You
CompromiseIrene loves Wendy.
Therefore, Irene should (also) be ually attracted to Wendy.
That’s how it’s supposed to work, right? But when Wendy steps out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her, all Irene can think is ‘Wendy should get a longer towel because that one is too short.’
Wendy blushes, crossing her arms over her chest (which makes no sense to Irene because Wendy’s wearing a towel). “When did you get here?”
“Just now, I texted you.”
Irene turns to a vase of dead flowers. When did she give these to Wendy, two weeks ago? Carnations last long so they must have died recently.
“Would you like carnations or tulips next time?”
“You don’t have to get me flowers so often.”
“But you like flowers.”
“Yeah, but,” Wendy scratches her cheek, “I don’t want to trouble you.”
“You’re not troubling me.” It’s the other way around. “And I like seeing you smile, so I’ll keep giving you flowers unless you want me to stop.”
Wendy wraps her arms around Irene’s waist from behind. Droplets of water trickle onto Irene’s shirt and skin, making her uncomfortable but she bears it and focuses on Wendy’s smell. She’s always adored Wendy’s blueberry shampoo.
“I want carnations.” Wendy rests her chin on Irene’s shoulder. “A hundred of them.”
“That’s too many, this vase only fits,” Irene counts the dead carnations, “Seven.”
Wendy giggles. She does that sometimes when Irene is being serious, but Irene doesn’t mind.
“Just seven then.”
Wendy lets go of Irene. Water drips from her hair down to her arms (that’s no good, Wendy must be cold).
“You should put on some clothes.”
Wendy’s smile disappears. She crosses her arm over her chest, looking at the floor, then she turns around. She stays quiet and stands there.
This is bad.
Irene steps in front of Wendy. She can’t tell if Wendy looks sad or disappointed but she doesn’t look happy. Irene must’ve made a hurtful remark, so she has to explain why she said what she said.
“You just came out of the shower, so you must be cold, right?” Irene holds Wendy’s hand as an apology. “So you should put on some clothes.”
Their eyes meet. Wendy looks relieved. Maybe, Irene isn’t sure. She can read basic facial expressions like sad, happy, and angry, but everything else is too complicated, so she relies on body language.
“Are you okay?” Irene asks.
“Sorry, I thought,” Wendy intertwines their fingers. “I thought you hated seeing me like this.”
“I don’t, you’re beautiful.”
Wendy steps closer until their lips almost touch. This isn’t a cue to kiss because Wendy’s eyes are wide open.
“You say that but you never touch me like you want me. Even if I take this off, you wouldn’t do anything, would you?”
Irene can’t read Wendy’s facial expression, but she can read the meaning behind Wendy’s words. And Irene doesn’t know how to answer because telling the truth means hurting Wendy, and telling a lie means giving Wendy false hope. But keeping quiet is the worst way to respond, so she blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind because anything is better than nothing.
“Do you want me to?”
Wendy releases Irene’s hand and she steps back. She’s smiling but she looks sad and Irene hates it because she knows she said the wrong thing again. Wendy stands outside her room, hand on the door knob.
“Will you come with me?” Wendy asks.
What a strange request. Putting on clothes is something you do in private, so there’s no reason for Irene to be in the same room as Wendy.
“Why?” Irene asks. “Do you want me to watch?”
Wendy opens as if she wants to say something, but nothing comes out and she closes again. She takes a breath.
“Yes.”
Wendy’s answer catches her off-guard, and Irene’s brain goes into overdrive.
Irene isn’t stupid, she knows where this is going, and her brain, the part that is responsible for speech, must have stopped working because she can’t speak and she can’t find the words to say because she might say something she doesn’t mean and she doesn’t know if she means what she says because they aren’t mutually exclusive but she has to say something because silence is the worst and Wendy will be sad but but but —
The door clicks open and Wendy steps into her room without waiting for Irene.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
No, it’s not okay because Wendy isn’t facing her and that’s a sign something is really really wrong. Irene rushes to Wendy before she closes the door.
“Wait.”
Irene places her hand on the door, stopping the door from closing but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she waits for Wendy to let her in.
She can’t make the situation worse. She can’t lose Wendy. She can’t.
(Just this once, please, God, let her say the right words.)
“I just have to watch, right?”
Irene waits.
But Wendy doesn’t answer.
And the door closes.
Ah.
Irene wants to cry.
—
Words are hurtful, and no one hurts Wendy more than Irene although Irene isn’t aware of it. Irene hurts her again and again, Wendy forgives her again and again. Wendy tells herself it’s okay because Irene never means to hurt her.
But Wendy can only take so much before she hits her limit.
“I just have to watch, right?”
It sounded like an obligation. Something Irene will do because she has to, not because she wants to. Wendy could ask for more — she wants more — and Irene would, at best, force herself to say yes.
What’s the point of doing it if they will both be miserable?
Wendy grabs a sweater — no, she can’t wear this, it’s too bright and Irene hates it. White is safe. She turns towards the door. It’s unlocked and she (stupidly) hopes Irene will come in.
They’ll have to talk eventually, there’s no use delaying it.
Wendy opens the door.
Irene sits on the floor, whimpering, curled up with her head between her knees, eyes closed and hands over her ears. Guilt crashes down on Wendy. Irene once explained how it feels when she’s in this state (loud sounds, bright lights, everything hurts).
She isn’t sure if it’s okay to touch Irene, so Wendy whispers Irene’s name, careful not to startle her.
“Irene?”
Irene looks up, eyes red and puffy, and Wendy wants to apologize but Irene cuts her off.
“I’m sorry I keep letting you down, I’ll get better, I promise. Give me a little time, please, I’ll learn everything, just tell me what to do.”
Irene sobs against Wendy’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me.”
Wendy stays with Irene on the floor, rubbing Irene’s back and saying it’s okay although it isn’t.
—
“Are you mad at me?” Irene asks.
Wendy shakes her head, tracing circles on Irene’s hand. Irene finds it soothing, like a weighted blanket she used to have when she was little.
“Better?”
Irene nods. She rubs her eyes with her free hand. Her breathing rate is back to normal, her vision is clear, and her ears don’t hurt. The tag on her shirt doesn’t dig into her skin. The window is open, letting the sunlight in but it doesn’t blind her.
It’s quiet. No more high-pitched birds, no more cars honking, no more drilling machines. No, that’s not it, everything is still there but not as noisy as it was a moment ago.
“I’m okay.”
Wendy smiles. She stands up, hand clasped in Irene’s. “Come on, I’ll make carrot cake.”
Irene follows Wendy to the kitchen. Wendy plays an English song on her phone, but Irene prefers Wendy’s voice, so she asks Wendy to sing. Irene takes a tub of ice cream from the fridge (Häagen-Dazs cookies and cream, Irene’s favourite, Wendy keeps it for Irene).
“What’s the song about?”
“Well, it isn’t something I’d sing in public.” Wendy cracks two eggs into a bowl. There’s bits of shell in the egg, so she wets her finger and scoops the shell out.
“But what’s it about?”
“Take a guess.”
“Ice cream cake?”
“You only say that because you’re eating ice cream, but it’s pretty close.”
Wendy mixes the eggs with buttermilk and oil. Extra sugar and vanilla because Irene likes it sweet. Wendy bakes the carrot cake at 175 degree celsius for 60 minutes, Irene sets a timer on her phone. Wendy plays her acoustic guitar, singing whatever song Irene requests. If Wendy was a singer, Irene would be her most loyal fan. Actually, no, she’d rather be Wendy’s manager so she can take care of Wendy.
They kiss too. The first time, Irene kisses Wendy, thankful Wendy is here with her. The second time, Wendy kisses Irene, longer than their previous kiss but Irene doesn’t mind. The third time, they kiss each other. Then they eat cake. Wendy gives Irene a generous slice, Irene washes the dishes.
It feels like a normal day.
—
“Where’s Joy?” Wendy asks.
Irene twirls a pen around her thumb. “At home with Seulgi.”
“Seulgi?”
“Yeah, she’s Joy’s,” Irene stops twirling her pen, gazing up at the ceiling. Then she twirls her pen again. “Something.”
Wendy staples a stack of paper and puts them into a file. “You mean a friend?”
“No, Joy said they’re not friends.”
“Girlfriend?”
Irene’s pen flies across the room and lands next to the trash can. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe she’s using the wrong pen, slim ballpoint pens are easier to work with. She picks up the pen and sits across Wendy.
“No, but they seem fond of each other, especially Joy. She’s taking care of Seulgi because Seulgi’s hungover. She even bought peppermint tea for Seulgi.”
Wendy raises her eyebrows and grins. “Someone’s getting soft.”
“No, Joy’s always like that.”
Irene likes the little things Joy does (Joy probably doesn’t realize it but that’s part of Joy’s charm). For example, Joy listens. Not just nod and smile, she listens. Irene could be rambling about a new movie she’s anticipating, and a week later, Joy would suggest watching it together online.
“But Seulgi’s different,” Irene says. “Joy could’ve let Seulgi sleep on the couch but she let Seulgi sleep on her bed instead. She never lets anyone sleep in her room, so that’s a big deal.”
Wendy hums. She closes her file. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Sort of. I offered Joy to sleep in my room but she said no. I think she stayed up all night.”
It’s odd because Joy sleeps wherever she is: the car, train, seminars. Especially seminars.
Irene rubs her thumb and index finger together. Joy has the right to be with whoever she wants, but Seulgi.. well, Irene dislikes Seulgi. She prefers Chen because he treats Joy well, he never calls Joy ‘’ or ‘.’
She isn’t sure what to think of Joy and Seulgi’s relationship.
“Should I be worried?” Wendy asks.
“Why?”
Wendy shifts closer. She rests her forehead on Irene’s. “Do you love me?”
Irene answers without thinking.
“Yes.”
Wendy smiles and kisses Irene, a light brush with the slightest bit of pressure. Their kisses are usually chaste and brief, but this time, Irene opens and lets Wendy run her tongue over Irene’s lower lip, gently and barely there, then Wendy pulls back and cups Irene’s cheek, smiling.
Beautiful.
Irene has said ‘I love you’ to Wendy multiple times but she says it again.
“I love you.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Wendy kisses Irene’s cheek. “I love you too.”
Irene used to think saying ‘I love you’ is pointless.
“I’ve said it once, and you already know it, so why should I say it again?”
She was wrong, of course. Saying ‘I love you’ means she gets to see Wendy smile, so she’ll say it again and again and do everything she can to show her affection because she loves Wendy and Wendy deserves all the love in the world.
“I love you.”
So much.
—
Irene comes home and sees Seulgi straddling Joy on the couch. Both fully clothed. They don’t seem to notice her presence.
“Stop playing around and tell me where your phone is.”
“Or you’ll what, punish me?” Seulgi leans down. “Sounds great. You’re getting too soft nowadays, I can do better by myself.”
“I’m not the one who’s desperate to be touched.”
“Ah, you and your mouth, you always know what to do.”
They look like they’re kissing. Seulgi mutters some words but Irene can’t hear and she doesn’t want to because eavesdropping is rude. Irene fiddles with her wristwatch and considers her options. If she goes to her room, they’ll notice her. If she keeps quiet, they’ll keep talking. If she says anything, she’ll interrupt their conversation. No one likes being interrupted.
“You know, the other day, I was with this guy and I accidentally screamed your name. He was crap but imagining your face made it better. A little. Okay, not really, your tongue is way better.”
“I’m flattered.”
“But don’t you feel sorry for me? It was so so bad. So why don’t you put your mouth to good use and —”
Irene has heard enough.
“I’m home.”
Seulgi frowns at Irene.
“You again.”
Seulgi’s wearing Joy’s sweater, the one with her faded university logo, which is strange because Joy never lends her clothes to anyone. Is Seulgi wearing shorts? She should, because this is Irene and Joy’s apartment, and appropriate clothing is a must if you’re a guest.
“I live here.”
“Thank you for the reminder, my memory’s been ty lately.” Seulgi pulls Joy into a sitting position. A phone drops to the floor. “Oh, there it is. See, Joy, I told you it was somewhere in the living room.”
Joy fixes her shirt. She must’ve taken a shower because she’s not wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Misplacing is one thing, hiding it under the couch is another.”
“Are you saying I’m a liar?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I never lie.”
Joy takes Seulgi’s phone and stands. “You’re going home.”
“Can’t, I lost my keys and my landlord went to Hokkaido to see his family.”
Joy swipes on Seulgi’s phone screen. “Good thing your friend found your keys and is asking when you want them back. Convenient, isn’t it?”
“Did you read my message? That’s unethical.”
“Seulgi.” Joy’s tone intimidates Irene. “Your hangover’s cured, so leave.”
“That’s not how you talk to a lady.”
Joy grabs Seulgi’s wrist. She whispers into Seulgi’s ear, then they stare at each other without saying a word. Irene has no idea what’s happening.
“Fine,” Seulgi says. “But you’re coming with me.”
“Explain why.”
“Because,” Seulgi loops her arms around Joy’s neck, “I’m a damsel in distress and I need you to protect me.”
Joy sighs, putting a hand on Seulgi’s waist. “More like a witch.”
“And you’re the Devil. Aren’t you glad I’m here to entertain you? Admit it, you like it when I let you —”
Irene doesn’t see the point of staying, so she excuses herself and goes to her room. She isn’t against public display of affection, but Joy and Seulgi’s conversation is something she’d rather not listen to.
—
Joy doesn’t come home that night.
Irene checks her phone. No new messages. She doesn’t feel like cooking so she decides to eat yesterday’s leftover. Irene heats it in the microwave for 1 minute and waits until the timer reaches 00:01, then she presses the stop button.
Dinner for one.
—
Irene doesn’t finish her dinner, and she throws away the leftover because it’ll be inedible tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to get a stomachache.
—
23:00
Irene receives a text message from Joy. She says she’s not coming home (Irene already knows that).
She goes to bed.
—
The next day, Irene checks their mail. Bills, adverts, and a letter from Imperial College London.
Huh.
Before she can put the letter aside, Seulgi shows up at the door. Irene expects to see Joy but she isn’t here. Seulgi crosses her arms, tapping her foot.
“Are you going to let me in or are you going to let me stand here?”
“You’re a guest, so yes, you can come in.” Irene steps aside. She puts Joy’s letter on the coffee table. “Was Joy with you last night?”
Seulgi smiles, so faint Irene almost misses it, and Irene knows the answer to her question. Seulgi sits on the couch. She doesn’t seem interested in talking, so Irene takes out her jenga set and builds her colourful jenga tower.
“Why did you break up with Joy?” Seulgi asks.
Irene pauses in the middle of withdrawing a blue block. The tower shakes but it stays intact. She takes out the blue piece and puts it on the floor.
“I wouldn’t call it a break up, we were hardly in a relationship.”
Seulgi takes the piece Irene discards. She lets it stand vertically, then she flicks it over with her middle finger. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Irene withdraws seven more blocks. The tower stands, straight and unmoving.
“She was curious, and I was willing.” Another block. The tower shakes. “She said she didn’t feel anything, and didn’t want to waste time. We decided we weren’t fit for each other, so we went back to being friends.”
Irene feels Seulgi’s eyes on her.
“There’s nothing between you and Joy?”
Irene has reached the point where, no matter what piece she takes, the tower will most likely topple over, so logically, she should stop. But that’s not how jenga works, you need to keep removing blocks until the tower collapses.
So Irene keeps playing.
“It’s not nothing.” Irene reaches for the green block at the bottom. “We’re friends.”
Seulgi beats her by a second. The tower shakes, on the verge of falling apart but it holds on.
Irene frowns at the green block in Seulgi’s hand. “That’s mine.”
“Not anymore.”
Seulgi’s expression annoys her. Of course it’s annoying, Irene didn’t invite her to play and Seulgi stole something that belongs to Irene. How rude.
A key jingles from outside the door. It must be Joy because Seulgi stands up and leaves. Irene shakes her head. No good, she’s getting distracted. She takes a purple block in the middle. Blocks in the middle are usually loose so this should be safe.
“Are you okay with lemon cake?” Joy asks Seulgi.
Irene pauses. Joy always buys pistachio pudding, does she even like lemon cake?
“I can’t finish all this,” Seulgi says. “You take half.”
The tower shakes. Irene stays still, her hand still on the purple block, and she counts before taking the block.
One, two —
“Sure.”
The tower collapses.
Irene stands up. Joy and Seulgi sit across each other, eating lemon cake. There’s a box of cherry cake — not pistachio pudding — on the kitchen counter. One slice instead of two.
“They ran out of pistachio.” Joy pours a glass of orange juice. She must have bought it for Seulgi because Joy only drinks water and coffee. “I thought you’d like cherry cake.”
“We can share,” Irene says.
“It’s fine, I already have this.” Joy points to her half-eaten lemon cake.
“Does it taste nice?”
“I prefer pistachio pudding but this isn’t so bad. Do you want some?”
Irene shakes her head. She grabs a fork and eats her cherry cake. It tastes sweet but sickening.
“I prefer pistachio pudding too.”
—
Seulgi leaves an hour later. Irene and Joy stay in the living room.
“Wendy and I had a fight yesterday.”
Irene examines her lego robot. It’s almost done, she just has to build the head and its antenna. Joy sits next to her and Irene takes the silence as a sign to continue.
“You’re supposed to be ually attracted to the person you love, right? I love Wendy, and I’m fine with kissing, but anything beyond that — you’re supposed to do it because you want to, not because you have to, right?”
Irene feels like she’s having a therapy session. It isn’t that far off, Joy is a good listener and she doesn’t judge Irene for saying any of these things, things Irene would never share with anyone else.
Has she always been this dependent on Joy?
She can’t depend on Joy forever.
“Eighteen out of a million lego blocks are defective.” Irene turns a purple lego piece over and over. “Do you think I’m defective too?”
“Do you?”
Irene doesn’t reply.
“Legos are made of plastic so you could probably melt and remold them.” Joy takes the lego piece from Irene and sticks it onto the robot. “Everyone’s a little messed up but you’re not defective. Your brain is wired differently than mine, and that’s okay.”
For someone who claims to have no interest in being a therapist, Joy does an excellent job at it. Irene places a green block next to purple. Her robot’s complete. The green and purple blocks aren’t supposed to be together but Irene likes it better this way.
Irene rests her head on Joy’s shoulder and takes Joy’s hand. She’ll be sad if Joy leaves, but for now, she’ll forget everything and appreciate this peaceful moment with just the two of them.
“Thank you.”
Author’s note: I realize this story is approaching M-territory. But as I’ve said before, there’s no scene.
Given my stiff and dry writing style, reading scenes would be painful. Or not, different for different folks. Now would be a good time to insert a joke but nothing comes to mind. Actually, there’s one, but it won’t fit in this context.
Anyway, I feel like this chapter is less fluid than it could’ve been. And it was supposed to focus on Wendy/Irene, but as always, nothing goes as planned. Let me know what you think.
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