I am in such a comatose state that I barely even notice we are about to land, and that the landing is not going to be a particularly smooth one: the plane has been bouncing about plenty and when we finally touch down on the tarmac, we do so with quite a jolt. In short, if I had been my normal self I would have already died from fear – but the truth is that I haven’t been myself for quite some time now.
Oh God, how I detest myself! How the hell have I managed to get myself into this mess? I’ve hit rock bottom psychologically – me, who usually never does. Is this really me sitting in this uncomfortable aeroplane seat? For a moment I almost doubt it.
Seung Hee has become very insightful and occasionally peers up at me over her journal of economic research with a worried look on her face. I can see her struggling for a moment with the temptation to say something, but in the end she decides not to.
I know that I must look awful, I know that I can’t completely disguise the dark rings under my eyes that whole nights of restless sleep have caused me. Restless because of the terrible nightmares, to tell the truth. Ok, they’re not really nightmares. They’re mostly terrible dreams… You know… sexy ones?
And sometimes they’re even about Mark.
Oh, alright then, I admit it! I have loads of erotic dreams with Mark as the leading man and try as I might I can’t stop myself. It’s become almost like an obsession – I am slowly and inexorably losing all sense of lucidity.
And in order to avoid having these dreams I try to keep myself awake, but the sleep deprivation is driving me utterly round the bend.
“We’re here, Maddison.” Seung Hee’s voice is just a whisper but it still makes me jump.
I have to get hold of a few gallons of hot coffee as soon as possible, otherwise I will be in no state to do diddly-squat today.
We’ve just collected our suitcases and are on our way towards the taxi area when a strange feeling, a sudden awareness, hits me: I stop suddenly, blocking the passage of the people behind me and I turn my gaze to the corridor that leads to the exit. He’s here, I know that he’s here, I felt his presence instantly. My traitorous body would be able to sense his presence miles away. I’m surprised that I haven’t smelt him as well.
Mark has seen us too and nods his head in recognition. He has decided to hide behind his usual bored expression, but this time there is something different about him. I think he is even more tense than usual – I can see the deep, dark rings under his eyes that match mine and the greenish tinge to his pale face. I feel almost relieved. It is reassuring to know that I’m not the only unhealthy looking face in this place packed with enthusiastic tourists. This realisation actually makes me smile. Mark looks at me but doesn’t understand, and perhaps even thinks that I’m smiling mockingly at him. But I don’t care.
“I came to pick you up,” he says, greeting us very formally.
“And we’re really grateful,” says Seung Hee immediately, trying to reassure him.
I snort at his polite tone. Yeah, right, eternally grateful.
The snort does not go unnoticed by Mark. He takes Seung Hee’s suitcase to help her but does not even offer to do the same with mine, which, for the record, is three times heavier than my colleague’s. Certain bad habits are really hard to break.
I stride past them assertively – only to stop a few metres ahead, undecided as to where I’m supposed to go. What kind of car will the lord of the manor have hired? I turn to see which direction they’re heading in but see only two dark eyes glaring threateningly at me, much too close for comfort.
“Did I telepathically send you the map of the place where I parked the car?” he asks sarcastically.
I don’t really know how to get myself out of this in a dignified manner.
“Errrm, no?” I admit softly.
But he has heard me.
“Just as I thought,” he mutters, and walks past me.
I can only follow them, silently dragging my suitcase. It seems that Mark has parked the car as far away as possible. I almost wonder if he did it on purpose…
When we get to the farthest corner of the parking lot, Mark opens the boot of the Hyundai he has rented and puts Seung Hee’s suitcase inside. Then he turns to see where I am. His satisfied smirk at my exhausted face is so obvious that I can hardly believe it: so he did do it on purpose! It was all calculated, all part of a plan!
This is worse than being teased by Edward Dalton when I was four, worse even than the chewing gum he stuck to my pigtails! I’m so furious I almost suspect that black smoke is coming out of my nostrils. Seung Hee has understood what’s going on and rushes to my rescue and between the pair of us we manage to catapult my suitcase into the boot. Mark observes the scene looking completely relaxed and without bothering to lift a finger to help us.
From the moment we cross the plaza in front of the hotel, war has been declared and neither of us can do anything to hide the fact: when we unfortunately get stuck in the revolving door, I almost manage to hit him with my suitcase. Mark jumps out of the way just in time, but seeing as I’ve reached the point of no return I give him a sharp kick in the shins to which he responds by trying to pull me over by yanking on my arm. Our performance does succeed in unjamming the revolving door, but has the unfortunate side effect of also sending the pair of us sprawling onto the floor of the hotel lobby. A shocked Japanese couple even decide to take a photo of us.
“Americans… they just have no shame,” I hear a little old lady complain in very basic English.
Americans? What Americans?
Seung Hee walks over to us quickly, and to judge by the expression on her face, she has every intention of acting as peacemaker, even if that means killing us both.
“Listen you two, I know you’re both my bosses and I know that you are older than me, and I also know that in all likelihood you are both certain that you know what you are doing, but let me tell you something: you are both wrong.”
Her voice is firm and even a little annoyed.
We stare at her, guiltily, and for a few seconds no one says anything.
“You two need to talk, because if you don’t, you’re both going to end up completely crazy,” she adds, giving us the final blow. “And I think it would be better if you decided to do it away from this hotel where the staff consider you both consummate professionals and have entrusted you to take care of its merger…”
Still sitting on the floor, I stare down at the ground, hoping to blend in with the dark marble. Mark looks equally distraught.
“My God, what got into me?” he whispers, more to himself than to us. He looks really, really contrite.
“If you want my opinion – which, I know, doesn’t count for anything – you are in love with each other. And you are two extremely destructive people in love,” Seung Hee continues. She certainly doesn’t hold back when the occasion demands strong words. “Don’t look at me with those soppy looks on your faces – it was about time someone told you the truth. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I sincerely hope that I’ll never have to see anything like it again.”
Her words makes me smile – actually, they make me laugh so much that all of a sudden I can’t stop myself and I am possessed by a hysterical giggle that doesn’t seem to want to stop. I mean, come on – the shyest, most retiring girl on the planet has just totally put me in my place. Some people turn their heads in my direction while other people look on in puzzlement as they observe the scene.
“Maddison, what do you say we go for a walk on the beach while Seung Hee checks us both in?” Mark proposes, getting up off the floor. The look in his eyes says “you just dare to refuse and wait and see what happens to you.”
“But my suitcase…” I stammer, suddenly feeling nervous at the prospect of being alone with him.
I don’t have time to finish the sentence before Mark interrupts me: “We’ll leave your suitcase here in the lobby and ask them to take it to your room. No one would dare steal it. I mean, no thief would be able to lift the damn thing off the ground…”
The smile I had on my face a minute before is beginning to crack. “If I must…” I reply with a sigh. I am so scared of the idea of talking to Mark on my own that I would almost like to run away. Too bad that he’s a much faster runner than me.
We go back through the revolving door, this time each of us in our own little space and we walk in silence towards the beach. Jeju is a volcanic island, unique in its kind: it is full of natural wonders like caves, waterfalls and strange rock formations – so full that it has actually been nominated a protected site by Unesco. And in fact, the scenery is beautiful. Before us stretches a long sandy beach that here in Jeju they describe as being ‘black’ because it is volcanic, but it looks more like a rather pale grey to me.
Mark approaches the water and without wasting any time takes off his shoes and socks and rolls his trousers up to his knees, then he steps into the sea, letting the wet sand cover his feet. This unusual scene reminds me that he is the man blessed with probably the most beautiful feet in the world – and to think that he doesn’t even go for pedicures.
I am so fascinated by the movement of the sand along with the waves that I don’t even realize that Mark has turned towards me and is watching me. When I look up our eyes meet.
“Is it time for the final confrontation?” I ask him, sensing deep unease in his expression.
He approaches me, a very intense expression on his face.
“I would prefer not to quarrel, if possible.”
“It didn’t seem like that a moment ago…” I remind him.
“I’m an idiot, what can I say?” he admits in a resigned manner, and I stare at him in amazement. He beat me to it, just as I was about to take a deep breath in order to tell him that I was an idiot too, if not something actually worse.
“Listen, there are a few things I would like to tell you.”
“I’m listening,” I breathe.
“It’s really hard…” he says, a look of vague embarrassment on his face.
I give him a smile of encouragement.
“Ok, I’ll get straight to the point. Or at least I’ll try to,” he jokes nervously.
“Mark, for crying out loud, get on with it…”
“You’re right, you’re right!” he exclaims decisively.
“What?”
Am I supposed to understand what the hell he’s going on about?
“Seung Hee is right – I think I’m in love with you,” he admits solemnly. But the way he says it is more appropriate for a funeral than a romantic declaration of love. And then, as I watch him, I sense the reason for his mood.
“Ah, I see – it’s something that you’re not happy about.”
“Not particularly, no,” he admits, looking more and more uncomfortable.
“And may I know the reason why?” I ask carefully.
He sighs, annoyed at having to explain his point of view.
“You must admit that when they fall in love, most people usually hope that the other person feels the same way about them…”
“Well, not always. I mean, look at the poets for example… I guess they wouldn’t have had any inspiration if the people they were in love with had loved them back.”
Mark looks at me in a puzzled way. I guess he’s more and more convinced of my total insanity.
“Do I look like a poet?” he mutters, with an irritable frown. When he does that, he is absolutely adorable.
“No, I really can’t see you writing poetry, now that you come to mention it,” I say with a chuckle.
From my smile he realizes that I’m making fun of him and he relaxes.
“But anyway, carry on – you were saying…”
Mark sits down on the beach next to me. “Yes, I was saying that the situation is… it’s hard for me. And I’m sorry, I’ve behaved absolutely unforgivably, and at the end of the day it isn’t your fault,” he concludes with a sigh.
“What isn’t my fault?”
As much as I try, I can’t understand what on earth he’s trying to say to me. I’m struggling to follow him.
“That you don’t love me.”
He says this as if it were a fact – an irrefutable truth that has been scientifically proven.
“Says who?” I ask, trying to hold back the excitement that his words arouse in me. But Mark isn’t listening: he has lowered his head like an ostrich and has stopped looking at me.
I place my hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and the contact, however slight, creates an immediate warmth that envelopes me instantly.
God, I love this man.
He looks up at me, scrutinizing me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, because it is written in those exotic eyes of his, so full of expression, that he doesn’t even have to repeat it. I know that he loves me and that he’s suffering because of it.
He moves my hand away from his arm as if it had burnt him and tries to rise, but I pull him back down firmly. I move up towards his face and kiss him. Before closing my eyes I just have time to see the look of surprise on his face, as he struggles to give in and surrender to that unexpected kiss. This man is able to make my head spin with just a simple, innocent kiss.
A few moments later we’re both lying on the sand: Mark holds me tightly to him as if he wants to stop me from running away while I try to drink in his wonderful fragrance.
“What does that mean?” Mark asks as we pull apart to catch our breath. “Was that a goodbye kiss?”
I laugh, I can’t help myself. “Yeah, right… in England everyone kisses each other like that at the airport, didn’t you notice when you were there?” I tease him.
“No, I was too absorbed in watching you to notice anything else.”
I give him a friendly punch. “Shut up, that’s not true!”
“It is!” he insists. “But I was very good at hiding it from you.”
“Ah…”
Suddenly there is an awkward silence between us. I try to distract myself by examining the lines on his face.
“You were saying that the kiss is…” he says, trying to get me to talk.
“No, I’m sorry. You’ve just made the most bloody awful declaration of love in the history of declarations of love, so you’re not getting anything out of me until you’ve managed to improve on it – at least a little bit.”
Finally, I’ve managed to make him laugh properly. That beautiful face relaxes… too bad that it doesn’t happen more often.
After becoming serious again he raises himself up on one elbow to get a better look at me.
“Ok, then – I’ll try again. ‘Dear Ms Johnson, I am officially and totally in love with you.’ Is that better?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.
I pretend to think about it for a while. “A bit…” I grant him.
His free hand is caressing my cheek. “Well, now I would like to hear your side of the story,” he says. He seems impatient.
“Well, they say that a gesture is worth a thousand words…”
“Oh that’s bullshit – I want it all, words and gestures. But for now I would like the words… and then immediately after the gestures,” he exclaims.
I breathe in the fresh sea air before whispering what he eagerly wants to hear.
“Saranghae.”
My voice is little more than a whisper, the excitement making my vocal cords quiver.
“You know a word in Korean?” Mark is surprised, unable to hide the joy in his face.
“And what a word…”
“Yeah, what a word,” he agrees.
And with that, it would seem, we decide to move on from the words and get on with the gestures.
Ah yes – sometimes words are not really necessary at all.