How long have I waited to hear this? Only my entire adult life. Granted, I may not have always been very career-focused, so maybe I didn’t consciously realize I wanted to hear praise from my boss. But there’s no denying that this feels good, and it would have been nice to hear before now. This might actually mean I have a career, like grown-ups do. ‘Thanks, Josh, you have no idea how good that is to hear. And–’ I check my watch. ‘Just minutes into my birthday too.’
He holds the elevator door open for me before pushing the button to our floor. ‘It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say something?’ Consternation clouds his face. ‘I hope this trip didn’t scupper any birthday plans you had. You could have come along next time, you know. You should have said something.’
‘No, no, it’s fine, really. I didn’t have any plans tonight. The celebration is tomorrow. It’s just dinner with a few friends. If you wanted to come…’
The doors open. He looks a bit startled. Whether at the doors or my question, I’m not sure. ‘Thank you, Hannah, I’d really like that.’
I shouldn’t have asked him. Especially now, after a boozy dinner. I hope he doesn’t get the wrong idea. Because I’m only asking to be nice, and because he’s been so nice to me. Surely he understands that.
‘Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Eight-thirty for breakfast? Good,’ he says as we reach our adjacent rooms. ‘Sleep well.’
‘Thanks, you too. Goodnight.’
He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Happy birthday,’ he says softly.
Chapter 12.
I think Josh has the wrong idea. Or else I’m being paranoid because the idea that he’s got the wrong idea is lodged in my head. Or, possibly, the birthday drinks Stacy has already bought me have lodged in my head. I think it’s one of the first two, though, based on mounting circumstantial evidence. First, when Josh and I met for breakfast at the hotel this morning, he toasted my birthday – with orange juice, it was 9 a.m. after all. Possibly that’s just a friendly thing to do, but then, after meetings all day, he insisted on a sightseeing tour before we went to the airport for our flight back. He wanted to show me the Hakka houses he mentioned yesterday. He had the driver take us out of town to see them.
At first, glimpsing them from our mountain road, they looked like giant storage containers. It was only when we got closer that I saw the windows in the outer walls. They’re essentially donut-shaped apartment buildings, ancient, vaguely coliseum-like, with families’ apartments ringed around an open courtyard. It was very cool and otherworldly, a glimpse of old China. But that’s not the point. Josh took us out of our way to show them to me. Again, that could be interpreted as a friendly gesture after I showed an interest in his conservation activities.
But now he’s handed me a gaily wrapped package. In front of my friends. And Winnie, my colleague, his employee. ‘It’s just a little something. Go on, open it,’ he urges.
‘You shouldn’t have, Josh! I didn’t expect a gift, really. It’s… Wow!’ It’s a key chain. With an orange and blue leather bowling shoe dangling from it. It never occurred to me that I gave off bowling vibes. ‘Thanks very much.’
‘What an ugly little thing!’ Winnie accurately declares.
He laughs. ‘I looked for a proper shoe but that’s all they had in duty-free. I know you recently moved into your new flat, and I thought you could use it. It’s just a token really.’
‘Ah, I see. I like it, thanks!’
‘That’s very sweet of you, Josh,’ Stacy purrs. ‘Hannah never stops talking about how much she loves her job, you know.’ She reaches for her phone as a text chimes.
‘He knows, Stace, I tell him all the time,’ I point out as she smiles at her message. ‘I’m not exactly a poker face, am I?’
It’s really rather embarrassing how grateful I am for my job. But after being treated like the gum on the bottom of my last boss’s Blahnik, it’s tremendous to feel appreciated.
‘I think it’s great,’ Josh says. ‘To have someone working with me who’s as enthusiastic as Hannah. I told her when she interviewed that I was looking for a breath of fresh air for the company.’ He gazes warmly at me. ‘I definitely got that.’
That’s not something a boss would normally say, in that tone. I’m not being paranoid. Am I? I hate that I don’t trust my own judgment. It’s because of yesterday’s phone call with Sam. I’m reading into everything now, and behaving like a spurned wife. Everything with him feels open to interpretation. I thought I was okay with our situation. When we first talked, I was sure I understood what was going on, and I was comfortable with it. I felt secure. I felt like I knew what Sam was thinking. Now I don’t. Is it the distance that’s doing it? Or is time making me forget the details of our talk that made me feel secure? My memory is shifting, slipping and leaving just tips exposed. I can’t see what was underneath. And I still don’t know whether he heard my declaration on the phone. When he called this morning to wish me happy birthday I chickened out. My heart dared my mouth to repeat those three all-important words but my brain scared it into keeping quiet. My brain’s probably right. That’s not the kind of conversation you have while rushing to meet your boss. It’s going to have to wait until we see each other.
‘That text was from Pete,’ Stacy says, waving her phone at me. ‘He says happy birthday and wonders what you’re doing tonight… could I invite him along?’
‘I don’t know what you see in him.’
‘Han, he’s your boyfriend’s best friend. You’d better get used to him, for your own good. I keep telling you that you just got off on the wrong foot. He’s really nice. He thought to wish you happy birthday, didn’t he?’
‘I suppose.’ I sigh. ‘Fine, invite him if you want.’ With everyone else here, I won’t have to talk to him.
‘Happy birthday, Hannah,’ Brent and Stuart chorus on arrival. Of course they do. ‘I got you a drink,’ says Brent.
‘We got you a drink,’ Stuart corrects. ‘We can’t stay long, but wanted to wish you glad tidings and many happy returns.’
‘Thank you.’ I grin, accepting my champagne. ‘Brent, Stuart, this is Winnie. We work together. And this is Josh, our boss.’ Everybody shakes or kisses according to etiquette. ‘You two must be the busiest men in Hong Kong. Do you ever have just one engagement in an evening?’
‘That’s for when we’re old,’ says Brent. ‘Besides, I’m single. I’ve got to keep my hand in the game. Not like Stuart. He’s one step away from a pipe and slippers, cooking dinners with his girlfriend.’
‘I am not.’
‘Are too. You may as well get married. You never come out anymore.’
Stuart gestures to himself and the bar as evidence of the flaw in his brother’s statement. ‘And we’re going together to dinner, aren’t we? Jesus, you sound like a nagging wife. I swear he becomes more like a girl every day.’
‘Hey, watch it!’ says Stacy. ‘We’re not all naggers.’
‘Not you, I know, Stace. You’re like a man with breasts.’
‘Thanks. I think.’
Am I a nagger? I shouldn’t have to think about this question on my birthday, but there it is, intruding on the party. Surely most of our unpleasant behavior when it comes to men is the direct result of said man. If he’s not acting like a jerk then there’s nothing for me to nag about. I haven’t nagged Sam very much. Have I? Memories of uncomfortable conversations are now joining the nagging question at the party. Maybe I nag a little bit. Must try harder.
Stacy and Josh have become engrossed in conversation. ‘The book was so much better!’ Claims Josh.
‘But Audrey Hepburn made the film. And I liked that there was a love story.’
‘So you’re a romantic.’
‘God, no. I’m not, am I Han?’ Her face says she’d rather be told she has BO.
‘You are a bit, don’t you think?’ I say. ‘You’re very optimistic about the men you date, and I think you always hope for the best. That’s romantic. But I agree with you, the film
was way better than the book. Unlike Gone with the Wind.’
‘Ah, a classic,’ says Josh. ‘Personally I never approved of the last half of the film. Too much war, war, war, and all the beautiful clothes disappeared.’
‘Spoken like a fashion exporter,’ I tease. ‘Margaret Mitchell wrote such an incredible character in Scarlett, didn’t she? I’d back her in a battle against any of the other famous literary heroines. She’s scrappy.’
‘It takes one to know one,’ Josh says.
Okay, that’s flirting by any standard. I don’t have any response. Luckily, Brent returns from his shagability reconnaissance, grinning. ‘See someone you like?’ I ask.
‘About half the bar,’ he says, nodding.
‘Go talk to someone then,’ Stacy urges. Josh and Brent trade looks. ‘What? Have I said something wrong? Offended your sense of propriety?’
‘No, no.’ He puts his arm around my friend. ‘Stacy, Stacy, Stacy, there are some things you should know about Hong Kong.’ He looks like he’s about to break the truth to her about the Tooth Fairy. ‘Let me ask you this. How often have you been approached in a bar here?’
‘I don’t know.’ She’s blushing. ‘A bit, I guess.’
‘As much as back in the States?’
‘Well, no. What’s your point? Have I grown ugly here?’
‘Not at all! You’re definitely top one per cent.’
‘So where’s the problem?’
‘The problem is, we’ve had it too good for too long. We live in a backwards bubble here. We don’t have to do any chasing, so we don’t. Am I right, Winnie?’
‘You’re right. We are very aggressive here. We approach the men.’
‘White women too?’ Stacy asks.
‘Stacy!’ I admonish.
‘What? I can say white women, can’t I? I am white – we are white. Everybody can see that.’
‘Of course you can,’ says Winnie. ‘We know you’re white. Don’t worry about being too PC here. We’re not. Yes, white women too. We’re all in the same boat.’
‘And because of that, men have devolved evolutionarily,’ Brent continues. ‘Really, ladies, you’ve not done yourselves, or us, any favors here. You’ve dulled our instincts with your kindness. We can no longer fend for ourselves like they did in caveman times. We’ve lost the ability to club women over the head and drag them back to our caves.’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’ I ask.
‘Not as long as we stay in Hong Kong. The women do the chasing here, so we don’t have to. But if I went back to the UK I’d die alone in Stuart’s spare room.’
Josh is nodding.
‘Is this true?’ I ask.
‘I’m afraid it is. It’s not very nice for the women who constantly have to be in pursuit, but it’s great for us! We can be lazy, which is our essential nature anyway.’
‘Great, thanks. Happy birthday to me.’
‘Don’t let it get you down, Han,’ Stacy says. ‘We’ll chase men when we have to.’
‘I’m not down, I don’t need–’ But I am down, aren’t I? Because this dating realization has mixed with my Sam-uncertainty about as well as this champagne is mixing with the martini I had earlier. In just a few weeks I’ve gone from securely in love with my boyfriend to insecurely in love with my… what is he now? If you’re going out with other people when you have a boyfriend, that’s cheating. Surely, then, that means if your boyfriend says you can see other people, then you’re not his girlfriend. You’re his – bit of fun. Label-conscious I may be, but this is not one that I covet, thank you very much.
‘We can, can’t we?’ Stacy is patting my arm. ‘We’ve got no plans tomorrow, right?’
‘I’m sorry? I… I wasn’t listening.’
‘Josh invited us to his club tomorrow, to go out on a junk.’
‘I’d love for you to come out,’ he says. ‘We can have lunch and then take the boat around the island… if you’re free,’ he finishes politely.
‘Oh, oh yes, thanks, Josh, that’ll be nice. It’ll be cooler on the water,’ I finish vaguely, still thinking about labels.
By the time Pete makes good on his threat to disrupt my birthday half an hour later, I just want to go home. ‘Happy birthday,’ he says, making no move to kiss. I’m grateful for this. No need to pretend social niceties that we don’t feel. ‘Have you had a nice day?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ I say formally. ‘I’ve just come back from China, for work, so the celebration got delayed a bit.’
‘I assume you’ve talked to Sam already?’
‘Yes, of course I’ve talked to Sam. He called first thing this morning. After all, it’s my birthday, and he’s my boyfriend.’
‘I guess that would be expected. Shame he couldn’t be here this weekend, isn’t it?’
Is he purposely trying to stir things up? ‘Not really. I mean, I don’t mean I don’t want to see him. But I was supposed to be there this weekend, so it’s not like he didn’t plan to see me. The job thing only came up last minute, so I had to cancel.’
‘I thought you were going to Phuket this weekend with Stacy. Did those plans change too? That’s a shame.’
Stacy looks surprised to hear this, but doesn’t blow my cover. ‘If you must know, Sam asked me to go to Ho Chi Minh instead and… and Stacy and the guys understood. Like I said, it was only at the last minute that I had to cancel for work.’
He smiles, shaking his head. ‘There’s a lot of uncertainty in long-distance relationships, huh? I couldn’t do it. I’d miss the girl too much to be away from her like that. And I wouldn’t take last-minute changes as well as Sam obviously does. Different arrangements work for different people, I guess.’
‘Maybe you couldn’t handle it because you’d be too insecure.’
‘I guess so. I’m just saying that if I were Sam, I’d want to be here all the time.’
‘What makes you think he doesn’t want to be here all the time? Pete, he has to do this for work. It’s not like he wants to be away.’
‘Right, time for another drink,’ Stacy neatly cuts me off. ‘Han, come with me. Pete, what would you like?’
She drags me to the crowded bar. ‘Hannah, you need to stop this. You’re being very defensive when Pete isn’t even being rude. Why do you have such a problem with him? He’s Sam’s best friend. Is that it? Are you jealous of him or something?’
‘No, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve told you. It’s because he’s rude to me.’
‘Is he being rude now?’
‘Why would he ask if I’ve talked to Sam if he wasn’t trying to stir things up?’
‘Er, because he’s best friends with Sam and he’s making polite conversation. Really, Hannah, I was standing next to you the whole time. He is not being rude.’
‘I just don’t like him.’
‘Fine, then talk to Winnie and Josh when we go back to the group. I’ll talk to Pete. But you should consider why you’ve got such a problem with him. If he’s not being rude then maybe it’s you who has the problem. And it’s not going to end well if you hate your boyfriend’s best friend. Just think about it.’
I didn’t have to think much about it last night. Luckily Pete left after one drink. I just don’t understand how he can seem so normal to everyone else. He’s a subversive genius, always saying two things at once. Clearly he’s unhappy about Sam and me. The question is, why? It must be jealousy. It can’t be personal because I’ve never done anything to him, and he was rude from the first time we met. I guess he resents that Sam wants to spend time with me when he comes to Hong Kong. He should be happy for his best friend, instead of begrudging him his relationship.
I can’t talk to Sam about it. What if Stacy’s right? Then he’ll think I’m paranoid. I don’t want that clouding his view of me. We talked this morning and, once again, I’m confused. It wasn’t that he was awkward or stand-offish. It was that he wasn’t. He was wonderfully romantic and sweet and funny, exactly like he was when we were together in London. Exactly like e
very time we’ve seen each other here. I had the most secure, happy feeling when we hung up. He’s coming next weekend. He’s already planned the whole thing, without colleagues this time. And yet the fact remains: a boyfriend doesn’t tell his girlfriend she can see other people. It doesn’t matter that his behavior gives me absolutely no reason to feel insecure or sad or the least bit doubtful about our relationship. Something’s not right about it.
Our walk to Josh’s club gives me twenty sweaty minutes to ponder this uncomfortable fact. We should have taken a cab. Despite their drivers’ universal inability to a) drive safely or b) understand me when I tell them where I’m going, there’s something pleasant, if a little terrifying, about careening through the city’s steep streets in the little red and white icons. Instead, we’ve walked in what feels like a city-sized steam room. The air clogs my lungs and the feeling of sweat popping out all over my skin, soaking my T-shirt, is about as pleasant as you’d imagine it would be. Stacy pointed out that sweat is good for hangovers. I bet a fried breakfast in an air-conditioned restaurant would be even better.
The guard at the club’s entrance watches us curiously when we duck under the traffic arm. We have, after all, arrived at the parking lot with nothing to park. ‘Morning,’ I call. ‘We’re meeting one of your members inside.’
He waves us through with a careless shrug. Clearly his is a ceremonial post.
‘Wow this is pretty, and right on the water!’ Stacy says before snorting at the astuteness of her perception. We are at a boat club. An inland marina wouldn’t have the same seafaring appeal. ‘Please kick me under the table if I say stupid things like that later.’ Ever the good friend, I promise to aim for her shins at the next gaff.
Josh is waiting for us in reception, looking relaxed and casual in a golf shirt and chinos. His hair is even more sticky-uppy than usual, and I notice he isn’t wearing socks. Very boaty. ‘Welcome!’ he says, kissing us both on the cheeks. ‘You found it all right? Good. We can have lunch any time, but if you’re not hungry yet, why don’t I give you a quick tour and then we can have a drink in the bar?’
The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) Page 16
