Come and Go
Lee Harlem Robinson
Copyright 2012 by Lee Harlem Robinson
Smashwords Edition
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Contents
Saturday, 1 October 2011
The deepest end of Hollywood Road at six o’clock on a Saturday night is my favourite spot in Hong Kong. The light falls softly on the hot streets, traffic slows down, but cabs are always easy to find. The day is about to die and the night holds infinite promise. Anything can still happen, hope is still intact. As usual, I’m meeting Oliver, Ryan and Toby for dinner, followed by drinks and then—depending on the boys’ mood—a visit to Propaganda if they want to dance, or finishing the night with fancy cocktails at one of the back alley private bars. I don’t hail a cab immediately because once I’m on the road, the night begins and there’s no looking back. I stand at the corner of Hollywood and Queen’s Road West a couple of minutes longer and let the Hong Kong dust settle on my skin. It may as well be part of me now. I’ve been here long enough.
When I arrive at the IFC roof-top for pre-dinner drinks, Oliver and Ryan are already sipping beers. They hug me like I haven’t seen them in weeks.
“What a pretty necklace,” Ryan says.
“Add a little bling to the lesbian and she’s instantly transformed. It’s one of the endless perks of being this way inclined. Asahis all around, boys?”
They nod and I head to the bar. Night falls around us and a breeze cools off the terrace. The dark glass-top tables reflect the surrounding skyscrapers. As I wait in line to order, a drunken Australian guy harasses the bar staff and complains that there’s no table service. Drunken expats always rub me up the wrong way, probably because I see myself in them.
“Lee, is that you?”
Before I have a chance to turn around I feel a hand on my right shoulder. My heart thunders in my chest. Finally. “Yes, Stella, obviously. Otherwise this situation would be pretty awkward for you.”
Stella releases her hand and I face her. “It’s been so long. How have you been?”
It has been exactly twenty-nine days. “I’m fine, Stella.” This is the standard answer—I can hardly tell her I still dream of her glossy lips every night. And surely I can’t tell her I’ve been coming to this bar every Saturday for the last month hoping to run into her. This is the place where we met.
“You look good, Lee. You really do. Are you here with your ‘lesbros’?” She bends her fingers into live quotation marks as she says the last word, as if I couldn’t be here with another woman. As if she knows.
“I am. Would you like to join us for a drink?”
“Oh no, I can’t. I’m with CJ. But thanks for asking.” She turns her face to a low table a couple of feet away. I don’t follow her gaze. CJ is the last person I want to see. “But why don’t you and your gang”—the way she says it makes me see the quotation marks again—“come over to Veto later? It’s Daniel’s birthday party. He must have invited you.”
“We have other plans tonight.”
“Fair enough. It was good to see you again.” Stella kisses me lightly on the cheek and walks away. Just like a month ago. It still hurts.
“Was that Stella?” Toby asks as he hugs me. I roll my eyes. Maybe we can crash Daniel’s party later. “Should I say hello?”
“No, ignore her presence. She’s with CJ.”
Toby squeezes my arm. He understands.
I drink my beer and glance over at Stella and CJ’s table. Did she mean it when she said I looked good?
“Hey Lee,” Ryan says. “Good news.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“There’s this new iPhone app and it’s basically Grindr but for muff munchers like you.”
“Interesting,” I say and pull my phone out of my pocket. “I think I’ll give that a go straight away.” I want to see if CJ’s on it. Stella’s not gadget-savvy enough, but CJ, who’s fifteen years her junior, must be.
“Before you start fiddling for lesbians, why don’t you call Charlie first? Ask him if he wants to join us.” Oliver gives me one of his hopeful puppy stares. He should brand this look—it breaks hearts. It will never break Charlie’s heart though. I take in Oliver’s strong, short frame and the way he holds his cigarette. He’s much too feminine for Charlie to ever look at him that way. And too Chinese.
“I’ll try but, as always, I can’t make any promises.” I dial Charlie’s number.
“Hello Charles, it’s me. I need you. Stella’s here.”
“Where are you?”
“At RED, with the guys.”
“Then go somewhere else.”
“We were all hoping you could join us for dinner.” I wink at Oliver. He still has the look.
“Call me after. I may go out with you later—if you don’t go to Propaganda.”
I hang up. “Sorry Ollie, he’s just the most homophobic homosexual I’ve ever met. It must be a Chinese thing.”
“But I’m Chinese.” The look has vanished.
“But not all Chinese are the same, right?”
“Thank God for that,” Ryan chimes in. “This Chinese boy I was with last Wednesday asked me if I wanted to take care of him. We spent one night together. I woke up in the morning and the first thing he asked me was ‘Will you please take care of me, daddy?’ And I’m not joking.”
“What did you say?” Toby asks.
“That it wasn’t going to work out.”
“Hey, at least he was straightforward about it,” I say. “That bitch Stella over there had been seeing that other bitch CJ for three weeks behind my back before she had the nerve to tell me.”
Ryan puts his arm around my shoulder. “Oh, I know, darling. That banker skank screwed you well and good. Now let’s get out of here.”
* * *
It’s almost midnight and I’m outside Veto with Charlie. We left the boys at a bar around the corner.
“Come on, Lee. You wanted to do this. Let’s go up.”
“Are you sure you want to see Daniel? After all that happened?”
Charlie looks handsome in his tight white jeans and light-blue boat shoes. His shirt fits snugly around his shoulders, and I envy the way his pitch-black hair frames his face.
“He knew Stella was cheating on you so he deceived us both. I had to break up with him. You’re my friend, Lee, you would have done the same for me.”
“If that’s what you want to believe, then please do.”
Charlie takes my hand and leads me inside the building. “Anyway, I hear he has moved on already.”
“Who told you that?”
“These days, the internet makes all of our sex lives an open book.”
“True, if you’re lucky enough to have one.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Charlie impatiently stabs the elevator button.
Veto, like most clubs in Hong Kong, boasts a pole in the middle of the dance floor around which inspired—or intoxicated—patrons can make obscene dance moves. We enter, and Stella is the first person I notice. She leans against the pole and strikes me as seriously hammered. I have no idea how she does it, maybe it’s the lipgloss and the way its sparkle attracts the eye, but she still looks stunning. I glance around the room. There’s no sign of CJ. Suddenly I’m glad I came. Daniel, the birthday boy, approaches us. He doesn’t seem at all fazed by Charlie’s presence. What is it with these people? Have they all lost their souls to Hong Kong? And is that what happens when you stick around here for too long?
“Lee! So good to see you, I wasn’t expecting you at all.”
“A lady can change her mind, right?”
“A lady can.” While he says this he shifts his gaze to Charlie, and I know I’m not going to hear the end of this any time soon.
“Well well well, if it isn’t Lee Harlem Robinson.” I recognise Stella’s slurred speech. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Hey Stella,” Charlie says. Instinctively he leans forward to kiss her. She doesn’t respond.
“She’s had a bit too much,” Daniel whispers. “Fight with CJ.”
My blood picks up speed in my veins. “Hello again,” I say. “It looks like the night hasn’t been particularly kind to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look a bit worse for wear. What happened?”
“I’m at a party having fun, that’s all.”
Daniel wraps one arm around each of us and says, “I’ll leave you ladies to talk. Come on, Charlie. Certain people here have missed you.” Smart move, Daniel. Charlie is big enough to take care of himself. These people were his friends once.
“Why don’t we sit down over there? You go on, I’ll get you some water.” I coax Stella in the direction of a plush red couch against the wall. From the bar I look at her. Twenty-nine days ago she broke my heart. I want to loathe her, but it’s impossible. All I want is to take her home and wake up next to her again. CJ made her move when Stella and I were still together. Why can’t I do the same? If anyone, I hate CJ. The prodigy intern who got transferred to Stella’s bank and started wooing her the second she laid eyes on her. I need to find out what happened to her tonight.
“CJ’s moving back to New York,” Stella blurts out the second I shove a large glass of ice water in her hand.
A dizzy spark takes root in my stomach. “What do you mean? She’s only just arrived.”
“I know. Good God, if I had known she wouldn’t be staying.”
“You wouldn’t have left me for her?”
“That’s not what I mean, Lee.”
“Just don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”
Stella gulps down the water, like she wants to undo all the drinking she did earlier. From years of experience I know it doesn’t work that way. She will suffer. She deserves it.
“Could you get me some more water, please?”
This time, when I get back from the bar, she’s crying. I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when she broke up with me—I was doing all the crying then.
“Come on, Stella. I’ll put you in a cab.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“I just want her to stay. If not for the job, then at least for me.” The sparkle in my stomach dies. “Why are you here, Lee?” She looks directly at me now. The tears have narrowed her eyes, but the brown still shines through. I want to kiss her. That’s why I’m here.
“Charlie wanted to see Daniel.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll get someone to take you home.”
I can’t sit next to Stella for one more minute. I don’t trust myself. I was about to put my hand on her leg. She has this sensitive spot right above her knee. We were together for four months—which counts for at least a year in Hong Kong’s condensed time vacuum—I know these kinds of things. I wonder if CJ knows them too. Either way, Hong Kong will be a better place once CJ Buxton leaves it.
* * *
I arrive home at three in the morning. Every time I open the door to my apartment, the first thing I notice is a bracelet Stella forgot the night she broke up with me. I know I should get rid of it, maybe even give it back, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s all I have left of her. I press a button on the stereo remote to play “Lover’s Spit” by Broken Social Scene on repeat, stroll to the kitchen to pour myself a large glass of water and slouch down with it in the sofa. I contemplated getting a new one after it had become the elementary prop for my break-up scene with Stella, but instead I just bought a new cover and some different cushions. If I had to change my furniture after every round of heartbreak, I would be financially destroyed by now—and I’m only thirty-two. The bracelet taunts me from its place on the coffee table, it’s too shiny, too show-offy, a bit like Stella really. I suspect that’s why I wanted to keep it in the first place.
I toy with my phone. I remember the lesbian Grindr app Ryan told me about. The number of members, although nothing like the abundance of the boys’ version, surprises me, and I’m baffled by how many of them appear to be less than a mile away. I know Sheung Wan is gay central, but I had no idea there were so many lesbians around. I figure it must be some mistake. Then again, I used to have excellent gaydar until I was surrounded by androgynous Asian girls. But I’m not interested in the locals. I want to find CJ. I already know all there is to know about her. I googled her obsessively and manipulated Daniel into spilling all he had on her. She may be brilliant and have ten-foot legs but how stupid is she to leave Stella behind? And how evil to take her away from me and then desert her? Stella’s tears tonight stung me more than anything. She cried for CJ while sitting next to me. I had reached a whole new level of insignificance.
I scroll down the members list but there is no sign of CJ. Obliviously I navigate to the most-dialled numbers on my phone. My finger hovers over Stella’s. She will be fast asleep by now, and what would I say anyway? I decide to send her a text message. It has been like this every night for the past twenty-nine days. Me, sitting in my dark apartment, debating whether to call Stella or not. I never did because I figured she would be with CJ, but it’s a pretty safe bet she’s sleeping alone tonight. My stomach clenches as I type. It was good seeing you tonight. I hope your hangover treats you with respect in the morning. I lean my head against the wall and wait for the signal to announce that the message has been sent. I want to cry but I don’t. The fierce part of me says I have spilt enough tears over Stella—I miss that part. What is it about her that made me fall so hard and deep so quickly, anyway? I was smitten after the first night. Her lips, I tell myself. Those sparkly pink chunks of flesh. My reverie is interrupted by a beep. My heart races now. It must be Stella. I didn’t expect this. I’m afraid to look at my phone, afraid to read something dismissive again. My eyes are drawn to the small screen. The white letters say, Brunch at two at Shelley’s Yard?
CHAPTER TWO
Sunday, 1 May 2011
I met Stella on the first of May at RED. Charlie wanted to introduce me to his new boyfriend, Daniel. When I arrived it was just the three of us, but in usual Hong Kong fashion, as the night progressed, we were joined by friends and friends of friends. Stella was Daniel’s colleague and she had just been on a gruesome date. I was more than pleasantly surprised when she referred to her date as “she.” She bought beers for everyone, including herself. It had been quite busy and we’d been standing all night. When I spotted a table freeing up, I immediately claimed it, and Stella sat down next to me, our fingers twirling sweating bottles around.
“I love this place,” she said. “It’s my favourite bar in Hong Kong.”
“Yeah. At least there’s a breeze here.”
Through a well-practised Q&A of the standard questions I discovered she was from Florida, worked at Goldman Sachs, lived on The Peak and had been in Hong Kong for four and a half years with no immediate plans of leaving.
“So what do you make of Charlie and Daniel?” I asked.
“Charlie’s very handsome and Daniel’s filthy rich. They should make a good pair.”
“Is that why your date was so awful? She wasn’t pretty or rich enough?”
“Neither actually.” Stella laughed. “Did I offend you just now?”
“I’ve been here long enough not to be so easily offended anymore. But, well, Charlie is my friend.”
“And Daniel is mine.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“Who?”
“Your date.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m just curious. Lesbians seem so hard to find in this city.”
“I met her on the internet.”
“Really?”
“Why so surprised?”
“You don’t really strike me as the type to look for love on a dating website.”
“As you just said, good women are hard to find in Hong Kong.” She looked me straight in the eyes. “Where do you get yours?”
“I don’t. That’s the problem.”
“Maybe tonight’s your lucky night.”
Stella seduced me in five minutes. I was defenceless against her cool charm, her Miami wit, her effortless elegance and the way her tan skin contrasted with the light beige blouse she wore. Later, we shared a cab to her apartment on The Peak. The ride uphill was silent. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. She stared out of the window as the cab flung itself up the steep streets. I felt slightly intimidated by this woman, this stranger I met mere hours ago. She had the waistline of a sixteen year old, but the small wrinkles creasing around her eyes when she smiled betrayed her real age. I wanted to spur our driver on to go faster, but he was already racing at an insane speed. At the same time, I wanted to stay in the car forever and live in perpetual anticipation.
“You were quiet in the cab. You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Stella asked in the elevator.
“What? Oh no. No no no,” I stammered.
Once inside, without asking, she poured us both a glass of scotch. I don’t drink scotch, but I didn’t say anything. I walked to the window to enjoy the amazing view she had over the city. Towers full of light spreading out below me, puncturing the sky. It was nothing compared to the inside of her apartment. The living room was the size of my entire flat, which, by Hong Kong standards, wasn’t even that small. The walls were filled with expensive-looking modern paintings, and every possible surface, from cabinets to floor corners, was covered with funky statues, oddly-shaped vases and peculiar shiny objects. This place was obviously meant for showing off, and, at least with me, it worked. I nearly had to sip from the scotch to hide my bewilderment.
I faced the window again and in the reflection I saw her approach. She had kicked off her heels upon entering, and I could barely hear her footsteps, even though I must have been in one of the most quiet spots in the city. She put her glass on the window sill in front of me and lay her hands on my shoulders, gently stroking them. Without shoes, she was maybe one inch taller than me, but it felt like at least ten. Her hands travelled from my shoulders to my neck, where she touched my naked skin for the first time. I still had my back to her when she unbuttoned my shirt, the window mirroring our movements. Her hands slowly escorted my shirt off my upper body. I tried to turn around, but she wouldn’t let me, not yet. Her red nails trailed over my skin, downward, where she unzipped my jeans. I felt her lips on my back while her right hand made its way into my pants. That was when I fell in love with Stella Morales, and she hadn’t even kissed me yet.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday, 2 October 2011
I walk into Shelley’s Yard at one thirty, stake a table at the large open window and order a white wine spritzer. I hardly slept after Stella’s message. I shouldn’t drink in this agitated, wrecked state but I need to feel the heat of the alcohol, even if it’s watered down, glow in my throat, my insides and my blood. All night I pictured Stella lying in her king-sized bed in her fancy apartment on The Peak, sleeping soundly above all the mortals—like she has no idea what she does to us, to me. I got up at ten, took a cab to Bowen Road and ran my heart out. October still has some hot and humid days; my t-shirt was completely drenched, the drying drops of sweat making me shiver in the cold conditioned taxi air on the way back. In the shower my legs shook, and I had to steady myself. In the harsh morning light I almost hated Stella. I could have stood her up, but I feared it wouldn’t even dent her soul.
I watch the people on the escalator as they glide by and are then spat out at the top. Soon one of these people will be Stella. This is why I arrived early. I want to see her slide by, on her way to meet me. I want her eyes to look for me when she enters the restaurant, recognise me, smile. She will kiss me on each cheek, but I will have anticipated the shudder it will send through my skin and my bones—I will have steeled myself. That’s what the spritzer is for. It’s almost two, and I order another.
A flash of white announces Stella’s arrival. She slowly breezes past, her bright top bringing out her mocha skin. She has dressed to impress—me at least. I feel it in my tummy now. I brace myself for the touch of her lips on my cheeks, first the left one and then the right one. This is my time to be brave.
“Hi Lee.” She doesn’t just peck me on the cheeks, she hugs me, a long soft embrace and, as she lets go, runs her fingers through my hair. If this is her plan of battle, she has already won. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting?” She nods at the two empty wine glasses. What is it with these waitresses anyway? I know it’s busy but don’t they pick up glasses anymore? “Another one?”
“Waiting for you is my favourite hobby, Stella. You know that.”
She smiles. She looks surprisingly good, not at all like the woman who stumbled out of Veto last night. I hope she and CJ haven’t made up. Surely they couldn’t have had time for that? “I was expecting sunglasses and shaky hands from you today.”
“I’m quite sturdy for my age.”
“I guess that’s what hanging with a young crowd does to people. You’re only as young as the people you feel, right? Which makes you—”
“Before you continue, I came here to apologise. I just want to make that clear.”
“Apologise for what exactly? I mean, if it’s for breaking my heart, you’re a little late.”
She looks directly at me, her eyes pleading, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know exactly what, or where to begin. “Can we start this conversation again, please?”
Maybe two spritzers on an empty stomach was a bit much, even for me. I look away. Suddenly all the people on the escalator seem to be happy couples, not a thing on their mind but to enjoy a glorious blue-skied Sunday together. You just wait, I think, till some bitch comes along and stabs you in the heart. I take a deep breath and try to remember the speech I came up with during my run earlier in the day. I draw a blank.
“If only it were that easy.” I wanted it to sound cynical, instead the words come out all mousy and hurt, like I’m about to cry. Am I? Oh no, this is not the plan. No more tears for Stella Morales. I swallow slowly. Where’s that wine? And where are my eggs benedict? “The service in this place—” I feel Stella’s hand on my arm. The words stop. A tear crashes down, leaving a stain on the napkin in my lap.
“Would you like to go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?”
What is wrong with me anyway? I never used to be like this. “God no, I’m fine, really.” Stella’s hand is burning the skin off my arm. I’m sure it will leave a five-fingered black mark once she removes it. I need for it to stay there a little while longer. The waitress brings my wine and Stella’s coffee. I tap the glass and say, “I should go a bit easier on those, right?”
Stella smiles, baring a thin sliver of perfectly white teeth. Her lips are brimming with lip gloss again. I wonder if it’s the raspberry one—the one she wore the day she broke up with me. I can still taste it sometimes, at night, when I lie in bed on my own, replaying the events. I wonder if she still loves me, or if she ever did.
Stella retracts her hand and sips from her coffee. Her eyes glare at me over the rim of the cup. The food arrives, and we eat in silence for a while. There is so much I want to say, but really, what’s the point? We’ll finish our meal, she’ll apologise for last night, maybe we’ll have one more drink and then she’ll be off again, out of my life, and it will hurt like hell to see her walk away—again.
“Do you want to go see a movie this afternoon?”
Is she talking to me? Is this a date now? “Oh Stella, I wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your Sunday just because I shed a little tear earlier.”
“You don’t have to act tough with me.”
“Of course I do. You hurt me the most.”
“I know and I’m sorry. Just give me a chance to make things right.”
“Why? So we can be friends now that your girlfriend is leaving you? It feels like shit, doesn’t it?”
“As a matter of fact, it does. Which makes me all the more sorry for what I did.”
“When is she leaving?”
“In a month.”
“What’s going to happen in that month?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you be together until she leaves or are you breaking up?”
“God, I have no idea. She only told me yesterday.”
“Aren’t you her boss? Why didn’t you know?”
“Because she applied for a job with another bank behind my back.”
“So if she wanted, she could stay in Hong Kong.”
“That’s correct.”
“But she doesn’t.”
“Nope. Serves me right, don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess so. Really, what else can I say?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that why you want to go to the movies this afternoon? To forget?”
“Yes.” She pinned her eyes on me, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. “And to spend some time with you.”
“I’m not going to the movies with you, Stella. I’m sorry.”
I wanted nothing more than to sit next to her in a dark theatre, feel her arm touch mine, close my eyes and smell her perfume, hear her breathe. We could go for a cocktail afterwards, maybe even dinner. I could have said I found that bracelet she lost, it was under the couch and my cleaning lady finally found it—I always suspected her of not cleaning under there. She would come home with me, kiss me with her raspberry lips and cheat on CJ, with me. I wanted it but I couldn’t do that to myself. I have some self-respect. Not a lot, but enough not to let Stella Morales ruin my life twice in one month.
CHAPTER FOUR
Friday, 2 September 2011
She told me on a Friday night. It had been drizzling all week, and Stella wanted to see a movie. Watching blockbusters was her hobby. She preferred her entertainment as brainless as possible. She claimed to use up all her focus at work—I’m sure that changed once CJ arrived. I had been waiting outside the movie theatre for half an hour when she finally showed up. I was annoyed, but by the time she kissed me I was so happy to see her, I camouflaged it behind a smile. I could tell she came straight from work because she wore her light grey pencil skirt, a navy blouse firmly tucked in. When she kissed me she tasted of raspberries and honey. She apologised profusely for the delay, and we both agreed it was too late for the movie. We hated it when people ventured into the theatre even five minutes after lights-out. I invited her for dinner at my place instead, which meant I called my favourite Thai restaurant before we got into a cab.
After dinner I was so turned on by the sight of her blouse clinging to her waist, not an inch of space between them, I wanted to rip it off her. Instead of slowing me down and making me wait for it, like she usually did, it was as if she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Her lips felt raw against mine, her touch brutal. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom. I straddled her as she lay on her back in my couch and stared down into her eyes.
“Was this brainless enough for you?”
She didn’t reply. She just blinked and swallowed hard. That’s when I realised something was wrong. Not before, when she was late and didn’t even text me. Not half an hour ago, when she nearly bit me instead of kissing me. Not two days earlier, when she called to say she had to work late and couldn’t make it to my place like we had agreed. Not a week before, when she cleverly disinvited me from a junk trip we were supposed to go on together, claiming I would only be bored.
We sat up in the couch, the only sound the hum of the AC. She turned her face away from me and looked out of the window even though it was dark and all she could see was her own reflection.
“I’ve met someone else, Lee. I’m so sorry.”
We were both still naked. She got up and started to get dressed, but I pulled her hands away from her clothes. Her panties fell on the rug. She still couldn’t face me.
“Who?”
“Someone at work, someone new.”
I fell back into the sofa and watched her get dressed. I couldn’t be bothered to put my clothes back on. If she was going to hurt me she might as well do it while I was at my weakest, naked, stripped bare.
“Are you breaking up with me?” I pulled my knees up to my chin. “If you are, please do me the courtesy of looking at me while you do.”
She sat down next to me. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to make the moment go away, rewind.
“I—”
“Have you been fucking her behind my back? Is that why you can’t look me in the eye?”
“I never meant for this—”
“I can’t believe this. How long?” I knew. Suddenly I was certain she had been double-crossing me.
“Not long. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”
“Harder for whom?”
Silence again.
“What’s her name?”
“CJ. She’s an intern in my division. She started working for me two months ago.”
“And you’re leaving me for her?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just say it. Say that you’re breaking up with me for a girl named CJ. How old is she anyway, if she’s only an intern?”
“I know this hurts. I wish I didn’t have to put you through this. I really do.” She fiddled with her fingers. Why should it be easy for her?
“Then don’t. Forget about CJ.” She started to say something, then thought better of it. Then it hit me.
“Are you in love with her?”
Slowly, she moved her head up and down.
“You should go.”
“I’ll go but I want you to know that—”
“That what, Stella? That it’s not my fault you fell for someone else? That I shouldn’t blame myself? Just leave.”
She grabbed her stuff. She left her bracelet on the table, but I didn’t tell her. Before she shut the door she turned around one more time. “It’s my fault, Lee. I know that. I’m so very sorry.”
The door fell in the lock with a bang, the signal for the tears to start streaming. Still naked, I picked up Stella’s bracelet and put it on, twirled it around my wrist a couple of times. Then I ripped it off and threw it on the floor. I had been in Hong Kong for more than a year, and love had not been an easy find—Stella had been my first here. And now she was gone.
* * *
Unable to face a sleepless night at home with only re-runs of Law & Order SVU on TV to console me, I had joined the boys on their habitual inebriated Friday night odyssey. I traipsed behind Toby, Ryan and Oliver, my brothers in arms and times of defeat, from Psychic Jack to T:me to Zoo, and my lesbian gaydar remained alarmingly silent. I had tried calling Charlie, but it had gone straight to voice-mail every time—he was probably off on a hot date with Daniel.
“Where are the bloody lesbians in this town?” I said for the twelfth time, my words beginning to slur. “Boys, come on, find me one. Fetch your queen a lesbian.” We were at Zoo, a loud crowded mini-club where no one danced and I had no idea what I was doing there. The boys feasted their eyes on tank-topped locals, their mouths watering at the prospect of all that tasty meat that could be theirs with only a simple exchange of glances and a few well-aimed words—top or bottom?
“Don’t worry, darling,” Ryan said, “we’ll find you one before the night ends. I promise.”
“I’ll go home with you tonight, sweetie,” Ollie said. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Let’s go outside for a smoke.” Toby hooked his arm in mine. “It’s too busy in here.”
“Hey, is that Charlie?” Ollie almost shouted. His enthusiasm once again betraying his emotions. Charlie looked up from across the road, his crazy friend Robin in tow.
We waved them over, and I thought, the day Charlie has a drink at Zoo will be the day I forget all about Stella Morales.
“We were just on our way to this new club down the road,” Charlie said.
“Have a drink with us?” Ollie pleaded, ignoring the fact that Charlie and Daniel had been dating for five months.
“Where have you been, anyway?” I asked. “I’ve been trying to call you all night.”
“Why? Did you miss me that much?”
“Stella—” I tried to say the words, but they froze in my throat. I averted my gaze and forced the tears away.
“What happened?” Charlie put his arm around me, his eyes darting across my face in search of an explanation.
“She dumped me for her intern.”
“She what?”
I couldn’t stick around any longer. I freed myself from Charlie’s one-armed embrace and wriggled my way to the bathroom through throngs of boys who were mostly my height—I do a lot less looking up to people here. I spotted Robin at the bar, her hair frazzled and her eyes wild, gesticulating at the barman—as if she could still taste what he put in her cocktail. The queue to the ladies’ room was non-existent, one perk of being the only lesbian in the club.
I sank down on the loo, and my head started spinning. I got up and splashed some water in my face. The reflection I caught in the mirror could easily rival Robin’s look of drunken insanity. Watery red-rimmed eyes pushed back by black circles, gloom oozing from my pale skin, my nose still pinkish from my last stint at the beach with Stella. I felt the rage build inside me. I wanted to go out into the night, into every bar in Soho and find Stella. I wanted to go to her apartment and rip CJ off her. A loud bang on the door snapped me out of my state of self-pity.
“Lee, are you in there?” I recognised Robin’s voice, loud and brash, and very drunk. “Hurry up, I need to pee.”
I pulled the door ajar, slivers of pulsing lights and droning bass filtering through, but she forced it wide open and pushed herself past me in the tight space. She smelled like liquor and sweat. Without qualms she peeled her pants off and sat down on the toilet. “Do you want to go dancing?”
“No. I’m not in—”
“The boys told me you and Stella broke up. Are you all right?” Robin was never sensitive like that. Wherever some attention lay around she sucked it towards her and planted the spotlight firmly on herself. In all the times I’d seen her, always with Charlie, she’d never even asked me a direct question. She was always too busy being the life of the party—even if there wasn’t one going on.
“Do I look okay to you?” Despite the booze, which was supposed to help with my bravado, I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice.
She got up and, without washing her hands, took me in her arms. Tenderness and Robin had always been two opposite entities in my world, and her hug struck me right in the stomach, in that weak spot where it always starts hurting first. I let go of my restraint and cried on her shoulder, in the bathroom at Zoo.
“It’s all right. We’ll take care of you. We’ll get you through this.”
My brain was so muddled I mistook her kindness for something else. My body reacted instantly to the abundance of flesh and skin Robin piled on me. My lips were only an inch away from her neck and I moved my head forward a little bit until they touched her skin. It tasted salty and stale after a night of hard drinking. I trailed my mouth along her neck, up to her chin. Our eyes locked for a split second, and I thought I saw something akin to lust—I was too far gone to correct myself. I leaned in again and kissed her full on the lips. Soon we were lost in a moment of oblivious, intoxicated passion, and I felt the rhythm of my breath quicken. I reached for the button of her jeans, which was still open. I just craved a connection of flesh, I wanted to get lost in someone’s arms and forget—it didn’t matter who. The touch of my fingers on her belly startled her, and I felt her retreat as my hand pressed firmer against it. Then she pulled back completely.
“Hey, what the hell are we doing?” She quickly buttoned up her pants and pulled her fingers through her hair.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I fell back against the door and took in Robin’s swaying gestures as she dabbed smudged lipstick from her lips.
“Chin up, Lee. You’ll get over her.” She winked and kissed me on the cheek as if nothing had happened. I stepped away from the door and let her out.
“But what if I don’t?” I asked. “What if I don’t get over her?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Monday, 3 October 2011
Monday after work I meet the boys at Cicada. Toby’s already half way down a vodka tonic when I arrive. He looks as if he’s come straight from the dry-cleaner’s again, not a hair out of place, his shirt pristine, as if it’s immune to day-time wrinkling.
“You’re early,” I say and kiss him. “No gym tonight?”
“Oh my God, I can never go again.” He accompanies this statement with a deep sigh. “And you know what happens when I don’t work out.” He folds his face into a frown and points at his belly with two index fingers. “I’m too young for love handles.”
“Drink less of these, darling.” I take his vodka in my hand and sniff it, then sip from it. “You’re Asian. Your body’s not supposed to deal with this poison.”
“I prefer detoxing, darling, hence my addiction to spin class.”
“What dreadful event is preventing you from going?”
He bows his head and shakes it a bit. “You know Josh, the extremely well-toned instructor?”
“I’ve heard a million stories about him, but I’ve never had the actual pleasure of his company.”
“I slept with him.” Toby pulls his arms into his body and jerks his shoulders up, as if he wants to disappear.
“So?”
He looks at me as if I just poured the remainder of his drink over his perfectly sculpted hair. “You don’t sleep with the fitness instructor, Lee. The guys are going to kill me.”
“Don’t be daft, Toby.” He knows full well that Ryan and Ollie will call him a slag in public but will admire him privately. “What’s really going on here?”
He waves for a waitress and Sadie, the svelte short-haired owner of this establishment where we leave a couple of hundred brain cells behind on a weekly basis, saunters over. “Get this lady a Prosecco, please,” Toby says, “so she stops asking annoying questions.” Sadie shoots him a dazzling smile, then aims it at me. She nods her head once and walks away. “That shut you up.” Toby smiles smugly. I’ve been openly objectifying Sadie since long before Stella entered the scene. “She’s so gorgeous. Even I lust after her, in a strange platonic way.”
“No offence, darling, but you probably lust after this table with your appetite. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were dreaming of a threesome with these chairs right now.” I look over to the bar while Toby finishes the last of his drink. Sadie welcomes two new guests with her warm smile and I wonder why not every bar in this town has a Sadie—a whole lot less of them would crumble under the astronomical rent prices. Before Stella, I used to arrive at least half an hour before my rendez-vous time with the boys, just to enjoy my first drink while feasting my eyes on Sadie’s quiet, unobtrusive manners and effortless class. It seems so foolish now.
“Hey slut.” Ryan slaps Toby playfully on the back of his head. “What happened to you last night? You can’t just ignore me like that, unless you had a booty call.”
“What?” Toby asks, his mouth wide with shock. “Me? Never on a Sunday. I need my beauty sleep.”
“Yeah right.” I throw him a mocking glance and he sticks his tongue out in reply.
“Speaking of booty calls,” Ryan says, “you’re never going to believe this.” As soon as he sits down Sadie discreetly approaches our table. “My usual, darling, and another round of whatever these alcoholics are having.” My glass is still half full but I can’t say no to Sadie. I let my eyes linger on her for a split second too long. Ryan turns to me and says, “I have her number, you know. It’s obvious you need a shag, darling.”
“What is this, ladies? Pick on the lesbian day?”
“If it were, you’d be in trouble. I don’t think there are any others around,” Toby says.
“What about that vegan place a few doors down? There must be some ladies of your persuasion feasting on hummus and—”
“Please continue your no-doubt delightful story, Ryan. I’m sure it will be chock full of displays of basic human decency.”
“Oh right, so last Saturday after Volume, where that one was all over this cute Malaysian boy, for whom he deserted me well before my Saturday night bed-time,” he points his chin at Toby who lifts his palms upwards while trying to look innocent, “I was so hungry I stopped at McDonald’s on my way home.” A waitress brings over our drinks. Ryan takes a big gulp of his Bellini. “I was so tired I forgot that I’d given this boy on Grindr my address for when I got back. I mean, it was Saturday night, what’s a man in his prime like me to do, right?” Ryan’s voice reaches that staccato high pitch it always does when he’s about to get to the punchline of a story. “I woke up Sunday morning at six, in sitting position in my couch, with a half-chewed Big Mac in my hand and ten missed calls on my phone.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “What a bloody waste.”
“I hope you made up for it yesterday, darling,” I say, in between pulling some muscles from giggling violently.
“Imagine the calories you ingested with that Big Mac and the ones you could have worked off if you’d let the boy in.” Toby is in stitches too.
“I went to spin with Josh yesterday afternoon. He made me burn them all off, and then some. God, he’s so cute. I find it really helps when the instructor is to die for. I mean, those bike shorts hardly leave anything to the imagination.”
Toby’s cheeks flush slightly but not enough to give him away. He quickly changes the subject. “Where the hell is Ollie? He’s not one to be so late.”
I look outside the open window and see Ollie chatting to Sadie. I haven’t been to Cicada since Stella and I broke up—I’ve mainly been busy feeling sorry for myself. We came here on our first official date, a smouldering hot promise of a day back in May. Ollie and Sadie walk in together and she accompanies him to our table.
“Hurry up, Ollie. It’s one to eight,” I say. “Happy hour’s almost over.” I try a purposeless smile on Sadie. She repays me with a slow bat of her long thick eye-lashes.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “Next one’s on the house. Same again?” She curls her lips into a crooked smirk and I wish I could feel something, just the beginning of a flutter in my belly, maybe something slightly reminiscent of lust, but I feel nothing.
“You should make your move now, Lee. She’s giving you all the signs,” Ryan says.
“No, she’s not. She’s just being friendly. We do spend a considerable amount of our wages here. And she’s straight.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just can.”
“Don’t be so defeatist, darling. We’ve all done plenty of straight ones in our time.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
It’s Tuesday night and I meet Toby and Oliver in Lan Kwai Fong for Les Pêches, Hong Kong’s monthly lesbian party. We’re standing outside the high-rise in which the club is located, Ollie dragging at the last of his cigarette.
“If she says she’s going to cut off my penis again, I’ll leave, Lee, I swear,” Toby says.
“Can’t you take a joke, darling?”
“I don’t really get lesbian humour. It’s just not very funny.”
“Take it back or I’ll secretly stain your pants once we’re in there.”
“That’s what I mean. What’s with all the pent-up aggression? As if you’re all constantly PMS’ing.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you urgently needed some.”
“And then, just like that, you aim below the belt. I feel seriously assaulted now.”
“Come on, ladies,” Ollie says. “Let’s go up. June’s waiting.”
“Who’s June?” I ask, fearing a set-up I’m not ready for.
“She’s my colleague. I told you about her, sweetie. She’s on the rebound, just like you.”
In the elevator I feel the same old rush of nerves tearing through me. The truth is, I’ve never felt comfortable amongst large groups of lesbians—the real reason I always hang with the gays. I don’t befriend them, I only court them, date them and let them rip my heart to shreds. It’s ten o’clock and the club is half full. Ollie introduces me to June, who is tall and toned and fairly gorgeous. She has that disdainful glare that drives me crazy and she’s so tall she has to look down on the boys and me as if we’re small children. I feel something stir beneath my belly, something I deemed long-forgotten, something that died the day Stella left me.
“You like, darling?” Toby asks. “Oh my god, she’s so hot. See, I’m beginning to warm up to dykes already.”
I shoot him my most insignificant smile. I don’t want Toby as an audience when I deploy whatever’s left of my game.
“Let’s get some drinks,” I say.
Toby, who is usually always the first at the bar, sighs with exasperation when he sees the crowd of women bundled around it. “I can’t make my way through that throng of oestrogen, Lee. My bits may shrivel.”
“I’ll go,” a voice beams behind us. “Are you coming, Lee?”
I follow June to the bar and let her order, towering high above the smaller-framed locals, and me. When we return with the drinks, Toby and Ollie have gone.
“They probably went out for a smoke,” I say, while admiring June’s perfectly curly, long, dirty-blond hair. I take a couple of sips from my vodka cranberry and conclude she ticks about ninety-five percent of my boxes. Then I empty the rest of my glass and decide I need another. I’m slightly alarmed by the sight of the bottle of soda water in June’s hand. “Do you want something stronger than that?” I ask.
“No thanks. I don’t drink.”
“Is that even possible in a city like this?”
She glowers at me as if I just asked the most stupid question possible—I probably did. “It’s just a matter of personal choice and respect for yourself and your body.”
I wish Toby and Ollie were here to hear this. They would know what to say. I just stand there, tongue-tied and perplexed. I can’t remember if June has smiled at all since we met. I sense the irresistible pull of a challenge taking root. It starts at the back of my head, somewhere the conscious mind can’t fully reach, but steadily makes its way forward until a mixture of intoxication, foolishness and inevitability will make me react. It’s not so much a matter of desperately wanting to score—as the boys would put it—but more a chance to prove myself, a chance to win back some of the self-esteem Stella crushed. Ollie and Toby return and I hand them their watered-down drinks.
“Bottoms up, boys. I’m getting another.”
“But I’m a top,” Toby jokes. “Make mine a double.”
Three drinks later we move to the dance floor and I’m wondering again if there’s any other music left than bland Katy Perry tunes. I wait until the DJ mixes in the next song to find some kind of groove, but I haven’t danced in months and the drinks are not strong enough to make me surrender to the beat. Toby’s gyrating around June who sways with an uptight pucker of the lips not suitable for the dance floor. Her body tells a different, more elegant story and I, along with the rest of the women around me, can’t help but look on in admiration.
“How well do you know her?” I ask Ollie.
“She’s new to my team, so I’m not privy to all the dirty details yet. All I know is that she recently broke up with her long-term girlfriend.”
“How long-term?”
“Something around five years, I think.”
Five years make my four months with Stella pale to almost nothing. I understand the tension in her face now, the heartbreak hardened in the small wrinkles around her eyes.
“When did they split up?” I just need to make sure my mission is not too impossible—my heart is still pretty sore and my ego not ready for a new set of bruises.
“I don’t know, sweetie. But if you want to get in there, you’d better hurry because the vultures are starting to circle.”