Sahim and I walk the streets of Ulsan, which are already busy at the early hours of this Tuesday morning. He holds my hand as we walk just so that we don’t separate from each other; I’m glad that the streets are busy for that exact reason.
We finally approach this little foreign spot; it’s one of the only places on this particular street that the sign outside is not in Korean. It made me smile, Sahim did his research last night. We walked in and a waitress greets us and seats us at a table near a window. The view is of a garden from the flower shop next to us.
“How’d you sleep last night?” Sahim said as he unfolds a napkin and places it on his lap.
“Pretty good,” I answered. “The jet lag has finally surpassed.” Sahim nods his head, agreeing with my statement. I looked around as I spoke. “Looks like someone did their research ahead of time,” I teased and smiled.
“I did,” Sahim smiled as he admitted. “An expert in traveling told me it was necessary to do some research before going to a place you are not familiar with.”
“They sound like a keeper,” I said, looking at Sahim.
“They are,” Sahim stated. I looked down at the menu because I can feel my face get hot and it was way too early to be feeling the way I was feeling. The waitress comes back with a notepad, ready to take our order. It’s been awhile since I actually had real breakfast; having a real breakfast doesn’t exist in New York. You grab a coffee and a donut and get straight to work. I ordered a western omelet and a hot coffee; Sahim got a bagel with cream cheese and a hot chocolate. Once the waitress walked away, Sahim and I looked at each other.
“How was the after-rehearsal tech meeting?” I asked. “Sonia must’ve been real nice to you guys.”
“This stays between us, but Sonia needs to get a hobby once this production is over,” Sahim said. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What do you think Sonia does when she’s not directing the production?” I curiously asked.
“She probably would enjoy working as a manager just so she can continue to yell at people,” Sahim joked around. I laughed; he’s definitely not wrong about our director. “But other than that, it was alright. Just some final revisions need to be made before the opening on Friday. How was the rest of your night after rehearsal?”
“It was,” I began to say and exhaled loudly. “Good.”
“That didn’t sound convincing,” Sahim noted.
“I’m a dancer, not an actress,” I said as I leaned back on my chair. The waitress comes with the drinks as we thank her. Sahim resumes looking at me to continue our conversation.
“Wanna talk about it?” Sahim offered.
“I wouldn’t want to put a damper on the day this early in the morning,” I joked around. I was hoping Sahim’s expression would soften up, but it didn’t.
“What happened last night?” Sahim asked. I sighed. I realize that if I really wanted to get to know Sahim better, it was about time I told him things that I haven’t told him yet. It was always hard for me to open up about things that I’m not always proud of; it allows people to make judgments and ask tons of questions that I don’t want to answer. It was easier being in New York having this conversation across a table in the cafe with my daughter in a baby stroller. Being across the world; not so much. I looked at Sahim before I began to speak.
“So,” I said as I sighed. “I typically have a video call with my family in New York every week.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Sahim asked. “Unless you got some bad news from your folks back home.”
“No, no,” I said. “Not with my parents.” I looked back up at Sahim, nervous to finally say something that he never knew about me before. “With my daughter.” I could see Sahim’s eye widen for a split second before he gained his composure.
“Oh, your daughter,” Sahim repeated back as if he was trying to comprehend the information without flipping out. “How old is your daughter?” I stared at Sahim before answering.
“She’s 4,” I answered. “She started school back in September. Her class is going on a field trip today; ice skating,” I smiled as I spoke about Willow. Every time I stopped, I looked at Sahim to see if any reaction would show in his face. For once, he doesn’t look as transparent as he typically does with his feelings. He smiled when I smiled.
“What’s her name?” Sahim asked.
“Willow,” I answered. “Like the tree.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Sahim complimented. Sahim shifted in his seat before he continued to speak. “Are you and, uhm…”
“No, he’s married,” I said. “Of course, after we stopped being a couple.”
“Oh, okay,” Sahim says as he nodded his head. The food now comes, which I’m thankful for since he probably won’t be asking anymore questions as he eats. Of course, I was wrong.
“So is her father watching her while you’re away?” Sahim casually asked, looking more comfortable than he did before. He started to eat his food.
“She lives with her dad,” I admitted. Sahim looked back up, now looking uncomfortable once more. iThis is what I get for being honest with my life.
“Oh,” Sahim simply said. He continued to eat his food, in which I watched him do. I was getting defensive again.
“It’s not like I’m shitty mom,” I spat out, trying to save face. “I had her when I was still a lawyer and I was too young to–“
“Grace,” Sahim said to cut my thought off. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I apologize for putting you in a position where you felt the need to explain.”
“If I don’t explain myself, then people automatically think I’m a shit mother,” I explained. “This isn’t the first time I sat across a stranger who made the same exact expression that you have on your face explaining my situation with my daughter.” I wanted to just walk out of this place and go hide in my hotel room before rehearsal later tonight. Why would I think that Sahim would understand such a weird and unconventional thing like this? No one is capable of understanding this without their judgement.
“The way that you live your life is nobody else’s business,” Sahim responded. “If it works for you, then that’s all that matters. The fact that you even make an effort to keep in touch with your family while you’re away says something different about you.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “It says “who is capable of leaving their child behind for a year for a job’?”
“Someone that doesn’t love their child enough to remember that they are also a parent,” Sahim answered. “From what you told me, you have these calls with your daughter every week. A kid can tell when their parent doesn’t really want to be around them; they don’t share anything about their lives, they stay quiet around them, and they simply feel better when that estranged parent finally leaves for the day.” Sahim sighed before he continued. “My father was a shitty father. He would only visit for Christmas, and then he would leave for another year until it was Christmas again.” I looked at Sahim, listening to him open up about something he probably wasn’t planning on opening up about for the sake of making me feel better about Willow. His story made me feel like someone can understand even the slightest bit of my own upbringings.
“My mother left me for her job,” I admitted. “For this production, as a matter of fact. The production was going to be in India. It was either me and my dad or her dance career. She chose her career. I didn’t see or hear from her until I was 17 years old, when I came to New York for a couple of months that my dad was working a case for.” Sahim didn’t say anything after that. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. I made it this far into the story, might as well just confess some more.
“Her dad told me that he signed her up for dance classes,” I started to explain. “I fear I’m continuing this generational curse where work means more than love and family. Like, why would she want to be like her mom that visits her through a screen once a week?”
“Because she probably doesn’t have this judgement on you,” Sahim answered. “Maybe she sees what you do and admires that her mom is a dancer. Is she tuning into the livestrea of the opening show?” I nodded yes.
“That’s all she talks about,” I said, smiling. “She’s so excited to watch.” I can feel tears forming in my eyes and I don’t catch the first couple of drops in time with a napkin. I quickly wiped my face with the napkin, trying to control the tears. “I’m sorry.”
“No need,” Sahim reassured. “Thank you for trusting me with your story, and thank you for listening to mine.” I looked at Sahim as he handed his napkin from his lap. I take it, smiling in return.
“I know this is not what you expected to get after kissing you in the nightclub the other night,” I joked, cleaning the wet tears off of my face. Sahim laughed and shook his head.
“No, but I think I like this better,” Sahim responded. We continued to eat our breakfast in silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. In a way, it was a mutual silence, one that symbolized us enjoying each other’s presence in this moment.
Letters From Liz. 