Single in the City

by Unknown

  What just happened here? How did I go from living with Sam in our fantastic minimalist flat to moving there to fulfil some desire for personal growth? Does he really think I would move there if he wasn’t there? Does he know nothing at all about me?

  His look is so hopeful. ‘So you’re really going to move out?’ So misinformed and hopeful.

  This is something I could think about for months. I mean, it’s a monumental step, a potentially life-changing decision. There must be at least a hundred pros and cons. It’d take days to weigh them all. And even then, there might not be a clear-cut answer. He hasn’t actually asked me to move in with him. What if I’m just a nice accessory to his life there? Am I crazy to move with no firm commitment? On the other hand, if I don’t go, I might never know if he’s really The One. Everyone knows that long-distance romances don’t work out. But what about the life I’ve made here for myself, and friends like Chloe and my flatmates? Granted, my friends can always visit, and the flatmates will move back to Australia eventually. And, really, as much as I love London, without a career, without Stacy and ultimately without Sam, how great is my life here anyway? It may become virtually perfect in Hong Kong. But it could also be a total disaster. It won’t be easy, that’s for sure. There’s the job consideration (or lack thereof), finding a place to live, and my family to think about. It definitely deserves a lot of serious thought. Take my time. That’s the adult thing to do. This isn’t something that one decides on the spot.

  ‘I guess I am. Yeah, I am.’

  Well, I’ve never exactly been ‘one’, have I?

  28

  ‘You’re really leaving? I’ll miss you!’

  Hush is becoming a favourite haunt, and while normally I’d be pleased to while away the afternoon here with Chloe, I know she’s going to try talking me out of Hong Kong.

  ‘I know, I’ll miss you too. You can visit though. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘I’m just worried for you, that’s all. You’ll have no friends close by, and no job.’ Chloe’s always been career-minded, having recognized very early on the appeal of trouser suits and Mulberry tote bags made for laptops.

  I admit that having to start a new career has been on my mind too, though I’d have to do that anyway, even if I stayed in London. Besides…‘I’ll have Sam.’

  ‘What about girlfriends? Who are you going to talk to about, you know, girl stuff?’ She’s acting like we regularly describe our period cramps over coffee. Besides, new friends, or at least acquaintances, are easy to make. I’m away from Stacy anyway in London; if I move to Hong Kong, it won’t be any worse. I’ll still be away from her.

  ‘I can make friends.’

  ‘I know you will. Does he plan to marry you?’

  ‘What are you, my legal guardian?’

  ‘Well, has he made any commitment at all?’

  I know I can sometimes get ahead of myself, but this doesn’t feel like one of those times. It may only have been three weeks since Sam and I first kissed, and I know that love at first sight often goes terribly wrong. But I know I’m in love. I don’t need more at this point. But that doesn’t answer Chloe’s rather annoyingly specific question. ‘He likes me a lot.’ No, that doesn’t answer it either. We might have to agree to disagree on this.

  ‘I’m sorry, petal, I don’t mean to give you the third degree. I actually asked you here because I have an ulterior motive.’

  I knew it.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about Barry.’

  I didn’t know that. ‘Barry?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She puts her hands up. ‘I completely understand if you think it’s weird, or feel uncomfortable or anything, but I wanted to see if you would…if it’s okay with you if, I, we went out.’

  ‘You didn’t get me here to talk me out of going to Hong Kong?’

  ‘God, no! But you should really think it through. As long as you can get everything sorted out, I think you should go.’

  ‘Then I think you should date Barry!’ After all, one magnanimous gesture deserves another.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely. I suspected he liked you when you met at the Burberry thing, you know.’

  ‘Mmm, he did call me later that week to take me for a coffee. He didn’t talk much about a job change.’

  ‘That’s great. Have you been out on a real date?’

  ‘Not yet, but I’ll put the signals out.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to him, to tell him it’s okay?’

  ‘Jesus, Hannah, will you please stop coming over all Oprah Winfrey? I’ve told you, we don’t do things like that. He’ll eventually get the hint and ask me out.’

  I suppose it’s best for Barry to stick with his own kind after all. Much as we want to understand each other, it’s still sometimes a very long stretch across the cultural divide. Occasionally we grasp hands over the chasm, but just as often we have to settle for a friendly smile and a wave as we wonder at our differences.

  Stacy’s answering-machine message is even more demanding than usual.

  ‘Stace, it’s me, what’s up?’

  ‘I’m coming to London!’

  ‘Really, when?’ No wonder she’s so excited. She must have found an amazingly low fare. Somehow she always gets the best of everything, at half-price.

  ‘I haven’t worked out all the details yet but sometime in the next few months.’

  ‘Er, that’s great! But book your flight soon. These cheap fares sell out fast. Except on Air India!’

  ‘Can’t, till I know when I’m coming. Besides, I’ll be flying business class!’

  ‘Did you get an inheritance that I don’t know about?’ Not that she needs one. Despite her penchant for Prada, Stacy is a saver at heart.

  ‘What? The company will pay.’

  ‘Which company?’

  ‘My company, stupid. Did I wake you from a nap or something?’

  ‘No, no. I’m just confused. Why would they pay for you?’

  ‘Well, they can’t expect me to move to a new country on my own dime!…What’s the matter? You don’t sound very excited.’

  ‘You’re moving here?!’

  ‘Yes, Han, that’s what I just said. I’ve been thinking constantly about my visit and it dawned on me that you’re the most important relationship I have in the world. I miss you! I mean, we’ve been best friends our whole lives, we’re like sisters. There’s no especially compelling reason to keep me here. And you’ve had such an excellent time in London, and everything’s worked out for you and I’m jealous. I want to have a fabulous life too. Besides, it’s time for a change anyway, so I asked my boss if she’d consider moving me to London for a year…you’re not planning on staying more than a year, are you?’

  I’m not planning on staying more than a month. ‘Uh, no.’

  ‘Great, because my boss agreed to transfer me out there for a year! It turns out they want to get more of us doing stints abroad. I think I can get them to pay for my apartment and everything. I’m going to be an expat! How ’bout that?’

  ‘Wow, that’s incredible.’ I did mention that Stacy is prone to rash decisions, right? And that she reinvents herself annually? I mean, normally it’s a matter of hair colour or embracing the rock-chick look…

  ‘I know! Can you believe it?’

  ‘Hardly.’

  Suddenly I’ve got what might be the best idea of my entire life. Maybe if she’s willing to move to London…‘Uh, Stace, how do you feel about Hong Kong?’

  ‘As a concept?’

  ‘As a place to live.’

  ‘It’s supposed to have good shopping…Why?’

  ‘Well, Sam…’

  ‘OH MY GOD, ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU’RE MOVING TO HONG KONG?!?’

  ‘YES, I JUST TOLD SAM, I KNOW, IT’S SO EXCITING!’ I scream back at her. Somewhere in Mongolia, dogs are howling again. ‘Listen, I think it’s so great that you’re moving here, and if this is really where you want to live, then I think you should still come.’

  ‘Are you
kidding? I’m totally moving because you’re there.’

  ‘Then would you –’

  ‘Move to Hong Kong instead?’

  ‘Yeah.’ All of a sudden the idea of moving halfway round the world to be with Sam doesn’t seem so crazy. I mean, moving there on my own could be interpreted as stalking, if you take an unsympathetic outsider’s view. But going with my best friend, who already has a job, and an apartment, well, that practically makes the fact that Sam is there irrelevant. Who knows, I might have moved there anyway, even if I’d never met him. As I wait for Stacy’s answer, I realize I’m going to burst into tears if she says no. I’m too close to the perfect solution to have it snatched back now.

  Finally she says, ‘Why not? I’ll ask my boss. We have offices there, don’t we? Of course we do, we’re like the biggest bank in the world. I’m sure she’ll let me go. Yes, I’ll go. Definitely, yes, let’s move to Hong Kong!’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re going to do this,’ I say.

  ‘I know. Have you told your parents yet?’

  Not exactly. There are a million details to take care of before I go: my job to quit (I can’t wait to see the look on Felicity’s face), all those museums to see, friends to say goodbye to…and my parents. I don’t suppose I could send a postcard from the airport?

  Dear Mom and Dad, I’ve decided to follow my heart to Hong Kong. His name is Sam, by the way. Don’t worry, he’s American, and Stacy’s coming with me so I won’t be alone. I know it’s far away and I don’t have a job and Sam hasn’t exactly asked me to marry him, but this is really what I want and I just know everything’s going to work out perfectly. Thanks for understanding. Love, Hannah.

  PS. Mom, the time difference is twelve hours from Connecticut, which should be a lot easier to remember.

  *

  How do you say goodbye to a city? Is a clean break best, not looking back or allowing second guesses to cloud your future? Or does London deserve a respectful goodbye, a revisiting of favourite haunts in tribute to all it’s given me?

  I’m paying tribute to all that London has given me. At Harrods, of course. It’s still the most sumptuously tacky public interior in London, possibly in the world. I’ve just paid homage at the temple.

  ‘Your card, madam,’ nods the temple priestess.

  ‘Cheers,’ I tell her, grasping the green bag greedily to me.

  Wandering along the bustle of the Brompton Road, at first the pavement seems less crowded. It takes several minutes to realize why. I’m not knocking foreheads with anyone. Like synchronized dancers, we each move gracefully, and naturally, to our left. I’m finally on-side. When I pass the little ice-cream counter across the street, I hear a strong American accent saying, ‘But I don’t have anything smaller!’ A young woman is grasping an ice-cream cone and trying to pay the angry man with a £50 note.

  ‘I can’t make change,’ he says again.

  ‘First the cab, and now you. Why would the cash machine give it to me if I can’t spend it anywhere?!’ she laments to no one in particular. God, I remember what that’s like.

  ‘Here,’ I say to the man, approaching with my purse, ‘how much is it?’

  ‘Three-fifty,’ he says, quite unhappy to have his game of torture-the-tourist thwarted.

  ‘What are you doing?’ The woman is grasping her rucksack to her body as if I’m about to steal it.

  ‘Nobody’ll take your note. You have to change it in a bank to spend it. I’m happy to buy your ice cream.’

  ‘Gosh, thanks, that’s so nice! I’m Aleck.’

  ‘Hannah.’ I lean in as I take her hand, giving her a quick cheek kiss.

  ‘You sounded American,’ she says, surprised no doubt to be kissed by a complete stranger.

  ‘I am, but I live in London now.’

  ‘Wow, that must be amazing. I’m visiting for the first time but I’m already in love. I’d love to live here some day.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Enjoy your stay.’

  It’s official. I’ve marinated in London’s cultural juices long enough to have acquired its flavour.

  ex·pat·ri·ate

  1: (noun) A very lucky person living in a foreign land.

  2: (verb) To choose to experience all the highs and lows of the world outside one’s native country.

  Definitely a noun with verb tendencies.

  1. Oodles of Noodles = Pot Noodles or any of the ramen-based just-add-water soups favoured by students after a night of binge drinking.

  2. Balls of unidentified fluff, often found under beds or anywhere your mother won’t notice you haven’t cleaned.

  3. American grade school = British junior school; American junior high = British senior school (to about age fifteen); American high school (also called senior high) = British sixth form college; and American college = British university. Is it any wonder we don’t understand each other most of the time?

  4. That’s the America for Americans party. Like the BNP, only full of Americans…in America.

  5. Called Where’s Wally? in the UK and Wo ist Walter? in Germany, presumably because even German children believe in formalities.

  6. America’s ode to the belief that wallpaper can be fashionable when worn as a dress. Lilly invariably combines pink and green in swirly flower patterns, then prints them on all clothing that a preppy girl might need to signal her membership to the lockjaw jolly-hockey-sticks club.

  7. Sometimes it takes a foreign perspective to highlight just how peculiar our own status quo is. For instance, we Americans don’t feel any embarrassment at publicly defecating behind shoddily built doors that are as sparing in their coverage as Pamela Anderson’s blouses. In other words, the really important bits might be shielded from view, but little else is left to the imagination.

  8. Well-loved fictional baker responsible for the wonderful world of readymade cake mixes. Think Delia in a box.

  9. SportsCenter elicits the same reaction from America’s population as smutty magazines do: i.e., lusty devotion among men and unmitigated loathing among women. And airing the same scores and highlights ad infinitum only heightens their allure to sports junkies, who apparently need repeated attempts to comprehend them.

  10. American sidewalk = English pavement, and I’m proud to say that, in this case, American is more accurate than English. A sidewalk is quite obviously a place to walk at the side of something.

  11. Crosswalks (pedestrian crossings) mean business in London. Not only are there stripes painted on the road, they’re often raised to guarantee that a car going over them at speed will drop a tailpipe in the process, and they sometimes have blinking yellow lights at each end. They’re the tarmac equivalent of those warnings like ‘Don’t fall asleep on the railroad track’. You just know there were enough ‘incidents’ to warrant the caution.

  12. We Americans encase our plumbing mechanics safely behind walls, and don’t generally use electricity to push water through the shower end. Either strong pipes or greedy lawyers are to thank for this.

  13. Exam results, usually on a four-point scale. Beware anyone who brags about a ‘four-point-oh’; either they studied too hard, to the exclusion of all socialization, or went to a school where underwater basket-weaving was a valid degree course.

  14. Pottery Barn is the kind of homestore chain where customers say things like ‘Wow, that’s really unique’ with no trace of irony…a sort of Habitat for country-house/beach-house aspirants.

  15. Many of our mothers have Julia Child to thank for their ability to cook French cuisine. She was a celebrity chef on TV decades before that phrase was invented and never saw a cooking dilemma that a little more wine wouldn’t sort out.

  16. Nobody knows why going from an American size twelve to a fourteen is at least twice as traumatic as the ten-to-twelve leap, but then nobody can explain why birthdays ending in ‘0’ should cause us to melt down either.

  17. Britain’s two-finger salute to Starbucks.

  18. Imagine McDonald’s in a shameful threesome wit
h a games arcade and Disney World. The result is a cacophonous restaurant serving mediocre food to overstimulated children who split their time between groping mutant mice in baseball caps and pushing their friends off the rides.

  19. ‘Who?’ you may reasonably ask if you are not, like me, obsessed with the cable entertainment channels. Anne Hathaway’s boyfriend in The Devil Wears Prada.

  20. Face it, there’s just no way to say the word ‘panty’ without embarrassment. The fact that it is combined with ‘hose’, thereby increasing the chances that your father will say it to you in a sentence, only heightens the mortification. I’m with the English on this one; ‘tights’ is much better.

  21. Not to be outdone by Generation Xers, those of us born in the last twenty-five years of the twentieth century have our own generational tag. We are the iPhone-Facebook-file-sharing generation.

  22. American women’s first choice for underwear; picture M&S selling its smalls in a boudoir replete with pot pourri, padded hangers and French love songs.

  23. Refers to the area within a couple-hour commute to NYC. The inhabitants of each town wholeheartedly believe that theirs is the social apex of the region and the others are just lucky to be included.

  24. That famous burlesque star who is known to bathe publicly in a giant glass of champagne.

  25. Dr Seuss wrote the kind of children’s books that all parents know were written under the influence of mind-altering drugs, ensuring that all children love them.