Forty-Seven
“This is a new look for you.” Ines waves an approving hand. My hair is loose, and I’m in a Kelly-green dress with a short skirt that would have raised every eyebrow at Yesterly and Havings.
“I quit my job.” The conversation with Richard had been brief and exhilarating. He hadn’t even tried to get me to stay. I screamed with relief the second the call ended, possibly even while disconnecting, before dancing a little jig around the kitchen, middle fingers raised to the phone in a final salute.
“Good, you were wasted there,” she says. “What will you do?”
I smooth the front of my dress. “I have an idea.”
She waits, and it’s now or never. “I can’t ask this officially because I don’t want be seen stealing a client, but I want to join Luxe as your part-time in-house counsel.” I’d realized by the pond was that it wasn’t necessarily law I hated. In fact, I enjoyed a lot of the actual work. The culture was the problem.
Ines temples her hands as Yuko stops typing to eavesdrop. “Part-time. The rest of the time?”
“I want to create tours for you, like I did for Alex. I know they can be successful.”
There’s a long silence. “You’ve thought this through, Ari?”
“Yes. I have five proposals ready, plus an overview of the industry and what gaps they fill.” The plan came to me in the middle of the night, and I initially pushed it aside as completely unworkable. I also couldn’t stop writing down ideas. Hana, who had kept watch on me since she’d come home from Korea, was the one to point out I lost nothing by trying.
So here I am, trying.
Ines smiles, lips a crimson slash against her dark skin. “Then it’s a good thing I called Richard Havings yesterday to tell him the new lawyer he’d given me was the most vacuous human I’d ever met and Yesterly and Havings was fired unless I had you back.”
“What did he say?”
She adjusts her skirt. “He didn’t give me what I wanted, which is you. I told him I was leaving.”
Elation fills me. “He wouldn’t like that.”
Ines raises an eyebrow. “I don’t care.”
“There was some controversy when I left.” I want no secrets. “I assure you it wasn’t about my work.”
Yuko leans over. “Are you referring to Newlight’s statement that you stalked Min of StarLune on two continents?”
“Ah, yes.” I glare at her. “Thanks for describing it so concisely to Ines.”
She gives me a wicked grin. “Revenge for not letting me get a peek while he was in Toronto. I don’t think you’re a stalker, by the way. Newlight is full of assholes, everyone knows that, and then there were the watches.”
“The what?”
“You were wearing matching Cartiers, and I know for a fact, because Ines told me, that you got yours as a gift and not as a sasaeng move.”
I blink. “That’s observant.”
“It was all over my social media. The matching watches, not the gift part. Only I knew that. Plus, that photo of the two of you was…wow.” Here she holds her hands to her chest. “No one’s ever looked at me like that. Like you were his world.”
Yeah, he did, at that moment. I don’t want to think about it.
“I won’t ask if you’re secretly together, but I’m not opposed to you telling me,” Yuko adds.
“Your personal life is personal,” Ines says firmly. Then she holds out her hand. “Welcome, sweeting. We want you here.”
I take a deep breath because I need to confirm I can get what I really want. “How about the tours?” I ask.
She leans back. “The one you did for Alex sold out in hours. You have an eye for what people want. It’s a deal.” She smiles. “You got the jump on me, Ari. I was going to ask you to do more anyway.”
Yuko whoops and pulls out the champagne. “Time to celebrate!”
As I sip the cool champagne and talk shop with Ines and Yuko, I think about how funny heartbreak is. It sounds so dramatic. My heart is broken. My heart is split in two. Cleaved.
The unfunny thing about heartbreak is that it’s not dramatic at all. It’s simply there as a background ache that ebbs and flows. Like now. As Yuko digs out a package of sriracha cashews, the pain that comes when I think of telling Jihoon about my new job comes sharp and fast, a stab to the heart.
I bleed.
The hurt waves in over the weeks. Like when Hana and I move into our new place with a view of the CN Tower. Not sending Jihoon a photo leaves me empty.
Like when I see a man walking down the street with his pet lizard zipped into his jacket to keep warm, the animal’s head tucked under its human’s chin. There’s a soft twinge when I think of how Jihoon would laugh.
Like seeing the online hype for StarLune’s mini tour, which sold out venues in record-breaking time. Or when I hear the full album and read the glowing reviews. When there’s a billboard in Yonge-Dundas Square featuring Jihoon in that prince outfit and lilac hair.
“Why can’t I get over him?” I ask Hana one lazy Saturday morning, the early winter snow falling lightly outside.
“He’s a Choi,” she says, microwaving milk for hot chocolate. “We’re pretty great.”
“Hana.”
There’s a beep, and she pulls out her cup. “He made a mistake, a big one, but you’re punishing yourself. Did you want to leave him in Seoul or think you should?”
“Both. It was a big deal when he didn’t stand up for me.” I can’t overlook that, although I’ve come around to understanding the impact on the group.
“Remember, at the beginning of this whole thing”—here she gestures as if to encompass the past, present, and future—“I asked what you hope for?”
“Vaguely.”
“Shut up, I know you do. It’s time to put it in action again.”
“Yeah, since it worked so well last time.”
“It does when you’re honest with yourself.” She reaches for her phone and taps for a moment. “If you need some help.”
I check my messages. “An email account with a password?”
“I’ll go out for a bit.” Her look is so kind, it kicks my confusion right past nervous into extreme trepidation. “Call me when you’re ready.”
I don’t answer because I’m already logging in. The account name provides no clues, and as usual, it takes extra-long to load up because the gods of the internet are attuned to knowing exactly when you need urgent access to something and enjoy thwarting you at every turn.
Then I’m in, and my whole body freezes. It’s a regular email account with forty-six unread messages from Jihoon. The last one’s dated from earlier in the week. I sit up straighter. Obviously I’m going to read the messages, but I debate over the order before deciding to check the earliest one first.
It’s an email Jihoon sent in August, when he was in Toronto. I scan it without absorbing any of the words. Then I slow down and read it again before clicking through to the next.
Ari—You mentioned the email account your friend had for memories and I thought I would do it for you. Last week you took me on a tour of the city and I watched you laugh. It was lovely to see. You’re often so serious and I like that about you too. I like everything about you.
Ari—Tonight I kissed you and there was a song there, I felt it. I didn’t care because you were with me. The song could wait. For the first time, the song could wait.
Ari—Kit hyeong and Daehyun are here and I’m scared they’ll tell you my secret. My time with you has been precious. I felt like me again, Jihoon, and not StarLune’s Min. I’d forgotten what that was like and I can’t bear to lose myself like that again. No wonder I couldn’t believe in my songs if I couldn’t even believe in me.
Ari—Hana said I should have told you who I was before but I had no words. A lyricist with no words, what a joke.
Ari—Why? You broke my heart at the airport but Kit hyeong told me this was impossible. We hadn’t known each other long enough for it to hurt this much but it does. He doesn’t understand that the time doesn’t matter, only how I was with you and you were with me. I tried to hide it from him but I couldn’t. The plane ride was endless.
Ari—I don’t know why I keep thinking of you. People usually want gifts or favors from me but not you. What was it, then?
Ari—We are in Seoul together, and I can pretend we are a normal couple. I like it. I like you. I took this photo in the car because the lights played on your face like a galaxy and I was lost among the stars.
Ari—You’re gone and I don’t blame you but I already miss you. I went to the hotel Yeong brought you to but you weren’t there.
Ari—I made a mistake. You were right. I should have retracted the company’s statement when they refused to change it and gone public with the truth. I told myself it would make things worse for everyone but I was wrong. The members are shocked. We always said StarLune was more than ourselves but Kit hyeong told me our strength comes from supporting each other as individuals. They’re furious at the company, who won’t listen to any of us. They’re disappointed in me but not as much as I am in myself.
Ari—Alex won’t tell me a word but he says you’re safe.
Ari—I’m so sorry. I know I did wrong. You were right. I gave up when I should have protected you. I should have tried harder. I should have done more.
Ari—You’re back in Toronto. You had to endure that terrible crowd because of me but my heart lifted to see you.
Ari—I woke up early to go for a walk. It’s getting colder so I hope you wrap up well and stay healthy. Please make sure to eat.
Ari—I had Alex hire a company to restore your reputation. I hope this helps you.
Ari—I know you won’t be watching but I made our sign today on Sangjun’s livestream. It made me feel better.
Ari—I’ve been thinking about the music I want to make. I spoke to Daehyun and he feels the same but had been scared to tell me. It was good to speak with him about this, and I wish I had that courage long ago. We told the others as well.
Ari—It’s three in the morning but I can’t sleep. We were in the dance studio today for hours and I thought it would tire me enough to rest but I lie awake thinking of you.
The messages are a mix of what he’s doing that day and how he feels, like journal entries. Some are only a line, and some are longer, almost a full screen. I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drops on the keyboard.
The last message is from last week.
Ari—We’re about to go onstage. How can I love and hate something so equally? StarLune is everything to me but it took you away. I thought it was bad before I left for Canada but that was an acute pain that I could dig out like a sliver. This new pain is all through me. I continue to fool myself that that you remain in my life through these messages but it’s getting harder.
I shut the laptop and lie back on the couch, letting the tears stream down my face and puddle in my ears. It’s disgusting and I don’t care.
Hopes, Ari.
I want to be with Jihoon.
Shit, despite everything, I want to be with Jihoon.
How can I be with a man who twice broke my trust, when he didn’t tell me who he was and then when he let Newlight put out that statement and wanted to deny our relationship? I call Hana.
“What’s with these messages?” I demand. “What’s he trying to pull?”
“I imagine he is a man trying to do the best he can.”
“He had a chance to make a difference, but when push came to shove, he never did.”
“No.” She sounds sad.
“How did you get that email?” I ask.
“He sent it to me the other day, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready.” A car honks in the background. “I’m on my way home. I was going to get Thai for dinner.”
“Yeah.” I’m too drained to cook.
Or think.
God, I hate Jihoon.
No, I don’t. That’s the problem.