Singapore
entry to her apartment building, but for the second time today, Bella questioned what she saw. As a scientist, she understood how perspective alters observations. That would explain mistaking a computer-generated avatar in her simulation for Gregory. Her fractured relationship and the fiasco at the airport had skewed her perspective. He did not take her call or answer her attempts at communication. And now, she thought, she spotted Masiki standing like a statue. She was easy to spot. Few women in Singapore wore fashions from the 1960s and after the crowd passed, she realized she was not seeing things.
Gregory brought Masiki with him to run the Singapore office. She was striking, short, angular, and reed-thin, but it was her sense of fashion which made her stand out. She didn’t dress retro. She dressed exactly like the glamorous European models of the late 60s. Today the big hair caught Bella’s attention, but her eyes held her stare. Gold eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner, and false lashes exploding away from coal-colored irises. She wore a stark-white, tunic-necked miniskirt with an oversized, full-length gold zipper down to the short hemline where white nylons traversed her thighs and plunged into bright white leather boots at her calves. Masiki broke her pose and her stare at the same time and seemed to dance through the people on the sidewalk.
They had never spoken. Japanese was a language Bella had difficulties with, but it was the only language Masiki spoke. “Hi,” said Bella, deciding that was universal enough.
Masiki grabbed Bella by the arm and directed her into the building’s entry. The door opened, and they entered the vestibule. The security guard at the desk buzzed them through, and Masiki kept leading Bella until she stopped off to the side of the security desk. She pressed something into Bella’s hand, a tiny, folded paper box, and looked into her eyes. “One.” Masiki spoke the word with conviction.
Bella questioned the accented word. Did she mean one? Or won? Neither made sense, so she asked, “What?”
Masiki acted like her single word sentence should be sufficient and pushed the box deeper into Bella’s hand and bowed her head as if the box would explain everything. The wig came off, and she replaced it with a Yankees baseball cap. She unzipped the miniskirt and peeled it off, revealing a black running bra and matching shorts. The nylons rolled toward her boots, which unzipped down the back and soon she was barefoot. She shot a freeze-right-there expression onto the older man behind the security desk.
Bella hadn’t noticed, but he had stood and leaned over the desk to get a better view. He blushed, turned, and sat back down in his swivel chair, looking away.
Even with the interruption, Masiki didn't slow her methodical costume change. She opened a large handbag and slipped on a dull blue v-necked t-shirt with Just Do It written across the front. She pulled out a pair of running slippers and slid them on. The makeover ended with a pair of green aviator Ray-Bans that completed the transformation from go-go girl into the casual uniform of Singapore’s thirty-something women. She turned her attention to Bella and repeated, “One!” only with more conviction, then turned and pushed through the doors to the street, leaving the 60s on the floor.
Bella looked at the security guard, who just shrugged. She gathered the wig and the clothes, stuffed them into Masiki’s cavernous purse, and entered the waiting elevator. The previous occupant of the sixth-floor apartment must have feared something. Three locks secured the entry into the apartment she shared with Zoe. Bella inserted the key for the deadbolt and then pressed her thumb against the second lock. Nobody knew the combination for the third lock, so they only used it when both roommates were inside for the night.
As she pushed open the door, the soft aroma of jasmine rice pushed back. There was a sink in a vanity-sized cabinet and a low cupboard hung over it. A small refrigerator resting on the linoleum floor provided a waist-level counter for the microwave oven, and on top of that sat a rice cooker. Zoe leaned against the back of a well-worn couch and with a dull knife, half-chopped, and half-smashed some colorful vegetables into a bamboo cutting board straddling the sink.
“Stunning purse. You’re stepping out.”
“Hold this.” Bella pressed the purse into her roommate and locked the front door behind her.
“I’ve never seen a Coach knock-off like this before.” Zoe put the knife down and admired the handbag.
Bella flipped over the back of the full-sized couch, facing Zoe. “I’m sure it’s the real thing.”
“When did you start wearing wigs?” Zoe pulled out a nylon and started to retrieve the miniskirt. “Girl, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Try the beginning.” Zoe walked around and sat on the other end of the couch, holding onto Masiki’s purse like it was a newborn baby.
“I’ve got to open this first.” Written on the inside of the folded paper box were three letters and an exclamation point. She realized Masiki, in her heavy accent, was saying the word run!
“What’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“You know how I’ve been trying to call and text Gregory since the airport?”
“Yes. You said you would only try to contact him once a day. I tell you, that ship has sailed. You need to track him down and apologize. All relationships have their difficulties. You guys are just having a low spot.”
“Listen, I know you love Gregory more than I do. Maybe you can get in line, but will you listen to me?”
“It’s not unusual that when he goes on business trips, I don’t hear from him, but this is our first breakup. And it will be our last. But I still didn’t treat him right and I’m consumed with guilt over that. I’ve tried to ignore it, but that just makes things worse.”
Bella told Zoe every detail of her day and then handed her the paper.
“You're kidding me. You thought she was saying one?”
“I know. But run doesn't make sense either. What should I do?”
Zoe returned to her kitchen work and said, “Do what you always do. Call your dad. But can I keep the purse?”
“You’re no help. Besides, he’d tell me to sleep on it.”
“Sounds like good advice to me. What is this, a size zero?” Zoe said with disappointment, holding the miniskirt up to herself.
“Why don’t you go try it on and I’ll finish cooking dinner.”
Zoe balled up the dress and threw it at Bella.
“Okay. You finish. I’m going to slip into pajamas. Right after we eat, I’m going to bed. Getting back to work is exhausting. Can you imagine? I didn’t even have a nap today.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” Zoe spilled the vegetables into the wok and stirred into the billowing steam plume.
Bella woke with a gentle alarm sounding and stretched. If she had called her dad and he had told her to sleep on it, he would have been right. The morning makes everything better. She beat it to the bathroom before Zoe needed to get ready for work. Routine helped, too, and a shower kept her mood improving.
She returned with her hair twisted into a terry cloth turban and a blue beach wrap surrounding the rest of her. She closed the door behind her as she walked into her small, windowless bedroom. The subtle glow of a salt lamp was fine for getting up, but now she needed light and flipped the switch. Bella’s eyes shot to her bedside stand. Her knees didn’t go weak, and she did not scream, but realizing someone had been in her bedroom made her stomach feel like it was being strangled. Masiki’s unfolded message that simply said “run” was gone, and in its place sat an ornate box and a small notecard. Bella sat hard on her bed and picked up the card. She had never seen the exquisite handwriting before she read.
Dear Isabelle,
I forgive you.
You could not have known,
but you never had a choice.
When I’m done with business,
I’ll come for you.
Forever, G.
Bella worried over what was in the box but had to look. She released the closure and popped it open to find the ring. Bella cried out, “Zoe!”