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Daniel Petersen
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After the party, Lana didn’t go home with the company driver. Instead, she hurried to the subway station and ran down the stairs.
I followed her and watched while she patiently waited for a nervous local who was taking an inordinate amount of time at the ticket machine. The man couldn’t find his change, because he was blind. Distressed, he started to leave as people were loudly complaining. Lana reached into the machine to retrieve his coins. She then chased after the blind man and gave him his money.
Having lost her place in line, I took the opportunity to say, “Hey, Lana, I’m really sorry about what happened.”
“Why?” she demanded while refusing to look at me.
“It’s a coincidence that your husband hired me to follow you.”
She relaxed and said, “It’s okay.”
I seized the chance to ask, “Are you in love with that guy, Aaron?”
Her mood changed abruptly, and she responded, “Why do you think that?”
“It’s obvious through your body language and facial expressions.”
“You need a new job because you’re not very perceptive,” Lana retorted.
“Hey, I correctly predicted the outcome of that couple.”
“What are you talking about?”
“2009 ...”
For a split second Lana looked wistful as she whispered, “That was a long time ago.” But she quickly regained her poise and purchased a subway ticket from the machine.
“I’m very observant,” I asserted.
“Yeah, you ought to work for Homeland Security,” she quipped.
“You mean the FBI,” I corrected her. “I turned them down.”
“They must have been devastated.”
“Lana, what that guy told you is bullshit. Aaron is a con-artist.”
“Right,” she responded while scanning her ticket and entering the station.
I scanned my monthly pass and followed, “Plus, he’s probably married with kids.”
“Thanks for your opinions,” she said disingenuously while walking down the steps towards the platform.
“Men are only as faithful as their options,” I continued.
“Shocking Daniel, thank you for the earth-shattering revelation.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“Thanks, but I need to go,” Lana said while walking further down the platform to get away from me.
I chased after her, and declared, “Do you know what you need?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Someone who makes you laugh.”
“If you find that person, give him my number.”
Abruptly I asked, “Lana, why did you stand me up that day?”
“What?”
“You agreed to meet me back in 2009.”
Thinking for a moment, Lana finally answered, “I agreed to have coffee with you, but you deliberately gave me strange directions.”
“Why do you say deliberate?”
“Your goal was to exhaust and confuse me.”
“Nah, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Your games are a real turnoff,” Lana said, as she jumped onto the subway that had arrived.
“Batman, just keep telling yourself that,” I shouted angrily. “You’re no different from any other chick. You love games.”
Locals strolled by, looked me up and down, and laughed. In Mandarin, they whispered, “Crazy foreigner.”