The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2)

by Michele Gorman

  Sam and I had a virtually perfect weekend together. Pete was out of town, thankfully, so we cooked dinner at his apartment. It’s not somewhere I’d willingly spend a lot of time, but it could be made livable with a woman’s touch. And a deep clean. We drank a lot of wine and cuddled on the sofa. Until he fell asleep. Playfully I stroked him. He smiled and shifted position on the sofa, but didn’t wake up to put a happy ending on our evening. So I did what any normal girl would do. I shoved him awake, then pretended I hadn’t. ‘Hi,’ I’d said.

  ‘Hmm? Time for bed?’ he asked. Definitely! We brushed our teeth, snuggled under the sheets and started kissing. For about a minute. Then he said, ‘Sleep well darlin’.’ And he went back to sleep. So we had no sex last weekend. I don’t think it’s a big deal, because sometimes couples just want to cuddle. At most, it’s a tiny deal.

  We maneuver into position in Stanley Bay. It’ll be a miracle if we don’t witness a drowning today. Imagine the first day of the Selfridges sale, or opening doors on Black Friday. Then put that chaos into long, narrow rowing boats, in a choppy bay, and add dozens of pleasure craft vying for the best position closest to the racecourse buoys. ‘This is insane!’

  ‘I know. It’s great, isn’t it?’ Josh grins. ‘It’s even more fun to row.’

  ‘You’ve done this?’

  ‘Sure, for a few years. It’s not as hard as it looks. Well, it’s hard to see from here. You should be closer to watch… I’ll just be back in a mo’.’ He trots off to the bow.

  ‘This is incredible!’ Stacy gushes. ‘Stuart was absolutely green when I told him we were coming today. The bank cancelled the boats they usually hire. Apparently because there’s a recession at home we’re not allowed to have any fun out here.’ She makes a face.

  ‘I guess they’ll be over on the shore then.’ I can make out the crush of people on the shore. Poor landlocked suckers.

  Josh returns, grinning. ‘All right, ladies, let’s wander over to another boat. You can bring your drinks.’

  ‘Sorry, Josh,’ Stacy interjects. ‘Wander over to another boat? What are we, Jesus?’

  He chuckles, leading us to the rail to wave over an approaching boat. ‘My friends are on another boat, over there. This man can ferry us over. Ready? Just step down.’ The rickety little craft that I’m aiming for sits at least four feet below ours, bucking in the choppy water. ‘Here, I’ll hold– You’ll have to let go of the rail. No, just–’ He sighs. ‘Hannah, hold still.’

  Eventually the captain grabs my arm and yanks me into his boat to join two couples already aboard.

  ‘Very smooth, Han,’ says Stacy, swinging herself into the boat with acrobatic precision.

  Slowly we chug between the yachts, picking up and dropping off passengers until finally, Josh stands. ‘Here we go.’

  The boat we board is even bigger than ours. It’s also more crowded, as you’d expect for its position right beside the orange and grey pontoons marking the course’s edge. It’s overcrowding like this that makes news items ending with ‘rescuers are still searching for survivors’.

  Josh wrestles a few people aside, in the nicest way possible, and installs us along the bow’s rail. ‘I’m just going to say hello to my friends. Don’t lose your spots – this is prime real estate. I’ll be right back, okay?’ We assure him we’re fine.

  ‘I wonder how many of these people actually know each other?’ Stacy muses. ‘It looks like one of those house parties we went to in college.’

  She’s right. Back in school, news of parties spread within hours. Hundreds of students turned up at the bashes, hosted by complete strangers. I was always struck by the generosity, and stupidity, of the renters who willingly risked their security deposits. The level of destruction made a Category 5 hurricane look like a stiff breeze. I haven’t been to a party like that in years.

  Inside the boat, I begin to hear chants of ‘drink, drink, drink, drink’ getting louder. I spoke too soon. I’m at a party like that. I just hope they’ll get their security deposit back.

  Drumbeats start to float across the water, slow and rhythmic. ‘Just in time.’ Josh appears at my shoulder, pointing. ‘They’re getting ready for the next heat.’

  Six laden boats make their way from the faraway shore. As they get closer I spot something odd. Each boat comes equipped with a giant kettledrum, wedged between the knees of a girl sitting at the bow. She faces the crew, keeping time for the nine pairs of rowers packed closely together. The boat is no wider than the rowers, and sits dangerously low in the water. At each stern a man stands, steering with what looks like a gondola paddle. ‘How does he not fall in?’ Stacy wonders. He looks perfectly comfortable despite being on a boat that’s bouncing along the waves.

  ‘Sometimes he does,’ Josh says. ‘And sometimes the boats capsize, but people rarely get hurt. It’s an occupational hazard given the choppy water and pumping adrenalin. Look, they’re about to start.’

  A rather unconvincing air horn sounds, spurring the boats to life. The water churns white as the rowers dig deep with each quick stroke. Everyone is shouting. It’s thrilling, but lasts just a minute. The horn sounds again as the first boat crosses the finish line and everyone cheers. It’s a bit like having sex with an overexcited man.

  ‘Our friends are in the next heat,’ Josh says.

  ‘You weren’t tempted to race?’ Stacy asks.

  ‘Nah. That’s fun but it’s more fun to boat-hop and party. As you’ll probably have noticed, we Hong Kongers love our traditions when they involve parties.’

  I’d noticed. Josh is so lucky to have grown up here. What a life he must have led, and he’s not even forty yet. I can tell Stacy feels the same way. She hasn’t stopped grinning since we met the boat…

  Wait just a minute. I know that grin. Her thoughts are not on the rowers today. I pounce on her as soon as Josh goes for more drinks. ‘Stacy, is there something you’d like to share with the class?’

  ‘Hmm? What do you mean?’ she says, watching the boats.

  ‘’Fess up, Stace. You like my boss.’

  ‘Well, of course, what’s not to like? He’s charming and nice and smart, engaging and not at all as ugly as you claimed. In fact, he’s downright handsome.’

  ‘He is not!’

  ‘All right, not handsome exactly. But interesting looking.’

  ‘So you really like him? Do you think he likes you back?’ I’d love it if they went out, because this man hiatus is not natural for her.

  She looks anguished. ‘I don’t know if he does! This is killing me. You know I don’t usually like someone who doesn’t like me back.’

  ‘You don’t know he doesn’t like you,’ I point out. ‘Maybe he’s just waiting to be sure you’re interested before he asks you out. I wouldn’t worry. You always get your man.’ My smile takes any malice out of this (very true) statement. As we watch the next heat I try to remember if an object of Stacy’s desire was ever not interested. Except for William, The Hopeless Crush, there hasn’t been one. Josh must like my friend. What’s not to like? Except that she’s a workaholic, she’s perfect.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Someone shouts, pointing to the water as others gasp. Debris is strewn wide. Oars and people bob in the waves. I don’t want to watch in case someone is hurt, but I can’t stop myself. Orange inflatable dinghies are already at the scene. It doesn’t look like anyone is hurt and they’re hauling the rowers into the other boats. I wonder if the drum has sunk.

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s hurt,’ Stacy says, squinting at an approaching boat. ‘Aside from their pride. Are they coming here?’

  ‘Those are our friends.’ Josh shakes his head. ‘Bad luck.’

  The rowers climb aboard to laughter and jeers, assuring them that their near-death experience amused their friends. Everyone looks very sporty in matching green and black Lycra catsuits. It’s almost tempting to learn how to row, but I suppose my aversion to the gym, and exercise in general, tempers that idea.

  Josh introduces us to a stunnin
g blonde Lycra-bound Australian woman called Jackie. They look cozy enough together to give Stacy quiet conniptions beside me. I don’t think she needs to worry. Living with Aussies in London taught me that Australian women are this nice to everybody. ‘Aw yeah,’ she’s saying. ‘I don’t know what happened, mate. One second we’re in the boat, the next we’re in the drink. Speaking of drinks…’

  ‘Bar’s in the saloon, Jackie, help yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she says, chucking him on the shoulder. ‘I will.’

  ‘Would you like another drink as well?’ Josh offers. ‘I can just go get–’

  ‘No thanks, not for me,’ I say as Stacy shakes her head. My sea legs aren’t wholly due to the waves. ‘So how do you know Jackie?’ I ask, saving Stacy the trouble.

  ‘Oh, we were at uni together.’ I wait for more details but none are forthcoming.

  ‘… And she moved here after uni with you?’ I prompt.

  ‘No, not with me, but about six months later. So what do you think of the boats?’

  Why are men unable to have a normal conversation? By normal, I mean a conversation that actually provides the information we seek. Do they do this on purpose? ‘The boats are gorgeous,’ I tell him. ‘I had no idea that they were actually dragon boats.’ Some of the boats are brightly painted with green, red, blue or white scales, making them startlingly vivid against the greenish-grey water. The variety of carved wooden dragon heads at the boats’ bows are remarkable. Big, small, and all colors, they’ve got bulbous eyes and open mouths showing impressive teeth. Some have long wispy beards that dangle towards the water.

  ‘It’s a long tradition,’ Josh tells us. ‘More than two thousand years old. The Lycra is a new addition. It pays tribute to the dragon, the Chinese symbol for water, to bring luck and rain to the farmers’ fields. Then a legend got mixed up with it, about a great Chinese poet who drowned himself after his kingdom was defeated. The villagers took their boats out to try to find the poet, whom they loved. To keep the fish away from his body they beat drums. And today the drum symbolizes the dragon’s beating heart… but mostly it’s a national holiday off for drinking.’ He clinks our glasses.

  Sam would love this. Next year I’m going to make sure we get to go together. I wouldn’t even mind being on the shore. Well, I’d mind a little. But the important thing is that we’ll be together. I let my mind drift to all the experiences on our horizon. We’ll finally get to take our relationship out of this holding pattern, and build a life with each other. For the first time I can dare to anticipate that, instead of just wishing for it. It feels a bit like I’ve been under the cloud of a touch-and-go illness. Now, after months of letting it dominate my life, poof! The treatment is finally working and the symptoms are lessening. It looks like a brand new beginning from where I’m standing.

  If only that brand new beginning feeling had lasted into the evening. Instead I’ve got the same old feeling, trying very hard to understand what Stacy sees in Pete. He insisted on taking us to Lan Kwai Fong, to a bar that’s a dive even when you’re drunk. It’s nearly condemned when you’re sober. ‘Why do you like this place?’ I ask him.

  ‘The booze is cheap and the women are easy.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘Lighten up, Han, he’s kidding. You are kidding, right?’

  He laughs. ‘Yeah… the drinks are pricey. Want another?’ I nod. ‘Good, it’s your round. I’ll have the same, thanks.’

  Believe it or not, this is him being marginally nicer. That doesn’t make him likeable, only less loathsome. He and Stacy do seem to get along famously though, which I can only attribute to their mutual understanding of obscure financial products and economic theories. Not that they’ve been talking about those things tonight, thank goodness. I suppose he is interesting, if you can overlook his grating personality. He’s a geek at heart, like Sam, having spent most of his adult life under teacher supervision. I suppose that means he’s smart. He certainly thinks he is. In fact, he’s the kind of man who lives for those one-liners that are sometimes funny but usually tedious. I just don’t get the attraction.

  ‘So, Sam’s coming back on Friday,’ I offer, to fill the silence as Pete and I stare at each other.

  ‘Yeah, he mentioned that. He’s coming back for the meeting on the next project.’

  ‘And to see me.’

  ‘Right.’

  In the ensuing silence I’ve got plenty of time for my insecurities to settle back in comfortably.

  ‘You’re very cool about this you know,’ he says.

  Is that admiration in his eyes? ‘Cool about what?’ I must come across as a real prude if he thinks I’d be uncool about the bar. I mean openly, to his face.

  ‘About your whole dating situation. He said you were, but I thought… but you really are okay with it.’ He shakes his head.

  My, my, my, it is admiration. Despite my dislike for this man, I’m pleased to be judged as cool by him. Maybe he doesn’t dislike me so much after all. Or maybe he just assumed I wasn’t cool (what are we, sixteen years old?) and therefore not worthy of his friend. Well, clearly I am. I think I’ve handled the long-distance relationship really well, considering.

  ‘So, your boss. Are you seeing him then?’ Pete enquires.

  ‘Hmm? No, of course not! Stace– No, of course not. I certainly wouldn’t date my boss!’ I scoff like I’ve never done that before. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Oh, well I guess just because Stacy mentioned that you were out with him today, and at his club before. I just assumed, what’s good for the gander is good for the goose.’

  He’s watching me intently. Is he trying to goad me in to saying I’m cheating on Sam? I take it all back. He is a dick. And he can’t even get the stupid expression right. ‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,’ I correct.

  ‘Except the goose isn’t dating anyone else, is she?’

  It takes a moment for his meaning to sink in.

  ‘Hannah,’ he continues. ‘Do you think you’re making it too easy for him? I mean, he’s my friend, and I’m not telling you to kick his ass. Bros before hos and all that. But you seem like a nice person, and from everything Stacy says, you came out here in good faith to be with him. He’s got no control over his job, that’s true, but if he asked you to be here, then it makes sense to either commit or break up.’ He sighs while I sit here with my mouth open. ‘This halfway bullshit is, well, bullshit. I’ve talked to him about it, a lot, so he knows my feelings on the subject. I’m not going behind his back or anything by talking to you. It’s just not fair. It’s not fair to you but frankly, my main concern is Sam, since he’s my best friend. I think that if he won’t shit or get off the pot, then you need to.’

  He turns to Stacy, who has clearly not heard this before. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been going back and forth for a long time about whether to say anything. I can’t get through to Sam. He’s pissed at me for trying. Should I have kept quiet? I mean, come on, he’s my best friend. And she’s yours. This situation isn’t right.’

  ‘You definitely should have said something, Pete. You’re right. I’ve been telling Hannah that for months.’ How nice that they’re bonding over this little conversation as if I’m not sitting here. ‘What, exactly, is he doing?’ she asks, voicing the question that’s making me feel woozy.

  ‘Don’t make it sound like he’s doing something to Hannah,’ he snaps. ‘They’re allowed to see other people. He’s not doing anything wrong. It’s the situation that’s wrong. That’s what I’m saying. And Sam’s too close to it to see that it’s not good for him. Hannah, I guess I hoped that you’d understand what I’m saying. It’s got to be one way or the other. Limbo sucks. Make him commit or let him go so he can find someone else.’

  I feel like the ceiling just caved in. Was it just a few hours ago that everything seemed so bright?

  ‘It sounds like he’s already found someone else,’ Stacy accuses.

  ‘No, it’s not serious.’

  ‘W
ell, if it’s just a bit of fun,’ she says, shooting me a warning look. ‘It’ll come to an end when he comes back to Hong Kong anyway, right? So what’s the big deal? Though I guess she’ll be here too. That might be a bit awkward.’

  Oh God. It’s Li Ming. Of course it is.

  ‘Nooo, I don’t think so.’ He looks confused. ‘Her assignment is in Cambodia. She wouldn’t move here, unless they suddenly need to clear landmines in Central.’

  Now I’m confused. They got the funding for the project here, not in Cambodia. And what does Li Ming know about clearing landmines? She’s a hard-headed economist, not some airy-fairy save-the-world type who parachutes into war-torn countries to clear landmines and build schools, like some Teva-wearing Mother Theresa… Tevas. Landmines. Mother Theresa.

  My blood runs cold as I struggle to speak. ‘Well, it won’t be long now till Sam’s back,’ I manage. ‘Just a few weeks, when his assignment is finished! Then we’ll see. Is it hot in here?’ I’m babbling while my world crumbles. ‘Stace, I’m wiped out – too much sun today. I’m going to head back. Stay if you want, I’ll just text you in twenty minutes or so when I get back to the apartment.’