Steam rises from the round grill sunken into the square matte black table between them. Rises the smell of cooking meat, the sharp sting of an onion unraveling into thin swirls. The pit surrounded by plates and saucers. Silver bowls of white rice. Various incarnations of kimchee. Stacks of lettuce.
“He’s wrong. It’s not prostitution. It’s a round trip. It’s a trade.” Chloe picks at the different fillings in each saucer. Her chopsticks poke at the radish. They stir the sesame oils.
“It’s not selling and buying. You give him something and he gives you something. What you want for what he wants. And what you need. There’s neediness to it. Need is important. Obligation is passionless but it’s well-intentioned; selfless.” The chopsticks dip into the grill, turning over thin cuts of pork. Her chopsticks split a leaf of lettuce in two.
“I understand what he means, though. You can’t just need someone. It implies a problem or a lack. You need them to fix or to fill. Wanting someone is different. It’s unconditional.” Audrey pours soju into two short glasses. The small upside down domes filling with plum flavor the weak gold of light beer. The color masking the strength of it.
“But desire is conditional. You don’t just want anything. You want a detail, a specific. Or a collection of those: a whole person.”
“Right. But the wanting itself is unconditional. You’ll only need something as long as it serves a purpose. As long as there’s a problem. But you’ll want for so much longer.”
“People stop desiring too. They get bored or—they have enough of it.” The smell of the meat signals them cooked. Chloe is the first to reach in, plucking tender brown slices from the grill and depositing them into a half of lettuce ready with horseradish and flat kimchee.
Audrey takes her shot of soju. “We get bored, but there are ways around it. We can make ourselves interested again. Avoid the hold of routine. But with need, people pass into obsolescence. You don’t want them back. A new problem needs a new solution.” She breaks her chopsticks apart and rolls away any splinters. Toji, the most modern looking eatery on its side of Hawthorne , is one of the most popular Korean barbeque restaurants in Portland
“Don’t you think you should be enough?” Chloe drinks her shot of soju and refills their glasses.
“I don’t think anyone can be enough.” Audrey finishes the refill.
“That’s really cynical!”
“Sorry. Yes, I think people can be enough but it all depends on the other person, doesn’t it? Whether you’re enough for them?” The meat still on the grill burns sticky and Audrey removes them to the plate they came in raw.
“Isn’t that the same thing? I mean either way, it does depend on the other person.” Chloe helps her rescue the burning pork.
“I mean—you can be enough for them. But it depends on whether they have enough of you.” Audrey sits a half-burnt piece of pork on a sesame oiled pocket of rice, sandwiching thin strands of kimchee. She covers the mound with a lettuce leaf then drops the sticks around, closing underneath and picking the creation up like a green leafy balloon. Bite-size, her mouth accepts it easily. The bursting lettuce reveals the spicy-sweet goodies onto her tongue with each squeeze of her teeth.
“So having enough of you is still wanting you? But what’s there to want when you already have all of it?” Chloe has stopped eating.
“You’re right. They shouldn’t have all. Or too much. Or barely anything. If you have a lot but still not enough, then you keep wanting.” Audrey nods at Chloe, reminding her to keep eating. Chloe recollects her chopsticks.
“But how can you stay with him—knowing?” Chloe’s expression finishes the question. Her head tilted a little, her squinting brow asks: ‘knowing that he’s cheating?’
“I love him.” Audrey doesn’t look up from her plate.
“But—”
“The ground underneath me is cracked. There are potholes. But knowing—I know where it’s safe to stand. I see my way around, so I won’t trip.” Audrey holds up the empty bottle, catching the eye of the waiter.
“My assistant saw you with Nick. He told me Nick’s cheating on me.” Chloe crosses her hands on her lap, the chopsticks scratching the underside of the table.
“It’s not true.”
“He saw you leaving the shop last week. When he went in, Nick was wiping lipstick off his mouth. I don’t need you to explain. I don’t even want you to apologize.”
“You didn’t mention this last time. In Chinatown . So this is why we’ve been meeting… Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re right, I’ve known since that day. Just tell me.”
Around them the restaurant is almost full. There are families talking loudly over steaming grills. The air mixes with the smells of different animals cooking. There are couples hunched on opposite sides of black tables, their arms coming together around the hot round centers. Audrey peels the plastic around a new bottle of soju. The cap twists off clean and quick. She takes a sip out of the bottle before pouring into the two glasses; her’s empty, Chloe’s half-full.
“We kissed, but it was over fast. Nothing since then.” She offers the refilled glass to her. Chloe accepts it with both hands.
“He loves you. Henry.” Chloe puts the glass down, still full.
“Thanks.”
“But I still don’t understand why you’re staying. He’s wrong about the religion of lies. I think honesty is a condition of it. And telling you that he’s cheating, it proves my point.”
Audrey pours another shot. She looks out at the smoky room. The couples are no longer holding hands. Each person sitting alone on their side of the table, focused on the food in front of them.
“You ever notice how easily people break away from each other? Like chopsticks. Before you reunite them, you have to roll them together to get rid of the splinters they made when they split.” Audrey brings her eyes back to Chloe. She has finished the small bottle of soju and is waving to the waiter for another.
“Henry wants me to cheat too.”
Chloe opens the new bottle and pours. “With Nick?”
“He didn’t say in the letter. With anyone, I guess.” The two glasses shine empty again. The bottle is tipped before long. “Why do you keep meeting with me?”
“I’m not sure. I just want to know—what it is about you.” Glasses emptied. Glasses filled.
“This is about Nick...” The steam and smoke drifts from one part of the room to another. As one table’s meat cooks, another table throws meat on its grill. One table eats, another waits. Every table is cluttered, crowded. Countless little plates, dozens of half-empty bottles. The floor collecting dropped splinters, the fractures of broken pairs rolled away by their rejoining.
“This is about Nick and Henry. This is about me. They’re both in love with you. I love Nick. I don’t want him to go.”
“To go to me?” Emptied. Filled.
“I want to understand. He can’t let go. I wanted to see if…”
“…”
“I could fall in love with you.”
“…”
The third bottle is empty. Audrey looks at the waiter, who is already making his way with another. They ordered a plate of chicken with their pork and Chloe meticulously lays them on the grill. Each piece sizzles and the plastic on the bottle cracks as it’s peeled off. These sounds are repeated on every table. Though the people are different, in this way they are all the same. The sounds, the smells, the smoke rising from each center.
“Henry wants me to cheat too. He said if we both have our lies, then we’ll both survive the truth.” Audrey picks inside the grill with her chopsticks, her eyes scanning each piece of meat, looking for one to turn over. Under the table, her foot reaches across. Her toes graze the inside of Chloe’s leg, a short length below her calf, sliding down to her ankle.
“You told me. What are you going to do?” Chloe watches her hunched over the grill. The smoke clearing before it reaches her face. Her almond eyes inspecting the grill, she notices the bright shimmer of hazel in them. How her nose slopes subtle and the regions on either side follow tender symmetry. And her lips. A full pout of natural human red. A thin moist layer, clear and melting as she waves her tongue over slow.
“I lied. Henry said I should cheat with Nick.” Her toes reach a little higher. Inches. And no farther.
“And?” Chloe’s voice is even, acknowledging no emotion.
“I’m not ready to do that. Not with Nick.”
The meat continues to cook between them. Audrey remains with her chopsticks ready to turn. From outside, all the tables look the same. Different people doing the same things. Smoke rising from each center. Cluttered, crowded. Empty bottles next to full ones.
Soon, the grill will shut off. The check will come. The table cleared. But for now, underneath it, the two touch smooth. Both searching, rolling away any splinters.
Photo1: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/126/389355436_ef1e53283a.jpg
Photo2: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3174/2881099631_802ebde854.jpg
Photo3: http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1290/799098851_36f665f20c.jpg
Photo4: http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4048/4509815174_c70845f019.jpg
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