She was finally here. Hong Kong. A place that wasn’t in her bucket list, but life had other plans and threw it her way. From her room on the twenty-fifth floor of East, one of the many chic hotels in Taikoo Shing, she had a stunning view of Kowloon Bay, its shores dotted with skyscrapers that stood like sentries watching over this place that was neither city nor independent country.
Faith took one last look at the full-length mirror to check that everything was in place. She had on an all-white outfit, a relaxed asymmetrical top with sleeves that ended just below her elbow, paired with cropped linen suit trousers. She decided to go with her trusty white leather Keds instead of the black strappy heels that she bought on a whim the day before her flight. For what seemed like the hundredth time, she reminded herself that she was not here to impress.
She took an elevator that went all the way to the thirty-second floor and quickly entered the rooftop bar before she could lose her nerve. Then she slowed down her steps as she went to the outdoor lounge, trying to calm down as she looked for the area with tables for two. Turning her head slightly to the right, Faith was stunned when she saw Matt smiling in her direction. She pretended to look behind her shoulders before looking at him again with her hand on her chest and eyebrows raised as if to say, “Me? Are you looking at me?”
He chuckled, shook his head and mouthed, “Crazy!” before saying, “Yes, you, ma’am, the one in all white, come over here.” Some of the other guests glanced at them, but she didn’t care. No one knew them here.
1
Faith took the last five steps to where Matt was and hugged him back in greeting. She was glad that they seemed to just pick up from where they left off. It was at the airport in Manila a little over a year ago. He also hugged her back then as he said, “Until we meet again.” She didn’t really give it much thought after that, but they continued to keep in touch.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said after they settled in their seats. Their bar stools were practically next to each other. At least we’re not facing each other, she thought. She still had some nervousness left like the jitters one feels during the first few minutes of being on stage before easing into whatever one was doing–giving a speech, singing, acting, playing an instrument. “How was the conference? How’s everything?” she asked, trying to get past the remaining tension in her chest.
“Which one do you want me to answer first?” he asked, grinning.
“You choose, but shouldn’t we order now? What would you recommend to a first timer, Mr. Connoisseur?” she teased. She was slowly relaxing as she grooved to the chilled jazz instrumental in the background, softly drumming her fingers on the table and subtly bobbing her head to the beat. The deepening colors of the sunset also eased the atmosphere, the chatter in the entire lounge area quieting down a notch as the sun finally dipped behind the hills and skyscrapers on the opposite side of the bay.
Faith rested her chin on her left hand and took in the sight beside her, Matt busy poring over the menu. He could have just recommended any cocktail that he knew, but she could tell that he was probably looking for something unique to Hong Kong. And something mild enough for her who only drinks on special occasions and had never been in a bar until now.
Ever the accommodating one, that’s how she knew him to be. Even that time when she served as his personal assistant for three weeks at the non-governmental organization where she worked. He seemed to
2
Always make things easier for her, not asking for anything that’s not readily available and not minding the changes made by Human Resources or partner organizations. As a senior consultant, revered in the non-government and non-profit circles, he could have made demands or refused to do anything that had not been agreed upon beforehand, but he didn’t. And this caught her attention, aside from the fact that he was good-looking.
Faith admired how well put he looked tonight. Blue sports jacket, white button down, and light gray pants. Her eyes rested on his five o’clock shadow for a while. It made her fingertips tingle, curious as she was how it would feel against her palm.
“Found it. How about Hong Kong Ice Tea? Something fresh and citrusy,” he said, looking up from the menu.
“You invited me to a bar to drink iced tea?” she laughed.
“Oh, this one’s the spiked version, don’t worry. It’s got tequila, blackcurrant, Lillet Blanc, and jasmine tea, which you like. ‘The fruity, crisp blend is reminiscent of the strong citrus profiles and bitter aftertaste of Hong Kong iced tea,’” he said, reading the description from the menu in a sing-songy way that made them both laugh. Utter silliness. Faith loved how she could let loose when she was with him, that is if she was just being in the moment and not thinking about being nervous. He was easygoing, and they could talk about anything and everything from politics to work, to music, to literature, to movies and TV series, to art, to history and culture, and to all the places they wanted to go to if they had all the money in the world.
Their drinks arrived. “Cheers!” they said, clinking their glasses together. They each took a sip and were silent for a bit as they drank in the glittering night view of Hong Kong. And then just like every time they chatted online or those times she drove with him around town during his time in the Philippines, shuttling him from one appointment to the next, to the mall, or to some tourist spots during the weekends, they talked about anything that came to mind and didn’t move on to another topic until they had talked themselves out of whatever they were discussing. Sometimes the conversation turned serious, most of the time light and hilarious, mainly because of his jokes about cultural faux pas and language mishaps. He traveled often because of work while she had a regular nine-to-five job.
“You know, there’s not much difference between us really. I always see the same sky and clouds from a plane, you always see the same trees and flowers outside your office window. You’re always yearning to be somewhere else, I’m always longing to be home,” Matt said, turning to her after brooding a bit at the condensation on the wall of his glass, his thumb slowly wiping away a falling bead of moisture.
“So, where is home?” she asked, also looking at him. “Well…airports sometimes feel like home. But don’t tell anyone that.” “Crazy,” she said, both of them laughing again. As the evening progressed, they chattered on and on like friends who haven’t seen each other in years. There’s just something about the way he talks to me, he pays attention, like he really sees me, she thought, taking a deep breath at the sudden rush of giddiness blooming inside her chest. Is this from the drink or what? she wondered. She tried to focus back on their conversation to distract herself from her thoughts.
“Well, there are just these authors whose voices and minds you already trust, right? Like you don’t need to read the synopsis for you to buy anything they’ve written. Lately, that’s Ann Patchett for me. You ab-so-lute-ly have to read State of Wonder and Bel Canto,” she gushed as her eyes widened.
4
“What about my challenge for you then, to read more Asian and local authors, remember?” he asked.
“Of course, just read Kiran Desai. I finished The Inheritance of Loss last week. And there’s this debut novel from a Filipino author. All My Lonely Islands. It’s so raw and full of tension. It’s art for sure, without the artifice I sometimes sense in other writers’ works. I want to write like that, I’ve told you before. But I’m not sure I made the right decision pursuing this writing thing, you know, to the point of applying for grad school. Sooner or later someone’s gonna find out I don’t really know what I’m doing. Sorry, I’m rambling,” Faith said, putting a hand on her cheek and chuckling at herself.
“Well, Miss, no one’s really sure about themselves anyway. Everybody’s on square one when facing the blank page. It’s just a matter of showing up again and again, as they say. And seeing more of the world,” he said.
“How do you know any of that’s true?” she challenged, leaning just a tiny bit closer to him.
Faith picked up the wooden spoon on her right and gently tapped the various ingredients of the stew. She wanted to check if they were soft enough to put the fire out but also with just enough firmness so as not to be soggy upon serving. “Good,” she said and turned off the stove.
Lately, she was always looking for some kind of middle ground to rest on, where things could remain steady. Just like earth’s distance from the sun, too close and the world will burn to ashes, too far and everything would be frozen. This kitchen, for instance, which she had grown accustomed to for a year now started to feel unfamiliar, like she was intruding in a stranger’s house. She noticed little things like this in random places and situations, and so she tried to keep other things constant, at least those which were in her control, like this dinner she was preparing.
She was standing in front of the fridge looking at a fake polaroid when Matt entered the kitchen. “Hey, Sugar,” he said upon reaching her side, putting a hand on her waist before she could open the fridge door and turning her to him as he kissed her.
“You’re just in time for dinner,” she said, caught off guard but managing to smile up at him.
While they were eating, Matt said that he was going to the United States the next day right after work. There would be a gathering of nonprofits for four days. His colleague, who was one of the speakers, had to pull out at the last minute due to a family emergency, so he was asked to cover for him. The other members of the think tank were so grateful he said yes, but he told them it was no big deal. He knew the training module by heart because he was part of the group that developed it.
“I just really have to take one for the team this time. Sorry, we have to postpone our trip,” he said, “So, how’s your day? Is the writing coming along fine?”
She winced. Sometimes she was grateful that there was someone who understood and genuinely cared about her writing. Sometimes she wished he would just feel things out first before asking her about it. Today was one of those days she didn’t want to talk about her writing. Faith wanted to tell him this, but she gave a nonchalant answer instead.
“It’s a bit slow going these days actually, so I’m reading more than writing. There’s this new poetry collection I just discovered was written by one of my favorites…” And so she regaled him with what she had been reading and doing around the house lately, including some of her recent discoveries in their neighborhood. There was a newly opened Vietnamese cafe just two blocks away. It was easier now for them to get ca phe sua da and banh mi and pho.
“I do love the dreamy effect you have on my busy days,” he said, “I wish I had more time to read and write.”
The first time he told her this was on one of their chats after his stint in Manila. Then, he was always calling her dreamer after that. “Hey, dreamer, what have you been up to lately?”
She couldn’t quite believe then that they were still keeping in touch. How could someone as important as him, someone adored even by the founders of the NGO where she used to work, pay attention to someone as insignificant as her, one of the many assistants in their organization who just happened to know a thing or two about Brits and so was chosen to cater to him?
True, they got along well workwise because of their shared passion in advocating for nonprofits, though in different capacities, him in research and policy-making to help governments work together with charities and nonprofits, she in helping their organization and others connect with investors and donors. True, they bonded as friends from the get-go because he insisted on informality—first-name basis, no sirs even in written correspondence as long as the bosses weren’t copied, and all that—and they had really so much in common that they both agreed they were actually of the same age despite him being ten years older than her. But why did he have to say things to her like, “I wish you lived nearer so I could have someone to share a glass of wine with?” All these confusing things were running in her mind, but when he said that, she was finally convinced to meet him in Hong Kong. She wanted to know if there was indeed something more than all their wistful talk.
Later that night, when Matt had fallen asleep, she slowly eased herself out of his arms. She took his dressing gown off the hook at the back of the door and went to the kitchen. Faith took the fake polaroid she was looking at earlier and made her way down to the basement office. It was time to work.
Her nights had become days and days had become nights since she came to the United Kingdom. It was as if they were still living apart and meeting online with a seven-hour difference, trying to catch the other’s free time. When Faith decided to become a freelancer so she could be with Matt, she thought they could finally be together in one place and spend a day not counting hours backward or forward. But it turned out that most of her clients were in East Asia. Her days started at six in the evening, preparing dinner. She and Matt would spend a few hours together, then she’d go to the basement office to work by ten or eleven o’clock. For four hours, she would continue writing her novel, or at least try to, and then she’d proceed with whatever writing projects she did for clients. By five in the morning, she would go to bed and after an hour or so, Matt would wake up and go on with his day.
Faith sank into the comfy rolling chair and looked at the picture in her hand. It was of them smiling cheekily at the phone holding up their empty glasses, her second and his third, with the dazzling night view of Hong Kong as their background. It was taken at that rooftop bar, Sugar, which he turned into her nickname the following day. They stayed for another round of drinks after that, and then they hit the streets going nowhere in particular until the luxurious surroundings turned into old facades, the old face of Hong Kong. Matt loved walking aimlessly at night in cities he traveled to. He said it was the best time and way to discover a new place.
And that’s what they did until they realized they hadn’t had dinner yet, so they searched for a noodle place in the night market they had come upon. “You haven’t answered me yet, sir,” she said after chewing a mouthful of noodles, “How do you know if any of that writing advice is true?”
8
“First of all, none of that sir stuff. I sound like an old fart,” he said, sighing dramatically.
“Well, now it’s a term of endearment,” she said in a mocking tone but with smiling eyes staring back at him.
“In that case, I’d allow it from time to time,” he said, smiling back, “That’s why we’re here, right? To see more of the world. And then we’ll see if anything comes of it.”
It was almost four in the morning when they had their fill, got up, and started walking again. After half an hour they found themselves at Lai Chi Kok park and wandered around in the Chinese garden and jogging trails. It wasn’t long before old men and women started doing their dawn tai chi routines. That was when they went back to the hotel, to his room, and made love as the sky lit up to a new day.
For six months after that initial rendezvous in Hong Kong, they met up three more times, in Bangkok, Saigon, and Singapore. It was always like that, unwinding in a posh rooftop bar on Friday night, doing all the touristy things the following day, and flying out by Saturday midnight or early Sunday morning. They’d be back to their routines by Monday, separated by seven hours and thousands of miles apart.
Finally, he convinced her to move in with him in London. She had always wanted to live in the UK ever since she was a teenager reading both the classics—Austen, Gaskell, Trollope, Dickens, the Bronte sisters—and pop lit—Doyle, Christie, Tolkien—watching all those British series and documentaries, especially the ones about the nobility, country houses, and Britain’s role in the two World Wars. Sometimes words like loo and lift just rolled off her tongue naturally while most of her friends’ daily talk included eonni and annyeong. But this wasn’t what she had in mind when she was younger. Faith thought then that she would live in London for studies or work, legally, not like this, an undocumented immigrant, a newly-turned digital nomad so that she could be with a man.
Faith gave up trying to add another page to her work in progress. It was almost five in the morning, anyway, but instead of going to bed, she went to the kitchen and started making breakfast. Pancakes topped with Greek yogurt and sprinklings of cinnamon-flavored granola, Matt’s favorite. Taking the hand-crank grinder from the overhead cabinet, she poured some of her favorite hazelnut flavored coffee beans into it and ground them. Then she let the coffee maker do the rest of the work. The unusual busy sounds in the kitchen woke up Matt.
“Morning, Sugar. Why are you still up?”
“Nothing, not sleepy yet. See? I made you breakfast,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes.
“I want to ask you to join me, but you look tired. Go to bed and off to dreamland with you.”
“I will, in an hour or so, I want to have breakfast with you first.”
That was their first morning together since her first couple of weeks in London. And in that moment, she felt like they were finally existing in the same space at the same time.
When Matt was about to leave for work, Faith walked with him to the front door. Before he could step out, she pulled him to her and gave him a lingering kiss.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Matt said, smiling like a schoolboy at her, “I’ll see you in four days.”
10
When he came home after his work trip, Faith was already on a flight bound for Manila, where she would be thousands of miles and several hours away from him. Her stuff was gone, and all he found was a note on her side of the bed.
You know this would have to end one day. Go back to your wife, your family. I love you. I’m sorry.
“You were my night. You taught me how to dream,” she whispered, staring from the airplane at the slowly lightening horizon, “but now I want to live in a new day.”
