Pop Singer: A Dark BWAM / AMBW Romance

by Asia Olanna

  I focused my attention on the grill as I turned, so that I didn’t sound too harsh.

  “I am,” I said. “Believe you me. I want you to succeed. It’s just I don’t want you to go away either. Far off to a distant place.”

  Latasha pulled out a paper plate from the bags we carried to the park. She got herself one. Then she took out another for me.

  But she did not responded to me.

  She just left me hanging.

  We shivered together, although it got warmer and warmer as we bent low and built a fire, setting it alight, the glow turning everyone’s faces orange. Some of the other kids were coming in to the asphalt we stood on. An island paradise in the middle of winter.

  “About what you said earlier,” Latasha said later. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. We hugged, our hands lacing around each other’s necks. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

  She never got the job on Wall Street. She never made it anywhere close to IBM. She had to settle for life as a bank manager, which to her, meant failure. In my mind, I wanted to tell her, “At least you’re not a stripper.”

  But I never had the gall to approach her like that. To humiliate her. The same way, how after college and pursuing art, I never got to showcase my work at an actual museum.

  I had to “settle” for a “weird” Korean popstar pass.

  Latasha took a scoop of rice on her plate. She got me some as well, a second helping, an understanding coming between us.

  “Maybe you can even join me,” she said. “Imagine us together, walking around Wall Street? Wouldn’t that be fabulous?”

  I laughed back then. I knew that Wall Street was so far away from art history. I knew it would be impossible.

  ♦♦♦

  Latasha licked her lips. Kimchi still stuck to her chin. I wiped some off with a napkin, leaning across the table, smiling. “You’ve got some there,” I said. I giggled, and then twisted my wrist to the left of her nose. “And somehow you’ve got some there too.”

  “This food is difficult to eat,” she said. I laughed now. Difficult to eat? What?

  “You’re just silly sometimes.”

  Latasha pushed away her plate, smacking her lips. “I guess it was okay in the end. Nothing I would come to Korea for.”

  I tried shushing her. I was so embarrassed. This was not supposed to be happening on my day.

  Notice how I say, “My Day.” Because it was just before I was about to leave for Korea. And here this girl was yapping off her mouth.

  Frenemies!

  Maybe it was a good thing it was my last day in the United States. I would never have to come back to the restaurant and embarrass myself again for another bowl.

  “Please stop saying that kind of stuff,” I said. “Can you imagine if people said that about us? You would find it extremely offensive.”

  Latasha waved her hand. “It’s fine,” she said. “I won’t say any more. I won’t say any more.”

  I figured Latasha’s behavior was the same reason why I was not so excited about her going to Wall Street. She had a strange sense of ambivalence. Again and again. She wanted me to go, and she could be happy on one side. But then on the other side, she was jealous, furiously so. She wanted me to fail, to flop on my face.

  A difficult mentality to understand. But we only had each other. We were the only friends we knew.

  You’re probably wondering why I didn’t have anyone else besides Latasha in my life at the time.

  Thing is, post-college life can be really difficult.

  Making friends in a new city? Nearly impossible, unless you’re very gregarious and love to be around people all the time.

  I’ve always been sort of an introvert, and back then, I was no different.

  I liked to stay home and just relax in my room with a novel, or maybe a good Korean music video, or maybe even a couple of Asian men and black women erotica.

  I’m just saying, I didn’t like going out so much. And we had a history together.

  Plus, I wouldn’t have to see her for a long time. If she ever did manage to leave the United States for someplace else, then I would go and visit her.

  But if I left and never came back—and never saw her—then it was no sweat off my back. I would just say, well, sorry. Goodbye for now, honey.

  As we walked out of the Korean restaurant, she and I got into her convertible. Sometimes she thought I was using her for transportation. So I comped her for gas every once in a while. That day I did, like usual, but she held onto my hand as I gave her the money. We sat at the front of her convertible, just staring at one another.

  Her eyes watered up, and she leaned forward against my shoulder. “I’m no lesbian,” she said, “but I do love you girl.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I couldn’t tell if she was being a manipulative bitch or if she was being serious. Sometimes it was hard to tell with other women. Not that women couldn’t be friends.

  Hard to tell. Hard to tell.

  But she cried. She really cried. And I had all of the world’s empathy for her. I held her, rocking her back and forth. “You can miss me, girl, but that’s no way to treat the staff’s food. To treat another culture.”

  “I know you went through the same thing,” Latasha said. “Girl, having you move away. That’s like… I’m going to lose another friend. I’m going to lose another piece of Nebraska State. You’re going all the way across the world. I know I’ve been really aloof and not so kind. It’s just me being immature. And I’m sorry about that. I really am. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m hurting at the same time.”

  I held her tighter and tighter. I needed her to stay together and be strong. Because it would be hard to go to Korea and not pretend that I had family who cared about me back home.

  A sister, a friend.

  “I promise I’ll come back in one year,” I said. “It’ll be a whole year. But I promise it’ll just be for little bit. Can’t you see that? Stick with me here. Look at me.”

  Latasha turned up her head. Her makeup ran down her face. Not waterproof, I guess.

  I got another tissue out of the glove compartment. Then I made sure that she took my money. “I’m sorry I’m acting like this,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. My hormones? I don’t know, man. I’ve just been really torn over this. It’s the truth.”

  “You’ve got to remember that you and I go way back. And just because I’m going far away, doesn’t remove everything that we’ve built up together.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t make the pain go away.”

  She leaned on me again, crying her eyes out. Rubbing her cheeks. I felt down for the small of her back, holding her around her waist, as previous boyfriends had done for her. I know it sounds kind of strange, maybe even lesbian, but I needed to be there for my friend.

  “You won’t be stuck here alone,” I said. “I promise I’ll be here with you… I’ll be here with you in spirit!”

  That sounded much lamer than I thought it would. Flat, even. Oh, well. What could I do? I had said my piece. Latasha had to deal with it. It sounded harsh, but I wasn’t going to not go to Korea just because she was crying in the car.

  “It’s not the same,” she said. “Who’s going to fight me every single day over my opinions? Who’s going to tell me that I’m wrong?”

  It never occurred to me that she valued fighting me. That she valued me checking her opinions, our push-pull relationship.

  “We can Skype. This Facebook for reason. They invented that kind of technology because people got lonely when their friends and family move away. We’ll be together in spirit, I promise.”

  She held onto me for what seemed ages. But eventually, the tears stopped. She could not be a waterfall forever. She had to come back down to earth.

  “I can’t believe what a mess I am,” she said. “I’m just sorry.”

  I hoped that her mental state would hold up while I was abroad. I didn’t want to come back to Latasha total
ly kooky.

  “Shadows over an empty valley // The wind in my face, the sun in your eyes // Being with you is a challenge // Because of all of your lies…”

  Latasha looked at me like I was crazy. “Okay. That sounds really familiar.” She snapped her fingers. “You like that song? I should’ve known. It’s Korean, isn’t it? It’s Korean! It’s that Jong-soo guy you’ve been telling me about. I saw him once on MTV while flipping through the channels. ” She laughed. “That’s one of the few Korean songs that I will admit to liking.”

  “Oh, yeah, girl. ‘While flipping through the channels.’ Pssh, I know you love it. They translated it into, like, fifty different languages. You see the power of Korean pop music now?” I raised an eyebrow. “Come on, I’ve got to get back home and into bed. You too.”

  The late afternoon sun hung in the sky, plum-colored clouds drooping overhead. I stuck my arm out as Latasha pulled from the parking lot and into the road.

  I turned on some music, those old R&B hits.

  With my head bobbing up and down, I pretended me and her were in the music video. Latasha raised her hands too, when she could, near quiet streets, or at the end of a corner. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she said, “but I know this is a new beginning for you. And I have to be happy now! You go, Henrietta.”

  I laughed.

  My hands stretched higher up into the sky, all the way, until I couldn’t go anymore. The wind ruffled around my natural curls. I immediately thought to myself, I have to pack all of the haircare products that I can. I’m pretty sure over there they won’t have any…

  So no surprise, the moment I got home, I started going through all of my belongings. Making sure that I had shea butter and some caster oil—all that good stuff.

  You might be surprised: I never packed until the very last moment.

  Yeah, I’m a procrastinator at heart. Who isn’t?

  Running around my room, Latasha bent down low with me, going underneath my bed, seeing if I had left anything behind.

  I went through my bathroom, finding my silk scarves, my wraps. I checked the closet for any leftovers.

  By the end of the night, I had cleaned out my entire apartment. And I was ready to go to Korea. I already had the plane booked up and everything—that was something the Higher Museum was on point about—and I fell down on my bed, Latasha next to me.

  She rolled over, her nose practically touching mine.

  She slipped a round vial into my hands.

  At first, I thought it was a pack of condoms.

  A joke. A gag gift.

  But then I realized the edges were ceramic, glassy. And the top came off, a black with a brush end.

  “Nail polish? It’s your favorite.”

  “I bought you a new one,” she said. “It’s the least I can do for you. Also, I want you to have this.”

  Now she sat up, and went for her purse. After a couple of minutes of digging, she pulled out a slip of paper.

  I took it from her and looked it over.

  Five hundred dollars to Victoria’s Secret? A gift certificate?

  “This is too much,” I said. No one had ever given me five hundred dollars in value of anything, except for maybe my dad. Latasha and I had exchanged gifts every Christmas, but never this much money. “I can’t accept this.”

  “Girl,” she said. “I want you to have a comfortable time over there. And I know you’re probably going to have lots of hot sex.”

  I laughed. She was finally getting onboard with my plans. “I’m going to meet lots of hot guys, sure. But I don’t think I’m going to need five hundred dollars in lingerie.”

  I tried pushing back the Victoria’s Secret card to her, but Latasha only stuffed it back into my palm, crumpled it up, and then opened it wide across my fingertips. She smiled, placing the vial of pink polish in the center of my hands. “Trust me,” she said, “you’ll never know what kind of guys you’re gonna be meeting.”

  “Okay,” I said, silently pulling away my arms. I leaned backwards, tucking away the gift card into my luggage. “This is so sad. I get now why you cried.” My eyes watered up. Girl, if there was anyone to go lesbian after, yes, it would be Latasha.

  We had been friends, enemies, frenemies, best friends, sisters—all that.

  “It’s going to be a new chapter in your life,” Latasha said. “Don’t change too much.”

  I walked her to the door. “I’ll try not to,” I said. “I promise I’ll try not to.”

  ♦♦♦

  Later in the night, my dad called me up. I expected him to, so I didn’t sleep much. Why bother? I didn’t want to spend too much time awake on the plane anyway. So it made more sense for me to exhaust myself prior to my flight.

  I fired up my Skype account, put on my headphones, and found myself swimming as a digital image next to my dad.

  He grinned at me, waving. His hair seemed grayer than it was last time. His eyes a little more alert. He seemed to have been drinking coffee, and a lot of it. His teeth were yellowed, and his skin had an ashiness to it.

  “How are you doing?” I said. “I’ll be missing you, dad.”

  He nodded at me. “Baby girl, I’ll be missing you too. Do you have everything you need?”

  I knew he would grill me about all of everything. If I had tampons. If I brought enough panties. Did I have my extensions if I wanted to put them in? My wigs?

  “I know you like dating those exotic guys,” he said. “It’s been a long time coming. I should’ve stopped you when you were in high school.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, back in high school, I had tried to rebel against my dad. I dated black men, white men—that really picked him up—and Asian guys near my senior year. He was surprised about my last choice, but nonetheless, very prejudiced.

  “If anything goes wrong, I said I would come home. But for now? I’m just looking to experience everything that I can. I’m not even worried about packing anymore. I figure I can just get whatever I need over there, anyway.”

  “Do you really want to go to a country that’s practically in mass chaos right now?”

  I wanted to roll my eyes again. But then my father pulled up a news article, linking it over chat. I clicked for the article.

  BREAKING NEWS: KOREAN PRIME MINISTER CALLING FOR A NATIONAL EMERGENCY

  …officials say the Double Dragons were an old organization, but have now become extremely active. They control most of the southern territories around Daegu, although police are confident their grip will end soon.

  “I haven’t seen this kind of resurgence in a long time,” Mr. Kim, chair of the Daegu Department Task Force. “They keep pouring out of nowhere. I don’t know what’s causing the violence. I think the civilians will be safe though. If they stay away from purchasing drugs, then they should be fine.”

  Indeed, Mr. Kim has his skepticism.

  “If anything, it’s the youth who are pushing this problem. They’ve lost their religion. They’ve become too enamored with the drugs and criminals…”

  I frowned at my dad. “It clearly says that you’re safe if you’re civilian. And if you don’t do drugs. Do I add to any of those things?”

  “I don’t know,” dad said, putting his hands into the air. And not in a good way. A frustrated way, a mocking tone creeping into his words. “You’re going to Korea so—”

  “Bye dad,” I said, smiling at him. “I’m going to Korea now and I have to sleep. So bye dad.”

  He waved at me, angrily, and about to yell. But I cut him off before he could even say anything.

  I was done with having people’s disapproval in my life. I didn’t need that anymore. I knew what I wanted, and I could fend for myself. Hell, I got to school, and that was more than most chicks could say.

  Setting aside my laptop into my purse, I leaned back into my bed and closed my eyes.

  I dreamt about this soft and sweet world. With tall grass, swaying in the wind. Tons of beautiful, plump clouds passing overhead.

  A wi
ndmill on a hill.

  And I was walking, walking on a dirt road. All the way up until I reached the windmill. By the door of the windmill was a man—Jong-soo Jeup.

  He smiled at me and said, “An nyeong ha siut seum ni ka?”

  I did a double take. Okay, so my Korean still was not very good. But I was practicing.

  I cleared my throat. My brain must’ve been firing up an old module or something, deep within my hippocampus, testing me.

  I faced him and smiled with all of my white teeth, holding onto his shoulders. His muscular, beefy shoulders. “Hwajangsiri eodiyeyo!” I said. Although, in the dream, I sounded more like I was screeching.