Matter
CompromiseSoulmates are a wonderful concept, Irene thinks. But that’s all they are, a concept. Here’s why:
There are 7 000 000 000 people on Earth. Excluding Irene, that leaves: 7 000 000 000 people – 1 person = 6 999 999 999 people. Irene isn’t a mathematician. She knows basic algebra and she still counts with her fingers. But the odds of finding your soulmate, assuming they exist, must be so tiny they’re practically zero.
“If everyone has a soulmate, what are the odds of us finding ours?” Irene asks.
Joy pauses a video on her laptop. “Wasn’t there a similar question in the book you gave me?”
“Which one?”
“The one you gave me last Christmas.”
Joy walks over to her bookshelf. She takes a book with a cover image of a dinosaur chasing a stickman. There’s a speech bubble drawn over the dinosaur’s head that says, ‘serious scientific answers to absurd hypothetical questions.’
Oh, that one. Irene remembers buying that book 15% off on the release date (in return, Joy gave her a book on body language).
“Assuming your soulmate is alive, 10% are close to your age, and you fall in love the moment you make eye contact,” Joy looks at Irene. “That’s 1 lifetime out of 10 000.”
“If we don’t make eye contact, does that mean we won’t fall in love?”
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
“Eye contact is hard.”
Because there’s too much multitasking: a) pay attention to the other person’s body language, b) make an appropriate facial expression, c) listen to what the other person says, d) think of the right response, and e) wait for her turn to speak.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
“No.” Joy closes her book. “There’s no such thing as the perfect match, everyone has flaws.”
Irene agrees. She loves Wendy but they’re not soulmates because they’re not a perfect match. Perfection doesn’t exist, this is why soulmates are a concept. Joy returns her book to the bookshelf. It’s the last book in her collection because the title starts with ‘w’ and she doesn’t have books that start with x, y, or z.
They sit together, watching Joy’s favourite quiz show on her laptop. Joy is focused on listening to the host’s question. Something about mythical creatures, Irene thinks, but Joy looks like she’s solving an advanced calculus problem. The way Joy frowns, taps the corner of her lips, and says, “No, that doesn’t make sense.”
A lot of things don’t make sense to Irene but Joy isn’t one of them. If people are books, Joy would be her favourite storybook from when she was little. Everyone else is a 700-page advanced calculus textbook and Irene doesn’t understand them because all she knows is basic algebra.
Irene shifts closer until her arm touches Joy’s. The quiz show is almost over. They watch a new episode every Friday night but that’ll change soon. There’s no point watching it without Joy.
“I’ll miss you.”
“Hm?”
Irene pulls her hoodie’s drawstrings so they’re the same length. “Nothing.”
The quiz show continues. There’s only 3 rounds left, then they’ll announce the winner. Joy’s phone rings — a tune different from everyone on Joy’s contact list. Joy answers the call and goes outside her room. Irene pauses the video. Either: a) Joy forgot the video was playing, or b) the phone call is more important.
But it doesn’t matter because Irene knows Joy will leave and meet Seulgi.
Irene picks up a 3×3 rubik’s cube, her gift to Joy a year ago. Only one face (green) is complete, everything else is a mix of colours (it’s surprising Joy managed to come this far). Irene scrambles the cube and starts over. First, the white cross. Then, the white corners. Next is..
“I’m going out,” Joy says.
Irene makes a wrong turn on the rubik’s cube. Strange, she’s supposed to be good at this.
“Will you come home tonight?”
Joy pauses in the middle of fastening her watch strap. No longer than a second but it still counts.
“I’m not sure.”
Irene makes another wrong turn. “Why?”
Joy loops a yellow scarf around her neck. Irene has never seen that scarf and she doubts Joy bought it because Joy never wears yellow. Joy looks down at her (someone’s) scarf.
“I’m not sure.”
Irene doesn’t want to solve the rubik’s cube anymore because she’s making too many mistakes. She puts the cube back on a shelf. “Have fun with Seulgi.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re disappointed in me.”
“I’m not. People say have fun when they wish someone to have a good time. If you’re not coming home, that must mean you’re having a wonderful time.”
Joy grabs her coat. She puts the hanger back in the closet. “How did you know I’m meeting Seulgi?”
“She’s the only one with a different ringtone.” Irene examines Joy’s book collection. Everything is in alphabetical order like Irene’s. “And you’ve left me at a bar for Seulgi.”
“Sorry, it was an emergency.”
Irene turns around. “Is this an emergency too?”
Joy stares at the floor, fiddling with her, no, Seulgi’s yellow scarf. She must be spacing out, Joy does that a lot nowadays.
“You should go, Seulgi’s waiting for you.” Irene accompanies Joy to the front door. It’s cold outside so Irene buttons Joy’s coat.
“They don’t match, do they?” Joy gestures to her green coat and yellow scarf.
They don’t because the scarf is too bright. Then again, Irene dislikes bright colours. “You always look good.”
—
Joy doesn’t believe in magic because there’s always a trick behind it. But sometimes, she suspects Seulgi of being a witch. How else would she explain her irrational behaviour, crawling back to Seulgi, the source of her stress, instead of staying at home with Irene?
Seulgi’s a witch. She has to be. Joy would bet her life — no, that’s ridiculous — half of her life expectancy on it.
“This lasagna tastes like . Fix it.”
Joy cuts a slice of lasagna. She grimaces, how much salt did Seulgi use? There’s something else that shouldn’t be there but Joy can’t identify what. “I’m not here to cook.”
“And yet here you are.”
“You said it was an emergency.”
“It is. My lasagna’s inedible and I’m starving.”
Joy rubs her eyes. She’s getting tired of Seulgi’s games. “If you want something, say it. I’m not a mind-reader.”
Seulgi pushes Joy into a chair. She sits on a table across Joy and crosses her legs. “Where’s the fun in that?”
It stopped being fun the moment Seulgi asked what she is to Joy. After one week of brainstorming, Joy checked a dictionary and the closest word she could find was ‘fling.’ She chose it because a fling is a short-term ual relationship. All fun and no commitment. The commitment part is accurate because Joy and Seulgi sleep with other people.
But this isn’t fun anymore.
Seulgi leans down and tilts Joy’s chin. “Make it quick, I have a date at eight.”
“Is that why you called me?”
Seulgi trails her finger across Joy’s lips. The top half buttons of Seulgi's shirt are undone, giving Joy a generous view of her flawless skin that Joy has ruined countless times. “Isn’t this what you’re here for?”
Before Joy can think of what to say, her phone rings. Joy doesn’t care who it is but Seulgi seems, for whatever reason, almost angry. Seulgi opens her legs and grabs Joy's hair.
Seulgi has always been aggressive but tonight, she seems desperate.
“ me.”
Joy shouldn’t have to think about this. Her relationship with Seulgi is all about benefits. They do whatever they want to each other because that’s how it’s supposed to be. She isn’t supposed to hesitate.
The chair screeches against the floor as Joy stands. She ignores her ringing phone and leans closer until she sees her reflection in Seulgi’s eyes.
They’re flings, aren’t they?
Then why is it that when Seulgi gives her that look, Joy wants to.. no, she doesn’t want to say the word because she shouldn’t feel this way. Not to Seulgi.
Joy rests her hand on Seulgi’s thigh. This is ridiculous, stop thinking and get it over with.
“How long are you going to make me wait?”
A fling. Just a fling. All she feels towards Seulgi is lust. It isn’t love, of course it isn’t. Love is romantic attraction, lust is ual attraction.
Joy doesn’t love Seulgi and Seulgi doesn’t love Joy because —
Seulgi’s lips are on hers.
— Joy is leaving soon and Seulgi will get hurt.
—
Seulgi has kissed many times before but none of them made her feel like this. Butterflies in her stomach, heart racing, lightheaded, and most importantly, not knowing what to do next because Joy is frozen like a goddamn statue.
But Joy isn’t pulling away, so that has to mean something. Maybe. It has to. Or not. Damn it, why is Joy not responding? Would it kill her to move a bit and —
Joy kisses back.
It’s a good thing Seulgi’s sitting on a table because, according to those ty romance novels, her knees would be weak for some reason and she wouldn’t be able to stand. But screw it. Sitting or standing, she’ll kiss Joy all she wants.
Seulgi deepens their kiss.
So does Joy.
—
Joy is the first to pull apart. Before she can process what is happening, not that her brain is functioning anyway, Seulgi pulls her back in and they kiss again and again until Joy loses count.
—
Eventually, Joy and Seulgi stop kissing.
“Well?”
Joy runs a hand through Seulgi’s hair. Seulgi claims she never takes care of it but that’s a lie because Seulgi’s hair is smooth and smells nice. “Well what?”
“Are you going to make me lasagna or not?”
“I thought you had a date.”
Seulgi plays with Joy’s collar, too nonchalant for someone who’s abandoning her date.
“I don’t.”
It’s hard to tell when Seulgi’s lying or telling the truth. Joy could have the world’s best lie detector and it would be as effective as staring into a crystal ball (but it’s easy to beat a lie detector if you can keep your heartbeat steady).
Joy nuzzles against the crook of Seulgi’s neck. She hates tangerines but she likes Seulgi’s citrus scent.
“Okay.”
They cook lasagna together. Joy does most of the work but she lets Seulgi do the finishing touch. When the lasagna is ready, Seulgi takes the first bite and her eyes light up. Seulgi boasts about her cooking skills for the next 5 minutes. Joy rolls her eyes but she doesn’t stop Seulgi from talking.
—
Seulgi doesn’t swoon.
She’s not a teenage girl, she’s a woman. She does not swoon when she wakes up in the middle of the night with Joy’s hand in hers. She does not smile like an idiot. And she does not stare at Joy, replaying their kiss in her head.
It’s disgusting how she acts like a giddy 12-year-old but it, she deserves to be happy. Seulgi pulls the blanket over Joy’s shoulders and goes to sleep.
(It’s okay to be this happy, right?)
—
The next morning, Joy wakes up with an empty space next to her.
It feels unpleasant. Like a sting but it doesn’t make sense because she’s woken up alone in her bed plenty of times. But this is Seulgi’s bed and they fell asleep together, these two factors somehow change everything.
Seulgi comes back, carrying a plastic bag and wearing a shirt she stole from Joy months ago. “What’s up with you?”
“I thought you left.”
Seulgi scoffs and puts her plastic bag on a table. She takes out a box of cereal, All Berries Cap’n Crunch. “What are you, stupid? This is my apartment, why would I leave?”
Joy feels as if her IQ has dropped 30 points, her net score lower than Seulgi’s. “Why did you buy Cap’n Crunch? I thought you liked Froot Loops.”
Maybe it’s because Joy hasn’t had coffee yet so her brain is all fuzzy, but she swears there’s a tinge of pink on Seulgi’s cheeks (this has never happened).
“Shut up and eat.”
—
When it’s time for Joy to leave, Seulgi doesn’t kiss her.
Joy stays at the door longer than appropriate, staring at Seulgi, then she leaves. She’s (not) disappointed.
—
Irene watches an Animal Planet documentary series. It’s about monkeys. Lear, the king, is fighting to keep his throne. Hector, another monkey, knocks Lear out of a tree and takes his throne. But their rivals invade their territory. Hector’s troop is defeated and Lear is killed.
She doesn’t usually watch documentaries but she wants to know what happens next. She gets lost trying to memorize all the monkeys’ names: Lear, Hector, Gemini, Portia, Che. How did the writers come up with these names? It doesn’t help all the monkeys look the same.
The door opens and Joy comes in. She’s wearing the same clothes as last night. Joy takes off her coat and keeps the yellow scarf around her neck.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Stop saying it like that.”
“Did last night go well?”
Joy sighs. She makes a cup of coffee. “Yes and no.”
Irene doesn’t understand because that was a yes or no question and Joy usually gives her a straight answer. Joy loosens up her (Seulgi’s) scarf. There are no red marks on Joy’s neck, which is unexpected but Irene won’t complain.
—
“Is something wrong?” Chen asks, using Joy’s lap as a pillow.
He smells like antiseptics but Joy doesn’t dislike it. It reminds her of her group’s lab, hundreds of chemicals in the cabinet and round-bottom flasks all over the fume hood.
Joy brushes his hair aside. He just had a haircut and it looks good on him. “How’s everything?”
“Not bad, we had a brain-cutting seminar the other day. One of us fainted.”
“And you didn’t?”
He grins proudly. “I told you I’d get better.”
Joy hums, relieved she isn’t doing medicine. The sight of blood makes her dizzy, and the thought of cutting a patient’s brain with a scalpel horrifies her. She would rather stay in the lab and mix chemicals all day.
“Going back to my question,” Chen says. “Is something wrong?”
Joy plays with Chen’s silver cross necklace. “I got a job offer from London.”
Chen’s eyes widen. His mouth is slightly open but he doesn’t respond straightaway. “That’s great.”
“You’re not asking me to stay?”
His smile looks forced. “You never stay in one place.”
Joy would argue Chen is the same. He did his placement in England for 6 months (but Joy is going away for 3 years).
“On the bright side,” Chen says. “There’s lots of coffee brands in England for you to try out.”
“Instant.”
“Ground.”
They argue about the pros and cons of instant coffee versus ground coffee. Chen recommends his favourite brands from England, and Joy makes a mental note to look them up. He gives a lengthy description of the taste of each brand, going so far as to rank them on a post-it note. Joy sticks the note in her journal.
She hates to admit it, but ground coffee does taste better than instant coffee, especially when Chen makes it for her.
—
When Joy moves out, Irene will have to look for another flatmate. The problem is, there are few people she can trust to live with Irene. It’s not because she sees Irene as a child. Irene dislikes meeting new people (Joy would know, she and Irene used to be strangers).
“Have you thought about moving in with Irene?”
Wendy stops writing. “You’re moving out?”
Joy fiddles with her (Seulgi’s) yellow scarf. It’s ugly but it keeps her warm. “You don’t expect us to live together forever, do you?”
Wendy puts her pen away. She looks down at her textbook.
“You know, I’ve been wondering for a while and, um, I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Wendy says. “Why did you break up with Irene?”
If Joy has a list of things she doesn’t want to talk about, her one-week relationship with Irene would be at the top. She doesn’t regret it but she’d rather not talk about it.
“It hardly qualifies as a relationship.”
“Yeah, I know but,” Wendy rubs her neck. “You never said why.”
Joy taps a finger against the corner of her lips. She crosses her legs and looks to the right, then she turns to Wendy. “It didn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“It didn’t feel like we were in a relationship. We did everything friends do, we didn’t do anything couples do.”
Wendy picks on a loose string of her sweater. “So you had no problem at all?”
“Define problem.”
“I mean, um, you know,” Wendy scratches her cheek, looking embarrassed. “Like, touch and stuff.”
“We didn’t do anything. Not even hold hands.”
“What kind of relationship is that?”
“The kind that lasted for a week.” Joy lies on the couch, folding her arms behind her head. “Are you breaking up with her?”
“No!”
“Then why are you acting strange?”
“No, I just,” Wendy flips to the next page of her textbook. She picks up her pen. “I was just wondering.”
—
“I heard you’re seeing someone,” Wendy says. “Seulgi?”
Joy stops stirring her coffee. Then she stirs again. “You heard wrong.”
“You drove all the way to buy peppermint tea just to cure her hangover. You wouldn’t pour me water even if I paid you five dollars.”
“Because you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.”
Wendy giggles. “Whipped.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure.” Wendy eats a cookie. “So what’s she like?”
That’s a good question. Seulgi swears a lot, steals Joy’s shirts, likes Pringles, good at drawing, has a nice proportion, drinks orange juice, volunteers at a charity shop, looks deceptively innocent when she smiles, hopeless at cooking, has a Beyoncé CD collection, sleeps with a teddy bear —
“Wow, you’re whipped.”
Joy frowns. “I’m not.”
“You had this look.” Wendy makes a stupid face. “I wanna meet this Seulgi, how did she tame you?”
“We’re not together.”
“Yet.”
“No.”
“You’re being so obvious.” Wendy splits the last cookie and offers the other half to Joy. “I don’t get it, what’s the problem here?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Uh-huh, sure, but seriously, what’s the problem?”
“I’m moving to London.”
Wendy’s mouth is wide open and she blinks three times. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Whoa, okay, hold up.” Wendy moves and sits next to Joy. “When are you leaving? Why? Are you ever coming back?”
“About three months. They offered me a research position. Maybe.”
“You’re really leaving?”
Joy loosens Seulgi’s scarf wrapped around her neck. It’s suffocating. “The research topic is interesting, it’d be a shame to turn it down.”
“Yeah, but,” Wendy twiddles her thumbs. “It’s not the same without you.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Does Irene know?”
Joy looks around Wendy’s room. She can imagine Wendy’s things in Irene’s apartment. “I’ll tell her tonight.”
—
Congratulations, we are pleased to offer you a research position. We hope you will accept our offer by signing this letter in the space below.
Joy taps her ballpoint pen against the table. It’s just a signature, she still has to return the offer letter. And she can always change her mind.
Tap, tap, tap.
It’s just a signature, what’s the harm?
Joy clicks her pen.
—
There are 7 000 000 000 people on Earth. Excluding Irene, that leaves: 7 000 000 000 people – 1 person = 6 999 999 999 people.
Out of 6 999 999 999 people, Irene met Joy.
Out of 6 999 999 998 people, Irene met Wendy.
The other 6 999 999 997 people don’t matter.
Edit [01 April 2017] : This story’s ending soon. But you know what’s not going to happen? Wendy breaking up with Irene and Joy leaving. This won’t happen, trust me. And there's zero potential romance between Joy and Irene. I promise. No, really, I'm telling the truth.*
*Happy April fools.
Also, I was going to leave an overview of auality but it seems out of place because this chapter is Joy-centric, not Irene. So I'll leave this link. It's a BBC article discussing auality. And, yeah, Joy's moving to London. Did you see it coming? I tried not to make it obvious but I don't know if the hints are too vague. Have a nice weekend and see you again.
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