Face Time

by S. J. Pajonas

  All told, I have worked here five years which is hard to believe. Before this, I never held a job for longer than a year. This job and my return to New York was a concession I made to keep the peace in the family. All the years I spent waiting tables, working hostess jobs, and tending bar throughout the South taught me the good manners I needed to be an administrative assistant. My job is a lot of diplomatic smiles, talking on the phone, and sitting quietly in the room while Mary manages huge, network-sweeping projects.

  I swipe my badge at the turnstiles, wave to the security guards, and head up to the office, my short heels clicking on the marble floors and echoing through the lobby. When I get to my desk, Mary’s door is open and the lights are on. Her corner office overlooking Grace Plaza at the intersection of Sixth Avenue and Forty-third street is one of the best offices on the floor. The view this morning is taxi cabs in traffic and endless red brake lights leading uptown.

  “Good morning, Mary. You’re in early.” I peek my head in before I even take off my coat, and Mary is searching through her email at her desk, her short, straight blond hair pinned back over her ears.

  “The kids all decided to get up at five. They have no respect for my schedule whatsoever.” She laughs and sips her coffee. Mary has two young kids, and her husband takes the morning shift. “Bill didn’t want to get up, and since I had to be here early anyway, I got them dressed and came straight in.”

  “Do you need more coffee? I can run to the caf for you.”

  “No, thanks. There’ll be breakfast at the meeting this morning, right?”

  “Yes. I had it taken care of.” Taking off my coat, I slip back out of her office and hang it up.

  “Thanks, Laura,” Mary shouts from her desk. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’d be late for all your meetings and starve to death, Mary.”

  She laughs, and though I can’t see her, I know she’s nodding her head. “You’re right. Hey, come back in here.”

  I grab my moleskine I keep all my notes in and re-enter her office.

  “You look different today, Laura. Hot date tonight?”

  When I picked out my outfit this morning, I wondered if it was too much. It must be too much.

  “Is it too much?” I ask, sweeping my hands down. I left my long hair down and curled and decided on a black V-neck sweater that shows some cleavage. I wavered over my dark red skinny pants. All the time I spend in the gym (because I have nothing better to do) means I can wear the skinniest of pants without feeling self-conscious, but I tend to wear trousers to work or even jeans. We’re laid back here.

  “No, absolutely not,” she says with a smile. “You must be going on a date then. Who is he?”

  “It’s not a date. Just dinner. He’s some guy I met last night who’s in town for a few days.” I wave my hand and scrunch my nose. “Not relationship material.” I wish he was.

  “Okay.” Her sly smile makes me laugh.

  “Mary. I swear. Just dinner.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a date, Laura, but I’m happy to see you go out again… After Rene.”

  “Thanks.” I shift on my feet. I try never to think of Rene anymore. He was karmic payback for all the stupid shit I did in my twenties, for all the guys I met, slept with, and left.

  “How’s your mom doing?” Mary asks, sipping the last of her coffee and throwing the cup in the trash.

  “Good. The usual. Museums and fancy trips with the latest boyfriend, lots of walking, dinners with my aunt. Thanks for asking. I’m going to get coffee, and I’ll meet you in the conference room.”

  I was wrong to wear the hot, revealing pants for this dinner tonight. I shouldn’t flirt with Lee anyway. I can’t bring him home, and I don’t trust hotel rooms on first dates. Tomorrow, Lee will be on a plane back to Seoul, and I will never see him again. Well, too late now. I have nothing else to change in to.

  “Damn, Laura,” Dana, another admin, calls out as I pass her desk. “Those pants are awesome. Your legs look a mile long.”

  Turning all the way around as I hit my stride, I laugh back at her. The pants will be fine.

  Chapter

  Two

  =

  Lee

  The sun dips low in the sky, bouncing off the buildings, and blinding me at every turn. I don’t know why, but sunglasses are the things I lose the most traveling. I never have a pair handy. The last pair of sunglasses I purchased fell out of my bag on the plane and I stepped on them, completely shattering the lenses. I handed them off to the flight attendant with a shrug of my shoulders. This trip to New York is too short. I have no time to hop on the subway to Chinatown and pick up a new pair. That’s what I would have done tonight if I hadn’t impulsively asked Laura out for dinner.

  “We should break up for good, Lee. You don’t seem interested in coming home and taking the job at your father’s friend’s firm. And I haven’t seen you in six months.”

  Sandra’s last email bounces around in my head twenty-four-hours a day now. I haven’t spoken to her in three weeks, and she’s done nothing to keep in touch since. No more emails, no texts, no calls. Nothing. No, I don’t want to move back home to Seattle. No, I don’t want to practice boring corporate law. I asked Sandra to move to Seoul six months ago, and she turned me down then suggested we see other people. Last week, my older brother, Jin, and I FaceTimed so I could chat with my nephews and he said Sandra was at Jerrod’s wedding with my ex-best friend, Matt.

  I know Sandra. She thinks Matt is an asshole with a huge ego, and she’s always secretly hated him. Between being his wedding date in full view of my sister and her silence, Sandra’s baiting me again. The price for getting her back this time will be painfully high. All or nothing. I’m leaning towards never calling her again.

  I slow my pace, realizing I’m walking at light speed, in and out of other suits on their way home from work. My anger at Sandra has propelled me down ten blocks so fast I’m breaking a sweat. I need to slow down and take a look around for once. I’m in New York, not Seoul, not Shanghai, not Tokyo. This block of Forty-fourth Street is not as busy as Fifth Avenue, and my stride shortens even more, leisurely observing every window, every person passing me, every car double parked on the street. A strong breeze sends bits of dust flying into my eyes, and I shut them and turn away. Laura is right. It is a shame I’m never in a city long enough to enjoy the sights, the sounds, or the culture. But what’s the point? I could lengthen my trips, but I get lonely. Cities can be good friends, fast and exciting, familiar and loving, until you’re waiting for a table for one, then they’re cold and empty.

  My iPhone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from my best friend, Cori, back in Seoul.

  Cori Winslow

  You’re home on Sunday, right?

  Chris, Evie, and I were hoping you’d have lunch with us before you recover from your trip.

  Seoul is about thirteen hours ahead of New York, so Cori must be up for the day and making plans for the whole weekend.

  Lee Park

  No. Flight lands at 4pm your time. Better make it dinner. I’ll sleep on the plane.

  It’s 6:15 now, and I told Laura to meet me between 6:30 and 7:00, so I pick up my pace and stride into the hotel, checking the bar. No Laura. She’s not here yet. What if she stands me up? I don’t have her phone number or even her last name. What if I’ve successfully asked a woman out to dinner for the first time in three years, and she blows me off?

  Cori Winslow

  Sounds good. Are you getting dinner tonight any place special?

  This is why Cori is my best friend, though technically her husband holds that role. She can read my mind.

  I have barely enough time to get upstairs and change before meeting Laura, and I punch the elevator buttons forcefully as if that’ll get me to my suite faster.

  Lee Park

  Don’t know where I’m eating.

  Truth, I asked a woman I met yesterday at the hotel bar if she’d have dinner
with me.

  Bad idea?

  In my room, I throw my bag on the bed and sit down for a moment in the desk chair. My phone buzzes again, and this time I hesitate to pull it from my pocket.

  Cori Winslow

  LEE. Are you kidding me? How could you even think it was a bad idea?

  Lee Park

  I can feel your enthusiasm from here.

  What if she doesn’t show?

  I just asked her to meet me. That’s it.

  Cori Winslow

  Then you go out to dinner by yourself and it’s her loss.

  You didn’t tell S did you?

  Lee Park

  No. I still haven’t talked to her.

  Cori Winslow

  Good. Don’t.

  I knew she’d say that. Now, I’m stuck. I didn’t bring an extra set of clothes with me for this trip — just the suit for today and traveling clothes for tomorrow. I was in Shaghai before New York, and I had most of my clothes sent home before this last leg so I wouldn’t have to carry them halfway around the world. I open my bag and evaluate my wardrobe options, deciding to change my undershirt, and wear the casual green, buttoned shirt I planned on wearing tomorrow. I’ll leave on my dress pants and save my jeans for the flight home. The city was warm today and a sweater is enough for me for the evening. The temperature will stay in the fifties overnight.

  At 6:30, the downstairs lobby is busy with people coming and going, checking in and heading into the restaurant for dinner or the bar for drinks. Laura is still not in the bar so I wait in the lobby with full view of the doors.

  With time stretching in front of me, I stand and weigh all my reservations about this date. Maybe this is a bad idea. What if Laura is crazy? And Sandra finds out I did go out on a date, and she was just testing me. She’s been dating other people, but I have not. I tried to set up dates, but they all fell through, and then I left town to travel for work. I’ve wanted to break up with Sandra for months now. Actually, we’ve broken up several times over the past few years. Every time I get up the nerve to cut her off completely, though, I hear my mother telling me what a failure I am. It doesn’t matter to my mother that I’m successful with a high-paying job, a swanky apartment in Seoul, and so much money in my savings account, I don’t know what to do with it. The only thing that matters to her is me marrying a Korean girl from a respectable family.

  I’m thirty-five years old. I haven’t seen my “girlfriend” in almost six months and that was the last time I got laid. Even Cori thinks that’s ridiculous.

  Maybe a real date is what I need. It will either cement Sandra as my life long burden or convince me I can do better.

  I do this too often, sit and weigh every possible outcome. It makes me a good lawyer but a bad decision maker.

  Another gust of wind kicks up down Forty-fourth Street sending bits of paper soaring into the air, and I hear a tinkling laugh that sounds familiar. Leaning forward, I catch sight of Laura, her head bent down against the wind, her long brown hair whipping around her. She clutches her coat closed at the throat and smoothes her hair down with a smile before pulling open the door in front of me.

  “It’s windy out all of a sudden,” she cries, stumbling in and almost right past me. I reach out and grab her arm lightly, and she turns to me, her eyes wide and tearing up from the wind.

  “Lee, I didn’t see you.” She laughs again, blinking away dust.

  “You were blinded by the wind and your hair.” Strands are caught across her face and eyes, and I dislodge a few from her neck that are threatening to strangle her before I notice her blushing. I forgot about the reason I asked her out. She is gorgeous. The attraction wasn’t just the bourbon and her tight sweater.

  “Uh, thanks. Anything I do to my hair doesn’t stand a chance on a day like this.” She takes a deep breath and smiles at me. No, I don’t think she’s crazy. “Sorry I’m late. Do you want to get a drink before dinner? Or…”

  “You’re not late, Laura. On time.”

  “Really?” She pulls out her iPhone and glances at the screen. “I’m usually never on time for anything. Well, that’s good. I didn’t want to keep you waiting. So…” She glances around for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, rocking back on her tiny heels.

  “I didn’t realize how tall you were when we were sitting next to each other last night.” I lean back and admire her long legs. She’s almost the same height as I am in her short heels. Being an Asian man has been a stumbling block with women unless they’re much shorter than I am.

  “I’m five-seven.”

  I’ve never dated a tall girl before. I’ve always gone out with Korean women, and the majority of them are tiny compared to Laura.

  “Any thoughts on dinner? Pick your poison, Lee. You’re in New York City. You can have whatever you want,” Laura says, a hint of seduction, teasing out the last statement. I pull my gaze up from her legs, and she’s blinking her eyes at me, her head tilted to the right. She just caught me ogling her body. I suck on the corner of my mouth to keep from drooling, then clear my throat.

  “I was thinking this morning it’s been a long time since I was in India, almost four months now.”

  “No good curry places in Seoul?”

  “All Asian curry. Not the same.”

  “Okay.” She rubs her hands together. “You’ve been to the city before. What do you prefer? Murray Hill or East Village?”

  Hmmm, a hard choice. Technically, I like the Indian restaurants in Murray Hill better, but there’s less to do in the neighborhood after having dinner. East Village has a good selection of Indian restaurants though they aren’t up to par with Murray Hill, but afterward we can get drinks or coffee easier. But the ambiance in a Murray Hill restaurant will be more romantic…

  “It’s not a trick question, Lee.”

  “East Village.”

  “Great. Let’s go. We’ll cab it.” Laura turns to go, her energy driving her out the door, and I stumble to keep up. She winds up her hair this time and tucks the long strands back in her coat collar as we step out onto the sidewalk. I look left and right, but she grabs my arm and pulls me left.

  “Let’s walk to Fifth and catch a cab going downtown.” She clutches on my arm for a moment before letting go and putting her hands in her coat pockets. I stuff mine into my pants pockets and follow at her side, careful to step out of the way of anyone coming at us.

  “I often forget which avenues go up and downtown.”

  “That’s because the city switches the avenues around. Third avenue is confusing around Fourteenth Street and Fourth Avenue comes and goes so quickly. Then the West Village messes everyone up.”

  “How long have you lived here?” I ask. Laura sounds like she knows this city intimately.

  “It feels like all of my life,” she says, sighing. “I grew up in Connecticut then went to NYU, left, and returned back here in 2007. So, all told, nine years.”

  “I’ve lived in Seoul for five years, though the time feels like less.”

  My strides and Laura’s match, her heels hammering down the sidewalk. She holds her black purse on her shoulder with one hand and the other stays tucked away. I love how confident she is. She owns the city.

  “I bet it does especially if you travel as much as you hinted at last night.”

  Fifth Avenue is swarming with people, cars, and cabs, but after a few minutes, I manage to hail an open taxi while Laura taps away on her iPhone. Opening the door for her, she thanks me and slides in, directing the driver to the corner of Fourth Street and Second Avenue. She turns off the TV yammering news at us in the back seat of the cab and takes another look at her phone as the screen blinks again with a text message.

  “Sorry. I’m checking in with my friend, Theresa. She was wondering if I’m around tonight to hang out.” She types out another text and throws her phone back in her purse.

  “Did you have plans?”

  “Oh, no. No plans. She’s pregnant, and her husband tends bar a few nights per week to supplemen
t their income. His family owns a restaurant on the Lower East Side so she was bored and hoped I’d come over. They only live two blocks from me.”

  “In Chelsea?”

  “Yeah. They’re both school teachers in the New York Public Schools.”

  “The rent is so high in Chelsea.” People with my firm live here, and they’re always complaining about the rent. Not that Seoul is any cheaper.

  “I’m sure it is, but I own my apartment. My father died three years ago and left it to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I respond, but she shakes her head with a frown.

  “It’s fine. We didn’t have much of a relationship for the past ten years. Anyway, he used to be an investment banker, and the apartment was his place to stay in the city when he didn’t want to come back to Connecticut.” Laura plucks at the hem of her coat and rearranges her scarf, pulling the fabric away from her neck. The cab is warm. “He had the place renovated before I moved in.”

  The cab driver is rapidly chatting away in French on his hands-free, and my ear catches him placing buys with his stock broker on the other end. No one can get away from business and money in this city.

  “So, no rent.”

  “Nope.” Her profile is what caught my eye first last night. From the side, her forehead slopes gently, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. Even her brown eyes are not ordinary, rimmed with flecks that catch the evening light. “All of my money goes into the bank… or my closet,” she says with a laugh, clutching the scarf briefly.

  “Sounds advantageous.” Running my hand through my hair, I look over at her and she’s staring at me, her smile gone. “What’s up, Laura?”