Eleven
Bri
A week has passed, and I still haven’t given Liem an answer.
The shameful truth is that I haven’t made progress at all.
I have a lot more in my bank account than I had when I got here, but it’s not enough.
Without an offer letter or proof of salary, I need two months of income records to qualify for an apartment.
Income high enough to qualify. I’ve only made that for the last week we’ve been here, and I’m tired.
If any of the positions I applied for in LA had gotten back to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to refuse Liem’s offer to stay, but sadly, the job market is hell, and no one feels the need to send a rejection email anymore.
Still, I’ve been applying for everything.
Jobs in design, teaching, service, retail.
Positions I’m overqualified to do, dream positions I’m less likely to get than I am to become a backup dancer for Beyoncé’s next tour, and everything in between. And I mean everything.
Last week, I submitted eighteen applications, the week before that, twenty-seven, and our first week in the apartment, thirty-nine.
I refuse to believe I am this un-hirable.
I have a college degree—even if it’s not applicable to anything I’ve applied for, it’s still a fucking degree—years of similar work experience, and a professionally reviewed résumé.
Needing the charger I left in the kitchen, I find Liem on the couch, reading a book. He’s free of his self-imposed work cage.
“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees me.
I set my laptop on the kitchen counter. “Feeling extra good about myself today, that’s all.”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. He’ll have to read my meaning from context. “Can I help in some way?”
Maybe, but you won’t like it. I go to him without answering, then climb over the back of the couch and tackle him in slow motion. He falls back onto the cushions, not a gasp or flinch over my lack of boundaries and need for a crisis cuddle.
On his chest, I feel better. Unseen while protected from the rest of the world. Comfortable and warm, not cramping and being grumpy over the work I haven’t even started. “This’ll do, pig.”
He strokes a hand over my back. “What’s up? And if you say it’s nothing, I will throw you.”
I lean my head up from his chest. “Throw me? Where?”
“In the trash, I don’t know. Imagine a credible threat then tell me what’s wrong.”
I exhale in frustration, laying my head back down so I don’t have to look at him. “I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s new.”
I smack a hand against his chest when he chuckles at his joke.
“I’ve applied to so many jobs and haven’t been called to interview with any of them.
It hasn’t been that long, but it’s putting me in a rough spot because I can’t look for an apartment without knowing my budget or the job’s location.
I don’t want to sign a lease and end up not being able to afford it, or have a two-hour commute, you know? ”
“You need more time, that’s all.”
Of course I do, and of course he would remind me of that. I want more time away from my problems, but I want to want to stay with him, not need to stay with him.
“Do you want me to look at your résumé or the job openings?” he asks. “AI automatically weeds out certain keywords, so you may be triggering something accidentally.”
“Yes. Please, tech god. Tell me how I’ve offended the robots.” His laugh jostles my head. I push myself up, sitting beside him. “Sorry. I’m moody because my ovary is expelling an egg and making it my problem when I have back-to-back walks today.”
“Are you feeling well enough to do them?”
“Sure.”
“For real?”
“Totally.”
“Bri . . .” he says in a scolding tone.
“If you don’t believe me, come with. You need the sun anyway.”
He sits up quickly. “Bet.”
~
Liem goes with me down the few short blocks to my client’s place, waiting outside for me to grab the dogs.
The park is halfway between their apartment and ours, an easy trip even though my insides ache like someone is finger blasting my fallopian tube while hanging from my pelvic floor like a basketball hoop.
That said, it’s hard not to smile when there are puppies around.
At the dog park, I let them loose to begin their F1-speed laps around the perimeter.
Liem watches, laughing at their antics, seemingly carefree.
He does too much for me, offering to help when he owes me nothing.
Of course, I want to stay another month or eight with him.
That isn’t the point. While I may be two steps closer to my financial goals, all that progress will reset the second I’m back in California unless I can line up a job before, or within two weeks of, my arrival.
It shouldn’t be this hard, and yet it is. While I believe the universe puts us where we need to be, even if we can’t recognize it at first, I’m struggling to understand why it wants me to stay here.
I sit cross-legged on the bench next to him, hesitating to mention his offer again.
“So . . .” Liem says. I know exactly what he’s going to bring up.
“I can’t bum off you for another month,” I say.
“It’s not bumming.” See? “You’re taking care of me as much as you’re taking care of yourself. You get that I like having you here, right?”
“But the whole goal is to go back home, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t seem to like that answer. He turns his body toward me. “Then, if we won’t know each other after next month, can I be blunt?”
I ignore his assumption that I’ll stay. “Obviously.”
“You aren’t in a place to leave yet. Not if you want what you set out to have from the day we met,” he says, and I don’t appreciate it.
“This is your opportunity to keep working toward that goal, and you’re turning it down because of your pride.
Why is it so hard for you to admit you need a little help when all you do is help everyone around you? ”
“I don’t help anyone. I can’t help anyone.”
“You do, though. Maybe not the way you’d like to, but you bring light into people’s lives and take on so much emotional labor.
You do for me,” he says. “Your body is against you, and even if you are better than you used to be, you’re still forced to live your life around it.
You shouldn’t have to lower your standards or settle for the first shitty opportunity that comes along just because you gave yourself a timeline.
Give yourself a break instead. Give yourself time.
You can’t recoup three years of theft in a month. ”
Who does he think he is? Being all right and shit.
I can’t trust good news in my life because so much has been taken away.
My momma, my body, my independence. Liem is the balance for all the awfulness that happened with David.
Whether I deserve it or not, life led me here, colliding me with him, giving me a moment of happiness and space to breathe.
When will I admit that’s what I’ve needed the most?
I give in. “Fine. I’ll consider another month. If . . .”
“If what?”
“If you promise to work on your goals too. Meet some people. Learn how to find your chosen family. Go home knowing you can make friends anywhere, not only when you bribe a brokenhearted baddie with pasta.”
He twists his lips to hide his smile. “Meet people and make friends? I don’t know how to do that.”
“That’s where I come in, Hoodie.” I tug on the strings of his hood.
“Here’s a cheat code. You pick a place you like to go to on your own, right?
Then whenever you pass by one of your neighbors or coworkers or peers, you ask them if they want to go too.
That way, if they turn you down, you’re just going to your favorite spot anyway. ”
“That’s smart.”
“I’m smart.” I wink. “Tell me. What would a perfect day look like?”
“Other than hanging out with you?”
Warmth settles in my cheeks. My sweet guy. “If you were alone, babe. Here, close your eyes.”
“We’re going to meditate?”
“We’re visualizing.”
He does as I ask, holding my hands. I love the way they feel. They’re the perfect blend of hard and soft. Strong from his time in the gym, yet well-kempt and clean like the man raised by women he is.
“You’ve had a long week working your big-boy job making the big-boy deals and getting the big-boy dollars. Now you have a day to yourself and you go outside. What are you doing first?”
He takes a slow inhale, then answers, “Milk tea.”
That’s not something to do, but food as the first stop is relatable as hell. “Nice. What else?”
“Hokkaido, full sweetness, with boba, and—”
“Events, babe. You are going to get boba from your favorite shop. What are you doing next?”
He hums as he ponders. “When I have free time? Reading.”
“Where?”
“By a window somewhere, listening to the rain. Or in a park in the sunshine, like now.”
“Beautiful. And what else? You have the whole night ahead of you.”
“A movie. Then drinks.”
“Where?”
“A low-key place like a café. One of those old-school cigar lounge-looking places with wine or bougie cocktails.”
“If you love it, I love it.” I let go of his hands, and he opens his eyes. “You should do one or all those. Invite people to go with you, try to talk to people while you’re there, and if that doesn’t work, you’ll have a great night anyway.”
He shrugs. “I guess so.”
“I know so. People will love you if you give them a chance. And it can’t hurt to show yourself some love in the process.”
His eyes drift over me, warming me more than the sunshine. He’s practically my twin, but if he’s thinking what I am, I’d be shocked. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
~
We make it back to the apartment, and even though I’m worn out, I’m in a better mood than before. Spending quality time with Liem aways keeps me in the present and calms my anxiety about the future. Brooklyn is where time can stop for a while.
“I was thinking about making the mac and cheese tonight, if that won’t be too much for you.”
“Too much of what? Happiness?”
He chuckles. “Lactose. Cramps, if your stomach is already hurting.”
“You can’t dangle something that delicious in front of me and expect self-control,” I say. The double entendre is accidental, I swear. “I want it.”
“But can you take it?”
I may have lost track of the metaphor. “Oh, I can take it.”
On the apartment’s doorstep stand two women, one with a round crown of kinky curls, the other a modish, asymmetrical bob. They remind me of Keisha and Junie, then remind me how much I miss them, even though I don’t necessarily miss home.
Liem has the same thought. “They look like your friends.”
We walk closer, and the two turn our way. I almost fall over. They are my friends.