Twenty-three
Liem
I found an apartment. Four days after arriving home—which was three too many days living with my family—I signed a lease for a new studio.
There were two locations I was considering. One downtown, a few blocks from my company’s campus, and another along a direct bus line in First Hill. As much as I want a break from work when I leave the office, convenience is helpful when working late. The downtown apartment won out.
I signed the shortest lease possible, only a six-month term, thinking I would use the time to feel out whether living in the area would be more stressful than convenient. Subliminally, I’m holding out hope that I will find a way to get back with Bri again.
Only a few months with her and the world feels brand new.
That’s no time at all, in the grand scheme of things, and yet I’ve changed.
I grew so quickly in Bri’s sunlight. She made it clear every day that she wanted me around, inviting me closer when I felt I was intruding too much.
She allowed me to be me in totality. Unapologetic, open, honest. I want to feel like that always.
As Bri said, I deserve love like that—real love—from everyone I choose to have in my life. Unfortunately, I’m realizing my life here isn’t conducive to that standard.
Four days with my dad brought everything back.
The guilt I have for being jealous of his relationship with May.
The implied expectations of being the eldest son with the big job.
It’s the open palm he holds out when the restaurant is short on cash or having a bad month—which is every month.
My family may appreciate what I contribute and how hard I work, but it rarely seems like they appreciate me.
I’m glad to get away from them, even if it’s only a forty-minute drive.
My office is as cold as I remember. Only the newer buildings in Seattle have air-conditioning like this, and this one seems to balance temperature needs between the occupied spaces and the server rooms. It makes me question whether I always liked wearing hoodies or if I adopted a hoodie dependency because of this damn office.
The windows of the thirty-eighth floor peek through the other high-rise buildings, seeing all the way down the hill to the waterfront. An expanse of glass, concrete, and water. I missed this view, but I’d trade it for the sidewalk view from our Brooklyn apartment in a heartbeat.
“My buddy is back!” Sai greets me with open arms the second I step into view.
“I am,” I say, my tone as enthusiastic as I feel.
He pulls me into a hug, patting my back while he says, “I’m sorry you didn’t get your wife. There will be others, and you will find The One soon.”
As if I haven’t already. “Sure.”
“Come on, let’s get to work.” He turns to face the team. “Everyone! Look who’s back!”
Our team of five cheers on cue. At least they’re happy to see me.
~
In a rare occurrence, I step out of work before the sun goes down. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out to check, I feel a smile pull at my cheeks. It’s embarrassing how much my heart leaps every time I get a text from Bri.
Bri: Can I call you?
Can she call me? She could step on me and I’d say thank you.
Me: Of course
The video call chimes. I answer it without giving a thought to how I look. Her face appears, and it feels like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she says. She’s lying on a couch or a bed, holding the phone above her. “How’s Seattle? It’s not raining?”
“No, it’s still summertime, kind of. The darkness hasn’t consumed us yet,” I joke, though it’s partially true. Any minute now, it will be the last glimpse of sunshine for the next nine months. Unless I get to see my human sunshine instead. “I found an apartment.”
“You did? Show me!”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Tell me about your day?”
She groans. “Where to start.”
To my enjoyment, she gives me a full download, skipping no details. Keisha is breathing down her neck, riding the bus is surprisingly better than getting stuck in traffic like she used to do, but no progress on the job front.
“I went to two of the studios I applied to when we were in Brooklyn, and they looked at me like I was speaking Swahili when I tried to give them a printed copy of my résumé. Everything is online now. No one cares about putting a face to a name anymore.”
“That sucks. You have a nice face.”
Pursing her lips isn’t enough to hide her grin. “You’re one to talk, handsome.”
Somehow, I manage not to lose her in the elevator. “Here it is.” Inside, I flip my camera to give her the tour. It doesn’t take long to get through five hundred square feet. “It’s small but—”
“Liem . . .”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have a bed frame.”
Of course she calls me out for my typical male behavior. “I just moved in!”
“Are you shopping for one this weekend?”
“I am now!”
I crawl onto my mattress and lay the phone down between my pillows, staring down at her like she’s lying beneath me again.
The ease of her smile matches my mood, but at the same time, it reminds me of the way she looked at me that night.
The way she looked at me when she wanted to make sure I would be okay.
The wide-eyed gasp when she learned how much I wanted her—how easily I could unravel her.
The way she felt when I finally made her come for me.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have one more night with her.
The memories stir in all the wrong—and right—places. Ask her.
“I would hate to make you do work for me, but I really need some help decorating this place. I feel like I’m living in a hospital right now.” My jack-of-all-trades, lover of creating spaces, master of comfort. “Do you have time to help me?”
“No, I’m too busy with my burgeoning career,” she quips. “Yes. This will be fun. Send me your floor plan and some pictures. I’ll come up with a scheme for you.”
“I’ll pay you for your time.”
She scoffs. “Fuck you.”
“Seriously. If I got anyone else to do it for me, it would cost me anyway.”
“I’m not going to take your money, Hoodie. You’re my friend.”
Friend. “Yes, but I’m asking a lot.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
“Then, um . . .” How many times have I invited her to stay with me, and yet I still worry she’ll turn me down. “Would you let me fly you up here to help me get it all together? We can exchange suitcases at the same time.”
Her expression falls into her usual frown when I offer her anything. Well, anything except food. “Liem, no. That’s—”
“I want to see you.” Why try to lie? She can see through me anyway. “Please.”
She chews on her words, undoubtedly debating between which excuse is most defensible. Luckily, she doesn’t find one. “Okay, fine. I’ll come.”
Excitement floods through me, as visceral as if she had hugged me. “Really?”
“But only if you get me coach on the cheapest flight.”
“That’s like a hundred bucks.”
“More like two. And you’re lucky I’m not making you split it with me.”
It doesn’t matter. I haven’t felt this happy since the day we were together in the park. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence lingers between us for a second. I can barely grasp the possibilities of what might happen when she’s here. When we’re together again for the first time since we . . . My excitement turns to nervousness.
Still, I’m happy. “I can’t wait to see you.”