by Anna Premoli
“Americans… they just have no shame,” I hear a little old lady complain in very basic English.
Americans? What Americans?
Seung Hee walks over to us quickly, and to judge by the expression on her face, she has every intention of acting as peacemaker, even if that means killing us both.
“Listen you two, I know you’re both my bosses and I know that you are older than me, and I also know that in all likelihood you are both certain that you know what you are doing, but let me tell you something: you are both wrong.”
Her voice is firm and even a little annoyed.
We stare at her, guiltily, and for a few seconds no one says anything.
“You two need to talk, because if you don’t, you’re both going to end up completely crazy,” she adds, giving us the final blow. “And I think it would be better if you decided to do it away from this hotel where the staff consider you both consummate professionals and have entrusted you to take care of its merger…”
Still sitting on the floor, I stare down at the ground, hoping to blend in with the dark marble. Mark looks equally distraught.
“My God, what got into me?” he whispers, more to himself than to us. He looks really, really contrite.
“If you want my opinion – which, I know, doesn’t count for anything – you are in love with each other. And you are two extremely destructive people in love,” Seung Hee continues. She certainly doesn’t hold back when the occasion demands strong words. “Don’t look at me with those soppy looks on your faces – it was about time someone told you the truth. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I sincerely hope that I’ll never have to see anything like it again.”
Her words makes me smile – actually, they make me laugh so much that all of a sudden I can’t stop myself and I am possessed by a hysterical giggle that doesn’t seem to want to stop. I mean, come on – the shyest, most retiring girl on the planet has just totally put me in my place. Some people turn their heads in my direction while other people look on in puzzlement as they observe the scene.
“Maddison, what do you say we go for a walk on the beach while Seung Hee checks us both in?” Mark proposes, getting up off the floor. The look in his eyes says “you just dare to refuse and wait and see what happens to you.”
“But my suitcase…” I stammer, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of being alone with him.
I don’t have time to finish the sentence before Mark interrupts me: “We’ll leave your suitcase here in the lobby and ask them to take it to your room. No one would dare steal it. I mean, no thief would be able to lift the damn thing off the ground…”
The smile I had on my face a minute before is beginning to crack. “If I must…” I reply with a sigh. I am so scared of the idea of talking to Mark on my own that I would almost like to run away. Too bad that he’s a much faster runner than me.
We go back through the revolving door, this time each of us in our own little space and we walk in silence towards the beach. Jeju is a volcanic island, unique in its kind: it is full of natural wonders like caves, waterfalls and strange rock formations – so full that it has actually been nominated a protected site by Unesco. And in fact, the scenery is beautiful. Before us stretches a long sandy beach that here in Jeju they describe as being ‘black’ because it is volcanic, but it looks more like a rather pale grey to me.
Mark approaches the water and without wasting any time takes off his shoes and socks and rolls his trousers up to his knees, then he steps into the sea, letting the wet sand cover his feet. This unusual scene reminds me that he is the man blessed with probably the most beautiful feet in the world – and to think that he doesn’t even go for pedicures.
I am so fascinated by the movement of the sand along with the waves that I don’t even realize that Mark has turned towards me and is watching me. When I look up our eyes meet.
“Is it time for the final confrontation?” I ask him, sensing deep unease in his expression.
He approaches me, a very intense expression on his face.
“I would prefer not to quarrel, if possible.”
“It didn’t seem like that a moment ago…” I remind him.
“I’m an idiot, what can I say?” he admits in a resigned manner, and I stare at him in amazement. He beat me to it, just as I was about to take a deep breath in order to tell him that I was an idiot too, if not something actually worse.
“Listen, there are a few things I would like to tell you.”
“I’m listening,” I breathe.
“It’s really hard…” he says, a look of vague embarrassment on his face.
I give him a smile of encouragement.
“Ok, I’ll get straight to the point. Or at least I’ll try to,” he jokes nervously.
“Mark, for crying out loud, get on with it…”
“You’re right, you’re right!” he exclaims decisively.
“What?”
Am I supposed to understand what the hell he’s going on about?
“Seung Hee is right – I think I’m in love with you,” he admits solemnly. But the way he says it is more appropriate for a funeral than a romantic declaration of love. And then, as I watch him, I sense the reason for his mood.
“Ah, I see – it’s something that you’re not happy about.”
“Not particularly, no,” he admits, looking more and more uncomfortable.
“And may I know the reason why?” I ask carefully.
He sighs, annoyed at having to explain his point of view.
“You must admit that when they fall in love, most people usually hope that the other person feels the same way about them…”
“Well, not always. I mean, look at the poets for example… I guess they wouldn’t have had any inspiration if the people they were in love with had loved them back.”
Mark looks at me in a puzzled way. I guess he’s more and more convinced of my total insanity.
“Do I look like a poet?” he mutters, with an irritable frown. When he does that, he is absolutely adorable.
“No, I really can’t see you writing poetry, now that you come to mention it,” I say with a chuckle.
From my smile he realizes that I’m making fun of him and he relaxes.
“But anyway, carry on – you were saying…”
Mark sits down on the beach next to me. “Yes, I was saying that the situation is… it’s hard for me. And I’m sorry, I’ve behaved absolutely unforgivably, and at the end of the day it isn’t your fault,” he concludes with a sigh.
“What isn’t my fault?”
As much as I try, I can’t understand what on earth he’s trying to say to me. I’m struggling to follow him.
“That you don’t love me.”
He says this as if it were a fact – an irrefutable truth that has been scientifically proven.
“Says who?” I ask, trying to hold back the excitement that his words arouse in me. But Mark isn’t listening: he has lowered his head like an ostrich and has stopped looking at me.
I place my hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and the contact, however slight, creates an immediate warmth that envelopes me instantly.
God, I love this man.
He looks up at me, scrutinizing me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, because it is written in those exotic eyes of his, so full of expression, that he doesn’t even have to repeat it. I know that he loves me and that he’s suffering because of it.
He moves my hand away from his arm as if it had burnt him and tries to rise, but I pull him back down firmly. I move up towards his face and kiss him. Before closing my eyes I just have time to see the look of surprise on his face, as he struggles to give in and surrender to that unexpected kiss. This man is able to make my head spin with just a simple, innocent kiss.
A few moments later we’re both lying on the sand: Mark holds me tightly to him as if he wants to stop me from running away while I try to drink in his wonderful fragrance.
“What does that mean?
” Mark asks as we pull apart to catch our breath. “Was that a goodbye kiss?”
I laugh, I can’t help myself. “Yeah, right… in England everyone kisses each other like that at the airport, didn’t you notice when you were there?” I tease him.
“No, I was too absorbed in watching you to notice anything else.”
I give him a friendly punch. “Shut up, that’s not true!”
“It is!” he insists. “But I was very good at hiding it from you.”
“Ah…”
Suddenly there is an awkward silence between us. I try to distract myself by examining the lines on his face.
“You were saying that the kiss is…” he says, trying to get me to talk.
“No, I’m sorry. You’ve just made the most bloody awful declaration of love in the history of declarations of love, so you’re not getting anything out of me until you’ve managed to improve on it – at least a little bit.”
Finally, I’ve managed to make him laugh properly. That beautiful face relaxes… too bad that it doesn’t happen more often.
After becoming serious again he raises himself up on one elbow to get a better look at me.
“Ok, then – I’ll try again. ‘Dear Ms Johnson, I am officially and totally in love with you.’ Is that better?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.
I pretend to think about it for a while. “A bit…” I grant him.
His free hand is caressing my cheek. “Well, now I would like to hear your side of the story,” he says. He seems impatient.
“Well, they say that a gesture is worth a thousand words…”
“Oh that’s bullshit – I want it all, words and gestures. But for now I would like the words… and then immediately after the gestures,” he exclaims.
I breathe in the fresh sea air before whispering what he eagerly wants to hear.
“Saranghae.”
My voice is little more than a whisper, the excitement making my vocal cords quiver.
“You know a word in Korean?” Mark is surprised, unable to hide the joy in his face.
“And what a word…”
“Yeah, what a word,” he agrees.
And with that, it would seem, we decide to move on from the words and get on with the gestures.
Ah yes – sometimes words are not really necessary at all.
Epilogue
The telephone rings loudly in my tiny London flat. For a moment I think I must be late again and jump out of bed as if I had just awakened from a nightmare, but then a hand grabs me by the waist.
“But today is Saturday…” moans Mark, after pulling me back in beside him.
He returned late last night from the United States and we ended up getting to sleep much later… In short, living a long way from one another is always a pain when you’re young and in love. Even if your boyfriend leaves you for just a couple of days. I never thought I’d say this, but a couple of days is an eternity!
“Yes, it’s Saturday…” I agree, rubbing my eyes.
What if I have done something wrong at work and they’re calling me because they need me to do it all again from scratch? On a Saturday? I reluctantly free myself from his embrace and take the cordless phone from the bedside table. I nearly fall out of bed when I hear the voice coming from the other end.
“Maddison!” thunders my mother’s voice as soon as I put the phone to my poor ear.
Ah, so that’s what I hadn’t been missing in Seoul.
“Maddison, you told me to call you to remind you about your appointment with the estate agent!”
Even though I wish she would learn to communicate without shouting, she’s absolutely right!
“Mark! We have to go to see the house! Thanks Mum!” I say, and hang up before she can carry on, as she usually does.
Mark lifts his beautiful, tousled head from the pillow. I think he’s finally remembered – after all he was the one who noticed the house and made the appointment for ten o’clock this morning. Except for the jet-lag and the fatigue, for once he’s just like me – absolutely comatose.
“You got your mother to give us a wake up call?” he asks in amazement.
I smile angelically.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Perfectly,” says the object of my desires, who gets up from the bed and disappears into the bathroom for a very quick shower before hurriedly starting to get dressed.
“Jeans?” I ask, looking surprised. Not that he never wears them, but for him, every excursion that isn’t a trip to the market generally requires exactly the appropriate clothing.
“Of course – and you put yours on as well. We need to look young and penniless so when we make our offer they will think that it is the absolute top end of what we can afford.”
He smiles and mischievously moves towards me to kiss me. That bewildered air of his lasted about a quarter of a second – now he’s back to his usual efficient self.
“Stop it, we’re going to be late,” I remind him, even though I don’t really put up much resistance.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that you’re irresistible.”
I love this side of Mark: since we’ve been officially together he’s become so affectionate and loving. I feel adored – and, believe me, all women should feel that way: we should never settle for anything less.
“I don’t feel particularly irresistible this morning, but I do really appreciate you saying that. Even if you are lying.”
Mark gives me a puzzled look.
“I will never lie to you.”
Really?
“What, never, ever?” I ask him.
“Never, of course. Why, would you lie to me?”
What a question, all women lie!
“Never about anything important,” I reassure him, thoughtfully.
For a moment I see him looking slightly uncomfortable at my answer.
“And what exactly do you consider ‘unimportant’?” he asks, a worried expression on his face.
Is he sure he really wants to know? I burst out laughing at the thought.
“Oh, don’t know – how much money I spend on clothes, shoes, the hairdresser…”
“Ahhh…” he exclaims and kisses me again.
I think that’s taken a huge weight off his mind.
“Oh, ok then – you can carry on lying to me…”
“I knew I’d chosen the best man in the world…”
“And are you lying now?” Mark asks, looking mischievous.
“No, I’m being totally serious,” I reassure him, raising one hand and placing the other on my heart.
At the sound of my answer, his face lights up. I’ve discovered that he has a wonderful smile and that he is a wonderful man, and that making him happy makes me happy. In all honesty I really didn’t think that falling in love with someone would be so… Well, so amazing. I can hardly stop myself from smiling.
Of course, the downside is that since we’ve become a couple we don’t work together any more. Mark went to talk to John right away and I was transferred back to London We could have kept quiet about it and waited for my original transfer to expire, but that’s not Mark’s way. He felt that we ought to put the record straight immediately.
It was only after I’d returned to the motherland that I realized how fond I had become of Korean life. Yes, they might be a bit weird, but I do actually really like them. Apart from the food…
So we suffered at being miles away from one another until they found two other people for the office in Seoul and Mark was transferred to London, although in a different team to mine. He’s often away for work, though, so every now and then we still have to put up with being apart.
Mark says that he really likes it in London but I suspect that in reality he doesn’t care too much for the place. Thanks to him I learned that it isn’t the city that matters, but the person beside you. And wherever in the world we eventually find ourselves living, I will have no objection as long as he’s by my side.
I went back to working with my
old team and I am incredibly happy: I have a lot of extra responsibility and after the experience in Seoul I’m finally able to do my job confidently. For the record, I also discovered that I actually like it, too.
I admit that in some ways it has perhaps been a bit of a let-down: I had always dreamt of doing great things with my life, and instead I now deal with mergers and acquisitions. But – brace yourselves – they’ve given me the luxury goods and fashion companies to work with now!
Of course, I’ll never be as passionate about work as Jane – never, ever… but as long as I can feel even half of her dedication, that, for me, will be a real achievement.
It’s also possible that it was Mark who helped convey this love of the job to me. After all he does his own with such passion that it is impossible for some of it not to rub off on those around him. It’s a kind of symbiosis typical of falling in love, I think.
“However, if they don’t accept our offer then it will mean that we will have to continue living here.” I say, resuming our conversation.
Mark stares at me, horrified. “I adore you, but we cannot go on living in thirty square metres or whatever this place is…”
“It’s almost fifty!” I retort.
“Yes, if you count the cellar and that weird little balcony which you’ve never set foot on,” he says seriously. He stops for a moment and then he smiles enigmatically. “I mean, what if there were little feet running around here?”
“Are you thinking of getting a puppy?” I ask doubtfully.
Mark rolls his eyes and goes off to look for his shoes. “Ah yes, your famous female intuition… thank goodness that it’s so accurate. Anyway, let’s deal with one thing at a time. Come on, let’s go and buy this wonderful new house of ours.”
“Which I’ll pay my share of the mortgage for…” I remind him.
“You know that I offered to pay for everything myself.”
“Over my dead body! What do you take me for? One of those girls who dreams of being a kept woman?”
“Excuse me, isn’t that exactly what you’ve been dreaming of all your life?” he laughs.
“Ooh, you awful…” I mutter.