Stacy is still glowing from her workout when we get back to the apartment. I’m still red from humiliation. I can’t even tell her what happened; it would mean confessing my non-cardio ways. I told her I’d put the incline up on the treadmill when she asked why I was purple.
‘Ah bubbly, we’ve earned it today,’ she proclaims, unperturbed that the champagne cork came within an inch of blinding her.
‘Thanks, Stace. And thanks for leaving work early.’
‘Don’t mention it. I didn’t have time for the gym at lunch anyway, so it was fine going later.’
‘You have been working a lot lately,’ I point out. She’s always worked harder and longer than I have, but now she works twelve-, fourteen- and fifteen-hour days. Sometimes I feel like the stay-at-home wife, waiting for the apologetic phone call.
‘I know, but that’s what’s expected here. Nobody leaves before eight, and even that’s considered slacking off. I guess it’s the price to pay for being in such a booming place.’
‘I just don’t want you to miss out on living here. Couldn’t you go in earlier or something and then leave at a reasonable time? You’re a morning person anyway.’
‘I thought of that, but we’ve got to put in our face time. It doesn’t matter how early I’m in. If I left before everyone else they’d think I was a slacker. As it was, there were comments tonight when I left early. Oh, they were jokes: Working a half day today, are we? But beneath the joke is a message. I don’t think there’s any way around it.’
‘Maybe you could get everyone to shift a bit. If you’re all coming in early and leaving on time then it’s not unusual.’ I don’t like that she keeps saying ‘early’, when seven p.m. isn’t early. She’s being brainwashed into thinking that it’s normal to spend your whole life in the office. I’m afraid for her. And selfishly, I’m afraid for me.
‘Hah, call me Norma Rae. The union organizer?’ She tries in answer to my blank look. ‘Sally Field played her in the film? Oh never mind, it’s not funny if you’ve got to explain it. Anyway, let’s toast your success. Congratulations, sweetie, I knew you’d be great at this job. Josh is really letting you put forward all your suggestions!? That’s incredible you know. He must be so happy he hired you. You’ve found your true calling and that’s wonderful.’
‘I know. I send the proposals to the companies on Monday!’ It is wonderful, so I don’t mind her changing the subject. I’m finally in a job where I don’t feel like I’m a step away from meeting with HR to discuss my future. Is this really what it feels like to be good at what you do? ‘It seems like everything is falling so perfectly into place, Stace. And it’s all the more sweet because it wasn’t an easy start.’
‘That’s an understatement. You didn’t really apply for all those jobs, did you? You must have been exaggerating to Stuart and Brent.’
If only. They weren’t laughing at me, they assured me. They were laughing with me. If only I’d been laughing. ‘Stace, you overestimate my ability to get a job, and I love you for it. Thirty-eight applications exactly, for every job even remotely related to fashion. I counted when I realized I wasn’t hearing back from any of the companies. Only a handful even bothered to email me. But it was worth it to find the perfect job. I’ll ask Josh to get me a work permit soon.’
‘I can’t believe you’re working without one,’ Stacy says. ‘Do you realize how risky that is?’
I nod. ‘I also know that Josh has to be totally happy with me to go through the time and expense of getting me the permit. I’ll ask him soon, don’t worry. The important thing is that I’m here, standing my own two feet, and the apartment worked out, and you’re here…’
She nods sympathetically, knowing what I’m saying with my silence. ‘He’ll be back soon, Han. And you’ll see him in less than forty-eight hours. That’s good I suppose.’
‘I know. It is good. It’s just so hard. It’d be different if we were… if we knew when the assignment was ending.’ I nearly slipped up and said ‘living together’. I can’t give her that kind of statement to latch on to. It’d only (wrongly) convince her that I’m not happy with Sam, with the situation. ‘I guess we’ll stay at his place this weekend, okay? Even though Pete’s there, we can’t exactly stay in my room.’
Sam and Pete live in Wan Chai. It’s not a bad area, if you like cruising brothels. His apartment is wedged between two such establishments. Technically they’re hostess bars. I can guess what kind of hospitality is on the menu.
The fact that my boyfriend lives in the red light district was at first a little perplexing, but he really seems to like the area, and I admit it’s lively. So I’m trying not to be all Connecticut on the subject, though needless to say I glossed over these details when describing Sam’s apartment to my mother.
‘We could look at making bunk beds in your room.’ Stacy smirks. ‘After all, they stack washers and dryers in there.’
When I said that our apartment standards might be lower than usual, I meant my apartment standards. We (I) had to be realistic to find an apartment in our (her) price range. So we’ve (I’ve) compromised. The apartment is definitely nice. Its living room and dining room are faced by sliding glass doors leading to a miniscule balcony, looking up the hillside instead of down over Hong Kong. Ironically my room has the only view of the harbor, through a little window set high in the wall. I can see water when I stand on my bed.
And it’s easy to stand on my bed, since it covers the entire floor. That’s why I get all the closets. As long as I pretend I’m a sailor when I’m in my room, it’s not too bad.
‘What are you doing this weekend?’ I ask. ‘Are you seeing Brent and Stuart?’ They’re now attached at the diary.
‘I’m meeting them on Friday night. I think we’ll try one of the rooftop bars. It’s a shame you can’t come– I know, I know,’ she says holding up her hand to my objection. ‘Sam’s coming, and I understand. Maybe we can all meet on Saturday night instead. I have to work but I’ll be done by dinnertime.’
‘I’d rather not plan anything if that’s okay, since he’s only here for the weekend.’ I feel guilty saying this to my best friend, but surely she understands. It’s not like she’s dying to see him anyway. ‘We’re lucky we met Brent and Stuart, aren’t we?’ I say instead to change the topic. ‘As long as you’re sure Stuart doesn’t like you.’ This does tend to happen with Stacy. She’s every man’s dream, though she’s not a tease. She’d never purposely hurt a guy, but some men can interpret a smile as an invitation to test your mattress.
‘He definitely doesn’t like me,’ she confirms, smiling. ‘He worships one of our colleagues though. He talks about her non-stop. He’s working up the courage to ask her out.’
‘Oh, good for him! He deserves someone nice. Do you like her?’
‘I don’t know her, really. She’s on a different desk. But she seems kind of stuck up and cold.’
‘She doesn’t sound like much of a catch. And Stuart’s so friendly. Why would he like her?’
‘He’s got yellow fever.’
‘Oh no! Poor Stuart.’ I got vaccinated before I moved – the nurse said people can die from it.
She laughs. ‘Not that kind of yellow fever. It’s when white men only want to date Asian women. You’ve noticed all the men here pawing at the Chinese girls, haven’t you? Or the creepy fat bald men with the Filipinas?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. I just didn’t realize it was a medical condition… Do you think she’ll go out with him?’
‘It’s hard to say. She’s pretty much got her pick of the office. Even the married guys, and the ones with girlfriends, are all trying their luck. It’s disgusting really, but it sounds like cheating is a national pastime when you’re an expat. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff that goes on. I wouldn’t move out here if I were attached–not that all men cheat. I didn’t mean that at all. Stop making that face, Han, I didn’t mean Sam.’
‘Oh, I know you didn’t. Sam’s completely devoted.’ He just happens to be
living with his Chinese boss. Suddenly I feel less like celebrating.
Chapter 8.
‘Hannah.’ Winnie appears suddenly behind my office chair. Instinctively my finger finds the close button on-screen. Goodbye eBay. ‘Josh wants to see you right now,’ she says.
‘Ah, it’s only you. Mrs. Reese likes to sneak up on me like that. We need to fit her with a bell or something.’ Last week she caught me on facebook and accused me of stealing the company’s internet. And just yesterday she warned me that my one little call to Stacy from the office phone could cost me my job. I just know she keeps a log of my transgressions in her drawer, ready to cite as evidence at the first opportunity.
‘Really, Hannah. He wants to see you.’
This sounds serious. ‘Did he say why? Did he sound mad?’ It’s not like Josh to be demanding.
‘I don’t know, but I’d hurry if I were you.’
In London whenever my boss demanded my presence it was because she wanted to lecture or humiliate me, or send me for her lunch and dry cleaning. Josh gets his own lunch. That can only mean I’ve screwed up somehow.
‘Sam!’ I say when I see my boyfriend standing beside Josh’s desk. ‘What are you doing here?!’
‘Surprising you. Surprise.’ He sweeps me up in his arms, sticking a big bouquet of flowers into my side.
‘Ouch.’ I’m glad they’re not roses.
‘Sorry, here – these are for you. I know it’s probably not very practical, but I saw them on the way here and thought you’d like them.’
‘Thank you, but what are you doing here? I expected you tonight. How did you know where I work?’ Josh and Winnie are standing like proud parents at Sam’s side. Josh’s grin says he probably gets misty watching romcoms. Winnie may start humming ‘Unchained Melody’.
‘Han, we talk every day remember? You told me where you work. It wasn’t rocket science to look it up and call Josh. I wanted to be here when you finished so we’d have the whole night together. I got an earlier flight.’
This is wonderful. However, I’m far from boyfriend-ready. I didn’t sleep well last night, thinking about the weekend, and was late getting up. My hair is unwashed and I’ve got no make-up on. Sam’s not supposed to see me like this. I meant to rush home, shower (I haven’t shaved!) and wait, primped and gorgeous, with a glass of wine in my hand for him to from his flight. Three hours from now. Obviously I can’t tell him that. I need to avoid direct light until I can get to a pharmacy for emergency supplies. Hopefully he’s so blinded by love that he doesn’t notice I look like a refugee. ‘Josh, Winnie, were you in on this?’
‘Of course,’ says Winnie. ‘You never stop talking about Sam. We had to meet him.’
So much for being cool. ‘Thanks. I’ll go now if that’s okay.’ They only just refrain from making kissy-face noises to our retreating backs.
‘Sam, this is great! Where are we going?’
‘Let’s start with drinks, then I thought dinner and we’ll see what we want to do from there. How’s that sound?’
‘Super! I just have to stop at a pharmacy on the way, okay?’ I need some eyeliner, and mascara, some blush, a lipstick… dry shampoo, a bit of mousse. And a razor.
Wait a minute, why am I worrying about these little details? My boyfriend is standing in front of me! ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’
‘Me too, Han, I’ve missed you these past few weeks. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do!’ His lascivious grin says he’s not talking about films.
‘I missed you too.’ I smile and kiss him again. ‘But you’re here now and we’re going to have an amazing weekend. We don’t even need to get out of bed if we don’t want to.’ I’ll definitely need that razor. I’m at risk of making cricket noises if my legs rub together.
‘Well, not until tomorrow night anyway. I’ve arranged a little dinner with my colleagues so you’ll get to meet everyone. I didn’t want to presume what you’d want to do, but I thought that’d be fun. They’re getting a table at a really nice restaurant that’s famous for its duck. It’ll be great.’
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but he spends every damn day with his colleagues. Okay, I do mean to sound ungrateful. ‘Couldn’t we just spend the weekend together? I told Stacy that I’ll be staying with you. I didn’t plan to see her. I see her every day,’ I add pointedly.
‘We will be together the whole time, Han. I just thought you’d like to meet them. You’ve been very curious about them.’ I wish he’d stop bringing that up. Geez, cross the boundary once and you’re labelled for life. It’s not like I asked him for Li Ming’s urine sample. It was just a photo.
‘You’re right, it’ll be fun. I’m sorry. I’m just being selfish because I’ve missed you so much.’
‘Aw, come here.’ He kisses me sweetly. ‘We’ve got tonight, and tomorrow, and all of Sunday alone together. Pete won’t be around that much, which is a shame because I really want you to get to know him. But he’ll be at dinner. You’re going to love him.’
‘Based on the way you talk about him, I’m sure I will.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ He cringes. ‘I do sound like I worship the guy. In actual fact, he drives me nuts sometimes. I’m kind of pissed at him now, actually, but it’ll blow over.’ When he sees my expectant face he continues. ‘It’s not even worth talking about. He– he’s in a disapproving phase, that’s all. He’ll get over it.’
‘Is it because you’re seeing me?’ Guys can be weird about their friend’s girlfriends.
‘No, not exactly. Never mind, it’s no big deal. The point is that we’ve been best friends our whole lives, like you and Stacy. Even when he’s being a dick. Which isn’t often! I’m making him sound awful now when he’s really pretty great. He’s like a younger version of my friend Charles. Did I ever tell you about Charles?’
‘Mm, no, I don’t think so,’ I say, still fretting about Pete’s disapproval as we wander hand in hand along the crowded street. Commuters stream past, making their way to the MTR for their journey home. That, at least, hasn’t been a culture shock. The public transport is as crowded here as it is in London, with the same jerk forcing his way on the packed train instead of waiting three minutes for the next one. There’s only one real difference, which literally hit me on the head the first time I wedged my way into the center of the carriage. The handles dangling from the ceiling assume a certain lack of stature. I guess that makes sense. It wouldn’t do to ask commuters to boost each other up to suspend from the ceiling like trapeze artists.
‘I interned for him in high school,’ Sam reminisces as we walk. ‘He had a company, a consultancy. They’re economists, advising local governments and clients like that.’
‘Did you always know you wanted to be an economist?’
‘God, no! I wanted to be a rock star.’ He looks embarrassed at this confession.
‘You play an instrument?’ My boyfriend, a musician! I couldn’t carry a tune in a basket, with both hands.
‘No, and I can’t sing either. It wasn’t a very realistic dream.’
‘That’s why they’re called dreams.’
‘They were pure fantasy, in my case. No, my father got me the internship the summer of my senior year. One of his friends put me in touch with Charles. He was great. I had no real idea what an economist did when I met him. I figured he’d be a geek with a clipboard and tape on his glasses, writing papers nobody ever read. But he was so cool. He could explain why anything in the world was happening, in an accessible way, and make it sound interesting. I loved that guy. He was like a better version of my father.’
‘I thought you got along with your father?’
‘Yeah, we get along okay. He’s just not very engaged with my brother and me. He’s a brilliant man, but he’s an academic. He doesn’t connect very well with people.’
‘You’re not people though, you’re his family.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it? But Charles and I weren’t like that. He was a sort of a mentor for me, not just in school and career
stuff, but in life…’
‘What happened?’ Because something must have happened or we’d be discussing Charles in the present tense.
‘He had a hacking cough even when we first met. Heavy smoker. By the time he was diagnosed, he had just a couple months left. He died almost three years ago.’
‘I’m sorry, that must have been really hard.’ I hate being confronted with news like this. My responses always sound so trivial. And occasionally stupidly flippant. I still kick myself for responding to a colleague who said she’d just lost her granddad with the question, ‘Did he fall through a hole in your pocket?’ Nervous idiocy.
‘Yeah… but,’ he says, smiling again. ‘If reincarnation is real then he’s out there somewhere, right? So he’s not gone. Maybe we’ll meet again.’
How I’d love to have his belief that every cloud has a silver lining. By my calculation, his mentor would just now be out of diapers if he were reincarnated. But Sam loves the idea so much that he doesn’t care that little Charlie would be drooling strained carrots.
The streets we wander are jammed with people, noisy with traffic and a feast for the eyes. The whole city is saturated with color. Unlike London’s majestic, restrained buildings, or Connecticut’s shopping strips and malls, detail crowds every square inch of Hong Kong. Neon glows everywhere, giving the city a carnival atmosphere. Every shop is stacked to the ceiling with merchandise, on floors, walls, countertops. Posters and hand-lettered adverts paper many of the display windows. Magically, like sweet shops, they draw my foreign eyes.
In fact, it is a sweet shop! ‘Will you look at that?’ I say, dragging Sam inside the busy shop. Most of the labels are unintelligible but one section is in English. It’s stocked with dried prune products – chamomile prunes, basil prunes, green tea prunes, yogurt prunes, rose prunes. Europeans must get awfully constipated here. Just next to nature’s laxatives is the Asian hillbilly section, full of codfish jerky. Mostly, though, the shop is filled with baskets of beautifully, individually wrapped morsels. The customers are milling around filling plastic bags. They don’t look like pick “n” mix candies though. I think they’re actually dried fruit jellies. We watch, uncertainly, until a lady snatches a sample from a dish in the middle of one of the colorful sections. ‘Here.’ I hand Sam one and free mine from its shimmery colored wrapper. ‘Ready? Down the hatch on three. One, two, three.’
The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) Page 10