I tap my fingers against my desk, telling myself that Soyou hates me and would not ask me for help if I was the only person standing between her and a speeding train. I last five minutes before scratching myself in the very same spot, hoping that my actions will prompt her to check herself, but she doesn’t look my way even once. I scuffle my feet against the floor and make loud throat-clearing noises. When she finally glares at me, I pat my collarbone. Her eyes flare in some kind of recognition. A slam of her desk drawer and a muttered curse later, she’s off to the bathroom. When she returns, her shirt is buttoned all the way up to her neck.
I pull out my phone and restart my Korean lesson. I’m conjugating verbs now. Every ten minutes or so, I check my inbox, but it remains stubbornly empty. I’m not even getting Korean spam. Saturated with grammar rules, my head starts to ache. When you’re not busy, time slows to a crawl. The minute hand never moves. Your eyelids get heavy even if you’ve had hours and hours of sleep. I press the tips of my fingers into my sockets and shout silently to wake up. I might be a drag on this team, but I can’t be caught sleeping, literally.
Salvation comes in the form of Yujun, who sends me a text around eleven.
YUJUN: Take a coffee break. I’m in the stairwell.
I smush my lips together to hide a smile and tuck my phone into my pocket.
“Keopi?” I ask and make a motion with my fingers of running an errand. For the first time today, people talk to me.
“I’ll have an iced Americano. Two packets of sugar,” one calls.
“I’ll have the same. No sugar,” says Yoo.
Chaeyoung looks up, but when she sees that Soyou is ignoring me, she puts her head down. No one else makes a request.
Yujun is leaning against the stair rail when I arrive. I almost launch myself into his arms, remembering at the last minute the security camera. I back away and jerk my head toward the flashing red light. Yujun curses under his breath. He shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I won’t be home until late tonight. My department wants to have a team dinner to celebrate my return. I offered the company credit card, but they insist that I come.”
“It’s not a problem,” I say with false brightness, as if my entire day isn’t ruined.
“Come here.” He reaches for me.
With a finger upward, I remind him of the security camera.
“I don’t care. Come here.”
I resist for a half second and then cave because it’s been a long morning and I need this. I press my cheek against his hard chest and listen to his heart for a beat of five and then ten. “I need to get coffee,” I mumble against his shirtfront.
“I need to go back to my desk.”
His cell phone rings. Neither of us moves. It rings again.
“I have to go.” He sounds reluctant.
“Me, too.” I take one deep breath and step back.
He clenches his jaw. I press my lips together tight.
His hands fist and then he bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his speed saying that if he doesn’t leave now, he’ll never go. When I can’t hear his footsteps anymore, I run the errand. Two Americanos, iced. Two sugar packets. I get back to the office and deliver the drinks.
“Where’s yours?” asks Chaeyoung.
“Drank it before I got here.”
“Hmmph.”
It’s the last thing anyone says to me all day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wansu and I share a completely silent dinner of braised chicken, buttered brussels sprouts, kimchi, and chicken broth dressed with fresh scallions. I’m sure it’s delicious, as all Mrs. Ji’s dishes are, but my appetite is nonexistent these days.
“Are you unwell?” Wansu asks.
I shake my head. “Not hungry. I had a big lunch,” I lie. I didn’t eat anything.
“Is there a particular dish you would like Mrs. Ji to make for you?”
I force a brussels sprout into my mouth. I manage to eat enough that Wansu doesn’t comment again. After dinner, she retires to watch melodramas with Choi Yusuk and I call Ellen from my bedroom.
“How are you!” She greets me with a smile and a wave. “I miss you!”
“You should come back.” I stare at her pretty face. Sometimes I think about my life pre-Seoul, when I knew only Ellen as my mother. Ignorance really was bliss.
“Oh no, honey, is it the language thing again? It will come to you.”
“No. I mean, yes, it’s that, but it’s everything. I keep thinking I made a mistake.”
She makes a clucking noise. “You can do it, honey. I believe in you.”
“Thanks.” I make a face to let her know I’m not really grateful for this encouragement.
Ellen laughs. “Is this about the blind date?”