There are no new records, but that doesn’t bother me. I play her old ones again and again, until the early hours of morning. I’ve seen them dozens of times and still, every time, I notice something new, some small, previously undiscovered detail, like the way her voice changes when she’s excited, or how it feels inside her head when she gets self-conscious. Every new detail registers in my mind. When I’m inside her mind, inside her heart, I fail to understand how I could’ve been such a shit to her.
I try hard and at length to find some flaw in her. But the more I think about it, the more evident it becomes that Mi-Ok is my ideal woman, the way I’ve always imagined her. She’s insanely sexy, but unpretentious. She’s known sorrow and pain and yet her smile is the warmest in the world. She’s bright and clever and sincere and she can have anyone she wants, but she wants me. Or, she wanted me, before I treated her virginity like a disease.
On the plane back to Korea I think of the jarring words she said to me - it takes courage to never love when you know it means you’ll end up alone. Despite the pain I prefer my loneliness to the chance of falling in love with her.
I’m parked in front of her building. The structure is now painted in a gleaming coat of white. The mailboxes are new. There is a new glass door with a new intercom system.
I’ve been sitting in my car all night, nearly froze to death, and still as she exits said new glass door, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. Either way, she passes by my car as if I’m invisible. She’s obviously aware that it’s me inside – yellow Lamborghinis aren’t a common occurrence in this shithole neighborhood.
There is a light knock at my window – she came back, and she’s signaling me to get out of the car.
The air outside is as frozen as her gaze. I rub my palms together and exhale into them in an attempt to get warm.
“Here to see how the renovations are going? Or are you looking for me?” she provides me with an excuse I wasn’t looking for.
“I came to apologize. I’ve been an asshole. Please forgive me,” I try to touch her hand but she flinches away.
“It’s fine. You were just being honest.” She crosses her arms on her chest. Her eyes are distant. Being honest? What? And what does she mean, ‘fine’?
“Please get in the car, it’s freezing out here.” I hold open the door and thank Christ, she tosses her bag inside and gets in after it with no further argument.
“Look, I get it. I got it the moment I saw that photo of you with Lee Sung. I have nothing to do with the world people like you live in. Your world is populated by beautiful, elegant, sophisticated women. I could never compete with someone like Lee Sung. She’s a goddess.”
It kills me to hear her self-deprecate like this, especially when she’s comparing herself to that snake.
“I’m actually relieved that nothing regrettable happened between us. I can barely stand to think how disappointed you’d have been by my inexperience. It would’ve been humiliating for me, probably. So really, I should be thanking you.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I dare to look at her again. She seems calm and peaceful and I feel like I’m losing it, and the disgusting things I said to her are coming back now like vicious boomerangs.
“Jeremy tells me you’ve just been to India – I hope it was a good trip?” she tries to lightly change the subject, to be polite, and I’m still stuck on that first word.
“Jeremy? When?”
“I met him when I was at the Octagon with a friend.” I’m instantly relieved to hear this was just a random encounter. For a moment there, I was horrified. Then—
“He asked me to a movie,” she says. “It was nice.”
I swallow nervously.
“He said he wanted to teach me how to swim, and that I should come to Australia and go diving with him at the Great Barrier Reef. He told me that his family lives nearby, at Port Douglas, so we could meet them while we’re in the neighborhood.”
I don’t have enough oxygen to process everything she’s saying. In the single week I’ve been gone, she managed to accidentally run into him, go on a date with him, and now they’re planning her meeting with his fucking parents? I half-expect to see a ring on her finger.
“Have you kissed?” am I seriously asking her this question?
I study her face. She doesn’t reply, but she isn’t denying it, and from her quickly reddening cheeks I can tell that they have. I think of Jeremy’s ten minute rule. Ten minutes or less from kissing to fucking, guaranteed. I hope the piece of shit didn’t make it all about him, at least.
“I think we’re done here,” she says, and slams the car door behind her when she gets out to walk decisively back to her building. I watch her walk away, dumbfounded.
A thought sneaks into my brain and the more I try to evict it, the deeper it sinks its teeth into my head.
Jeremy planned this all to get Mi-Ok.
I now realize he’d kept my glass full that entire evening. The bastard was getting me drunk. He sold me that night to Lee Sung like a cheap whore, and though I feel sick just considering this, that photographer might not have been waiting outside the hotel room by accident. Jeremy staged the photo with Lee Sung, then exploited it to make his move, knowing how I’d hurt Mi-Ok. He set me up.
I grab my head with both hands. It all makes a perfect, disgusting sort of sense. I know he called Lee Sung after, like a complete idiot, I told him that Mi-Ok was a virgin. I cannot believe my stupidity, telling him that, might as well dip her in blood and drop her in the shark tank.
And I saw him taking an interest when we saw her at the Octagon. He tried to hit on her, and I warned him to keep away. Even at the hotel, just a short while after he saved her from rape, I saw how hungrily he looked at her body. And though in my soul I was grateful to him for having stopped that son of a bitch, I wanted to kill him for eyeing her like that.
It’s my fault. I’m the one who marked her as a target, and then I let loose the fucking arrow myself.
I start the Lamborghini and drive like a maniac. I’ll either die in a crash or find that fucker and murder him.
I arrive at the Hilltop and run into the lobby, my eyes frantically searching.
The hotel manager approaches me along with the reception clerk. They both nod politely at me.
“Beg your pardon, sir – there’s a matter that requires your attention.” They look embarrassed. I’m confused, so I remain silent and let them explain.
“Sir, you remember giving us your credit card number to charge for the suite.”
I nod.
“It seems, sir, that your Australian friend chose to leave us yesterday, and he left… quite a large debt in his wake. Liquor, mostly… we were forced to charge you for that, as well.” he squirms and writhes until he eventually manages to spit it all out.
“He left? How do you know?”
“The maid found the room empty. Upon further enquiry we were told by the taxi driver that he took him to the airport.”
That piece of shit.
I get back into my car and only then notice that Mi-Ok forgot her bag on the floor near the passenger seat. I can’t help but look through it. I’ve already rummaged through her mind, her heart, her apartment – what difference does going through her things make?
Lipstick – the shade is too loud for her – lip-gloss, a small pack of tissues, some used tissues, black eyeliner, cheap plastic wallet with some spare change, an envelope.
I open it and freeze.
Mom, Dad, I miss you so much. I have no one to tell how miserable I am.
God. This is far too reminiscent of a suicide note. I shudder and am drawn inside, absorbing her words like an addict, noting the messy script and the emotional turmoil it indicates.
I didn’t expect to fall in love again. After Shim Min-Suk cheated on me, I was destroyed – this guy just caugh
t me off-guard, blew me away. But he’s so fickle… charming, funny and sweet one moment, horrible and cruel the next.
I wonder if she’s talking about me or Jeremy. I suppose we could both fit the bill.
The first time he helped me I didn’t even know he existed. Mr. Han, my boss at the bar, just said that I had a secret admirer – that some guy had paid him “a ton” of money to kick out a customer who was harassing me. Then, I thought it was funny – I was sure that whoever it was had his own reasons to want to get rid of the guy, and I just got lucky. I had no idea who it was until Mr. Han showed me a photo in the paper of some guy running without a shirt and said that “good-looking young man” was the one who paid back then.
At least now I know she’s talking about me.
If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t finish the school year. His father, the founder of Bubble, had just passed away – he set up a scholarship in his name. I know my original request for a scholarship wasn’t approved because I happened to call the tuitions department and ask about it – they said my scholarship wasn’t approved and they’d send me a letter about it. The letter never came, though. I got another one instead telling me I got a full ride from another scholarship. He somehow managed to inadvertently help me again.
Nothing was inadvertent here.
At the inauguration ceremony I walk up to the stage to thank him and when I stood there, I felt strange, as if his eyes were scorching my skin.
I also remember feeling like I was burning.
A few days after that he came to give us a lecture at school. It was amazing. He is amazing. Would you believe he quoted ‘Alice’ from memory?
I’ve had probably hundreds of women. She is the very first to be impressed by my fluency in Alice in Wonderland.
Then he shows up at my place, and I find out he literally owns the building I live in. I looked like crap that day, too. And he looked at me like I was some kind of vision.
I remember. Even at your crappiest, you are a heavenly creature.
He actually helped me with a seminar paper, even though it was the weekend and I’m sure he had better things to do. He’s so clever. You guys would love him. He thinks that you’re pretty, Mom. That you were pretty.
I told him you’re both gone. I’m sorry, Mom.
I’m so sorry I idiotically fell in love with the man who owns Bubble, when Bubble is the reason you aren’t here now, with me. Please forgive me.
And… something terrible happened to me. It was bad. I was nearly raped by a man I was dating. Jeremy, a friend of his, saved me from that. But when he heard what had happened, he came straight over, stayed with me, took care of me. I felt safe with him. I felt like one of you was there, watching over me.
I have no means to contain this sentence. Right now I want more than anything just to hug her.
He’s done so much for me. He actually gave me a modeling gig – my face is plastered on every other bus in the city. Can you believe it, Dad? Your little monkey’s a model. And he sent me these amazing dresses… Mom, you’d love them, but they take up like half my closet, and I don’t think I’ll ever have an excuse to wear them. They’re too fancy, probably more appropriate for the women who inhabit the same social strata as him. He renovated the building I live in. You’ll be happy to hear it’s much safer here, now – there’s even an intercom at the front door. And even though it must’ve cost a fortune, he forewent the whole building’s rent for the month.
I’m sure by this point the problem is self-evident. I couldn’t help but fall for him. To make things worse, of course he’s gorgeous, tall, built like a Greek deity. I never stood a chance. My heart never bothered checking in with my brain.
So I fell in love with him. A self-proclaimed playboy with a new supermodel draped over him every day, according to the tabloids. A man I’ve personally heard declare himself as not husband material. But now I know he isn’t even friend material. I knew he’d never stay, but I wanted him, wanted to be with him at least once. I went to his office and I was willing to go all the way. He acted like I was contagious. Made it clear that he was an experienced man, in need of an experienced woman. He mocked me. I was so humiliated. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.
I’m an idiot. I wish I could take it all back. Everything would be different. I probably wouldn’t have let her first time take place on my office couch, but she would have been smiling when she left, and when it did happen, I would make her first time unforgettable. But all the money in the world can’t turn back time. So I suppose that mistake is mine to regret for the rest of my life.
The next day someone had taken a photo of him leaving a hotel room with a beautiful woman in nothing but a towel hugging him from behind. This woman, mind you, is his ex-fiancé. A breathtakingly beautiful, elegant woman. When I saw that photo I was destroyed. The jealousy and humiliation were overwhelming.
I was so drunk. God, fuck me.
A friend of his asked me out. It was a mistake, trying to get even that way. The friend turned to be even more of a playboy, and I ended up doing thing I hadn’t planned on doing.
Jesus. She slept with him to get back at me? Why the hell would she do something that reckless?
He’s here now, parked in front of my building. I have no idea what he’s doing here after saying what he said. I don’t want him to apologize because I don’t want to end up forgiving him. Mom, Dad, I need your help, I can’t deal with this sadness alone, this pain, please give me the strength to go on. It would help so much to know you’ve forgiven me. He hates me already, please don’t hate me too.
I love you always,
Mi-Ok
I could never hate you, silly.
Chapter Fifteen
Time heals, they say. I’d laugh if I could, but at the moment, I don’t think I’m even capable of a smile. It’s been three fucking weeks and all I feel like doing is lying in bed and reading her letter again and again, and I can’t even do that anymore.
At first, I ditched work under the pretext of a severe cold, but I couldn’t use that excuse for more than ten straight days. The company had apparently succumbed to chaos during my absence, so I came back to the office, and I’ve been burning the candle at both ends ever since, mostly to avoid thinking of her. Every so often, when I’m in the office by myself, I have flashbacks to our first kiss – it happened right here. I’m getting another one now.
God. Time doesn’t heal shit. I suppose I’ll just need to live with this pain, grow used to it somehow. At very rare moments I can sometimes feel like I might have some small chance to heal – usually when I develop a new algorithm or crack some tough issue that none of the other programmers could fix – but then it all comes back, and my life is hell again. I try to obediently accept my fate, believing that this might be karma in action; perhaps the cosmos is punishing me for my behavior toward women over the past few years, and toward Mi-Ok in particular.
The entire company is humming with the excitement of the party tomorrow, thrown in honor of an extremely successful launch. I’m not really in a partying mindset, but as the CEO I’m expected to be thrilled – or at the very least look forward to the party – so I do my best to fake a smile as I walk down the hall. A group of women chatters excitedly about what they’re going to wear to the damn thing. No one seems to be working around here apart from me, and I can’t work either, for far less enjoyable reasons.
My phone buzzes. The number on the screen belongs to my property manager. I consider ignoring it but eventually pick up. He’s calling to tell me that Mi-Ok is late on her rent. I tell him to drop it. It’s an insanely inadequate compensation for what I’d done to her.
I wear a tailored black suit, a white shirt and a bowtie, knowing full well that every mosquito in the company will be out for my blood in this suit. I’ve heard some watercooler talk, most likely not intended for my ears – a surprising number of wome
n apparently want nothing more in life than the opportunity to be alone with me.
I walk into the party. Within seconds I am surrounded by congratulating junior executives. I’ll need a drink if I’m expected to keep up positive appearances. I head for the bar and instantly spot Mi-Ok standing with her back to me, in the blue dress I gave her. What is she doing here? Apart from flirting with one of my employees. All my blood rushes into my face.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grab her arm and spin her around, then grow pale when I recognize the girl that was filling in for my secretary several weeks ago. My eyes dart around and I’m thankful to see that no one seemed to notice my outburst.
“I’m sorry, I thought you… might have snuck in without an invitation,” I apologize and inwardly kick myself. I examine her dress more closely. It is undoubtedly one of the dresses I picked for Mi-Ok. I was assured that it was one of a kind.
“Do you like it?” she smiles at me flirtatiously, and I realize I’m staring in a way that might easily be interpreted as interest in her.
“It’s a lovely dress,” I allow, and she looks practically giddy at my reaction. “Where did you buy it?” I investigate further.
“Directly from the model,” she points at one of the posters hanging on the walls. I’ve somehow managed to miss them, but I realize that the party planner chose to incorporate the launch posters in the decorations, and Mi-Ok’s face is looking back at me from every direction, closing in on me.
The poster right in front of me features Mi-Ok in the very same dress. My heart flutters when I remember that photoshoot. I remember the exact feeling I had when I watched her come out of the dressing room, how heavenly she looked in the blue dress. I can’t help but feel somewhat hurt that she sold it.
“I’m glad you like my dress,” the girl smiles seductively. She’s out of luck – I feel sick, looking at her in Mi-Ok’s dress.
“I like the dress,” I hiss, “but it isn’t for you, I think.” She’d never look as good as Mi-Ok in that blue dress – but I leave that part out. What I did say was more than enough to bring her down.
The Bubble Match Page 10