by Leigh Ban
While Grandma and I sat at one of the tables, sharing a piece of rich chocolate cake, I contemplated what to do. Could I muster up the courage to talk to him? Or would it be wiser to simply observe him from afar?
Once Kyungsook closed the café for the regular customers, she ordered some delivery food for those of us that remained. After Kyungsook and Grandma left, the employees began taking off their bow ties and undoing the top buttons of their shirts. They shifted some coffee tables so that we could all sit together while Phil and a guy wearing round glasses brought over Champagne coolers.
The guy in glasses called out, “Should we go around sharing our names?”
He popped open a bottle and handed out Champagne flutes. He seemed older than Phil, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and they appeared to be good friends as they joked around.
There were about fifteen people in total, including two other girls. Joann, who had a pug-like perpetual scowl on her face, said that she was a baker for the café while the other girl was the girlfriend of the barista sitting beside her.
When it was my turn to speak, my mouth felt dry. Phil was just two seats away from me and I didn’t have the courage to look in his direction.
“I’m Stella,” I said.
Somebody called out, “What?”
Another guy said, “Yeah, we couldn’t hear you!”
I took a quick swig of Champagne and spoke up. “My name is Stella! My grandmother is friends with Grandma Kyungsook.”
There was a loud whistle once I finished speaking.
“I love you, Granny K!” a couple of the guys yelled out in unison, clinking their glasses.
I blushed, not knowing whether I should acknowledge their reaction.
Phil was the last person to introduce himself.
“As some of you may know, I’m Phil Oh. Technically, I don’t work here, but if my transition from modeling to acting flops, I might.”
The other guys roared with laughter while the guy in glasses, Gunmo, punched Phil’s arm.
Since we ran out of Champagne after an hour, a couple of the guys had to go out to a convenience store to bring back some soju. There were no shot glasses, so we continued using Champagne flutes. Because I had to return to my grandparents’ house later, I sipped on my drink slowly and stayed as sober as I could.
With Phil sitting just two seats away, I was way too distracted to engage in proper conversations with other people. Joann, the baker, talked to me for most of the first hour, but I couldn’t focus on what she was saying. As she complained about how long her commute was and her spring allergy flare-ups, I gave her a half-hearted nod. When she excused herself to the bathroom, I looked over at Phil.
Unlike me, he seemed to have been guzzling soju. His face was flushed red as he spoke to Gunmo. While Joann talked to me, Phil had undone two buttons on his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. My face heated up just by looking in his direction.
Suddenly, Phil covered his eyes with his hand and let out a deep groan. After a moment, I realized he was crying. Another guy came over and asked Gunmo to go out for a cigarette.
Gunmo stood up and gave Phil a pat on the back. “Phil, get yourself together.”
Phil didn’t respond.
As Gunmo walked away, he muttered, “Phil’s probably crying over his ex.”
For a minute, I ignored my plan to remain somewhat sober. I grabbed Phil’s Champagne flute, which was filled to the brim with soju, and drank it in one gulp. There was a burning sensation in my throat. When I put the Champagne flute down, Phil stared at me.
“Are you going through a rough time?” I asked.
He sighed and said, “Did you hear what Gunmo told Heechul when they left? That’s not true. We broke up over a month ago. She’s not who I thought she was. I’m over her now.”
Startled by Phil’s unexpected outburst, I gave him a puzzled look.
“Your name is Stella, right? To answer your question, Stella, yeah, I’m going through a rough time. I’ve been going through a rough time for… at least four years now.”
“You can vent to me,” I said nervously. “I mean, if you want.”
Phil poured himself more soju, then gestured toward my Champagne flute. When I nodded, he filled it up. We clinked our glasses.
“My dad. It’s my dad.”
He paused and bit his bottom lip. When he proceeded to take a swig of his drink, he spilled some of it onto his body. I watched the droplets trickle down the center of his smooth chest.
Phil said, “My dad left when I was in high school. He was never a loving husband or a caring father, yet it was the biggest slap in the face. How could he just leave us a half-assed letter and disappear? We still don’t know where he is. He’s never tried contacting us. How could he do that to my mom? You see, she’s had a few health issues since I was a kid. My mom’s not someone who can just go out and find work. Not because she doesn’t want to. She’s tried…”
He glanced at me with pain in his eyes. We were interrupted by the sound of Gunmo returning to his seat.
“Stella, do you smoke?”
I shook my head.
“Neither do I. Well, I used to. Want to go out for a stroll then?”
We walked down the stairs of the building.
“What do you do, Stella? Are you a student?”
“Yeah, I go to Dounesville University in America, where my parents live. My mom’s side of the family is Korean though. I’m attending West Seoul University as part of an exchange program.”
“I hope you like it here in Seoul.”
Phil smiled while he held the door open for me. As I stepped outside, my shoulder brushed against his chest, which made my stomach flip-flop.
“Do you want to walk to the convenience store, Stella? I’ll buy you ice cream.”
While we made our way there, Phil asked me what West Seoul University was like. When I told him about how I’d been impressed by many of the students’ English abilities and being the most uncoordinated person in Latin Dance, he remarked that he was jealous, though I presumed he was being sarcastic. I wondered if he was uncomfortable with sharing the rest of his story. Once we came out of the convenience store with two ice cream cones, he had a solemn expression on his face.
“I never dreamed of being a model,” Phil said, unwrapping one of the ice creams and handing it to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“A lot of the other models I’ve met, they grew up knowing they wanted to be a model. I suppose because when you’re tall and have a certain type of appearance, people tell you that you seem like a model, so you start glamorizing it.”
Phil took a bite of his ice cream while we slowly walked back to Café K. He stayed silent while a group of girls in low-cut club dresses went past. Once they were behind us, I heard them gasp and whisper.
He said, “Not that I had any bigger aspirations. I was a dumb kid in high school. I didn’t know what kind of job I wanted. I didn’t have the grades to get into a prestigious place like West Seoul University. But when my dad left my family for some other woman he’d knocked up, I knew I had to find a way to help my mom. My little brother was still in elementary school.”
Though Phil’s voice was calm, his eyes were watering again.
“A few months after my dad left, I was scouted on the street. That was only the beginning though. I met some of the sketchiest, sleaziest people while I was still in high school. There were people who tried not to pay me and threatened me with their connections, as well as photographers, both men and women, that asked me to…”
As I looked into his damp eyes, my heart ached at the thought of what the photographers tried to do to him while he was an innocent high school student who had nobody to rely on.
He said, “I’ve known a few of the guys here since the start of my career. I hadn’t seen them for a while, so being with them brought back memories… including the ones I’d rather suppress.”
Once we were back in the building, we sat on the
stairs to the second floor. When I tried to comfort him by stroking his back, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. The scent of his aftershave combined with the alcohol lingering on his breath made my head spin.
“And Gunmo doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I never told him the real reason my ex broke up with me. Her parents found out my dad isn’t in the picture and freaked out. They told her I’ll end up exactly like him because it’s in my genes and I wouldn’t know any better.”
I raised my voice and said, “How could they say such horrible things? They’re disgustingly prejudiced.”
“To be honest, while that was the worst thing I’ve ever been told, I think a lot of people would agree that it’s not good to be in a long-term relationship with someone who comes from a broken home. I guess they’d think I was broken too. At least here in South Korea.”
“Well, Phil, I think they’re ridiculous,” I said, staring into his eyes with conviction. “I bet they’re also the type of people who would judge me for not being Korean enough because my dad is white.”
“Stella.”
My name was the only word he needed to utter. Phil swiftly bent down to kiss me. Feeling the warmth of his lips excited me. What started out gentle gradually intensified, his tongue tangled with mine. When we stopped to gaze at each other, I was stunned by his perfect facial features. Even though his face was still flushed red from drinking, he was breathtaking. For a moment I simply stared at him. I’d never been kissed by someone so attractive.
“You smell good, kind of sweet, like vanilla,” he said, taking a deep whiff of my neck.
He nibbled my neck and shoulder, sending tingles through my body.
“And you taste good too,” he added, gently biting me.
When our eyes met, I wanted to feel his soft lips again.
“Come on!”
We were interrupted by a voice coming from above the stairs. I immediately jumped up in shock. The sound of footsteps followed. Two of the guys from Café K came down the stairs. They peered over at us with curiosity.
One of the guys asked, “Hey, were you two sitting here the whole time?”
The other guy shouted out, “We’re all going to head out now. Let’s go clubbing!”
“Oh,” I said as I took out my phone to check the time. “I’m afraid I have to go. I’m staying with my grandparents tonight.”
Phil said, “I think I’m going to head home as well. Sorry, guys. Why don’t we meet up another time?”
Once Phil and I were standing outside the building, I tapped my fingers against my thigh, hoping he would ask me to exchange numbers before we parted.
He turned to me and said, “Which way are you headed? Are you taking a taxi?”
“No, my grandparents live nearby. I’ll walk there,” I replied.
“Stella, can I walk you home?”
As I was too nervous to speak, my mouth dried up. I nodded.
“Thanks for listening to me,” Phil said. “I don’t really talk to my friends about my family. Some of them get the hint. They’ve figured out my dad isn’t in the picture, but that’s all they know. I don’t want them to start feeling sorry for me, you know?”
I nodded again.
“Today was actually the first time I’d ever told someone everything I had pent up inside. I never expected to share that with anybody. Although I don’t think I’ll suddenly become an open book, I’m kind of relieved to have told you the truth. Thank you for listening.”
I looked up at him. He seemed more relaxed than before; his face was no longer flushed red and his eyes twinkled under the moonlight.
I replied, “And thank you for opening up to me. It couldn’t have been easy.”
Suddenly, Phil stopped walking and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Stella, I didn’t expect you to be such an understanding person.”
“Well, you’re a brave person, Phil.”
He closed his eyes.
I whispered, “I don’t want you to be sad.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes shut.
“Phil, you’re not alone. I’m here for you.”
When he opened his eyes, he beamed at me.
“Want to be my girlfriend then?”
Chapter Six
Being with Phil was better than anything I had ever experienced before. Although we didn’t spend the entire day contacting each other, Phil wanted to talk on the phone with me every night and apologized when a photoshoot finished later than he’d anticipated. Whenever I saw his black-and-white profile picture for JoaJoa, a popular messaging app, my heart began to race at the thought of seeing him again.
“I miss you,” Phil said during a phone call. “Why don’t you have a profile picture on JoaJoa? Can you send me a photo of yourself?”
“Right now? What kind of photo?” I asked.
“A photo of how sweet you are,” he replied.
I laughed nervously. “Phil, I can’t take a photo right now. I look like a mess.”
“Then how about your favorite photo of yourself?”
After I talked to him, I spent an hour trying to decide which picture to send him and checked for Dana’s approval once I made the decision. When I messaged Phil a selfie I’d taken before a night out with Dana, he immediately replied with compliments. Shortly later, he changed his profile picture to the photo I’d sent.
On Wednesday, the night before our first date, I was so anxious I couldn’t keep my eyes shut when I tried to go to sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, I locked myself in the bathroom to reread the messages Phil had sent me over the past few days. He’d told me there was somewhere he wanted to take me and insisted on surprising me. According to him, all I needed to do was turn up outside a subway station that was forty-five minutes away from my dorm.
I dashed to the subway station carrying a backpack and wearing my battered Converse sneakers, as I was coming straight from class. Although Dana told me first dates were usually not very casual in South Korea, even among people our age, Phil claimed there was no need to dress up for whatever he had in mind.
The second I walked out of the exit, I saw Phil. He looked like he was from another world where everybody spent the entire day posing and dousing themselves in cologne. Wearing a striped button-up shirt with trousers and oxfords, he was practically glowing, though he was simply staring at his phone. Once he looked up and our eyes met, he grinned.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Phil said.
My face flushed as he reached out to hold my hand.
“Seriously, Stella, I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of you.”
Although I was tempted to confess I had stayed up doing the same thing, I was embarrassed about rereading his messages for hours.
“So where are we headed?” I asked.
“Have you ever visited this area?”
I shook my head.
“Seo Woo Center for Performing Arts is just a few minutes away. Want to check it out today?”
“Sure, I think I’ve heard of the name. It’s considered to be one of Seoul’s landmark buildings, isn’t it?”
“Yup, there’s a salsa band performance tonight,” Phil said, giving me a peck on the nose. “A performance which I have two tickets to.”
“You prepared tickets for us? Phil, you’re the best.”
“Shall we go to dinner first? There’s a great Italian restaurant nearby.”
Seo Woo Center for Performing Arts was even more spectacular than I expected. Wide and asymmetric, the building looked a little strange in the photos I had seen, but as soon as we arrived, my jaw dropped open. The landmark was lit up red, which gradually switched to blue, then to white. For a moment, I just stood there and marveled at how incredible the place looked in the dark. Next to the building, there was a rainbow musical fountain playing show tunes.
I pointed at the fountain and asked, “Do we have time to watch?”
Phil shook his head. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
After we walked past the fountain to the entrance of the concert hall, a woman wearing a satin dress with a fur shawl walked past. When she did a double take at us, I assumed she was drawn to how attractive Phil was. Perhaps she recognized him from a fashion campaign. However, as her eyes met mine, I realized she had a look of disapproval plastered on her face. I gathered she was judging me for my comparatively disheveled appearance. While other people weren’t as dressed up as her, they looked office-appropriate and most of the women were in heels. I was the only person wearing dirty sneakers.
“Why didn’t you tell me we would be going somewhere nice?” I said, grimacing at my ratty old Converse. I made a mental note to throw out the sneakers the moment I was back in my dorm.
“I’m sorry, Stella. I didn’t know,” Phil replied, although he’d conveniently turned up wearing a button-up shirt with dress pants and oxfords.
Though I felt like a silly foreigner who didn’t know how to follow the dress code, I assured myself none of this would matter once we were sitting inside the concert hall. After all, Phil was so thoughtful for remembering what I said about taking Latin Dance as an elective course.
“These are our seats. Not too bad, huh?” Phil said as we sat down.
“Not too bad? We’re close to the stage, and we get a clear view of the performance. Phil, these are the best seats.”
I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before the salsa band appeared.
During the performance, which I thought was incredible, Phil dozed off. At first, I presumed he was listening to the music with his eyes closed and continued to focus on the charming singers who were moving to the rhythm. They were smiling and having the time of their lives as they sang in Spanish. I was reminded of Taehyun and how he’d been impressed by the salsa dancers in Cuba. The vibrant energy of salsa music seemed perfect for dance.
Then I heard Phil snoring next to me and stared at him. I was shocked that he’d fallen asleep to such a lively performance.
“Hey, Phil,” I whispered as I tapped on his shoulder.
He furrowed his brow, shrugged off my hand, and closed his eyes again.