Face Time

by S. J. Pajonas

  Laura pulls her hair out of the elastic its tied in and runs her fingers through her long, dark hair a few times. “Well, I love romance. It’s a dying art. You should be with someone who will appreciate your gestures, Lee.”

  “I have someone in mind.” I lean into the iPad and smile at her, and we pause to observe each other. She knows I’m talking about her. Who else would have captured my attention enough to spend my morning with?

  “So you’re going to talk to your parents soon?” Her voice is quieter, and she’s probably wondering if she’ll get a mention to my parents. I’m going to play the situation by ear.

  “Yeah, I talk to them tomorrow night, 11:00pm my time, 7:00am Seattle time. The World Clock app is my best friend.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be mine soon, as well.” She winks at me, and my pulse stutters. So charming.

  “Okay, Laura, your turn. Tell me about your ex-boyfriend.”

  Her smile falls, and she leans back away on her end, reaching over to grab the beer and hold the bottle in her hand. Shit. The last one hurt her, I know it.

  “His name was Rene.” Her voice cracks, but she clears it and drinks. “Funnily enough, I met him at a bar, too, like you…”

  I can already tell I’m going to have to be totally different from this guy, and I hope that’s not an impossible task.

  “He was a complete stranger, much like all the other guys I dated in my past. But the difference was that I met him here in New York on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Why is that different?”

  “Lee…” She hangs her head. “God, this is something I don’t talk about on the second date or ever.”

  Hmmm. I’ve never dated a woman with a past before. Usually I’m the first or second boyfriend or, in the case of Sandra, known her my whole life. This is uncharted territory.

  From her end of the conversation, the voice of woman calls Laura’s name, and Laura sighs, closing her eyes. “Lee, I need a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Okay,” I reply, and she mutes the call and leaves sight of the camera. Does she have someone else in her apartment? I don’t remember her saying she had a roommate. The back of my neck prickles. Something is not right. I could see it in the way Laura’s shoulders tensed at the sound of the voice.

  A minute or two passes before Laura returns to her bed, repositions herself and the iPad, and un-mutes the call.

  “Sorry about that, Lee. Um, we need to talk about something.” She grasps a thick strand of hair, twists it in her fingers, and lets it go. “My mother lives here with me in my apartment.”

  I blink my eyes a few times, confused by this statement. “You live at home?”

  “No,” she says, waving her hand at the camera. “I do live in a two-bedroom apartment in Chelsea. When my dad died three years ago, my mother had… Hmmm, how do I say this nicely? A middle-aged freak out.”

  “Oh no.” I cringe.

  “Yeah. She sold their house in Connecticut, showed up on my doorstep, and invited herself to live with me. Technically, she owns the apartment now that my dad is gone so I couldn’t say no. She said she was only going to live here for a few months, but, three years later…” She shrugs her shoulders and watches for my reaction.

  “Wow, Laura. That’s really…” I stop, searching for the correct words here.

  “Sad and depressing?” she asks, laughing.

  “No, I was thinking, accommodating and caring. And certainly a lot to take on in your early thirties.”

  “Honestly, Lee, it sucks. She’s had more boyfriends in the last two years than I’ve had my whole life, and they’ve all been wealthy and perfect. But somewhere along the way, she lost the ability to keep her mouth shut about anything. She eventually breaks up with them once she’s said too much. She never talks to me anymore, not like she used to. She’s off on her vacations to the Caribbean or Europe with her newest fling without so much as a thought or a note to let me know she’s gone.” Laura picks at the comforter on her bed, her head turned from me. “Sorry. I do worry about her, but she’s so frustrating.” I sensed on our first date she was holding a lot back from me. I didn’t expect a live-in mother in the middle of a midlife crisis.

  I bet this is why she’s still single, and my heart clenches in my chest. What do I even say?

  “Okay then,” I say, trying to relax and comfort her. If she were here next to me, I’d hold her hand or hug her. A FaceTime date is more difficult than I thought it would be. I love physical contact. It was another thing I hated about my relationship with Sandra. “Don’t worry. You’re doing what you have to do. If I were in your situation, I’d do the same. You can tell me more the next time we talk.”

  “On the third date?” she asks, her face turned back to the camera and a small smile upon her lips.

  “Is that a question about whether you’ll tell me next time or wondering if there is a next time?”

  “Both.”

  “I’d like for there to be a next time and even more times after that.” Laura likes to flirt and talk, but she seems to relish being direct and honest. I think, as long as I don’t play hard to get, something can come of this. What something? I don’t know.

  She sighs, scrunching up her shoulders first before relaxing again. “Me too.”

  “Okay, let’s make a plan. How about your Saturday night, my Sunday morning? Are you free?”

  “Oh.” Her voice softens and she chews on the corner of her mouth.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she says, smiling and blushing again. “It’s just that… Well.” Her voice is so quiet, I reach over and turn up the volume on my iPad. “Saturday seems very far away.”

  Christ, I’d give anything to kiss her right now. “It’s ages away. Eons. Next time you see me I may be an old man.”

  “That’s okay. All the Koreans I know get more handsome with age.”

  She’s a keeper.

  “Can I text you during the week?” she asks. Her eyes are wide and hopeful.

  “Yes. I’d love that. If I’m sleeping or in a meeting, I may not text back for a while.”

  “Same here. I also have a job and sleeping to do.”

  I feel like this is getting off on the right foot, and Laura’s relief was evident when I suggested another FaceTime date. I think she likes me and didn’t want to scare me away with the news of her mother. I wouldn’t mention that on a first date either.

  “Saturday night, same time,” I say, nodding and smiling at her.

  “Okay. I’m taking my mom to Connecticut during the day, to have lunch with my aunt, but I’ll be back before then.”

  “I’m looking forward to it already, Laura. Our third date.”

  “I can’t wait.” She leans in, and waving, ends the call.

  Neither can I.

  (>’o’)> ♥ <(‘o’<)

  “You’ll get back together with Sandra. You always do. This time, you should put in notice at your job and come home.”

  My mother, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun, is droning on at me, but I’m concentrating on the pace my heart is beating in my chest. Even under the most trying circumstances at work, the most stressful cases I have ever handled, nothing boils my blood like my mother trying to boss me around. I want to keep the peace in our family. I do. I’ve been trying my whole life just to meet her expectations.

  I’m failing. Again.

  My father, sixty-five years old and doesn’t look a day over forty, sits back quietly, his ever present glass of Scotch dwindling by the moment. It’s 7:00am in Seattle, and he’s already through his first glass of the day. This is stressful for him as well. My mother drove him to drink most of his life, and what she lacks in regularity, my father’s guilt or work makes up for in spades.

  “No, Mom. I’m not getting back together with Sandra. We haven’t spoken in a month now. She broke up with me, and I’ve already moved on.”

  “Excuse me?” she asks, her eyes wide and voice rising. My father takes a len
gthy sip, hiding his smile from her.

  “Yes. Moved on. Sandra is in the past now. You can tell her yourself if you like. I know you’ll be calling her later.” That’s the routine. I talk to my parents, my mother calls over to Sandra’s, they exchange gossip, and Sandra calls me. I’ve traveled so much in the last month, this ritual hasn’t been performed in a long time. My mother’s finger will be dialing Sandra’s number as soon as we hang up.

  “Met someone new, Lee?” I’ve peaked my father’s interest. He likes women, all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life, and I’m sure I got the same love of women from him. I can’t count the number of times he’s employed beautiful women assistants and paralegals at the office. They’ve all been extremely qualified, but he likes a pretty face.

  “I have, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet. It’s still in the beginning stage.”

  “Someone in Seoul?” My mother puts her glasses on and leans towards the iPad on her end of the conversation. I bought the thing for them but I doubt they use it for anything else but conversations with me.

  “No comment,” I reply.

  “Bah. You lawyers.” My mother waves her hand at my father and me. She must be sick of us.

  “Su-Dae, no more of this,” my father admonishes my mother as he sets his drink down. “Lee is man and can take care of himself. You need to stop meddling.” Thanks, Dad. I love my father. He’s always been on my side.

  “I’ll go make breakfast.” Without saying goodbye, my mother gets up and walks away, the bedroom door slamming shut in the background.

  “Tell me, Lee,” my father whispers, leaning into the iPad. “Is she pretty?”

  “Gorgeous, Dad. But…” I sigh, not wanting to deliver this kind of news, but I should while my mother is away from the room. “She’s not Korean. She’s Caucasian.”

  He leans back, drinking the last of his Scotch, and nods his head. “I always knew this family would be mixed someday. Your mother won’t be pleased.”

  “Is she ever?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, son. It’s the least of my worries.” He strokes his stubbled chin and looks off in the distance, and I know from the layout of their bedroom, he’s trained his eyes on the Buddha statue my parents keep in their room. My family is both Buddhist and Christian — Christianity now heavily outweighing Buddhism — but the old ways are hard to give up.

  “Big case goes to trial in a week now, right?”

  “Less. On Wednesday. Only five years late.” My father smiles at me but it’s weary, tiredness rimming his eyes in red. He’s been working on a big environmental law case for eight long years, three years past when he was supposed to retire, and it’s finally going to trial. My family lives in Lynnwood, just north of Seattle, and my father handles all the environmental law cases that threaten the areas north of us. In this case, a huge developer wants to encroach on protected land right next to a town full of people and his firm has been fighting them for years. “Hopefully I can retire by the end of summer.”

  “You can take up a life of leisure, Dad. Go golfing. Fix up the garden in the back yard…”

  He laughs, shaking his head at the iPad. “Lee, golfing, yes. If I spend too much time around the house, your mother will kill me in my sleep.”

  This is probably true. I’d like to think my father took an active role in our upbringings, but my mother ruled the house. She handled everything. My father was only home in the late evenings and some weekends when he didn’t have to go to the office to get work done. But he did care — does care. He asked about every track meet, every concert, girlfriend, and class I ever had. He took the time to be with me. He was at my graduations. He was at Jin and Nari’s weddings and around for the birth of their kids. Whatever anyone says about him, he’s a family man.

  “Okay, well, lots of golf and exercise… and less alcohol.”

  He nods at me. “Of course.”

  The ensuing silence speaks volumes. He can never give up the alcohol now.

  “How’s work, Lee?”

  “Oh, you know, Dad. It’s a lot of work.” I stand up at the table and turn the camera around so he can see the piles of paper I brought home from the office. My firm specializes in automobile companies, and I handle a few Asian and Indian manufacturers. I need to be well-informed about current international law; the companies export vehicles to every corner of the planet. I spend a lot of my trips briefing their internal lawyers about possible problems and new regulations in each country.

  “It is. Are they treating you well? Five years now, I was wondering if you want to make partner or not.”

  Sighing, I close my eyes for a minute. We have this conversation every few months. “I don’t think so. It was never supposed to a permanent thing.”

  I took the job to get away from Seattle, my mother, and Nari. They drive me mad with their constant nitpicking. I’m never good enough for them. My sister, Nari, is the worst though. She’s constantly depressed or angry, picking on me or her poor husband, Daniel, and getting drunk at every family function. She and Sandra are best friends, so between the two of them, I’m hounded on every front. I had been in Seoul at this firm two years when I got together with Sandra, and after six months of dating long-distance, I realized I should just stay where I was. Sandra is as bad as Nari and my mother, and now I can’t believe I put up with her for as long as I have.

  “What are you thinking, son?” My father rubs his face, blinking his bleary eyes at me. He looks so tired.

  “I’m not sure but something different. My loans are paid off, and I have money in the bank.”

  “You’re smart, Lee. It was sacrifice to take this job and do all the traveling, but they pay you well.”

  “They do.” I’m lucky to be in this position, but it has been a personal sacrifice. I don’t have much of a life. If it weren’t for Chris and Cori, I would have quit over a year ago. Now I’ve met Laura, and I’m not sure where she fits into all of this. “I’m going to give it some thought. I want to do something more significant, like you.”

  My father’s passion has always been the environment. I need to figure out mine.

  “I’m proud of you, Lee.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’ve gotta go. It’s getting late, and I have to be at the office early tomorrow. But…” I point at him with a smile. “Before I go, let’s make a wager on how many baseball references the local papers will come up with for your win.”

  “You’re tempting fate, Lee.”

  “I know, I know, but I think you’ll win. I’m betting between ten and fifteen.”

  He squints at me, rubbing his chin again. “I’m going with more than fifteen. A good bottle of Scotch?”

  “Okay, I’ll allow alcohol for this bet.”

  My father shares a name with Chul-Soon Park, a famous (in Korea) baseball player. During my father’s earlier years as an attorney, he mentioned the baseball name connection to a reporter, and it’s been headline fodder ever since.

  “Sleep well, son. Plan a trip home soon.”

  “Okay, Dad. Bye.” I end the call and get up to take my plate back into the kitchen when my phone starts buzzing on the table. What did he forget to tell me?

  I hustle back, almost dropping the plate on the floor, and freeze. It’s Sandra. Of course, it is. My mother never fails to fulfill all her duties.

  I let the call ring and ring, not picking up the phone for fear I may accidentally answer it. After a minute, the screen indicates I have voicemail. I should just erase it because I don’t care what she has to say. But I can’t help it.

  “Lee, your mother tells me you’re dating someone new. I don’t remember us talking about seeing other people. But if this is the way you’re going to be then fine. Don’t come crawling back to me when you want to get back together.” Click. What? Is she joking?

  My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from her. God, she’s relentless.

  Sandra Kwon

  I know you’re home. Your mother says you were talking t
o your father. Don’t ignore me.

  Lee Park

  We broke up, Sandra. Weeks ago. I can date whomever I want.

  Sandra Kwon

  We did not break up.

  I open my email, find the last one from her in which she specifically said, “We should break up, Lee,” and paste the entire paragraph into the text window.

  Sandra Kwon

  You idiot. I said we SHOULD break up. Not we ARE breaking up.

  I have my arm cocked back to throw my iPhone against the wall before I snap out of my blind rage.

  Lee Park

  I hate the way you talk to me. I’m not an idiot and we are definitely through.

  You’ve been dating other men for months. Remember? “Let’s keep things casual.”

  You’re a hypocrite.

  Don’t contact me again.

  Sandra Kwon

  Fine. You’ll be back. You always come back.

  I navigate away from her text, hit “edit” on the list view of all my messages, and delete her from them. It won’t get rid of her permanently but at least I don’t have to see her name every time I open iMessages to talk to Laura.

  Chapter

  Nine

  =

  Laura

  It was a light week at work. Mary was out of the office for several meetings each day and a lot of people were working long hours trying to get as much as possible done before New York City Public Schools close for spring break. I had intense desires everyday to sit and text with Lee, but my work day is the middle of the night for him so I stopped myself. This is still way, way, way too early in our relationship for me to be that kind of girlfriend, though I suspect he’s been lonely for years now and may want the attention. I certainly do. I did text him every morning and every evening. We didn’t say much to each other, but his texts made me smile. Someone all the way on the other side of the world is thinking about me, wondering how my day is going, if I’m happy or sad, what I ate for lunch or what I did at the gym. Our texts are playful and flirtatious. I love them.