It’s been written in the stars that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”
“Not true at all,” she responds. “Nothing is written.”
We stand up and wait next to the bench for a family on bikes to pass. They’re laughing and calling to one another, and I immediately imagine myself in their place, married with kids and happy. It seems like a delusional dream. “No, I’m not going to try online dating again. That’s a waste of time. Online dating is for people like my mother. Even if this thing with Lee doesn’t go anywhere, I want his friendship enough to try. If I lose even that, then I’ll move on. I just want the chance.”
Theresa reaches around my waist and guides me across the jogging path back in the direction of home. “You’re so optimistic, even when things knock you over, Laura. I love that about you.”
“I always get back up, Theresa. Lying down to die is not in my nature. I have no choice.”
Chapter
Eight
=
Lee
I texted with Laura last night to set up our FaceTime this morning. I was on my way to bed, still jetlagged, and she was on her way to work, so we talked time and nothing else. I wanted to flirt more with her — ask her what she was wearing, what she’d be doing at work that day — but I stopped myself.
Our second date is over the internet. If I think too hard about that, it sounds pathetic, like I can’t just walk out the door and meet a woman in a bar like people normally do. I did, just not in Seoul, and I’m not even sure I could meet a woman here if I wanted to. I love South Korea but my American ways make me stick out. As soon as I open my mouth, they know because my Korean is good but not native. My mother always said I spoke Korean too slow, but my father would pull me aside and tell me he was proud I had learned at all. Both my older brother, Jin, and my older sister, Nari, refused to speak Korean in public. They wanted to fit in as much as possible with everyone else at school. I didn’t fit in at home, and I don’t fit in here either, except when I’m with friends.
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
“Not true at all,” she responds. “Nothing is written.”
We stand up and wait next to the bench for a family on bikes to pass. They’re laughing and calling to one another, and I immediately imagine myself in their place, married with kids and happy. It seems like a delusional dream. “No, I’m not going to try online dating again. That’s a waste of time. Online dating is for people like my mother. Even if this thing with Lee doesn’t go anywhere, I want his friendship enough to try. If I lose even that, then I’ll move on. I just want the chance.”
Theresa reaches around my waist and guides me across the jogging path back in the direction of home. “You’re so optimistic, even when things knock you over, Laura. I love that about you.”
“I always get back up, Theresa. Lying down to die is not in my nature. I have no choice.”
Chapter
Eight
=
Lee
I texted with Laura last night to set up our FaceTime this morning. I was on my way to bed, still jetlagged, and she was on her way to work, so we talked time and nothing else. I wanted to flirt more with her — ask her what she was wearing, what she’d be doing at work that day — but I stopped myself.
Our second date is over the internet. If I think too hard about that, it sounds pathetic, like I can’t just walk out the door and meet a woman in a bar like people normally do. I did, just not in Seoul, and I’m not even sure I could meet a woman here if I wanted to. I love South Korea but my American ways make me stick out. As soon as I open my mouth, they know because my Korean is good but not native. My mother always said I spoke Korean too slow, but my father would pull me aside and tell me he was proud I had learned at all. Both my older brother, Jin, and my older sister, Nari, refused to speak Korean in public. They wanted to fit in as much as possible with everyone else at school. I didn’t fit in at home, and I don’t fit in here either, except when I’m with friends.
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
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