Question
CompromiseJoy knows when something is on Irene’s mind. She’d stare into space, eat slower than usual and take deep long sighs.
Irene plays with her green peas. One falls outside the plate and Irene sighs for the fifth time. She cuts her toast into tiny pieces until she can’t cut them anymore, then she goes back to playing with the peas.
Joy appreciates silent meals but she dislikes this type of silence.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Not something, someone.” Irene stabs a piece of toast with her fork. “It’s Wendy.”
Joy pours her second cup of coffee, she’s started using a tall mug but a cup is still a cup regardless of the caffeine content. She stirs her coffee. “Go on.”
“I screwed up.”
Joy takes the spoon out of her mug.
“I just..” Irene sighs for the sixth time. “I told myself it’d be quick, I’d get over it, maybe I’d even like it.”
She fiddles with a tissue paper, smoothing out the creases.
“ is supposed to be enjoyable, right?”
She crumples the tissue paper, then she smoothens it out again.
“I know Wendy won’t hurt me, but I couldn’t do it and I don’t understand why. Is it supposed to be this hard?”
Their conversation always goes like this: Irene asks, Joy answers. But Irene never asks rhetorical questions and that definitely isn’t one. And Joy doesn’t know how to answer this because she’s just as hopeless as Irene.
Irene sighs.
That’s the seventh time.
“Is it supposed to be this hard?”
“I don’t know.”
Irene slumps on the table and looks at the wall. “Do you want to go out this evening? We haven’t had a drink in a while.”
“There’s a bar in the city centre, it’s quiet and the bartender makes the best cocktails. My treat.” Joy carries their plates to the sink. They usually do their own dishes but today’s an exception.
Irene hugs her from behind and Joy almost drops her plate. “Thanks for listening.”
Odd, Irene rarely initiates physical contact (it’s not a bad thing).
“You’re welcome.” Joy rinses her plate and wipes it with a towel. She places their plates on a rack.
This is a long hug (again, not a bad thing).
“Twenty seconds,” Irene says.
“What?”
“Your body releases oxytocin after twenty seconds of hugging. They say it makes you happy.”
“Is it working?”
Irene sighs but this time, she sounds relieved. “I think so.”
—
Irene suggests playing Monopoly together (Irene bought the latest edition 10% off from her workplace). She removes the cover and looks for the iron piece but finds a cat instead.
“What happened to the iron?”
“They held a poll online and asked fans to vote for their favourite.” Joy takes the dog piece and distributes their notes. “Iron was the least popular so they replaced it with a cat.”
“I liked the iron, it was my favourite.” But Irene takes the cat piece and rolls the die.
Joy gives her a look.
“It’s cute, stop judging me,” Irene says.
An hour later, the board game is full of little green houses. Irene arranges her property cards into three columns: purple, blue, orange, while Joy laments her approaching bankruptcy (she at Scrabble but Monopoly too? Not fair).
Irene takes a treasure chest card. She prefers reading it out loud before doing whatever the card says. “Won second prize in a beauty contest, collect $10.”
“Just second? The judges must have high standards.”
“You can take the first place. We’ll share your prize, a trip to Europe maybe?”
Joy moves her dog piece three spaces forward. “How about England? I heard the churches in Oxford are beautiful.”
“But you never go to church.”
Technically, that’s not true. “Chen took me to his local church last month.”
“How was it?”
“Beautiful.”
Joy rolls the die but it falls to the floor. She takes it back from under the couch and pats the dust off her hand.
“You should’ve seen the glass paintings, and Chen was so good at playing the organ during the mass. He played the Tetris song too, I think they banned him from coming to their services.”
Irene stares at Joy as if she’s staring at the devil. “You told him to play it, didn’t you?”
Joy grins. “Maybe.”
She rolls the die again.
One.
Joy lands her piece on a space with a question mark. She draws a card and reads: advance to go. “It’d be nice going to England.”
—
Irene isn’t much of a drinker. Most alcohol tastes awful but she does enjoy that buzzy feeling every now and then (waking up in a bathtub and throwing up at three a.m. isn’t a pleasant experience so she switched to weak alcohol).
Her favourite drink? Amaretto sour plus bourbon with a cherry on top. It tastes like candy. Irene swirls her glass, pleased at the clanking sound of ice cubes. It’s a quiet evening, about ten people in the bar including her and Joy.
“How much does it take for you to get drunk?” Irene asks.
“Not much.” Joy takes a sip of her gin and tonic with lime. “I stop when I get tipsy. I don’t like getting drunk, it makes you do stupid things.”
“Stupid things?”
“Like climbing a tree to save an imaginary puppy and singing nursery rhymes.”
“You did?”
Joy smiles, looking amused but it isn’t directed to Irene. “Not me.”
Irene swirls her glass. What was that woman’s name again? Seul.. Seul-something.
“Seulgi,” Joy says.
“Is she your friend?”
Joy puts her glass on the table. She looks at a chalkboard menu on the wall. “Not really.”
“How did you meet?”
“She was kissing a man.” Joy rests her chin in her palm, ring finger tapping against the corner of her lips. “And I just happened to be at the wrong place.”
“That sounds —”
A phone rings. Joy reaches for her green coat, it’s a different ringtone from the one Joy sets for everyone else (Joy often leaves her phone at the kitchen and Irene is used to picking it up).
Joy is good at hiding her emotions, but even Irene can tell something is wrong when Joy’s face turns completely emotionless.
“Sorry, I have to go.” Joy leaves her seat without so much as a glance at Irene.
“But what about the bill?”
Gone.
Irene chugs down her amaretto. Perhaps an emergency? Oh well, it was probably Seulgi. Chen’s ringtone (and everyone else’s including hers) is different. Irene raises her hand, about to call the bartender, then she realizes she left her purse at home.
The bartender approaches her. “Another drink?”
“Oh, um.” Irene checks her pockets. Nope, no spare notes. Damn it, Joy, it was supposed to be her treat. Irene twiddles her empty glass. “Yes, I’ll have another amaretto sour, please.”
The bartender nods. Irene groans, burying her face in her palms. Now what? She grabs her phone and scrolls down her contact list. She stops at Wendy’s number.
Would Wendy like a drink?
—
“Heeey.”
Joy winces at the slurred voice but she keeps her phone pressed against her ear. Seulgi mumbles unintelligible words, voice drowned by music in the background.
“There’s this guy, you know this guy? Like, kind of okay-looking and super dumb, anyway, this guy was being a meanie. I mean, it’s not my fault his girlfriend cheated on him. And the kiss, oh gosh, the kiss, it was totally gross. She wasn’t even pretty.” Sound of shuffling and crashing. “Oopsie.”
“Stay where you are, I’ll pick you up.”
Seulgi laughs. “Sure, sure. I’ll do anything for you, anything.”
Joy runs towards a taxi parked on the sideroad. She keeps Seulgi on the phone.
“Twinkle twinkle little Pringles, I can see your halo, happy happy joy joy,” Seulgi sings off key, Joy can’t help but smile a little. “Hey, Joy, your name’s everywhere, you know that? No, for real, I see it wherever I go, billboard, magazine, poster. It’s so.. so.. umm.”
Joy waits.
“Prettyful. Just like you and your voice, makes me all warm and fuzzy.”
More laughter.
“Ah, that was so lame.”
Seulgi’s voice softens.
“I’m lonely, why aren’t you here yet?”
“I’ll be there.” Joy orders the taxi driver to speed up, she offers to triple the fees.
“Promise?”
Joy holds the phone closer. Drunk or not, Seulgi sounds like she wants to sleep in a big warm bed instead of making out with random strangers.
“Promise.”
—
Irene swirls her glass, most of her ice cubes have melted. A man offers to buy her a drink but she turns him down. They chat a little, he works in the video game industry and Irene asks about his latest project (it sounds like a fun game but the only game Irene plays is Minesweeper on her phone).
Wendy arrives, Irene excuses herself.
“Joy abandoned me.”
Wendy sits next to Irene over the counter, she orders rum and coke. “Why?”
“I don’t know, she got this phone call and left just like that.”
“Must be someone special.”
Irene isn’t naive, she knows about Joy’s lifestyle.
The signs are obvious: a) sleeping at someone else’s place, b) wearing a turtleneck although Joy prefers v-neck sweaters, and c) coming home at one a.m. with messy hair and ripped pantyhose (Joy forgot to text her so Irene stayed up waiting).
“About time she finds someone, don’t you think so?” Wendy asks.
Joy is a wonderful friend, but a lover?
“I’m not sure.”
Then again, Irene isn’t a wonderful lover either, is she?
—
By the time Wendy finishes drinking, her cheeks are slightly flushed and she pauses between her words. Wendy complaints about her assignment, insisting she deserves a higher grade than 69 because apparently, anything below 70 is bad. Irene listens to everything Wendy says, nodding occasionally.
Wendy pays the bill with 25% tip and wishes the bartender a good weekend.
“Do you want to take a walk?”
“Okay.” Irene buttons up her wool cardigan. She finishes her drink and takes out the cherry.
“Are you supposed to eat that?”
“Why not?”
Wendy scratches her cheek. “Well, it never really crossed my mind to eat the garnish.”
“The cherry’s nice. Here, try it.”
Irene pops her cherry into Wendy’s mouth.
—
Their walk in the park turns into a stargazing date. Irene and Wendy sit on the grass. Wendy takes out a piece of paper, a pen, and a mini flashlight. She draws a bunch of dots and connects them, then she shows her drawing to Irene.
“This is Pegasus, the flying horse.”
Irene blinks. “That’s not a horse, that’s a square with three legs.”
“Yeah, I know, but the ancient Greeks thought it looked like a horse.” Wendy scoots closer until their knees touch. “Look, you’ve got three lines here, right?”
“Legs.”
“Okay, legs, well, this one is a head and these two are, well, legs.”
“Where’s the other two?”
“There’s only two.”
“So it’s a horse with two legs.”
“Pretty much.”
Irene folds her arms and squints at the drawing. Yes, she lacks imagination but constellations make no sense to her. It’s like someone randomly connected stars and assigned a random symbol.
“Why do they call it a flying horse if there’s no wings?”
“Well, it doesn’t have four legs either.” Wendy shows another drawing. “Delphinus, the dolphin.”
“That’s a kite.”
“Cygnus, the swan.”
“A cross.”
Wendy shrugs. She points at the sky. “And there’s Virgo, the maiden. See, it has four legs — I mean, two arms and two legs.”
“Really.”
Irene snuggles against Wendy. She listens to Wendy’s story about a goddess who falls in love with a mortal. The goddess’s father opposes their relationship, so he puts them in sky separated by the Celestial River. Each year, on the 7th night of the 7th month, magpies form a bridge so the lovers could reunite.
“If it rains, the lovers can’t meet, so they have to wait for another year.”
“That’s sad.” Irene intertwines her fingers with Wendy’s. “I hope the weather is good this year.”
They sit in silence, gazing at the sky full of stars.
—
“Jwoooy, what took you so long?” Seulgi wobbles towards Joy and wraps her arms around Joy’s neck. “I was so lonely.”
Chansung rubs his neck, looking uncomfortable. “So, uh, you gonna take her home?”
“Depends.” Joy rummages through Seulgi’s pockets, she finds a penny and a crumpled note. No keys. “Again, Seulgi?”
Seulgi’s lips touch Joy’s ear, sounding too sober for someone who has downed tequila shots. “You don’t care if I go to his place, right?”
Joy almost says the wrong answer.
Almost.
“Why would I?”
Seulgi giggles. “See, Chansung, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care at all.”
Joy takes off her coat and drapes it over Seulgi’s shoulders. She turns to Chansung. “You have her keys, don’t you?”
Chansung’s eyes widen and he steps back. He laughs, waving his hands. “What, me? Why would I have her keys? The only keys I have are mine, I don’t have her keys at all. Nope.”
“Give me your jacket.”
He takes out his phone and taps the screen. “Oh, look, someone’s calling me. It was nice meeting you, bye!”
Chansung runs away.
—
“Are you drunk or are you pretending again?”
“No.”
Seulgi leans against Joy’s chest. ing hell, she can hear her heart in her head and her head in her heart. She’s tempted to throw up all the alcohol in her body but that sweater looks good on Joy and Seulgi already ruined Joy’s favourite coat once.
Seulgi clutches onto Joy’s coat (oh God, it’s the same coat from last time). Screw it, she’ll throw up all she wants tomorrow morning.
She’s so pathetic.
“You’re such a troublemaker.” Joy Seulgi’s hair, pressing their bodies together. “What would you do without me?”
Seulgi scoffs. Who does Joy think she is, a ing knight in shining armour? She doesn’t need anyone to save her — but she still clings to Joy so desperately as if Joy is going to leave her, she’s such a goddamn hypocrite.
Heavy. Her head’s so heavy. Seulgi focuses on Joy’s warmth, taking in her rosemary mint scent and before she passes out, Seulgi whispers, more of a plea than an order.
“Stay.”
Seulgi slumps against her. Joy sighs. What an idiot.
“Your body releases oxytocin after twenty seconds of hugging. They say it makes you happy.”
False. Joy’s been holding Seulgi for more than sixty seconds and she wants to dump Seulgi into a trash can. Her oxytocin must be as dysfunctional as whatever it is she has — if any — with Seulgi.
“This doesn’t work at all.” Joy tightens her arms around Seulgi. “How do I leave when you’re like this?”
No one answers her.
She’s a little sad.
—
Joy calls a taxi and takes Seulgi to her apartment. She tucks Seulgi into bed, holding Seulgi’s hand for as long as she deems appropriate, which should’ve been no more than three seconds but she always loses track of time when she’s with Seulgi.
Actually, she shouldn’t have held Seulgi’s hand in the first place but she ignores this.
Seulgi reeks of alcohol but there’s still a hint of citrus that Joy adores. Joy caresses Seulgi’s cheek and — almost against her will — kisses Seulgi’s forehead. It’s the alcohol, Joy swears, she must be tipsy.
“Good night, Seulgi.”
Seulgi dislikes sleeping in the dark, so Joy turns on her lava lamp. She leaves a bottle of water and aspirin on the bedside table.
—
Joy splits her Kinder Joy — Seulgi’s right, her name is everywhere — open. There’s an airplane toy inside. Cute but useless so she throws it away. She looks for a green apple on the kitchen counter. There’s only a tangerine (there’s a bowl of cherries but they’re Irene’s).
She takes the tangerine. It’s not her favourite fruit but it’ll do. She’ll eat it before she sleeps.
Irene comes home before midnight. She hangs her cardigan on a chair and makes hot chocolate with marshmallow for Joy although Joy doesn’t ask for it.
“Are you sleeping on the couch?”
Joy stirs her drink. “Why would I?”
“Seulgi’s in your room, isn’t she?” Irene points to the shoe rack. “Unless you bought designer shoes on your way home.”
“You should be a detective.”
“Thanks, you can be my sidekick.”
“That’s boring. I’ll be the villain, a mad scientist.”
“But then I’ll have to catch you.”
“That’s the best part, nothing’s more thrilling than being chased.” Joy blows on her hot chocolate. Rain patters against the roof, thunder rumbling softly like a lullaby.
“Do you want to sleep in my room?” Irene asks.
“You snore.”
Irene looks offended. “So do you.”
“Both of us wouldn’t sleep well.”
“That’s not true, lots of couples snore and they sleep together.”
Joy smiles, fiddling with a tangerine’s leaf. “What would you do without me?”
“I’d look for another flatmate.” Irene sits with a bowl on cherries on her lap. She pulls off a cherry’s stem. “And I’d be sad.”
“How sad?”
“Really sad.”
“How long?”
“Really long.”
The pendulum clock ticks, faint and soothing. Joy peels the tangerine as if she’s doing an experiment, she scraps the skin away with her nails, accidentally puncturing the tangerine — juice sticks to her fingers, she it off but it trickles down her palm.
Drip.
Irene rests her head on Joy’s shoulder. “You’re not going away, are you?”
Joy slips a piece of tangerine into . Sour. God, she hates tangerines.
“It’s just a hypothetical question.”
Author’s note: Another year of broken resolutions. Thanks for reading and see you again, comments and feedback are welcome. Have a wonderful year.
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