Face Time

by S. J. Pajonas

  My only plan was to go to the gym.

  Lee Park

  FaceTime with me. Your Monday night is my Tuesday morning and I don’t plan on going in till noon.

  When we exchanged contact information and started texting, I hoped we’d keep in touch this way, but I tried to prepare myself for all possible outcomes. He just went through a long-distance relationship with his ex. If that didn’t work out, maybe this won’t either.

  On a Monday night, I worry about my mom being home. What do I do about her? Will she think it’s strange if I’m in my bedroom talking to my iPad? She doesn’t understand technology and can barely work the iPhone I bought for her. It took her a whole month to figure out how to text, and she still doesn’t know she can access email on it. I’m going to hope she won’t notice and will mind her own business. She spends most evenings in her bedroom or out with Richard anyway. But the hard part will be telling Lee about her. I can’t hide the fact she lives with me if we’re FaceTime dating.

  FaceTime dating someone in Seoul. That sounds super pathetic. But, dammit, I don’t have any prospects here in New York. I burnt through every romantic connection in the last five years, and all the men I dated in my twenties have moved on. I’m thirty-two years old, been single for over two years, and my mother is living with me while she goes through her midlife crisis, or her attempt to date every wealthy, available man over the age of fifty in the city, or whatever the hell she’s doing. It’s not like I’m getting any younger. Is it better to have an online relationship with Lee than to be alone? I won’t know until I try.

  Laura Merchant

  I’d love to.

  (>’o’)> ♥ <(‘o’<)

  “Humor a pregnant lady and tell me every last detail of the kiss,” Theresa says, taking a sip of water and stretching her legs. I persuaded her to come out and walk with me because it’s one of those beautiful, sunny, clear days that makes you love Manhattan and everything about it. I was sure a walk along the West Side Highway would be good for both of us. Theresa’s belly has grown in the last month and exercise helps her aching hips. Her husband, Mike, is working the brunch crowd at his family’s restaurant today. She was eager to get out.

  “It was fantastic. Confident but not aggressive. He just pulled me to him and went for it.” I reflexively touch my lips and smile. “His hands were warm, and I heard him moan halfway through. It was hot.”

  Theresa sighs. “It sounds blissful.” She closes her green eyes and inhales. I tug on her arm and pull her closer to me as a young man zooms by on a bike.

  “It was, but maybe it’s only because I haven’t been kissed in a long time?” I take my iPhone out of my zippered pocket and look at the date, March 25th. “It’s been… two and a half years since I’ve been kissed. A little longer since I’ve had sex.”

  “Ugh, that’s too long.”

  “Do you know what that does to a person like me?”

  “I can only imagine, sweetie,” she says. A strong breeze whips up the Hudson River, and she tucks her short, curly red hair behind her ears. Theresa squints into the bright sunlight. “I should have worn more sunscreen. I’m going to burn, I know it.”

  We walk silently for a block or two, and I relive the memory of my first kiss with Lee in my head again.

  “So, what are you going to do, Laura?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to talk to him? See him again? What? I haven’t seen you smile this much over a guy since Rene.”

  I direct her over to an empty bench along the side of the bike path and help her sit down.

  “I don’t know.” I sit down next to her and adjust my ponytail to pull my hair farther up off my neck. “I’ve tried everything, Theresa. I’ve dated friends, friends of friends, coworkers, strangers…”

  “Yeah, Rene was a bad idea.” She sighs and eyes me before wiping sweat from her eyebrows. “You were so desperate and needy with him.”

  “Thanks for that.” My shoulders start to rise, my head drawing down like a turtle into its shell.

  “You ran after him and ruined a good nine months of your life…”

  “Okay, thanks. I remember.” Closing my eyes, I try to imagine myself someplace else.

  “Desperate. Desperate. Desperate.” She punctuates with a knock on the bench between us each time. “And, of course, you remember how you told me to remind you of all of this the next time you dated?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Damn. Theresa has a brain like a steel trap. She remembers every stupid and insecure thing I said during that relationship.

  I open my eyes, and she smiles at me before laughing. “Laura, I swear to god. I told you when this day came you would hate me for saying those things to you.”

  “I don’t hate you, of course. I asked for the reminder.” I distinctly remember crying into her shoulder two and a half years ago and begging her to help me never make the same mistake again.

  She nods and turns towards me on the bench. “It’s not what I really think, though. I hate all of that YOLO shit on the internet, but you only get one life. So what if he lives on the other side of the world…” Theresa sweeps her hand out over the Hudson River.

  “Korea’s in the other direction, Magellan.”

  She laughs again, and her happiness infects me too. This is why we’re good friends, and I’m determined to keep her close to me even with a baby on the way. I don’t want her to drift. Theresa and my other friend, Justin, are the only New York friends I have left.

  “How did you ever find him attractive? He’s so not your type.”

  “I know,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “Asian men? Totally not me.” I focus on a group of twenty-something Chinese boys walking by. “I wonder what he looks like without any clothes on. Maybe really smooth…”

  “Little in the way of body hair…”

  “Mmmm. Yes.” I take a deep breath and imagine, but it’s torture. Oh well. Not gonna stop me.

  “I just want you to be happy, Laura. You haven’t been happy since you moved back here to New York and even less after Rene. You’re a physical person, always playing sports, going to the gym, and meeting up with people in person to do things. My only concern is you may need to be with Lee face-to-face for an actual relationship to happen. And then there’s your mother.”

  My mother is a big problem. She’s self-involved, stuck up, and living with me.

  “Should I give up?” I ask. “Theresa, tell me if I’m a lost cause. Honestly.”

  “Of course not.” She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re so dramatic, Laura.”

  “I’m three years away from thirty-five.”

  “A lot can happen in three years. Do you want to try online dating again?” She sips from her bottle and pulls her feet under the bench before they’re run over by a rollerblader. “Jesus, I almost lost my toes.”

  “Let’s not talk about this anymore. It’s only making me angry and depressed.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Laura. I just wanted to point out the options. I only want you…”

  “To be happy. I know.” Theresa loves me. I should be less defensive. “I’ve been here five years. I’ve had nothing but the worst dates. My bastard father finally dies, and just when I think I’m in the clear, my mother freaks out and moves in with me. It’s been written in the stars that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”

  “Not true at all,” she responds. “Nothing is written.”

  We stand up and wait next to the bench for a family on bikes to pass. They’re laughing and calling to one another, and I immediately imagine myself in their place, married with kids and happy. It seems like a delusional dream. “No, I’m not going to try online dating again. That’s a waste of time. Online dating is for people like my mother. Even if this thing with Lee doesn’t go anywhere, I want his friendship enough to try. If I lose even that, then I’ll move on. I just want the chance.”

  Theresa reaches around my waist and guides me across t
he jogging path back in the direction of home. “You’re so optimistic, even when things knock you over, Laura. I love that about you.”

  “I always get back up, Theresa. Lying down to die is not in my nature. I have no choice.”

  Chapter

  Eight

  =

  Lee

  I texted with Laura last night to set up our FaceTime this morning. I was on my way to bed, still jetlagged, and she was on her way to work, so we talked time and nothing else. I wanted to flirt more with her — ask her what she was wearing, what she’d be doing at work that day — but I stopped myself.

  Our second date is over the internet. If I think too hard about that, it sounds pathetic, like I can’t just walk out the door and meet a woman in a bar like people normally do. I did, just not in Seoul, and I’m not even sure I could meet a woman here if I wanted to. I love South Korea but my American ways make me stick out. As soon as I open my mouth, they know because my Korean is good but not native. My mother always said I spoke Korean too slow, but my father would pull me aside and tell me he was proud I had learned at all. Both my older brother, Jin, and my older sister, Nari, refused to speak Korean in public. They wanted to fit in as much as possible with everyone else at school. I didn’t fit in at home, and I don’t fit in here either, except when I’m with friends.

  My apartment is in a high-rise complex right on the northern edge of Cheongdam-dong, and I was lucky enough to score one of the last one-bedroom apartments with a view of the river and west towards Seongsu Bridge. Chris and Cori live here, too, in the same building, but five floors down and on the other side. I had only been in Seoul a week, living in a hotel on the other side of the river near work, when Chris asked me out for drinks and to meet his family. Cori went home that evening, spoke with the management, and I signed the lease on this place two days later. The firm pays for everything. It even came with furniture. The only thing I did to personalize my space was to keep my suitcase by the front door and my computer, iPad, and iPhone are always charging on the kitchen table when I’m here.

  A storm is moving in this morning, threatening rain for most of the region. Black, rolling clouds sit in the sky, ready to start the onslaught of spring precipitation. March isn’t too bad, but in spring and summer, it rains all the time. I’m never without an umbrella when I’m back here. Sipping my coffee at the window, I can’t believe I got up at 7:00am when I don’t need to be in the office until noon, but I wanted to make sure I’m showered and dressed before Laura calls. Checking the time again, it’s only 7:40am now. I should get breakfast before 8:00am.

  The shelves are empty in my fridge, as per usual, except for an unopened box of soy milk. I need to grocery shop for some basics since I’ll be here for two solid weeks before leaving for India. In the cabinet are a few boxes of cereal I keep around just for these moments. When I return to Seoul after being away for so long, it takes me at least two days to get to the store, and I don’t always want to eat out. Cereal fills in the gaps nicely. Pouring the soy milk into a bowl filled with this Korean abomination of cocoa puffs, Sandra’s voice filters into my head. “You live like a college student, Lee. It’s so depressing.” Maybe for her.

  My iPhone and iPad both light up at the kitchen table at 7:55am. She’s early. I set my iPad up and sit down at the table with the light facing me and accept the call.

  “Hi.” Laura smiles at me, and my stomach flips over, but I reach out and take a screenshot. The more photos I have of her the better. She’s sitting on her bed, her hair pulled back loosely over one shoulder, with a brown paper bag next to her. “I hope this is another dinner date because I picked up food on the way home.”

  “Hi, Laura,” I say, relaxing in her presence like I did during the first date. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, Lee. You look better rested.” She reaches into the bag next to her and pulls out a styrofoam container.

  “I am. I slept through the entire night. Didn’t even need to take anything. I’m happy to be back in Seoul.”

  “I’m sure.” She squints and leans into the camera. “Are you eating? Do I see a bowl? Eat with me. I got falafel.”

  “Oh. Falafel.” My mouth immediately starts to water. “I haven’t had Middle Eastern food in forever. I may have to seek someplace out while I’m here. I’m eating cereal. It’s the only thing left in the apartment.”

  “You had milk, though,” she says, pointing her finger at me.

  “I keep those boxes of the shelf-stable soy milk around and pop one in the fridge before I leave on a trip. That way it’s cold and ready when I come back.”

  “Good idea.”

  We both take a few bites of our food and chew in silence for a moment, and it’s the same kind of easy quietude we had on our first date. I’m taking the time to memorize her face. She has almost flawless skin, gentle arching eyebrows, and a long straight nose. I love how soft the short hairs around her ears are. She reaches up and tucks them back, a curl falling out across her face.

  “Are you on your computer?” she asks, and I pull back from the iPad. I hope I wasn’t drooling.

  “No, I have an iPad, too.”

  “Me too. Technology and clothes are the only things I splurge on nowadays.” My attention shifts to her falafel sandwich which looks so good my stomach rumbles. That’s kind of cruel. My cereal is unappetizing and soggy so I push the bowl away.

  “Let me see your setup. Take a picture with your iPhone and send it to me.”

  “Okay.” She picks up her phone and points it at me. “Smile.” A few seconds later, my iPhone blinks with her message and photo. “I have one of those breakfast-in-bed trays for nights when I want to relax in my bedroom.”

  The photo shows her bed, the iPad set on top of a tray, but my eyes focus on the pile of clothes on her floor. “I spy with my little eye…” I play this game with Evie, but it’s things like a red truck or a green trash can, never a black bra.

  “Oh, Lee. I saw that in the photo, and I was hoping you’d overlook it.”

  “Not likely.”

  Her neck blushes, and she takes another bite, letting me stew and think about where that bra has been. This “relationship” of ours is only a few hours old, and it’s already a hundred times better than my last two girlfriends.

  “What did you end up doing on Sunday?” I ask, detouring the conversation from the sexy avenue it had turned on.

  “I ran some errands, went to the gym to lift weights, then went on a walk with Theresa.” She wipes her mouth and sets aside her falafel.

  “Your pregnant friend, right? Are you and Theresa good friends?”

  “Yeah, she’s my best friend in New York. We were roommates freshman year at NYU, both undeclared majors. I chose English and she chose Education. We kept in touch after school when she did Teach for America and I traveled, then both ended back up here.”

  “Did you tell Theresa about me?”

  She smiles and drinks from a glass of water. “Of course I did.”

  “I told Cori about you. Well, more like she interrogated me for info until I gave up. She should have been a lawyer.”

  “Do you have many girl friends?” she asks, and though she’s asking lightly, this is always a hot topic with women. Every past girlfriend of mine has wanted me to denounce every girl I ever knew.

  “Well, here in Seoul, my closest friends are Chris and Cori, and I go out for dinner and what not with other partners at the firm and clients who are in town. Then I have cousins nearby, the majority of whom are women, but we’re related. I would say I have an equal number of men and women friends. To be honest, a lot of the women I know back home are associated with Sandra, so I can’t say how good of friends we’ll be after this.”

  That just slipped out. “After this” meaning after we’ve broken up, and I’m finally ready to date someone else? I wonder what Laura thinks of that.

  “Right. Makes sense.” She nods her head and pauses for a moment, before stretching out to
her side table and grabbing a bottle of beer. She’s casually dressed tonight, a dark gray long sleeved cotton shirt and I thought I saw black yoga pants in the photo she sent me. I love yoga pants on women.

  “What about you? What are your friends like?” I ask.

  “Me?” she asks. “Hmmm, I have friends all over the world, but only a few here in New York. I don’t see everyone often or anything. That’s the thing with being in your thirties and single in the city, you’re in the minority. Almost all of my friends are engaged or married. So sometimes we go out but it’s not the same unless I bring a date. Most of the time, they’re not interested in talking to someone they don’t know, they just wanted to see me…” She drinks from the beer and sets it aside. “Which is sweet and all that, but I always feel left out.”

  “I understand. I’m thirty-five and unmarried. My mother is going to lose her mind when I talk to them next and tell them that I refuse to get back together with Sandra.”

  I pause to watch her reaction. I’m not telling her this so I can gauge her, but I really want to know what she thinks.

  She nods her head. “You do seem very unhappy every time you mention her name. What is it about the relationship that didn’t work for you?”

  I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, gazing out past the iPad to the window and the storm rolling in. “There just wasn’t any… romance?”

  Laura laughs, tilting her head to the side and smiling at me again. I wish she was here. “Are you a romantic, Lee?”

  “I guess I am. I’ve known Sandra and her family all my life, so when we got together, it was one drunken night and suddenly she was bossing me around and acting like we’d been unhappily married for a decade. She would complain about me to my mother, my friends. God, no wonder I stayed away.”

  “When was the last time you went back to Seattle?”

  “Over six months ago, and I only saw her once when I was there.” It was a hurried fuck in my hotel room, and the whole rendezvous wasn’t even enjoyable. Sandra bitched about everything from the bed to the condoms to the way I threw her clothes on the floor.