27 Gemma
T he first few days of the new year go by without a single word from Celeste. This isn’t that abnormal, coming from her. But this time, things feel different. This time, it really does feel like we should talk about what happened between us, before we do our last set of interviews.
We probably should have talked on New Year’s, but I’ve never been good at processing things as they happen. And neither has Celeste, or at least, not when we were in college. In the few times we fought while we dated, we’d always leave each other alone for a couple of days to mull things over before trying to resolve anything.
Now that I’ve had some time and space, though, I’m ready to talk. But I don’t even know how to begin. After all, I’m entirely to blame this time. I’m the one who invited her to the company holiday party. And I’m the one who quite literally put my fingers inside of her.
Well, she more than returned the favor afterward. But I’m the one that first took us to that level, going way past just kissing or making out.
I do my usual song and dance of writing an email to Celeste and deleting it. In the end, it’s Evelyn who breaks the ice for us, cc’ing both Celeste and me before I leave the office on the first Friday of the year.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Last Set of Interviews
Hi, ladies. We’re ready to start on our final interview segment. We’re still searching for the second couple, but for now, I’d like you to interview Rob and Marge Roy. They’re in their 80s so be gentle with them, please. But hopefully things will still be fun.
She’s attached the couple’s contact information at the bottom of the email.
I smile, thinking back to my grandparents, who passed away when I was younger but were very much in love with each other until their dying day.
“I can’t stand this old man,” my grandma would always say in Korean whenever we visited her. But it’d always be with a slight smile on her lips, one that widened when the two of them walked hand in hand around their neighborhood park, talking about how cute the ducks were or what so-and-so said in their hwatu card-playing circle last week. During these walks with my grandparents, Kid Me would always rush ahead of them after loudly declaring, “Halmoni and Harabeoji are too slow!”
But then I would look back at them and dream about a time when I’d also find that kind of love.
I’m still thinking about my grandma and grandpa when I realize that, even though I had plenty of examples in my life of heteroromantic happy couples, I never had examples of happy sapphic couples growing up. I wonder if I would have realized I’m bi sooner if I were exposed to couples like Val and Kiara when I was a kid.
I’m still brainstorming everything when I hop in the shower back at my friends’ apartment. The weather in San Francisco has been cold and misty lately, as it typically is during this time of year, so my tense body is dying for some hot water to relax my muscles. In the pleasant warmth, I close my eyes and thoroughly massage my temples until I feel refreshed enough to tackle the tasks I have left to do today.
When I get out of the shower, I do two things: (1) I email Rob and Marge to ask when would be the most convenient time for them to come in for an interview, and (2) I send Celeste a message on KakaoTalk.
Hey, do you want to meet up sometime before the final interview? I think we have a lot to unpack after what happened on New Year’s. And I’d like us to talk about an idea I have, too.
Celeste responds instantly with, Sure. Brunch tomorrow?
I’m surprised by her suggestion, because the Celeste I know is not a brunch person. Back in college, she always just came along with me because she knew I liked it.
It’d have been sweet that she suggested it… if we were still dating.
Maybe she’s just being polite. Or maybe she likes brunch now.
Trying my best not to think much of it, I send her some recommended spots and set up a time to meet.