Beneath the Surface(30)

So there she stood—drinking was a standing activity—leaning against the kitchen counter. The cool wine made its way down her throat and almost immediately, a new sense of calm washed over her. Instead of an evening of agony over unresolved issues with her partner, the night transformed into one of possibility. Because the way a drink changed her perception about everything made all the difference.

Kristin had quirked up an eyebrow that time when Sheryl had drunk a full glass of wine with her. “Are you sure?” she had asked.

“It’s just one glass,” Sheryl said. After which Kristin had not asked any further questions. Looking back now, it had been so exemplary of how they’d been growing apart. A few promotions back, Kristin would not have just shrugged it off. She would have interrogated Sheryl about the reason she suddenly wanted a full glass of wine instead of the occasional half one at social gatherings. She would have taken an interest. But it seemed that Kristin’s interest had shifted much more into the field of wine and how to sell it, and away from her partner.

Once Sheryl had finished the first glass, she caught her reflection in the oven window. She cracked a smile at herself, then shook her head. She knew the reason she poured herself the next drink, one she might even go sit outside on the deck with and savor, would be because of the question she had been trying to ignore: would she and Kristin be okay? Could they keep up with this new life that had come with Kristin’s promotion? Was more money really worth it? Why did they need more money, anyway?

“It’s a Korean thing,” Kristin sometimes said, apparently unaware of how offensive that was to Koreans.

Sheryl had plenty more money than she’d ever had. She had Kristin. She had a great job and a bunch of nice friends. Maybe she needed a hobby, something to occupy herself with on lonely nights. Kristin had been right when she’d said that there used to be a time when Sheryl was always busy, always fighting for some cause, organizing fundraising parties while raising awareness to their plight. Activism was her hobby, and there was still so much to fight for. But most of her former pals had settled down, just the way she had done. They’d left the remaining battles for the new generation to fight. Besides, it wasn’t as though Sheryl couldn’t actually find things to do with her time if she wanted to. It was the fact that she didn’t want to. She liked sitting around, thinking and talking, just laying it all out there, like they used to do.

Sheryl poured herself another glass of wine and walked outside. She looked at it, contemplating that she still had a choice: to drink or not to drink. As she slowly brought the glass to her mouth, she decided that, as soon as Kristin came back, they would have a real conversation about all the things that bothered her and where their relationship had gone. It was time to go into rescue mode.





Chapter Thirteen





“Hong Kong?” Sheryl was reacting in the exact way Kristin had predicted. “You must be joking.”

“And you should calm down.” Kristin could count the times she’d raised her voice in her life on the fingers of one hand. She was about to cross over to the second hand if Sheryl kept this up.

“No, you have to realize that I’m getting sick of playing second fiddle to your job.”

“Sheryl, please, let’s talk about this in a calm manner.” Kristin almost said like adults but managed to keep that comment to herself.

Sheryl shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re even considering this.” Sheryl was pacing up and down the room, her stride heavy, her face drawn. “So you can travel even more and I can sit around at home in a foreign country all day long.” Sheryl stopped strutting around. “Don’t you see we’re already in so much trouble now?”

“It could be a new start.” Kristin could try to make her arguments now, and she would, but she already knew Sheryl wouldn’t be hearing them. “I asked around and there’s a Gender Studies department at Hong Kong University. Things could be arranged.”

“Things?” Sheryl stood with her hands on her waist.

“You could teach there. Imagine the difference you could make in people’s lives.” Truth be told, Kristin was going out on a limb here. After trying for a long time, she had finally managed to get someone from said department on the line, but the person’s voice had been so demure and quiet, Kristin had not been able to understand much of what she’d said.

“It’s not even about me being able to teach there. I don’t want to teach anywhere else. I love it here. I’ve only been a professor for three years. I have ongoing research projects. Students who rely on me for their thesis. I have commitments.”