Tiffany

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“Ye-yes, ma’am. There should be a cart button that—pardon me? You use your promo code at checkout.” Tiffany rolled her eyes to the ceiling as a computer-illiterate ajumma blared question after question into her headset. “When you hover overthe cart button…yes, it’s shaped like a shopping cart. Because it’s online shopping with a cart. A digital one. That’s right, it’ll turn green. N-no, no your mouse pointer won’t turn green; the cart icon will.”

Normally, THY outsourced their phone hotline through a local third party. But, after a website failure for two very annoying hours, Tiffany reduced the complaint volume by collecting some enraged/confused/clueless callers of her own. Thankfully, she could answer them through an app on her desktop computer, leaving her own cell phone free to fiddle with as she played backup IT. “I have no idea why your daughter’s muumuu is in the cart twice. Maybe you, I don’t know, added it to your cart twice?”

Tiffany raised a takeout bowl of clear soup and fed herself as silently as possible. Sinbi dropped it off earlier, reminding her why they kept her around the boutique. She had her moments.

To be fair, she appreciated these phoned-in distractions, as irritating as they were. Thoughts of Yuri on top of her, undulating between her legs, ed Tiffany up and not in the happy ending way. Her spoon idly circled a limp mushroom as her mind sailed along the curves of Yuri’s thighs.

“Press the plus button, not the minus. You don’t want forty muumuus, do you?”

Once she got the ajumma on track, her cell vibrated. And then, it was her turn to malfunction. Because it read:

Yuri: I broke up with Taek

Holy .

She offered a run-of-the-mill “thanks for allowing me to be of service,” hung up, and almost screamed for Yoona. Like she used to, as teenagers in rooms that shared a wall. Keeping some propriety, she thumbed out an SOS and waited approximately six seconds for her best friend to come bulldozing in.

“Hell on ice, which of your exes died?!”

Tiffany didn’t even pretend to have a grain of chill, shoving her phone into Yoona’s hands. “Read.”

Yoona glossed over the screen, hand on her hip in a I’m-psychic-and-I-knew-this-would-happen lean. “She made quick work of the boyfriend, didn’t she?”

“This isn’t funny. What do I do?”

“Lady, I should be asking. What do you do?”

“Flee the country?”

Smiling, Yoona dropped into the seat facing Tiffany’s desk. A smidge too calmly, which alerted Tiffany’s manager brain that Sinbi was the only one out on the floor. She shot a Hyoyeon a text to pull her head out of the numbers and operate as chaperone.

“Fly to Canada, Fany. And take me with you. I’ve always wanted to try poutine.”

“Yoong.”

“Can we skip your inner anguish and go straight to Classic Tiffany Hwang?”

Tiffany twisted her hair into nervous rings, applying non-texting duties to her hand. “You and Hyo swear you know my every move.”

“Per routine, you’ll badger us for advice, which you’ll ignore if it doesn’t parrot your romantic fantasies.” She eyed Tiffany removing her headset. “Messages, letters, calls, smoke signals, whatever are exchanged with your love interest. Followed by roughly three straight days of callisthenic that’ll leave us losers here working overtime to pick up the slack. And voilà, a new relationship is born.”

Hm. That was dead-on. “Is that bad?”

“Chaotic neutral, I’d say. It’s just what comes naturally to you.”

“I’m getting ‘bad’ vibes from that…”

“You dive in, all cards on the table. Leaving you susceptible to, well, your catalogue of exes.”

Tiffany pulled at the ends of her closed eyes and groaned misery. “Why wasn’t I born with a cryogenically frozen heart like yours?”

“Don’t insult me. Years of training and dedication built the beautiful fortress you see before you.”

She reached for a hand she knew would be stretched across her desk. “If only I were so fortunate.”

The stars were aligning for Tiffany and Yuri to hook up, right? On many a night (and day), she contemplated how lovely, how adorable it’d be to exchange retail horror stories after particularly long shifts. Imagining Kwon Yuri as actually hers, to kiss and touch. To help dispose of her unnecessary insecurities, one by one.

This boyfriend had been a blessing and a burden. The greatest roadblock against Tiffany’s high-speed chase to the splendors—and often, tragedies—of romance. Now, her palms sweated. Her head swam. Yuri had propped on a little foreman hat and ordered for those roadblocks to be removed.

Her and Yoona’s fingers danced for a minute or so, like old times. Like days when Tiffany missed her family so much, it bound her to bed in physical pain. Im Yoona, her oft y, yet protective confidante who’d soon recite every single reason not to date—

“Yuri and you make a cute couple.”

Dumbfounded, Tiffany retracted her hand. “Come again?”

Yoona snapped the hair tie on her wrist, similarly perplexed. “At Girls’ Night. I don’t know…”

“No, no. Explain. Please.”

“Tiffany, as smart as you are, your tastes are usually trash.” She gave herself a ‘talking too much’ flailing of the hand since Tiffany’s heard that sentiment countless times prior. “Yuri is the first—I swear, the very first—woman you’ve brought over who actually helped you set up the snacks. Who spent more time in the kitchen than me. Usually, my own dates have to watch me run around, playing co-host; but this time, Yuri had your back. That’s unseen until now.”

Astounded this small detail hadn’t arose before, Tiffany fell back in her chair. “Good point.”

“She made an after school special speech in front of all of us—and we’re a tough crowd. Also, her eyes were glued to your and s. I don’t think she’s here for an experimental fling.”

“Yoong, you give her such a hard time.”

“I know, okay?” Yoona slouched, matching Tiffany. “Despite my reservations about her finances, she deserves as much of a shot as the legion of demons who’ve haunted your bed.”

“About that, you hypocrite,” Tiffany answered in a huff. “Not everybody will have a comfy savings account and a car. You, Sinbi, and whoever the else have no right to look down on her.”

“We didn’t mean any harm. At least, I don’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. We all started somewhere. Remember, you used to crimp your hair.”

Yoona flinched through a theatrical gasp. “Okaaaay, I get it. I’m not anti-poor. I mean, my side projects prove that.”

“Sure, but do your everyday interactions, o snooty one?”

As the light ribbing resumed, Tiffany’s phone vibrated. This time, she swiped at it with a giddiness she’d normally shield from Yoona. Although, her light dimmed once the words registered.

A message from her father.

“What’d he say?” Yoona asked, perceiving the only person who could change Tiffany’s demeanor so drastically. “What does he want?”

“More money. This newest girlfriend of his is high maintenance.”

“I wish you’d cut him off.”

“He’s my dad, Yoong.” Tiffany typed out an affirmative response, hating the disappointment in Yoona’s low sigh. “Don’t you see why I’m so nervous? I’m a ty judge of character.”

She’d reply to Yuri’s text at the end of the day, though it wouldn’t hurt to cool their jets until…well, until she got a sign.

…

A business week dragged by and still, no sign. Tiffany had scanned the cosmos, scoured horoscopes, dissected every moment of her dreams, and paused whenever the name ‘Kwon’ made an appearance on files. Unshockingly, the command “Fall in love with Yuri!” didn’t appear beneath any of them.

Yuri seemed to handle the days apart pretty well. Especially as she mentioned fights and pleading between her and the boyfriend. Apparently, any hint of separation—like buying her own linens or groceries—swished them into a whirlwind of squabbling.

Tiffany favored this (temporary) distance, oddly. It allowed choice, devoid of her own meddling. Yuri could choose to make amends with Taekwoon. Or, terrifyingly, to date him again. It wasn’t an impossible thought, anyways. Living in close quarters could ignite some old feelings.

Her and Yuri’s stint on the bed didn’t turn things ‘weird;’ this relationship limbo did.

She ordered a bowl of ramyun that following Friday, her dark mood blocking out Yoona and Seohyun’s banter over the best Marvel movie. The spice she loved swirled in creamy broth, causing her to get all emotional. And grossly symbolic. Tiffany (the spice) and Yuri (the mild broth) worked deliciously together. Was that her sign?

“Fany, is your food okay?”

Tiffany smiled sincerely at Seohyun. This woman was much more conscientious (and brainier) than Yoona’s last girlfriend. And she got along swimmingly with Yuri. Was that a sign?

She shoved stress about signs and love away as she responded, “The chef’s a little stingy with the kimchi. It’s not a big deal.”

…

Saturday morning, her search ended. In a chiming text message while Tiffany lounged in her home office, clicking through a score of new cashier résumés.

It had an attachment. A pdf of an application, coincidentally.

An application for a manager position at Craftie’s Warehouse.

Yuri: should I? 😉

Better than texting back, Tiffany minimized all her desktop windows and typed up a recommendation letter. A glowing one. A full page double-spaced, vouching for Yuri’s strong sense of responsibility, her sunny personality, sharp wit, and her seniority after years of mastering the art of customer service. Tiffany regaled her stealth observation of the ladder incident and how the uniforms—no matter how dorky—were an absolute tease on a body like that. She nearly left that last part out, but what the hell. Holding back made her loopy, a psychiatrist’s dream patient. Time for more ‘typical Tiffany.’

She sent a link to the document and in five minutes, she received an appropriate:

Yuri: Damn I never had a stalker before. I’m touched.

Tiffany: I stalked *once* 🙄😉

Yuri: I doubt I can turn this letter in to my boss…

Tiffany: You weren’t meant to. It’s for your eyes only.

Soon after, Tiffany’s phone rang. She accepted the call, yet neither of them immediately spoke. They waited a tic, enjoying each other’s silent presence.

“You’re going to get that promotion,” she said, heart drumming relentlessly. “I can feel it. Deep down.”

“Thanks.” Yuri softly, awkwardly cleared . Something that, until this very moment, Tiffany didn’t realize was the more adorable noise on earth. “I’m taking an early shift to submit this, so I…I thought I’d fill you in on these boring slices of my life.”

“Your ambition isn’t boring to me. It’s hot.”

Tiffany gestured a shot to her temple. She was either at a rolling stop or NASCAR racing into a relationship.

Yuri laughed. “A craft store manager isn’t the most notable—”

“I think it’s amazing. You’re amazing, Yul.”

“Yul?”

“.” She then pantomimed her whole head exploding. “I, um, heard your coworker call you that.”

“When you were stalking me.”

“Yes, that.”

“I’m sweating,” Yuri whispered, as if it were her most precious secret. “I’ve only told you I’m applying and it’s sinking in that I really, really do want this new job. Putting me in the position of possible failure. Possibly fainting. Or projectile vomiting because I’d eat the sugary cereal you hate, and I’d regret that because if I throw up on Jea’s desk, it’ll be in technicolor.”

Tiffany placed her hand to her chest, needing her heart’s bass to lower. “Is talking to me unhealthy, too?”

“Yep, ‘cause it’s sinking in that I gave you a graphic description of why I’m nervous and I’m stupid for that.”

“So, why’d you call?”

“You’re an old fashioned 30-year-old who weirdly enjoys this whole voice-to-voice thing. Why wouldn’t I reach out?”

“Well,” Tiffany clicked through her calendar, “if you’re free tomorrow evening, you can stop by THY. We close early—around six—on Sundays. I miss your face.”

“I miss your face, too."

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Um, yes, that’s a yes.”

“Great.” Her lips bloomed into a smile unlike any of the ones given to her customers as of late. “It’s a date.”

“Oh, man. I hope so.”

…

When she unlocked the boutique door for Yuri Sunday evening, she looked as pleasant as expected. Hair in a thick, windblown ponytail. Makeup suitably unadventurous for her retail environment. Smile shaky and devastatingly attractive.

She, however, hadn’t expected the large cup of shaved ice along with Yuri’s first words, “I have an interview!”

“So soon?” Tiffany squealed while hopping in place. “I’d might as well congratulate you now.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Yuri set the treat on the register counter. Some strawberry sauce dripped onto her thumb, so she it off, grinning shyly and driving Tiffany absolutely bonkers.

Eager to touch her, she wrapped Yuri into a handsy hug, murmuring, “I have so much faith in you.”

“Our store manager booked an impromptu business trip, bumping me to an appointment tomorrow—at the end of my shift. I’ll map out what I’m going to say, s