We got back to Seoul on Saturday, after a much less thrilling flight than the previous one. Suffering in the knowledge that you’re about to enjoy the charms of the Big Apple is very different from feeling sick for fear of flying while knowing that you’re on the way back to the usual routine. Luckily I was able to use the following Sunday to catch up on sleep and I enjoyed a whole day of total laziness, going from the sofa to the bed and back again. I even took a nap while watching some strange Korean soap operas on TV. Everybody seems to love them here, and sometimes Seung Hee tries to find out how interested I am in this strange national sport, but I can’t really appreciate the local television programmes – mostly because I don’t understand the language, I imagine.
The first week after New York shot by without me even realizing it: it’s a very busy period in the office, we’re all up to our necks in work. Even though I haven’t exactly been knocking myself out, I have been quite tired and not really in the mood for having a social life. I also have to admit that I’m quite proud of ‘my team’: incredibly, even Mark admitted that since my arrival they’ve been more motivated and productive than usual.
I can’t help noticing that they’re not the only ones who are changing – I am discovering aspects of myself that I didn’t know I possessed as well. I have developed an almost motherly feeling for them, which is a real novelty for me. I don’t usually like taking responsibility for my actions, let alone for other people’s, but this job is showing me how giving up your certainties every once in a while and accepting new challenges can sometimes lead to surprising results.
In the days after we came back, Mark was very busy, or at least pretended to be, and only spoke to me maybe two or three times in total. He’s been even more severe than usual and he notices every little mistake I make at work. So when he does speak to me, it’s only ever to reprimand or scold me. That’s why I prefer him silent. Luckily, at this point I’m used to his behaviour anyway.
What a shame, I was hoping that New York would help us to at least be a little more relaxed around each other, even if becoming friends was asking too much. Apparently, I was wrong. I try to shake off the melancholy I feel when I think of New York, forcing myself to get interested in the next ‘must go’ event. The whole office is excited because on Friday night there’s going to be a company party. We’re going to a club, apparently. It’s the umpteenth group activity, but they think that it’s very important to try and maintain a convivial atmosphere in the office.
The Christmas party was more than enough for everyone in London. If they had started organising this many company activities outside of working hours in London there would have been a revolution. Either that or an inexplicable spike in the number of ailments, funerals and flooded bathrooms. But not in Seoul. Everybody here loves these occasions so much that they organize at least five or six of them every year. How depressing.
Seung Hee glows with joy at the idea of going to the party. I try and work out what’s behind all her excitement, and put it down to her age: I have a feeling that she will stop loving parties so much when she’s about thirty. But she’s Korean, so you never know…
“Maddison, would you like to come shopping with me at lunch break for the party?” she suggests, smiling at me with her pretty, hopeful face.
I haven’t even entered a shop since I came to Seoul – I was so scared that they wouldn’t understand me that I even forgot about my shopping addiction. If I think about it, since I moved to Korea I’ve actually turned into some sort of money hoarder. Unfortunately.
Her pretty face and her skill as an interpreter are enough to convince me, and she surprises me with the way she decides to go into some shops and skip others altogether. Have I been under-estimating this girl?
“Over the past few days I’ve already been and had a look at everything, I know exactly which clothes we have to try on!” she reveals. I hadn’t realized she was so determined. The first thing she decides to try on is a very flattering green dress. After seeing it on her, I can’t help but implore her to buy it: the colour suits her perfectly and it’s revealing enough without making her look vulgar. When she comes out of the changing room, she hands me an extremely short blue mini dress with some small glittering pearls around the neckline. I hope she doesn’t expect me to wear something like that. I might be glamorous, but I’d never dare put on a dress like that… I think I missed my chance of wearing that sort of thing about ten years ago, it would be really ridiculous to start dressing that way at my age. Anyway Seung Hee is very determined and I’m not sure how, but she manages to convince me to at least try this tiny dress on.
While I admire myself in the mirror, I have to admit that it does suit me perfectly. The only problem is that my legs are totally bare. I think this dress was designed for women not quite as tall as me.
“This is absolutely indecent!” I say to my colleague.
“On the contrary – it’s perfect!” she replies, in a tone that doesn’t allow for contradiction.
“I guess you’re joking, right? They will arrest me the moment I leave the house if I dress like this!”
Ok, the Korean sense of decency allows women to uncover their legs – but uncovering them this much might cause a diplomatic incident.
“I would wear it if I was you. While you still can…” she adds impertinently.
Her comment convinces me and so, against my will, I decide to do something crazy and buy the dress.
When, a few hours later, I’m back home holding the bag with my dress in, I’m still not sure if I’ll wear it or not. I do want to make an impression, but this might be going too far. I try it on again, hoping to convince myself to wear it. It’s true, it’s scandalously short, but didn’t Mark tell me that it’s ok if I uncover my legs here? And, on the other hand, the neckline is quite discreet. My inner battle only lasts for a few minutes: the truth is that I like the way I look in this dress and I am going to wear it!
I have a quick shower and then do my hair very carefully, framing my face with a few curls. Tonight I’ll break the rules and wear my hair down. The final touch is some quite dark smoky make-up that I wear only on special occasions. I put my dress on and look in the wardrobe for some shoes to go with it: I have a blue pair, with high heels, that are just perfect. I then choose a beige coat and sit on the sofa, waiting patiently for Andrew to come and pick me up. In the afternoon he offered to pick me up in a taxi and I accepted. I knew that Mark would be busy until late with some vaguely specified meetings, so I thought I might be able to use some company.
A few minutes later, perfectly on time, Andrew rings the intercom and soon after appears at my door. When he sees me he says with enthusiasm, “You look splendid!”
I thank him and can’t help but blush. A woman does need compliments, and not just criticism, from time to time. We get to the party too quickly, before I can mentally prepare for the evening ahead. I get stuck at the entrance, unable to decide whether I should take my coat off or not. It is saving me from the embarrassment of showing the dress to my colleagues. Perhaps dressing this way wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Seung Hee sees me immediately and, even though she’s on the other side of the club, runs towards me.
“Come on, come and show everyone the amazing dress I found for you!” she exclaims with enthusiasm, something she’s never shown in the office. Maybe she’s been keeping it hidden.
“In a moment,” I answer, trying to play for time.
After a few weeks of experience, I can say without fear of being contradicted that the rest of the world has a very mistaken opinion of Korean women: the middle-aged ones, also known as ajumma, are ballsy and don’t mince their words, while the younger ones are clever enough to hide their steely determination in order to avoid frightening off potential suitors. And Seung Hee is typical of the younger generation. She almost forces me to take off my coat and gives it to the cloakroom person for me. I take a deep breath to try and summon up my courage. Ok, I can overcome the embarrassment. After all, I’ve put this dress on because for once in my life I don’t want to play safe. I want to take a risk. And, maybe unconsciously, I want to provoke some reaction. Though I’m not sure quite what kind of reaction yet.
The murmuring in the club stops, as though someone had switched it off with a hidden button. The whole hall, waiters included, stop to stare at me. I’d say my curiosity was completely satisfied: being the centre of people’s attention is no fun at all if you’re not used to it. Well, now I know.
The men’s eyes are glued to my legs, and I turn as red as paprika. Andrew, who is still by my side, can’t hide the excitement in his eyes. I guess he’s congratulating himself on having offered to pick me up.
“Come on, let’s go and dance.” I drag him away from the entrance, hoping to lose myself in the crowd on the dance floor. I’m not really much of a dancer, but at this point I’m willing to do anything to become invisible. The dance floor is full of people. When it comes to enjoying themselves, the Koreans are second to none. I start moving to the rhythm of the music, trying to keep as much distance as possible from Andrew. I don’t think that dancing in a club like this necessarily requires us to be as close as he seems to think, though. I reject all his attempts to invade my personal space, even with some ‘accidental’ elbowings, but this is not enough to calm his enthusiasm, so I decide to trample on his feet. Now the message ought to be quite clear, but apparently Andrew left his perspicacity back in the States. I can’t believe I actually thought he was quite charming the first time I saw him… I shouldn’t attribute so much importance to first impressions.
After only two songs I’ve really had enough of dancing and I’ve had enough of defending myself from his unwanted attentions. I have reached my limit and am just about to give him a piece of my mind when Mark appears. I’m not sure where he came from, but I’m almost glad that he’s here.
When I had arrived at the club I had looked around expectantly to see if he was there, hoping that maybe his meetings had finished earlier than he expected. I wasn’t really interested in knowing if he was there yet, of course. But he is my boss. Anyway, I hadn’t spotted him, so he was either hiding somewhere or has just arrived. I notice he’s wearing the same grey suit he had on earlier in the day, and deduce he hasn’t been home to get changed. He just took his tie off and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his white shirt. His face looks tired, and for a change, he makes no attempt to hide it.
“Hi, Andrew, do you mind if I steal your dancing partner?” he asks, clearly without intending to wait for an answer. Before Andrew can say a word, he takes my arm firmly and drags me away from the dance floor to a dark corner of the room.
“Hello, Mark,” I say hesitantly, trying to free myself and remind him that he hasn’t even said ‘hello’ to me yet.
He doesn’t answer.
“What is this thing?” he asks me gloomily, carefully examining every centimetre of my body.
“What are you referring to?” I ask, pretending that I haven’t understood what he’s talking about.
He gets snappy.
“This dress you’re wearing. Although you can hardly really call it a dress, can you…”
He’s annoyed, there’s no doubt about it. He’s not actually shouting, but maybe this makes him look even more dangerous than usual.
“Seung Hee chose it, don’t you like it?” I tease him with an innocent smile.
“Are you seriously asking me if I like it?”
He gives me a glare that only he and maybe James Bond are capable of. And I’m guessing even Sean Connery would lose a staring contest with Mark.
“I really can’t decide if you’re totally crazy or just totally irresponsible.”
Dear God, I really do not understand this man. I raise my chin pugnaciously. “Well everybody else likes it a lot,” I tell him.
“I have no doubt that they do,” he mumbles sarcastically, and lifts a hand in a way that makes me almost afraid that he wants to choke me. But he just blocks me between his body and the wall I’m leaning against, making me jump.
“Ok, listen, here’s what we’re going to do. Try and stay by my side and nobody will dare try harassing you.”
His tone of voice doesn’t encourage a refusal.
“I came here with Andrew,” I remind him. I couldn’t wait to get rid of him, to be honest, but Mark must not know that.
“Well now you’re with me,” he insists.
“I’ve already told you that I don’t need a baby-sitter,” I reply firmly.
He takes his hand off the wall and grasps my arm again to prevent me escaping. I really cannot stand being treated like this. His attitude tonight is so different it almost frightens me.
To be honest, I haven’t understood his moods recently: he was sweet in New York, but as soon as we got back, he didn’t talk to me for days, and when he did, it was only to scold me. And now we have to add this absurd scene to the puzzle. But enough is enough! Anyway, he doesn’t even try to justify his behaviour – it’s as though he thinks he is allowed to do whatever he wants. But I’m not going to stand for it.
“I honestly don’t know what the hell is wrong with you lately, but whatever it is, steer clear of me, Mark,” I order him, freeing my arm. “I think you are way out of line.”
I give him an evil glare and stalk off towards Seung Hee, who was watching the whole scene and looks worried.
“Oh, my God, Maddison, did you and Mark argue?”
“Don’t worry, he’s just being an idiot.” I say it loud enough for Mark to hear me.
I don’t want to admit it to Seung Hee, but the truth is that I’m really upset. We go over to the bar: the drinks are free tonight, so is there a better way to drown your sorrows?
A few hours later I’ve had at least three Long Island Teas, my head is spinning and I can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything.
I’ve never had much of a stomach for alcohol.
My young colleague is visibly worried.
“Are you ok, Maddison?” she asks me every few minutes.
“Can’t you tell? I’m finally happy!” I exclaim with a joy that is really not so joyful at all. And my face must be betraying me, because she’s looking at me with compassion.
“I really think you and Mark should try and make it up,” she suggests in a low voice. “It isn’t a good idea to get drunk because you’ve fallen out.”
Her sentence hits home like a punch in the stomach.
“I’m not drinking because of him! And anyway, he’s the one who should apologize to me! I haven’t done anything to annoy him,” I remind her, offended.
I see her hesitate and then jump off her stool.
“Wait for me here,” she says, before disappearing. From the corner of my eye I see her walk towards Mark, who is sitting comfortably on a small black sofa, chatting to a beautiful Korean woman, who shows her disappointment when the two of them are interrupted.
Seung Hee leans down to whisper something in Mark’s ear. He seems to listen to her carefully, hesitates for a minute, and then raises his eyes towards me. I don’t want to let him intimidate me, so I decide not to lower my gaze when it meets his. My heart starts beating fast. I hope it’s a side effect of the alcohol and not just because Mark is approaching.
I watch him walking in my direction without interrupting our eye contact. At this point it’s no longer a challenge – I actually can’t stop: he has somehow imprisoned me with those magnetic eyes of his.
I can feel that I’m about to be overwhelmed by panic, so I get off my stool and prepare to make a run for it, but all the cocktails I’ve downed have left me in anything but excellent form. Once I touch the ground, I try to regain my balance, but experience a very discouraging dizziness. My knees start to go weak and I realize that I’m going to end up on the floor. But instead of finding myself crashing to the ground, which would have been an unfortunate but perfectly well-deserved epilogue, two strong hands grab me just in time, saving me from tumbling.
“Got you,” says Mark. He puts me back on my feet without releasing his tight grip. I remain immobile for a few moments, leaning against him, afraid to even breathe.
“Thanks,” I mumble, blushing like an idiot. “I think I might have had a bit too much to drink,” I comment.
“I’d agree that three Long Islands and two Martinis might just be considered a little too much…” I hear him mutter.
“Have you been keeping tabs on what I’ve drunk all night?” I ask in surprise, moving away a little so as to be able to look him in the eye.
Mark doesn’t answer, he just gives me a very severe look. I take his arm and give him a gentle shake, but get no reaction. He’s acting as though he’s taken a bloody vow of silence.
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask.
“No, I’m just worried that anything that I say might be wrongly interpreted,” he admits.
I’m about to say something sarcastic, but for some reason the sincerity I can hear in his voice convinces me not to. There’s a momentary break in our constant bickering: I relax and let myself breathe in his aftershave, since he’s so close that I don’t really have a choice.
“Before we go on, I think you owe me an apology,” I say in a low voice.
Mark rolls his eyes. “Ok, If I apologize, can we put an end to this ridiculous discussion?” he asks.
I pretend that I’m thinking about it for a moment. “I am a very generous person, so I guess I could forget everything that has happened, in exchange for your apologies…”
Mark coughs nervously. “In that case, I apologize, even though I did say those things for your own good,” he points out.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say with conviction, “I can take care of myself.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not comment on your last sentence.”
I really can’t help but smile at that.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” he asks, although he knows the answer. I guess my idiotic smile doesn’t leave much room for doubt.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not comment on that,” I answer, and he laughs.
“You’re totally wasted, but you still manage to be funny – I’m impressed.”
Now we really ought to let go of one another, but, as if by magic, Seung Hee appears next to us.
“Will you take her home?” she asks worriedly.
“I’d say it is the wisest thing to do.” Then he turns to me and asks: “Are you ready to go home, Maddison?”
But I don’t want to go just yet, although I’m not sure why.
“No, I don’t want to leave,” I whine, “I’ve hardly danced at all tonight…”
Mark realizes that if tries to force me there’s the risk of provoking another fight.
“How about one last dance?” he suggests.
“One last dance with you?” I ask. I must be totally pissed to be asking him something like this.
He looks doubtful at first, but then he gives in.
“Ok,” he answers, giving me his hand, which I grab immediately so that there’s no chance of him changing his mind.
We walk towards the dance floor, where they’ve been playing slow songs for at least the last half an hour. Was he aware of that when he proposed this one last dance? Without wasting any time, Mark comes close to me and delicately lays a hand on my hips and I do the same, with a movement that is more instinctive than deliberate. Our free hands join halfway, and neither of us can take either the blame or the credit for arriving first. We hesitate for a moment, then Mark starts dancing, towing me along with him. I must be still reeling from the effect of all the alcohol because I feel my head spinning faster and faster. My nostrils are filled with his cologne, his shoulders move under my hand. I’m surprised by my body’s reaction. I feel confused and attracted at the same time. I feel like I’m exploring dangerous terrain.
The song comes to an end all too soon and Mark takes my hand again and accompanies me to the cloakroom. We both collect our coats in silence and prepare to leave the club. Mark gestures goodbye to Seung Hee with a brief nod of his head, and I wave my hand. I’m sorry to leave her on her own, but I’m sure that Chul Ju and Dong Woo, who are still stuck to the bar, will take care of her if necessary.
Mark takes his phone from his jacket pocket and calls a taxi. “It’ll be here in five minutes,” he tells me without looking at me. We wait for what feels like quite a long time in silence, since neither of us dares to speak. No more than five minutes, but it feels like five hours. The evening is quite cold – so much so that I feel an unpleasant shiver running up from my legs to my back. Moreover, my head is spinning more than ever. And I’m afraid that my confusion might be only partially due to the alcohol.
All of a sudden, an orange taxi appears out of the darkness of the night and pulls over to let us get in. Once we’re seated, Mark tells the taxi driver our destination. The car departs quickly, and I close my eyes and try to relax.
“God, what a total failure this evening was,” I think sorrowfully. I don’t even remember what went wrong. What caused all the commotion? My eyelids are heavy and the presence of Mark by my side is a constant irritation. I try to close my eyes even tighter and at some point, exhausted, I fall asleep.
When Mark’s voice wakes me up from my dreams, I can’t immediately focus on what’s happening.
“Maddison, we’re home, come on,” he shakes me. I have to blink a few dozen times before I manage to remember everything.
While Mark is paying for the ride, the taxi driver says something that makes him smile. Right now I would pay good money to be able to speak Korean, even just a little.
“What’s so funny?” I ask curiously.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he answers, while we climb the stairs leading to the lift.
“You know very well I can’t avoid thinking about it,” I say firmly.
He lifts an eyebrow in doubt, then throws up his hands as though to admit defeat. “Ok, then. If you really want to know, the taxi driver said he thinks you’re very beautiful.”
I look at him in confusion. “Did he say that?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“So he didn’t really say that…” I insist.
“He just said that I was a very lucky man,” he admits finally, leaving the lift and heading towards the landing.
I follow him.
“And do you feel lucky to be in my company tonight?” I ask him abruptly, without a real reason. After all, we’re together now only because we share the same landing.
He turns towards me while answering: “No, to be honest, I don’t,” he says drily. His eyes are shining weirdly.
I lean back against the wall, trying to work out what he means by this mysterious comment.
“And if I asked you to explain what you just said a little better, I suppose you wouldn’t answer, right?”
“You’re an intuitive girl,” he answers ambiguously, giving me a strange smile. He stands by his door, unable to decide whether he should tap in the entry code or not.
“What’s wrong?” I answer, noting his doubtful face.
“You know, I’m not even sure myself.”
He obviously meant that to be a throwaway line, but something about the way he says it contradicts his intentions. For the first time since I’ve known him, I actually see Mark in real difficulty.
“Maybe you should have had a few drinks tonight too, you would have relaxed a bit,” I say, trying to make a joke out of it.
His reaction is not what I had hoped for though: instead of laughing, he snorts.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to drink when you decide to dress up like you did tonight…” he warns me.
“Ha, ha, ha,” I try and laugh.
“I was being serious, Maddison,” he says, flattening my attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
His attitude is confusing me, and the alcohol has completely removed any inhibitions I might have. For some strange reason, I start realizing that he is a very attractive man. Or maybe I had always known it but just didn’t want to admit it to myself. The idea makes me nervous, and to escape my thoughts I try and provoke him with a game.
I walk over to him with exaggerated seductiveness, quite clearly joking.
“So you think I’m particularly sexy tonight, hmm?” I ask him, with a cartoon pout.
“Go to sleep, Maddy,” he says, addressing me by my nickname for the first time and turning me towards the door of my apartment. “You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you’re doing,” he warns me.
But the sight of him blushing is just too funny. “Oh no, not yet. I really don’t feel like going to sleep yet.”
Instead of pulling back, I move even closer to him and I put my hand under his jacket with the aim of tickling his hips. I feel the warmth of his skin from beneath his cotton shirt. My hands stop as though burnt, but I don’t remove them from where they are.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns me in a weirdly strangled tone. I decide to ignore the threat and continue torturing him. My fingers caress his hips once, twice, three times.
“Stop it!” he suddenly snaps, grabbing hold of my cold hands. But he doesn’t release them, and keeps them in his strong grasp. I raise my eyes and meet his tormented gaze.
“Can you tell me, once and for all, what is the matter with you?” I repeat for the hundredth time.
Mark doesn’t speak and continues staring at me with the expression of someone who has been hypnotized. He lifts his free hand and caresses my cheek. His touch is so gentle that I should barely register it but I feel a shiver run through my whole body.
“You really should go to bed, do you know that?” he whispers, without letting go of me.
I nod, unable to say any more. Those dark eyes of his… They could probably convince me to do something foolish.
In a desperate attempt to break the spell that seems to have enchanted us both, I move my gaze to the rest of his face. Whoops – that was a big mistake: my eyes stop almost unwillingly on his lips. His gorgeous lips. Which he curves slightly when he understands they’re the object of my admiration. He sighs, while continuing to fight who knows what internal war, and after a moment I realize his mouth is slowly getting closer to mine. If he keeps getting closer, in only a few moments I am going to feel those full lips on mine. I could pull away from him, I tell myself. I mean, I really should. Or maybe not…
A second later he kisses me. At first his kiss is light, barely a touch, so much so that I wonder if it’s real or a dream. After a few moments, though, he stretches his arms around me and embraces me firmly, pulling my body close to his own. The pressure of his lips grows, my own open in response, and suddenly his tongue appears in my mouth. The whole world starts spinning twice as fast as before.
My response to this increasingly ardent kiss is so powerfully passionate that it almost frightens me. Our lips continue to brush against each other, our tongues teasing, our minds totally involved in the moment. We continue kissing for quite some time, rubbing ourselves against one another. Our hands start exploring, our breathing gets shorter. I totally forget that I’m standing on the landing. The man was right, I think, while his mouth traps me once again: his kisses are divine. He wasn’t just talking hot air, then…
Mark is the first to regain control of himself. He slows down and tries to turn it back into just a normal kiss. He sighs and puts his lips to my forehead.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. This time my question means something very different. Mark moves away from me while he tries to get his breathing back to normal.
“Now you should really go to sleep,” he concludes.
I’ve just been kissed in a way I haven’t experienced for a long time, I’m pretty drunk and my hormones are all over the shop.
“Why?” I ask, without hiding my disappointment.
“Because, believe it or not, I don’t usually take advantage of women who are drunk,” he answers, sounding like he’s almost lost his patience.
He takes my bag, which had fallen on the floor, puts it back in my hands and turns me to face my front door. “Type in the code,” he commands.
“What if I can’t remember it?” I ask naively.
“Maddison…” he says, making my name sound very threatening.
I’m annoyed, but open the door.
“Goodnight,” he says, pushing me inside and closing it decisively.
“Goodnight to you, too,” I say to myself, since he can’t hear me any more. Then I touch my lips and sigh. Oh, my God!