Twelve Months of Kristal: 50 Loving States Maine

“You have a cousin who works here?” I ask, crooking my head.

She throws me a wry look. “I have a cousin at just about every hotel in this city. A lot of us elves end up in the guest service industry after we’re done at the workshop.”

“Is that what you plan to do after our time is done? Get a job at a hotel?”

A shadow falls over her face. “No, originally, I was planning to stay with Jae-Hyun and work downstairs in his comic book shop. At least for whatever time he has left. He’s not just my drawing mentor. You see, he’s like a father to me…”

Despite her claim of him being like a father to her, something dark and green twists my stomach at the sound of that man’s name. “Is that why you want me to meet with him? Because you consider him a father of sorts?”

Her face softens. “No, I want you to meet with him because you two share a connection. One so profound, his face is showing up on my Soon-To-Be Departed pad. Speaking of which…” She goes over to the backpack, still sitting next to the chair where she left it, and pulls out her drawing pad.

Ripping two pieces of paper from the top, she says. “You can throw these away if you want. But until you two connect, the gift’s going to keep on urging me to draw his portrait for you, once a day.”

She hands me the torn out pieces of paper.

Each sketch is different. One is of the man smiling, and the other is of him peering out over a pair of reading glasses. But now, instead of a date, question marks occupy each drawing’s top left corner.

I’m deeply aware that I do not know this Jae-Hyun person. Yet Kristal’s agreement to my terms completely depends on her belief that I do. Plane or no plane, neither of us would be here right now if not for this mysterious link she thinks Jae-Hyun and I have.

“I’m not sure what ‘feed your head’ means,” Kristal suddenly says into my awkward silence. “I think it’s about drugs. You know…60’s rock.”

She turns back to the table. “Anyway, Kristiano brought me a few things for breakfast, too. Wanna eat? We could, like, mix and match all the dishes. I’ve never eaten a Japanese breakfast before.”

Speaking of drugs….

I look up from the portrait. No, I do not want to eat. At least not breakfast.

However… “Our plane leaves in an hour. I should shower.” It feels like I’m reminding myself of my responsibilities just as much as her. “You will have to eat alone. Please avail yourself of whatever you want from my breakfast. I am not hungry.”

Disappointment shadows her face, but I resist the urge to give in to her offer. Eating together feels too intimate. Like that laughing dinner we shared at Sukiyabashi Daniel—the one I ended up replaying for months on end.

I cannot afford to indulge her, I decide as I turn to head for my shower. Or myself.

16

Embryonic Journey

I’m still resisting the urge to indulge myself a few hours later. We’re most of the way through the flight, and I’ve yet to make any progress on the market research report I was in the middle of vetting yesterday when Kristal showed up at my door.

I blame People magazine.

Kristal forgot her usual shyness and jumped into my arms when she found the stack of magazines waiting for her on the plane. Every issue of People from this year, including next week’s end-of-year issue—which hadn’t officially hit newsstands yet, made neatly available for her.

One hug. It was only one hug. And I’m a grown man, known throughout Asia as a playboy. But that one hug was enough to resurrect the erection I thought I had taken care of in the shower.

Now, I can barely concentrate for the sight of her, curled up in the seat across from me, flipping through her magazines. A gift that I already suspect makes her happier than the drawers of lingerie and full wardrobe I plan to present her with when this short side trip is done.

I refocus my eyes on my laptop screen, determined to finish my work before we land in an hour. I was supposed to have turned around this report two days ago before I made the spontaneous decision to hop on a plane to San Francisco. But halfway through a follow-up request for more research, my gaze floats right back up to the woman sitting across from me.

I could move. I should move.

Suddenly Kristal rises from her seat before I can make my body comply.

I watch her pass by Declan as she makes her way back to the washroom at the back of the plane. Perfect time to move to another seat, I think.

But then, instead of doing that, I follow her.