get to the store, and I don’t always want to eat out. Cereal fills in the gaps nicely. Pouring the soy milk into a bowl filled with this Korean abomination of cocoa puffs, Sandra’s voice filters into my head.
“You live like a college student, Lee. It’s so depressing.
” Maybe for her.

My iPhone and iPad both light up at the kitchen table at 7:55am. She’s early. I set my iPad up and sit down at the table with the light facing me and accept the call.

“Hi.” Laura smiles at me, and my stomach flips over, but I reach out and take a screenshot. The more photos I have of her the better. She’s sitting on her bed, her hair pulled back loosely over one shoulder, with a brown paper bag next to her. “I hope this is another dinner date because I picked up food on the way home.”

“Hi, Laura,” I say, relaxing in her presence like I did during the first date. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, Lee. You look better rested.” She reaches into the bag next to her and pulls out a styrofoam container.

“I am. I slept through the entire night. Didn’t even need to take anything. I’m happy to be back in Seoul.”

“I’m sure.” She squints and leans into the camera. “Are you eating? Do I see a bowl? Eat with me. I got falafel.”

“Oh. Falafel.” My mouth immediately starts to water. “I haven’t had Middle Eastern food in forever. I may have to seek someplace out while I’m here. I’m eating cereal. It’s the only thing left in the apartment.”

“You had milk, though,” she says, pointing her finger at me.

“I keep those boxes of the shelf-stable soy milk around and pop one in the fridge before I leave on a trip. That way it’s cold and ready when I come back.”

“Good idea.”

We both take a few bites of our food and chew in silence for a moment, and it’s the same kind of easy quietude we had on our first date. I’m taking the time to memorize her face. She has almost flawless skin, gentle arching eyebrows, and a long straight nose. I love how soft the short hairs around her ears are. She reaches up and tucks them back, a curl falling out across her face.
 

“Are you on your computer?” she asks, and I pull back from the iPad. I hope I wasn’t drooling.

“No, I have an iPad, too.”

“Me too. Technology and clothes are the only things I splurge on nowadays.” My attention shifts to her falafel sandwich which looks so good my stomach rumbles. That’s kind of cruel. My cereal is unappetizing and soggy so I push the bowl away.

“Let me see your setup. Take a picture with your iPhone and send it to me.”

“Okay.” She picks up her phone and points it at me. “Smile.” A few seconds later, my iPhone blinks with her message and photo. “I have one of those breakfast-in-bed trays for nights when I want to relax in my bedroom.”

The photo shows her bed, the iPad set on top of a tray, but my eyes focus on the pile of clothes on her floor. “I spy with my little eye…” I play this game with Evie, but it’s things like a red truck or a green trash can, never a black bra.

“Oh, Lee. I saw that in the photo, and I was hoping you’d overlook it.”

“Not likely.”

Her neck blushes, and she takes another bite, letting me stew and think about where that bra has been. This “relationship” of ours is only a few hours old, and it’s already a hundred times better than my last two girlfriends.

“What did you end up doing on Sunday?” I ask, detouring the conversation from the sexy avenue it had turned on.

“I ran some errands, went to the gym to lift weights, then went on a walk with Theresa.” She wipes her mouth and sets aside her falafel.

“Your pregnant friend, right? Are you and Theresa good friends?”

“Yeah, she’s my best friend in New York. We were roommates freshman year at NYU, both undeclared majors. I chose English and she chose Education. We kept in touch after school when she did Teach for America and I traveled, then both ended back up here.”

“Did you tell Theresa about me?”

She smiles and drinks from a glass of water. “Of course I did.”

“I told Cori about you. Well, more like she interrogated me for info until I gave up. She should have been a lawyer.”

“Do you have many girl friends?” she asks, and though she’s asking lightly, this is always a hot topic with women. Every past girlfriend of mine has wanted me to denounce every girl I ever knew.
 

“Well, here in Seoul, my closest friends are Chris and Cori, and I go out for dinner and what not with other partners at the firm and clients who are in town. Then I have cousins nearby, the majority of whom are women, but we’re related. I would say I have an equal number of men and women friends. To be honest, a lot of the women I know back home are associated with Sandra, so I can’t say how good of friends we’ll be after this.”

That just slipped out. “After this” meaning after we’ve broken up, and I’m finally ready to date someone else? I wonder what Laura thinks of that.

“Right. Makes sense.” She nods her head and pauses for a moment, before stretching out to her side table and grabbing a bottle of beer. She’s casually dressed tonight, a dark gray long sleeved cotton shirt and I thought I saw black yoga pants in the photo she sent me. I love yoga pants on women.

“What about you? What are your friends like?” I ask.

“Me?” she asks. “Hmmm, I have friends all over the world, but only a few here in New York. I don’t see everyone often or anything. That’s the thing with being in your thirties and single in the city, you’re in the minority. Almost all of my friends are engaged or married. So sometimes we go out but it’s not the same unless I bring a date. Most of the time, they’re not interested in talking to someone they don’t know, they just wanted to see me…” She drinks from the beer and sets it aside. “Which is sweet and all that, but I always feel left out.”

“I understand. I’m thirty-five and unmarried. My mother is going to lose her mind when I talk to them next and tell them that I refuse to get back together with Sandra.”

I pause to watch her reaction. I’m not telling her this so I can gauge her, but I really want to know what she thinks.

She nods her head. “You do seem very unhappy every time you mention her name. What is it about the relationship that didn’t work for you?”

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, gazing out past the iPad to the window and the storm rolling in. “There just wasn’t any… romance?”

Laura laughs, tilting her head to the side and smiling at me again. I wish she was here. “Are you a romantic, Lee?”

“I guess I am. I’ve known Sandra and her family all my life, so when we got together, it was one drunken night and suddenly she was bossing me around and acting like we’d been unhappily married for a decade. She would complain about me to my mother, my friends. God, no wonder I stayed away.”

“When was the last time you went back to Seattle?”

“Over six months ago, and I only saw her once when I was there.” It was a hurried fuck in my hotel room, and the whole rendezvous wasn’t even enjoyable. Sandra bitched about everything from the bed to the condoms to the way I threw her clothes on the floor.
 

Laura pulls her hair out of the elastic its tied in and runs her fingers through her long, dark hair a few times. “Well, I love romance. It’s a dying art. You should be with someone who will appreciate your gestures, Lee.”

“I have someone in mind.” I lean into the iPad and smile at her, and we pause to observe each other. She knows I’m talking about her. Who else would have captured my attention enough to spend my morning with?

“So you’re going to talk to your parents soon?” Her voice is quieter, and she’s probably wondering if she’ll get a mention to my parents. I’m going to play the situation by ear.

“Yeah, I talk to them tomorrow night, 11:00pm my time, 7:00am Seattle time. The World Clock app is my best friend.”

“I’m sure it’ll be mine soon, as well.” She winks at me, and my pulse stutters. So charming.

“Okay, Laura, your turn. Tell me about your ex-boyfriend.”

Her smile falls, and she leans back away on her end, reaching over to grab the beer and hold the bottle in her hand. Shit. The last one hurt her, I know it.

“His name was Rene.” Her voice cracks, but she clears it and drinks. “Funnily enough, I met him at a bar, too, like you…”

I can already tell I’m going to have to be totally different from this guy, and I hope that’s not an impossible task.

“He was a complete stranger, much like all the other guys I dated in my past. But the difference was that I met him here in New York on New Year’s Eve.”

“Why is that different?”

“Lee…” She hangs her head. “God, this is something I don’t talk about on the second date or ever.”

Hmmm. I’ve never dated a woman with a past before. Usually I’m the first or second boyfriend or, in the case of Sandra, known her my whole life. This is uncharted territory.

From her end of the conversation, the voice of woman calls Laura’s name, and Laura sighs, closing her eyes. “Lee, I need a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply, and she mutes the call and leaves sight of the camera. Does she have someone else in her apartment? I don’t remember her saying she had a roommate. The back of my neck prickles. Something is not right. I could see it in the way Laura’s shoulders tensed at the sound of the voice.

A minute or two passes before Laura returns to her bed, repositions herself and the iPad, and un-mutes the call.

“Sorry about that, Lee. Um, we need to talk about something.” She grasps a thick strand of hair, twists it in her fingers, and lets it go. “My mother lives here with me in my apartment.”

I blink my eyes a few times, confused by this statement. “You live at home?”

“No,” she says, waving her hand at the camera. “I do live in a two-bedroom apartment in Chelsea. When my dad died three years ago, my mother had… Hmmm, how do I say this nicely? A middle-aged freak out.”

“Oh no.” I cringe.

“Yeah. She sold their house in Connecticut, showed up on my doorstep, and invited herself to live with me. Technically, she owns the apartment now that my dad is gone so I couldn’t say no. She said she was only going to live here for a few months, but, three years later…” She shrugs her shoulders and watches for my reaction.

“Wow, Laura. That’s really…” I stop, searching for the correct words here.

“Sad and depressing?” she asks, laughing.

“No, I was thinking, accommodating and caring. And certainly a lot to take on in your early thirties.”

“Honestly, Lee, it sucks. She’s had more boyfriends in the last two years than I’ve had my whole life, and they’ve all been wealthy and perfect. But somewhere along the way, she lost the ability to keep her mouth shut about anything. She eventually breaks up with them once she’s said too much. She never talks to me anymore, not like she used to. She’s off on her vacations to the Caribbean or Europe with her newest fling without so much as a thought or a note to let me know she’s gone.” Laura picks at the comforter on her bed, her head turned from me. “Sorry. I do worry about her, but she’s so frustrating.” I sensed on our first date she was holding a lot back from me. I didn’t expect a live-in mother in the middle of a midlife crisis.

I bet this is why she’s still single, and my heart clenches in my chest. What do I even say?

“Okay then,” I say, trying to relax and comfort her. If she were here next to me, I’d hold her hand or hug her. A FaceTime date is more difficult than I thought it would be. I love physical contact. It was another thing I hated about my relationship with Sandra. “Don’t worry. You’re doing what you have to do. If I were in your situation, I’d do the same. You can tell me more the next time we talk.”

“On the third date?” she asks, her face turned back to the camera and a small smile upon her lips.

“Is that a question about whether you’ll tell me next time or wondering if there is a next time?”

“Both.”

“I’d like for there to be a next time and even more times after that.” Laura likes to flirt and talk, but she seems to relish being direct and honest. I think, as long as I don’t play hard to get, something can come of this. What something? I don’t know.

She sighs, scrunching up her shoulders first before relaxing again. “Me too.”

“Okay, let’s make a plan. How about your Saturday night, my Sunday morning? Are you free?”

“Oh.” Her voice softens and she chews on the corner of her mouth.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she says, smiling and blushing again. “It’s just that… Well.” Her voice is so quiet, I reach over and turn up the volume on my iPad. “Saturday seems very far away.”