We got out and she helped me get my suitcase out of the back. I was going to see her tomorrow so there was no point in a big goodbye, I just hugged her briefly when it looked like she wanted to. “Thanks for inviting me, Sarah. I had a great time. Sorry if I was a bit stressed out.”
She shoved me. “Stop apologising!”
I made a show of being thoroughly chastised, saluted her and went to check in.
Sitting at the airport was a depressing experience. I had taken my laptop out just to double-check and triple-check the graphics and templates before I emailed them off — I didn't want any clipping issues or something embarrassing like the typos Diane had pointed out on the Vladivostok materials — when my phone buzzed.
It was too early for Henry, so I felt around for it, assuming it was Bree. It didn't stop buzzing, though, which meant it was ringing. Who'd ring me at seven o'clock on a public holiday?
I made the mistake of answering it. “Hello, Min speaking.”
“Now you answer your phone, Jesus Christ,” it was Jason, and he was really angry. All the colour drained from my face the second I heard his thundering voice. “You know we’ve got a pitch on Thursday and yet you couldn’t find it in you to answer your phone even once yesterday. You sure know how to get me in shit tonnes of trouble, don’t you?” He took a breath. “Diane wants running updates on the graphics in case you flake out like you did last week. Did you flake out this weekend too? Or did you actually do some fucking work for once?”
My throat tightened. All I did was work, that was all I ever did. “I've finished the graphics, I'll send the templates out to the team in about five minutes and cc you.”
“You'd better. She wanted them last night. I’m fucking sick of this, pick up your fucking game, Mini.” With that, he loudly hung up in my ear.
I stared at my phone for a second, my heart pounding. Shaken, I finished looking over the graphics and sent them out.
Since I had my phone out, I just thought I'd double-check how many times Henry had actually called me, since it obviously wasn't him trying yesterday. I scrolled through the log and found his number three times. He'd left a voicemail each time.
I decided now was as good a time as any to empty my voicemail, but since I had seven and only three of them were from Henry, I had to talk myself into listening to them because I knew the rest were from Jason and he'd be yelling at me. I wasn't wrong; they were painful to listen to. Not as painful as Henry's, though.
The first one was before Easter. “Hi, Min,” Henry began pleasantly. “Just thought I'd let you know my family says hello and they wished you could be here visiting, too. Give me a ring when you have the chance, and don't work too hard!”
I deleted that one, and moved onto the next. “Hi again Min, you must be pretty busy with all those paintings you need to finish. I just want to let you know that I spoke to your mum and she's pretty keen on me accompanying her to Church on Sunday morning for the Easter service. She wants to introduce me to all her Church friends.” I cringed. I could only imagine how Mum would be introducing Henry to them. “Anyway, I'll be at her place from nine or so on Sunday morning. She'd love it if you called. Maybe we could all Skype together? Hope you're having lots of fun despite all the work you need to do. Love you.”
I could barely bring myself to listen to the last one, but I managed to press '5' to continue, anyway. “Hi, your mum was pretty upset that you haven't called. I had a quick look on the internet and noticed Telstra's the only carrier with good coverage out there, so I explained to her you probably had no reception and you'd call when you got back. Church actually wasn't so bad after all, your mum's friends were all nice and asked how you were. Your mum and grandma loved the Coogee tops we bought them, too.” He paused, and his tone sobered. “Your grandma's not doing so well these days. I know you're not that close, but you should really try and visit her as soon as you can, Min. They all want to hear about how you're doing. Your mum is really excited about your promotion. She couldn't stop talking about how proud she is that you're 'going places', I think her words were. She understands it means you can't talk as much. But she misses you, Min. Everyone misses you.”
I took the phone away from my ear for a second, listening to voicemail operator give me a list of options about what I could do with that message. My thumb hovered over the delete option, but I decided against it at the last second, and saved it.
Fuck. Just fuck.
I sat back in the airport lounge chair, trying to process what I'd just heard. I couldn't, and I didn't have the energy to deal with it. Trying to give me a headache as well, so as my flight boarded I popped a couple of painkillers and then just settled down to try and nap as much as I could on the way back to Sydney.
At least once I landed it was cold enough to put my hoodie back on, and because I was feeling particularly crap I put my hood up on the way back to the car park. It was only once I sat in my car that I remembered Bree was waiting for me at home, and that cheered me up. Before I exited the car park, I texted her to let her know I'd landed and I'd be home soon. She replied with an excited keyboard smash.
It was a public holiday, and that meant the traffic back to the city was light. I half-listened to the radio while I drove, wishing I'd checked to see if I had any emails from the team before I'd left the airport. I tried a couple of times to check on my phone, but the encryption software wouldn't work properly on the app and trying to figure it out was making me miss lights and get honked by the people behind me.
Back in my building, I'd parked and wheeled my suitcase into the lift, and was having another go at syncing my phone when a pretty, petite Asian lady got her own suitcase stuck between the car park floor and the gap to the lift. I leant forward and helped her lift it clear, and she laughed and thanked me. I didn't miss her glance up at me and self-consciously check her reflection to see how she looked.
I'd gone back to my phone when she reached over to press her floor on the number panel, and then retracted her hand at the last moment. “Oh, you're going to 26 as well?” she asked in a very cultured, feminine voice. “Isn't that the floor for Frost employees, only? You must work for them, too, then?”
A knot formed in my stomach, and I tucked my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie.
Shit.
“Mmm,” I said noncommittally, and was glad I had my hood up. I looked towards her just to check to see if I recognised her, and I didn't. I couldn't place her accent, either, but she wasn't Australian.
“Would I know you?” she asked me as the lift doors slid closed. “I haven't started working with any of the employees, yet, but I had my orientation last week.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Probably not,” I said as quietly as I could, because I sounded more like a guy when I spoke quietly. “I was away most of last week.”
“Ah, well, it's nice to meet you. Cecilia,” she said, and extended her hand for me to shake, so I did. “I'm down from Singapore. Just doing business development consulting for a couple of months, working with management mostly. But we might cross paths.”
I nodded. She hadn't noticed I hadn't introduced myself, thank god.
“So what department do you work in?” she asked.
I didn't have enough time to think of a good lie. “Marketing.”
Recognition crossed her face. “Oh, that's who you remind me of!” she said. “That tall Korean lady from the end apartment, I've seen her a couple of times, but she's always in a rush so I never said hello. What's her name? Minnie, or something?”
“Min Lee.”
She nodded, “Yes, that's the one. You must be related to her...?”
Now was my chance to correct her this time. It was simple, 'Actually, I am Min Lee', and it was on the tip of my tongue. But as I looked down at her crisp dress and perfect hair, I faltered. She looked conservative. She was from somewhere conservative, I just knew it. I felt sick, and glanced nervously up numbers rising on the display panel. What I actually said was, “That's one way
of putting it.”
She laughed sociably as if I'd said something funny. “I have a sister myself, I know what they're like,” she said, lightly touching my arm. It was flirtatious, and I flinched. I hated lifts, and I couldn't get out of this one fast enough. I watched the numbers rise and felt around in my pocket for my keycard so I could make a quick escape.
“This is my first time in Sydney,” she continued, batting her pretty eyelashes. “Well, my second — I went back to Singapore for a couple of days for Easter. Can you recommend any must-see places for me? Or any good restaurants around here?”
She was angling for a dinner invite, and that was the very last thing in the world she was going to get from me. We were only one floor away from 26, but it felt like eternity before the lift stopped and the doors slid open while I pretended to be trying to think of good places for her.
Before I was able to mutter something and run off, I heard a squeal. “Min!”
To my abject horror, Bree had been waiting for me outside my apartment. When she spotted me, she came zooming up the hallway in her socks with her curls and everything else bouncing and wrapped herself tightly around my middle. In the process of attaching herself to me, she pulled my hood back and my long hair was visible. “Oh my god! I'm so happy you're back!”
The look on Cecilia's face was hauntingly familiar. “Min?” she repeated, shell-shocked. “You’re Min Lee?”
Bree didn't notice. “Sorry, but I need to steal him right now,” she told Cecilia. “He's been gone for four days.”
Cecilia's eyes darted between mine and my hair, and her lips formed 'him'.
It was surreal, like none of it was happening to me.
“Come on!” Bree said, grabbing my case and my hand and pulling me out of the lift. I was too paralysed by what was happening to stop her. “I made you lunch! I hope they didn't feed you too much on the plane, because you're going to love this. I used real salmon!”
As Bree dragged me up the hallway, I cast a glance back towards Cecilia. She was still staring, but just as I walked inside my apartment, I saw her jaw close and her cheeks flush.
Shit.
TWENTY-FIVE
Had that really just happened?
I stood in the centre of my hallway, my hand over my mouth... I kept seeing Cecilia's face when Bree had shouted my name. The culprit herself had been busily chatting to me while being completely fucking indiscreet and oblivious, but when she turned around to see why I wasn't following her up the hallway, her big smile disappeared.
“What's wrong?” she asked, looking genuinely confused. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head tightly, and then let my hand fall from my mouth. I felt numb. “Bree,” I said shortly, “that woman you just outed me to was from work.”
She watched me for a few seconds, and at first I don't think she knew who I meant. It dawned on her, though, and then her face cycled through a series of emotions and settled on remorse.
I gestured towards the closed door. “That woman, who clearly lives in this hotel, on this floor, who you thought it would be an excellent idea to 'he' me to and hug me in front of.” The more I kept going, the worse it sounded. “Bree, this floor is a work floor, I've told you that. Why do you think I wear my hood up in here?”
She looked mortified. “But you usually like to be called 'he' in public...” she said hesitantly, as if she was trying to piece together why she'd done it, too.
I sighed heavily and passed a hand over my face for a second.
“I'm sorry, Min,” she said in one of her tiny little voices. “I didn't mean to, I was just really happy to see you!”
“I know you didn't mean to, but you did it anyway.” I shook my head. “Jesus, Bree. Fuck. I need to think.” I walked briskly down the hallway, and when I passed Bree she tried to catch my hand, but I held it out of her reach. I don't know why I thought I'd be able to think better in the living room, but I couldn't stand still, so I didn't.
Someone at work had seen me like this. Someone who was likely to be working with both Henry and Jason. How the fuck was I going to deal with this?
“Maybe she won't tell anyone,” Bree suggested meekly from the mouth of the hallway. “Not everyone goes blabbing stuff around.”
“She doesn't even need to 'go blabbing',” I told her. “She just needs to ask someone, 'Hey, something weird happened yesterday, do you know Min Lee? She works in Marketing and I—shit, I told her I work in Marketing! Like I need to give her any more invitation to have that conversation with Jason!” I flopped into the couch and put my head in my hands.
Bree came over to slowly and gingerly sit next to me, but she didn't look very relaxed. From the crinkle in her forehead, I could tell that she was worrying.
I was worrying, too. I was sitting there and imagining Cecilia chatting with Henry, or Jason, or anyone in Marketing... Just one innocent question to them about me, and I was fucked. I needed to make sure that one innocent question never happened, somehow.
As I sat and tried to figure out what I was going to do, I knew I only really had one option. And as much as I loathed the idea and how uncomfortable it made me, and as far away I wished I was right now: I had to do it. “I've got to tell her everything so she doesn't need to ask,” I realised aloud, hating every word of it. “Before she does say something to someone.”
I stood up, both to go and unpack and also to try and figure out how the fuck I was going to tell a conservative woman from a conservative country that I wasn't a woman. I also didn't know how to find her to even start that conversation.
Door-knocking and ringing around the building looking for her were out of the question—the last thing I wanted was 40 to 45 Frost employees asking questions about what was going on with Min—so I decided that what I needed to do was to get ready really early tomorrow and sit and wait by the lift for her to leave for work.
Bree, who was teary and guilt-ridden, had a whole host of creative alternatives, like calling reception and pretending we had something to return to Cecilia. None of them would work, though, because I didn't know Cecilia's surname.
In the end, the only solution that made sense was getting up early and waiting.
After I'd unpacked, Bree and I both ended up on the couch with those Disney movies and a bottle of red wine, trying to make the stress go away. Nearly a full bottle later it still hadn't, and I still had no idea how the fuck I was going to tell a stranger something incredibly private about myself.
Bree had stopped waiting for me to officially forgive her and had crept over and passed out adorably across my lap. I didn't push her off, although I probably should have. Actually, while she was unconscious, I probably should have just taken the opportunity to smother her before she could wreck more havoc. I didn't, though. I just stroked her hair and worried about work tomorrow. As caring and supportive as Bree was, she did possess some uncanny ability to seek out things to spectacularly fuck up. My life, for example.
After we went to bed, I set my alarm for five in the morning just in case Cecilia had a breakfast meeting she needed to leave the hotel for. When my alarm went off and I got up, even two codeine barely touched my headache. I didn't have any choice, though, I had to get ready.
It was near fucking impossible to put a skirt on, especially after having been able to dress the way I felt comfortable for nearly a full week. I soldiered on through the wrongness and self-loathing anyway to do my hair and makeup, and then went and camped in the foyer by the lift to wait for Cecilia.
I sat facing the lift so I couldn't miss her when she came down.
I had to get this right, I only had one shot.
'I need to talk to you,' I mentally rehearsed while I watched the numbers on the display panels light up. 'I'm sorry about the misunderstanding yesterday, it's a really embarrassing issue for me...' Should I say 'embarrassing', I wondered? Maybe 'sensitive' is better?
I spent a good hour agonising over the exact wording before the lifts started to empty quite sizable numbers
of people from the tower each time they arrived at ground. The vast majority of people who walked past me were tourists — it was a prime spot in Sydney, after all — but one or two of them were Frost employees and one of them recognised me.
“Morning,” he said cordially as he walked past. I smiled tightly at him and kept practising.
Should I say 'transgender' to Cecilia, though? I still felt kind of uncomfortable with that word, although I couldn't explain why. The problem was that there didn't seem to be any other way I could accurately describe myself that wasn't going to raise even more questions.
I watched another lift-full of various people empty and disperse, again without Cecilia. Where was she?
Up until that point, I hadn't worried at all that I would miss her. I started to now, and checked my phone: it was nearly 7:40am. Management mostly started at 8am, and if she worked with management, where the hell was she...?
I suddenly had an awful thought; maybe as a consultant she was one of the lucky people who got a company car and a parking spot under Frost HQ. In that case, she would have left from the basement car park and wouldn't have come past me at all.
My stomach dropped. Fuck, what if I'd missed her? What if she was sitting down with management right now? With Henry?
I stood up, panicking, and just ignored my headache and powered all the way to work in case I was wrong.
The lift to the basement car park at Frost wasn't the same one as those that led up into the building, and there was a café in the atrium. I could just pretend I was grabbing a coffee and sit in a chair that faced the lifts. I'd see her if she swapped over between them.
The problem was when I did that and sat down facing the lifts, it meant that everyone getting into the lifts had to walk past me. I got some very weird looks from my co-workers for not being my usual hard-working self, but I ignored them and focused on watching the people on their way to their offices, looking for a petite woman with dyed brown hair.
Under My Skin Page 57
