The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2)

by Michele Gorman

  He shakes his head. ‘I never ignored you.’

  ‘You did too! You spent hours talking to Li Ming.’

  ‘We’ve been talking together, all three of us! You and she went on about where to get handmade shoes, remember? And about your tailor. You told her all about your fitting. True or not?’

  Sure, we chatted, briefly, about fashion. And a bit about my job, and new apartment, and my time in London because she studied there too, though not with Sam. But he had his back to me. I know I’m not making that up. ‘I felt like you ignored me.’

  ‘Jesus, Hannah, I’m sorry if I didn’t spend every minute talking to you. I thought that since we were at a table full of people, it’d be okay to talk to the others too. Is that what you want? My complete, undivided attention?’

  Yes. That’s exactly what I want from the man I’m in love with. It would be different if we lived here together. Then we’d have the luxury of all the tomorrows. But we’ve got less than twenty-four hours left. He shouldn’t want to share that time with others. ‘Yes,’ I tell him.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry. I thought that flying early to meet you yesterday, and the fact that we spent every minute, waking and sleeping, together from then till now, alone except for this evening, would be enough for you. I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t give you any more than I am already. If it’s not enough, I don’t really know what to do.’ Now he looks sad.

  ‘You were flirting with Li Ming.’ The words slip out before I can stop them.

  ‘What?! I was not. Han, I wasn’t.’

  ‘You’ve got yellow fever.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ He tries to grab my hand but I yank it away.

  ‘Stacy says expat men all want to date Asian women. Why wouldn’t you? Li Ming’s tiny and exotic. You’re in the same field and get along so well. Maybe she wouldn’t mind being ignored. Not that you were ignoring her.’

  He stares at me. ‘Are you saying you want me to date Li Ming?’

  ‘I’m saying I don’t want to stand in your way. Listen, this has been hard, being in different countries, hasn’t it? Not just for you, you know. I’ve moved 6,000 miles and I’m ready to start my life here, my social life and my love life. I can’t do that while my boyfriend is living somewhere else, visiting every few weeks.’

  That’s shocking him back to his senses. See how you like the idea of losing me, Sam. He’s nodding slowly, as realization dawns.

  ‘… You’re right.’ He sighs, his eyes bright. ‘This isn’t fun. And it isn’t fair.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Finally he understands. I take his hand and he squeezes it back.

  ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back in Hong Kong,’ he says. ‘Honestly, the project seems to be dragging on. I’m sorry, I’ve been completely selfish. I’ve convinced you to move here and now I’m not even here. That’s not fair to you. So you’re right.’

  ‘I am?’ Is he saying what I think he’s saying? He’s moving back. We’ll no longer be in limbo, and can start to live our life together as we, I, he planned. I can finally start answering Mom’s calls. And Stacy will stop making I-told-you-so faces every time I mention my boyfriend.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he says thickly. ‘I hate this but… it isn’t fair. We should be free to see other people. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish. You’re right, it’s not fair to either of us right now. Come here.’ He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair.

  What just happened? Did I just suggest we break up? I don’t want to break up. These tears should be evidence enough of that. We’re not breaking up are we? Sam said we could ‘see other people’, he didn’t say ‘not see each other’. Right? Right?! I need clarity.

  ‘Did we just break up?’

  ‘God, no! At least I hope not! We didn’t, did we?’ He looks terrified. He probably looks like I do.

  ‘No, definitely not. Phew, you scared me. I don’t want to stop seeing you.’

  ‘Me either, Han. That’s the last thing I want. I want to see you so much. Even though I don’t like the idea, you’re right, this is the best thing for now.’

  I wish he’d stop saying I’m right. I don’t feel right.

  ‘There won’t be any misunderstanding or resentment this way,’ he continues. ‘I shouldn’t have been so selfish up till now. I’m so sorry about that.’

  ‘So we’re not breaking up.’

  ‘Han. We are definitely not breaking up. I promise you that. In fact, will you think about coming out for your birthday weekend? I know you’re supposed to go with Stacy and those men, but I’d love to celebrate with you instead.’

  Well, that was the shortest pretend holiday in history. ‘Okay, yes, thanks, Sam, I’d like that.’

  He smiles shyly. ‘Kiss me?’

  As I fold myself into his body I feel the tension of these last hours draining away. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want the absent feeling that comes after the last contact. Neither does he. He keeps kissing, again and again, as if each last kiss reminds him that he wants one more. He doesn’t want to break up. This was a stupid fight, and a stupid misunderstanding. The panic is subsiding now, but oh, how close we came to losing each other. That was terrifyingly close.

  Chapter 10.

  ‘But petal, if you were exclusive before, and now you’re seeing other people, how is that not breaking up?’ Chloe gently asks later in the week when we’ve finally managed to overcome the time difference, and her uncharged mobile, and lost handset at the apartment. Luckily her office doesn’t mind its employees making international calls. Or I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if they knew about them.

  ‘We’re not broken up because we’re still seeing each other. After our talk everything went back to normal. I guess we just needed to clear the air. I’ve been kind of crazy about his boss, but I feel better now that I’ve met her. She’s not what I imagined. She’s really sweet and nice and friendly.’

  ‘Is she ugly?’

  ‘No, she’s not beautiful but she’s not ugly. She’s regular.’

  ‘Just your run-of-the-mill smart, sweet, nice, friendly Asian woman who spends every day with your boyfriend, and lives with him and their colleagues? Han, are you sure you’re okay with that?’

  ‘Well, you’re making it sound bad. I didn’t get a threatening vibe from her at all.’ Although I did feel sick when she mentioned the beach, didn’t I? ‘She’s much less threatening than I imagined. I’ve got nothing to worry about. And Sam and I had a wonderful, relaxed day together before he had to fly back. Chloe, really, we’re not even on a break. In fact, I’m visiting him in two weeks for my birthday. Broken up people don’t do that. They stop seeing each other and cry a lot. This isn’t anything like that. I’m not crying at all, I promise. And it’s just until his assignment ends. Oh, I’m not explaining it right, but it wasn’t a break-up, trust me. I just pointed out to him that this situation isn’t fair for me.’

  ‘Well no, that’s true, it wasn’t really. So you initiated it?’

  ‘Yes, sort of. I mean I got mad, over dinner, and told him it’s not fair that I’m living like a nun here because he’s in another country. He agreed, and said I should have the freedom to live my life here, and date other guys if I want to. This is about me though. He’s not even going to see anyone else.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I asked him before he left. He said he didn’t plan to see other girls. You should have seen him, Chloe, he was nearly crying. He doesn’t want me to see other people, obviously. So this is really something he agreed to do for me.’

  ‘Bullshit.’ That’s Stacy, announcing her homecoming with profanity. ‘Is that your mother?’ she demands. ‘He’s a selfish twit, Mrs. Cumming! Talk some sense into your daughter. Lord knows I’ve tried.’

  ‘It’s not my mother. It’s Chloe,’ I hiss.

  ‘Oh. What does she think?’

  ‘Stace, I’ll talk to you in a minute. When I’m off the phone. Sorry, Chloe, that was Stacy.’

 
‘So I gathered. How is the wicked witch of the East?’

  ‘She’s fine, thanks for asking. Stacy, Chloe says hello.’

  I cover the phone, cutting off Chloe’s colorful retort.

  ‘Whatever,’ Stacy calls over her shoulder on her way to her room.

  ‘Stacy says hi back. Anyway, this all happened last weekend–’

  ‘You poor thing! I’m so sorry I didn’t call back till now. I was away with Barry till Sunday, and I got your message, but with the time difference… anyway, I’m sorry, Han, I should have called sooner.’

  ‘No that’s okay, really. I’m fine. Like I said, this isn’t bad news at all. We haven’t broken up and we’ve talked every day, just like usual. Really, I think this is just Sam’s way of saying sorry for asking me to move here when he’s not even here. Like a reward, so to speak, for taking the leap.’

  ‘Your reward from your boyfriend is that you get to kiss other boys?’ She sounds skeptical.

  ‘Well, obviously he’s hoping I won’t be kissing any. But there’s nothing saying I can’t go on dates. In fact, I will.’

  Stacy thinks I should be treating Hong Kong like a dim sum buffet, getting my hands on as many steamy buns as possible. That’s why she’s come home ‘early’ from work to take me out. ‘I’ve got to run honey, Stacy and I have plans tonight.’

  ‘Now? It’s nearly ten there, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, she had to work late. I’ll call you over the weekend, okay? Are you around?’

  ‘I think so. Wait, no, I’m…’ I can hear drawers slamming. ‘I had my diary yesterday. Where is it? Anyway, I think I’m doing something. With someone. But I should be around. Sometimes. So call me, yes, please! Have fun tonight. Speak soon!’ She puts the phone down muttering something about a wedding she may or may not have been invited to.

  It might be because I’m still thinking about Chloe’s potential wedding weekend that everyone seems to be in bridal veils when we arrive in Lan Kwai Fong half an hour later. Accessorized by improbably sized dildos and PVC dresses though, these brides are more likely to vomit in the gutter than walk down the aisle tonight. It’s not Stacy’s cultural milieu (she’s more of an unpronounceable-vodka-in-your-martini girl), but based on how often she drinks in these crooked little streets late at night with her colleagues, she seems to like it. I always find it a little frightening. Many of the women are sinewy, prowling, and determined to turn back time in the face of gravity. I’ve seen them in the gym (as they pass by the juice bar). They are as dogged in romance as they are on their treadmills.

  ‘All right,’ says my best friend. ‘Before Stuart and Brent get here, I want to talk to you about this whole Sam situation.’

  ‘Stace, we’ve already talked about it, and you’ve made your views very clear. Do we really need to go over this again?’

  ‘Yes. Han, you know I love you, and I want what’s best for you. This isn’t what’s best for you.’

  Sigh. ‘Stace, I thought you wanted me to be free to date here. You’ve got your way. I’m free to date.’ Try as I might I can’t take the petulance out of my statement. ‘What more do you want?’

  ‘I want you to see that Sam isn’t doing this for your good. He’s doing it for his. No guy willingly lets his girlfriend go out with other men unless he’s planning to see, or is already seeing other women. Guys are territorial. They’re not going to let some stranger pee on their territory.’

  ‘I’m not going to let anyone pee on me.’ I do not want to have this conversation again. I regret even telling her about the weekend. She’d never have known if I hadn’t mentioned it because everything is perfectly normal between Sam and me. Better than normal. He’s being the most perfect, attentive boyfriend, calling all the time and sending cards. Well, a card. Très romantic. In fact, it’s exactly like when he first moved away from London. There’s no drama, no angst, no misunderstandings, just missing each other (in a good, I-can’t-wait-to-see-you way), comfort, laughter, sweetness and anticipation. And I feel very in control, very sure of his feelings. I feel very cool. And I’m not moping, truly I’m not. ‘If I’m comfortable with the arrangement, Stace, why can’t that be enough for you?’

  ‘Because you’re deluding yourself. You won’t acknowledge that this means he can date too. And I don’t believe that you really plan to see other people.’ She tops up our wine, her perfectly arched eyebrow daring me to deny it. Stuart and Brent’s well-timed arrival saves me from having to mount a defense.

  ‘Hello, hello! Sorry we’re late. Brent was too busy being chatted up by a teenager to tear himself away.’

  ‘That’s not true, Stu, and you know it. She was at least twenty-one. Hello girls.’ Brent kisses each of us. ‘Drinks?’

  ‘You’re not late,’ says Stacy. ‘If you want wine, just get a couple of glasses. We just got the bottle.’ Her phone bdlllings with a text. ‘Hmm.’ She smiles.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Hmm? Oh, just Pete, saying he enjoyed meeting… us the other night. We traded numbers before we left.’

  ‘Why? He’s such a jerk!’

  ‘No he’s not, he’s actually very nice. I think you’ve misinterpreted him or something.’

  ‘I doubt it. What are you going to do, go out with him?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, we just enjoyed chatting, that’s all. Why are you being so weird about it?’

  ‘I’m not being weird,’ I say, weirdly.

  ‘I really am sorry we’re late,’ Stuart says as Brent goes for glasses. ‘Especially since we’ve only got time for a quick hello. We’ve got to be at over on Kowloon at eleven. So, how’s everyone doing?’

  Stacy sighs dramatically. ‘Hannah and Sam are taking a break.’ She makes ditto fingers. ‘But she won’t date. Stuart, please talk some sense into her and tell her what men mean when they say you should see other people.’

  ‘We mean you should see other people,’ Stuart says reasonably. ‘Stace, I’d love to say we’re more complex than that but really, we aren’t. We’re easy to understand. Just feed us, give us drinks, some sport to play or at least watch, let us go out with our friends and have regular sex, and you’ve got us sorted. We’re not like you women, always saying one thing and meaning another, and then wondering why we’re confused.’

  ‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience,’ I say.

  ‘Hannah, I haven’t understood women since puberty.’

  ‘Last year then,’ Brent quips, handing his brother a glass. ‘What are we talking about?’

  ‘Hannah is now free to date and she won’t.’

  Brent’s face is the picture of concern. ‘Hannah, I’m sorry, did you and Sam break up?’

  ‘Thanks, but no we didn’t. As I’ve explained to my dear friend here, Sam and I are still very much together. We’re not on a break. It’s just that while he’s in Vietnam I can have dates if I want to.’

  ‘But she won’t,’ Stacy interjects.

  ‘I will too! I’m totally going to date. I came out with you tonight didn’t I, specifically to let you throw me at random men?’

  ‘Not to see us?’ Stuart whimpers.

  ‘Of course to see you… and also to talk to men. You’re leaving anyway,’ I note as they finish their wine. ‘Psh. Some dates you are.’ I mean that. I pity the women who try going out with them. Sure, it’s exciting to be wined and dined nightly, but it must also get exhausting. An evening on the sofa never figures in their plans.

  ‘Really sorry,’ says Brent sheepishly. ‘We just wanted to pop by to say hello. We’ll see you this weekend though, right?’

  ‘Absolutely, dim sum on Saturday,’ I say, kissing them goodnight.

  ‘Prove it,’ challenges Stacy as soon as our friends leave.

  ‘Prove what?’

  ‘Prove you mean what you say. That you’ll really date other people.’

  ‘What do you want me to do, Stace, drop on my knees in the bar?’

  ‘I wouldn’t judge,’ she says, smirking.

 
‘Fine, I will. Who’s my victim? I mean to talk to. Dirty mind.’

  She scans the bar. ‘Those two over there. The blonde one’s interesting. What do you think of the dark one?’

  Stacy is far from one of life’s coasters – she makes the rest of us look like slovenly layabouts. She’ll make me do this whether I want to or not. ‘Fine, he’s cute, let’s go,’ I say. I’m not afraid of her, and I’m not afraid to talk to that guy. He’s not as cute as Sam – he’s shorter, and more clean-cut, and his eyes are just a tiny bit too close together, making him look slightly like an Afghan hound. But, if I were single, I wouldn’t say no to a date. Wait. What am I saying? I am technically single. In that case, come here, boy, there’s a good fella. He smiles as we approach. This is easy.

  The next morning, Mr. Chan stares suspiciously at my inseam. ‘You grew,’ he concludes.

  ‘I did not grow, and besides those dresses are too big, not too small. You must have measured wrong.’

  ‘I did not measure wrong, I never measure wrong! Your leg, it’s bigger. Both. Bigger.’ His look dares me to argue further.

  It doesn’t make any difference who’s right. The fact is that my trousers are failing to fulfil their purpose in life, as tailored trousers. They don’t fit. Nothing fits properly. The dresses are either too big or too small, the jacket sleeves are too short and the trousers make my legs look like sausage links. I don’t understand what’s gone wrong. Mr. Chan spent so long measuring me, over and over, meticulously writing everything down. Clearly something was lost in translation.

  ‘Look, Mr. Chan, I love the materials we’ve chosen and I’m sure you can just make some adjustments and everything will fit perfectly. Can we just do that please?’ It’s sweltering in the musty workshop. The closeness is making me feel a little ill, though that could be because I didn’t go to bed until 3 a.m.

  The tailor considers my request, weighing up my mortal insult against his desire to pursue his calling. ‘Okay, stand still.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr. Chan… can we hurry please, I need to be back at the offi– okay, okay, I’ll just stand still.’