If I Had Your Face(6)

I don’t know at what age men become assholes—boyhood, teenage years? When they start earning some real money? It depends on their fathers, and their fathers’ fathers, probably. Their grandfathers are usually the biggest assholes of all, if mine are any indication. Men these days are actually much better than previous generations—the ones who used to bring mistresses into the house and make their wives feed and care for their bastard children. I’ve just heard too many stories in my own family tree to have had any illusions to begin with, even before I started working in a room salon. If they don’t die early, stranding you with kids and colossal childcare expenses, they fuck you over in other ways that are entirely boring.

The only gentlemen I ever see are in those dramas on TV. Those men are kind. They protect you and cry and stand up to their families for you, although I wouldn’t want them to give up a family fortune of course. A poor man cannot help me when he cannot help himself. I know, because I was in love with a poor man once. He could not pay to spend time with me and I could not afford to spend time with him.

“You fight more than any couple I know,” said the girl. “At this point, you need to break it off or propose.” She was looking me up and down as she spoke.

Bitch, I thought, resisting the urge to tug at the hem of my dress.

“I know,” Bruce said, reaching for the bottle. I let him pour himself another shot without offering to pour it for him. If Madam had seen me, she would have said something. “It’s what every fight is really about these days. I’m not ready, I’m only thirty-three. None of our friends are married. Even the girls. Although what they’re going to do is beyond me.” He frowned. “Except you, Ji, of course,” he added hastily. “You obviously have nothing to worry about.”

The girl made a face. “I’m so sick of my family setting me up on these blind dates, trying to get me married. What century do they think this is?”

His expression turned solemn as he weighed her problem. I rolled my eyes but fortunately no one saw me.

“My grandmother has already picked a date for my wedding,” she continued. “Next September fifth or something. They just need a groom. She says she needs a lot of time to figure out which hotel I’m getting married in because she doesn’t want to offend the owners of whatever hotel she doesn’t choose.”

I took out my compact and went back to retouching my face. How funny, the wild variety of shit some people are worrying about in life. In the past, I would have been fidgeting, ashamed and uncomfortable, while she stared at me. Now, I just wanted to slap her face. And Bruce’s too, for good measure, for calling her here.

“Anyways, I think it’s a good sign that you are actually this affected by Miae and that you’re cut up about her,” she said. Then she began talking rapidly in English, using wide hand gestures. It’s a thing English speakers do, I’ve noticed. Their hands flail wildly and their heads move a lot when they talk. They look ridiculous.

“Bruce, what the hell?” The other men had all turned their heads sharply when they heard her speaking English. It was when they realized a girl from the outside world was among them.

“What the fuck?” said the plump, sweaty guy who’d been sitting on the other side of me. Earlier, I’d heard him bragging to Sejeong, the girl he’d picked, that he was a “top company lawyer.” Sejeong hadn’t been able to stop laughing at him and he’d blushed like a teenager.

His rotund face was now hostile as he looked from Bruce to the girl and back to Bruce.

“Guys, this is my friend Jihee, you met her before at Miae’s birthday party, remember?” Bruce beamed, slurring his words. They all stared back at him. She probably knew a good third of their sisters and wives and co-workers. Probably their parents too.

The girl retreated further into her seat, looking as innocent as she could. She didn’t want to leave, it was clear.

There was a silence, one that none of us girls cared to tide over. It was bad of Bruce to break the unspoken rule, but the guys couldn’t stay angry at him. For one thing, he was too drunk to care, and more important, he was paying for the whole night, as he always did. The bill was probably equivalent to half of their monthly paychecks. So the men turned back to their girls, though they were much more restrained now.

If it had been like most other nights, I would have gotten up and left for another room, as I tend to have regulars asking for me at the same time and I rotate room to room. But Bruce is an exception and it was a slow Tuesday. Besides, I was hungry and no one had touched the plates of anju. Although it was against the salon’s policy and I’d never done it before, I took a slice of dragon fruit and started eating. The flesh was silky but almost tasteless.

“So how did this fight actually start?” the girl asked.

“Miae wanted to have dinner tonight with her brother’s new girlfriend,” said Bruce. “I’ve been working so hard for this IPO I’ve been sleeping on my desk every night, and there’s no way I’m going to sit down with some country girl her idiot brother is dating at his no-name university. I don’t give a shit.”

He nursed his whiskey and brooded. He ignored me completely, as if he hadn’t fucked me over a chair two nights ago.

“She takes that kind of thing as you not caring about her family, you know. You should be careful.”