by Anna Premoli
“Grandma…” Mark scolds her severely.
“I know, I know… she’s your mother. But really… getting married to a Korean girl… I thought I had raised him differently,” she insists.
“You married a Korean man,” points out Mark.
“Exactly, and it was a scandal back in the day. Your father, on the contrary, made a very boring choice,” she comments sorrowfully. “That’s why I sincerely hope you’ll made a scandalous choice like I did.”
“And I deluded myself into thinking you cared about my wellbeing. You’re only interested in a bit of scandal…”
His grandmother laughs insolently. “You’ll see how much fun it is to be at a centre of a scandal.”
“Mark? In a scandal?” I ask, trying to participate in the conversation.
Mark gives me a smug look.
“Don’t you think I’m scandalous?” he asks me with a predatory expression.
“Hmm, no, not really… I don’t think so,” I answer. But if he continues looking at me that way I might change my mind. I nervously open the menu again, but it’s in French and I don’t understand any of it. So that’s why it looked like Arabic before! I slam it shut, angry at always being made to feel so uncomfortable in any restaurant I happen to go into, anywhere in the world.
Mark is observing me from the corner of his eye – I hope he realizes what the problem is.
“Ladies, would you allow me to order for you?” he asks solemnly.
His grandmother looks at him curiously.
“If you insist…”
“I insist,” he says firmly. And then he smiles at me and for a second I feel almost lost.
Luckily the rest of the dinner goes by smoothly, with no other diplomatic incidents. Unbelievable, if you think of how the evening had begun.
Mark and I decide to walk back to the hotel: after all, the evening is so nice that it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity to stroll around New York at night. Tomorrow we’ll have to head back to Seoul: our time in this city is almost over, and I want to enjoy every single moment.
My boss offered to help me to carry the bags I have from my shopping expedition. He only let me carry the lighter ones.
“I’m sorry, I thought she would be more discreet,” Mark apologizes.
“No problem, I actually thought the evening was quite amusing,” I reassure him. And I find out that I really do think so, to my own surprise.
“Well, yes, I guess it might have been ‘amusing’ if you’re not the one at the centre of it,” he comments.
“I was totally at the centre of it!” I point out. “You have no idea what she suggested I do…” I say without thinking. I swear I didn’t mean to talk about that, but I must have drunk too much wine to be able to keep my mouth shut.
Mark snorts weirdly. “You don’t even have to tell me. I know her, I imagine she told you that I’m great in bed and you should give me a try,” he speculates with a laugh.
I look at him in embarrassment. So she could actually have said something even worse…
“She certainly did not suggest anything like that!” I exclaim outraged. “She only mentioned a kiss…” I admit lowering my voice.
“Ah, so she controlled herself this time, then! She must be improving…” he chuckles.
“Anyway, are you?”
“What?” he asks surprised and becoming serious again for a moment.
I really don’t know how I could have asked him such a thing. He stops to look at me, then bursts into laughter.
“Are you seriously asking me if I’m good in bed?” he repeats in shock, crying with laughter.
I can’t say he’s wrong for pointing out that.
“I was just making conversation…” I answer, trying to defend myself.
“What kind of conversation would that be? You want to have a chat about my sex life? Why don’t you tell me something about yours, if you’re so eager for conversation?” he teases me.
Why is he taking it so seriously? He could have just made a joke about it. “You don’t need to get mad. Who cares if you’re not a good lover… I mean, there are other qualities…”
Mark stands in front of me. “First of all, it’s none of your business. Second: let’s make one thing clear: I am very good at everything, including kissing and making love,” he states arrogantly.
“You can’t be objective,” I point out.
“I am always objective,” he dares to insist.
“Nobody is objective when it’s about themselves!” I exclaim, exasperated by his attitude.
I hope he doesn’t think he’s any different from all us other human beings. Although, after getting to know him, it occurs to me that he actually might.
“But I am objective,” he replies. “Shall I give you a demonstration?” he asks, as if it was a normal thing.
I go bright red. Oh boy, thinking about it, I think I would really like to have one. But I push the thought aside immediately.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I manage to answer, giving him a very stern look. I pray in silence that he doesn’t sense my indecision.
“You don’t know what you’re missing…”
“Oh, well, I’ll just have to suffer on in ignorance,” I answer.
Thank God we’ve reached the hotel. Another five minutes and I would have ended up changing my mind.
Chapter 8
Livin’ La Korean Vida Loca
We got back to Seoul on Saturday, after a much less thrilling flight than the previous one. Suffering in the knowledge that you’re about to enjoy the charms of the Big Apple is very different from feeling sick for fear of flying while knowing that you’re on the way back to the usual routine. Luckily I was able to use the following Sunday to catch up on sleep and I enjoyed a whole day of total laziness, going from the sofa to the bed and back again. I even took a nap while watching some strange Korean soap operas on TV. Everybody seems to love them here, and sometimes Seung Hee tries to find out how interested I am in this strange national sport, but I can’t really appreciate the local television programmes – mostly because I don’t understand the language, I imagine.
The first week after New York shot by without me even realizing it: it’s a very busy period in the office, we’re all up to our necks in work. Even though I haven’t exactly been knocking myself out, I have been quite tired and not really in the mood for having a social life. I also have to admit that I’m quite proud of ‘my team’: incredibly, even Mark admitted that since my arrival they’ve been more motivated and productive than usual.
I can’t help noticing that they’re not the only ones who are changing – I am discovering aspects of myself that I didn’t know I possessed as well. I have developed an almost motherly feeling for them, which is a real novelty for me. I don’t usually like taking responsibility for my actions, let alone for other people’s, but this job is showing me how giving up your certainties every once in a while and accepting new challenges can sometimes lead to surprising results.
In the days after we came back, Mark was very busy, or at least pretended to be, and only spoke to me maybe two or three times in total. He’s been even more severe than usual and he notices every little mistake I make at work. So when he does speak to me, it’s only ever to reprimand or scold me. That’s why I prefer him silent. Luckily, at this point I’m used to his behaviour anyway.
What a shame, I was hoping that New York would help us to at least be a little more relaxed around each other, even if becoming friends was asking too much. Apparently, I was wrong. I try to shake off the melancholy I feel when I think of New York, forcing myself to get interested in the next ‘must go’ event. The whole office is excited because on Friday night there’s going to be a company party. We’re going to a club, apparently. It’s the umpteenth group activity, but they think that it’s very important to try and maintain a convivial atmosphere in the office.
The Christmas party was more than enough for everyone in London. If they had started organ
ising this many company activities outside of working hours in London there would have been a revolution. Either that or an inexplicable spike in the number of ailments, funerals and flooded bathrooms. But not in Seoul. Everybody here loves these occasions so much that they organize at least five or six of them every year. How depressing.
Seung Hee glows with joy at the idea of going to the party. I try and work out what’s behind all her excitement, and put it down to her age: I have a feeling that she will stop loving parties so much when she’s about thirty. But she’s Korean, so you never know…
“Maddison, would you like to come shopping with me at lunch break for the party?” she suggests, smiling at me with her pretty, hopeful face.
I haven’t even entered a shop since I came to Seoul – I was so scared that they wouldn’t understand me that I even forgot about my shopping addiction. If I think about it, since I moved to Korea I’ve actually turned into some sort of money hoarder. Unfortunately.
Her pretty face and her skill as an interpreter are enough to convince me, and she surprises me with the way she decides to go into some shops and skip others altogether. Have I been under-estimating this girl?
“Over the past few days I’ve already been and had a look at everything, I know exactly which clothes we have to try on!” she reveals. I hadn’t realized she was so determined. The first thing she decides to try on is a very flattering green dress. After seeing it on her, I can’t help but implore her to buy it: the colour suits her perfectly and it’s revealing enough without making her look vulgar. When she comes out of the changing room, she hands me an extremely short blue mini dress with some small glittering pearls around the neckline. I hope she doesn’t expect me to wear something like that. I might be glamorous, but I’d never dare put on a dress like that… I think I missed my chance of wearing that sort of thing about ten years ago, it would be really ridiculous to start dressing that way at my age. Anyway Seung Hee is very determined and I’m not sure how, but she manages to convince me to at least try this tiny dress on.
While I admire myself in the mirror, I have to admit that it does suit me perfectly. The only problem is that my legs are totally bare. I think this dress was designed for women not quite as tall as me.
“This is absolutely indecent!” I say to my colleague.
“On the contrary – it’s perfect!” she replies, in a tone that doesn’t allow for contradiction.
“I guess you’re joking, right? They will arrest me the moment I leave the house if I dress like this!”
Ok, the Korean sense of decency allows women to uncover their legs – but uncovering them this much might cause a diplomatic incident.
“I would wear it if I was you. While you still can…” she adds impertinently.
Her comment convinces me and so, against my will, I decide to do something crazy and buy the dress.
When, a few hours later, I’m back home holding the bag with my dress in, I’m still not sure if I’ll wear it or not. I do want to make an impression, but this might be going too far. I try it on again, hoping to convince myself to wear it. It’s true, it’s scandalously short, but didn’t Mark tell me that it’s ok if I uncover my legs here? And, on the other hand, the neckline is quite discreet. My inner battle only lasts for a few minutes: the truth is that I like the way I look in this dress and I am going to wear it!
I have a quick shower and then do my hair very carefully, framing my face with a few curls. Tonight I’ll break the rules and wear my hair down. The final touch is some quite dark smoky make-up that I wear only on special occasions. I put my dress on and look in the wardrobe for some shoes to go with it: I have a blue pair, with high heels, that are just perfect. I then choose a beige coat and sit on the sofa, waiting patiently for Andrew to come and pick me up. In the afternoon he offered to pick me up in a taxi and I accepted. I knew that Mark would be busy until late with some vaguely specified meetings, so I thought I might be able to use some company.
A few minutes later, perfectly on time, Andrew rings the intercom and soon after appears at my door. When he sees me he says with enthusiasm, “You look splendid!”
I thank him and can’t help but blush. A woman does need compliments, and not just criticism, from time to time. We get to the party too quickly, before I can mentally prepare for the evening ahead. I get stuck at the entrance, unable to decide whether I should take my coat off or not. It is saving me from the embarrassment of showing the dress to my colleagues. Perhaps dressing this way wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Seung Hee sees me immediately and, even though she’s on the other side of the club, runs towards me.
“Come on, come and show everyone the amazing dress I found for you!” she exclaims with enthusiasm, something she’s never shown in the office. Maybe she’s been keeping it hidden.
“In a moment,” I answer, trying to play for time.
After a few weeks of experience, I can say without fear of being contradicted that the rest of the world has a very mistaken opinion of Korean women: the middle-aged ones, also known as ajumma, are ballsy and don’t mince their words, while the younger ones are clever enough to hide their steely determination in order to avoid frightening off potential suitors. And Seung Hee is typical of the younger generation. She almost forces me to take off my coat and gives it to the cloakroom person for me. I take a deep breath to try and summon up my courage. Ok, I can overcome the embarrassment. After all, I’ve put this dress on because for once in my life I don’t want to play safe. I want to take a risk. And, maybe unconsciously, I want to provoke some reaction. Though I’m not sure quite what kind of reaction yet.
The murmuring in the club stops, as though someone had switched it off with a hidden button. The whole hall, waiters included, stop to stare at me. I’d say my curiosity was completely satisfied: being the centre of people’s attention is no fun at all if you’re not used to it. Well, now I know.
The men’s eyes are glued to my legs, and I turn as red as paprika. Andrew, who is still by my side, can’t hide the excitement in his eyes. I guess he’s congratulating himself on having offered to pick me up.
“Come on, let’s go and dance.” I drag him away from the entrance, hoping to lose myself in the crowd on the dance floor. I’m not really much of a dancer, but at this point I’m willing to do anything to become invisible. The dance floor is full of people. When it comes to enjoying themselves, the Koreans are second to none. I start moving to the rhythm of the music, trying to keep as much distance as possible from Andrew. I don’t think that dancing in a club like this necessarily requires us to be as close as he seems to think, though. I reject all his attempts to invade my personal space, even with some ‘accidental’ elbowings, but this is not enough to calm his enthusiasm, so I decide to trample on his feet. Now the message ought to be quite clear, but apparently Andrew left his perspicacity back in the States. I can’t believe I actually thought he was quite charming the first time I saw him… I shouldn’t attribute so much importance to first impressions.
After only two songs I’ve really had enough of dancing and I’ve had enough of defending myself from his unwanted attentions. I have reached my limit and am just about to give him a piece of my mind when Mark appears. I’m not sure where he came from, but I’m almost glad that he’s here.
When I had arrived at the club I had looked around expectantly to see if he was there, hoping that maybe his meetings had finished earlier than he expected. I wasn’t really interested in knowing if he was there yet, of course. But he is my boss. Anyway, I hadn’t spotted him, so he was either hiding somewhere or has just arrived. I notice he’s wearing the same grey suit he had on earlier in the day, and deduce he hasn’t been home to get changed. He just took his tie off and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his white shirt. His face looks tired, and for a change, he makes no attempt to hide it.
“Hi, Andrew, do you mind if I steal your dancing partner?” he asks, clearly without intending to wait for an answer. Before Andrew c
an say a word, he takes my arm firmly and drags me away from the dance floor to a dark corner of the room.
“Hello, Mark,” I say hesitantly, trying to free myself and remind him that he hasn’t even said ‘hello’ to me yet.
He doesn’t answer.
“What is this thing?” he asks me gloomily, carefully examining every centimetre of my body.
“What are you referring to?” I ask, pretending that I haven’t understood what he’s talking about.
He gets snappy.
“This dress you’re wearing. Although you can hardly really call it a dress, can you…”
He’s annoyed, there’s no doubt about it. He’s not actually shouting, but maybe this makes him look even more dangerous than usual.
“Seung Hee chose it, don’t you like it?” I tease him with an innocent smile.
“Are you seriously asking me if I like it?”
He gives me a glare that only he and maybe James Bond are capable of. And I’m guessing even Sean Connery would lose a staring contest with Mark.
“I really can’t decide if you’re totally crazy or just totally irresponsible.”
Dear God, I really do not understand this man. I raise my chin pugnaciously. “Well everybody else likes it a lot,” I tell him.
“I have no doubt that they do,” he mumbles sarcastically, and lifts a hand in a way that makes me almost afraid that he wants to choke me. But he just blocks me between his body and the wall I’m leaning against, making me jump.
“Ok, listen, here’s what we’re going to do. Try and stay by my side and nobody will dare try harassing you.”
His tone of voice doesn’t encourage a refusal.
“I came here with Andrew,” I remind him. I couldn’t wait to get rid of him, to be honest, but Mark must not know that.
“Well now you’re with me,” he insists.
“I’ve already told you that I don’t need a baby-sitter,” I reply firmly.