Read The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) Online
Authors: Michele Gorman
Tags: #ruth saberton, #women's fiction, #Chrissie Manby, #Jennifer Weiner, #London, #bestseller, #romantic, #humor, #Jenny Colgan, #bestselling, #Sophie Kinsella, #single in the city, #Scarlett Bailey, #Bridget Jones, #Jen Lancaster, #top 100, #Hong Kong, #chick lit, #romance, #Helen Fielding, #romantic comedy, #nick spalding, #relationships, #best-seller, #Emily Giffin, #talli roland, #humour, #love, #Lindsey Kelk
Stuart reaches out and pulls me to him. ‘It is a betrayal,’ he murmurs over my shoulder as my tears flow. ‘He had no reason to stay in touch with her. If he was just her friend, he would have told you about it. You’re not wrong, Hannah. He is.’
Stacy joins our hugathon. ‘I know it hurts, Han, but you’ve got to stand strong on this when you see him this weekend. As much as you want to make everything all right, you’ve got to remember that he’s at fault here. He hasn’t treated you fairly.’
‘Stacy’s right, Han,’ Stuart continues. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. He has, and he’s not treating you right. So you can’t be weak. You have to stand up for yourself.’
‘Hah!’ Brent exclaims, startling us. ‘That’s rich advice coming from you, Stuart! He’s right, Han, you’ve got to stand strong. But really, Stuart, take a dose of your own medicine. You’ve been led around by the nose for months now. You could learn a thing or two from Hannah.’
‘Brent is right, Stu,’ Stacy agrees. ‘You don’t deserve to be treated like shit by that woman any more than Hannah does by Sam.’
When the conversation shifts to Stuart I can relax. I appreciate their words but there’s really nothing new in them. They’re simply telling me what my head has been saying for days. It’s my heart that needs a good talking-to.
That’s easier said than done. Look at Stuart. His yellow fever infatuation has led him to worship his colleague, the one Stacy christened the Ice Queen. She sounds like an extremely bad choice of girlfriend. He may talk with more bravado than Brent but he’s just as nice. Deep down he wants a girlfriend as much as his brother. And the Ice Queen must know this. Anyone can see that she’s stringing him along. One minute she accepts his dinner invitations and sleeps with him, the next she ignores his phone calls. She always has some excuse, and Stuart accepts them. Brent is right. I’m not the only one who needs to be strong these days.
I’m full of wine, good advice and strength when we get home a little later. ‘Hello Sam? It’s me,’ I murmur into the phone, my heart skipping. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I’ve been… busy. But I’m really looking forward to seeing you this weekend.’ I feel strangely calm as I tell him this. And, as much as I’d like it to be different, I’m not lying.
Chapter 16.
‘You’re quiet,’ Sam observes as we walk hand in hand through Kowloon on Saturday.
‘I’m taking this all in,’ I tell him truthfully. I mean the sights, sounds and smells bombarding us. Hong Kong continues to reveal her small wonders to me. It’s not an obvious city in that way. New York wears her charms proudly for all to see, and London overwhelms with her voluminous architectural wonders and history at every turn. But Hong Kong enthralls in a million little ways. I was right to suspect that the sleek façade was just that. Mixed cultural metaphors aside, Hong Kong reminds me of a geisha. The external perfection and stylized appearance are actually the least interesting things about her.
The flower market is crowded when we get there. We see it as we turn a corner off Prince Edward Road, but its aroma spreads beyond the stalls themselves. Like Sheung Wan, most of the shops are converted garages, and they’re just as visually intense. Uncountable buckets are filled with every color flower imaginable, from humble freesias and carnations to soaring lilies and birds of paradise. Mostly women, mostly Chinese, clutch their blooms, haggling with the vendors. Some stalls sell potted flowers and plants. I’d buy one but it would mean sending a plant to certain death.
‘How lovely,’ says Sam, squeezing my hand and making my heart hiccup. It’s been a hard morning. He’s got no idea that I know about the Groom Raider, so he’s acting just like he always does when we’re together – fun, attentive and kind. I, however, am starring in the most challenging role imaginable. I know I have to talk to him, but oh, how I wish I didn’t. In a way I hoped that Pete would tell him after all, but there’s no sign that he knows I know.
‘It’s amazing. Hong Kong is amazing. I’m grateful every day for being here,’ I say. ‘It’s such a city of contrasts. And secrets…’
‘What secrets?’
‘… Things often look like one thing, but are actually another… I don’t know if I’ll ever know exactly where I stand.’
‘But that comes with time, doesn’t it? As you get to know a place you learn what’s genuine and what isn’t.’
‘But you wouldn’t if you’re not exposed to the genuine side. If you only have sporadic exposure, or you only see one side, then you’re never going to feel totally comfortable, are you?’
‘That’s why you have to keep exploring, and getting out there to experience everything,’ he says.
My attempt to introduce the conversation isn’t working.
We find the nearby bird market by sound rather than sight. A cacophony of chirps, whistles, screeches and hoots fill the air. There’s a wide walkway lined with flowers and trees running alongside it, where several men are meandering through carrying bird cages. Others have hung their cages next to each other along bars under the eaves of the bird market buildings. The men sit and chat, their birds catching up with each other on the previous days’ events. ‘Wow,’ I say. ‘I read about this but didn’t think it could be true. I figured it was like the Wishing Tree, something that happened in the past.’
‘You’ve seen the noodle shops, right? Where the men hang their cages on the rails over the tables?’
‘I suppose it’s nice for the birds to get out of their apartments. And it’s probably exciting for them to come here within earshot of all their cousins to hear the gossip.’ As I ponder what bird gossip might be, an old man totters up the walk, but elects not to join the others under the eaves. Instead he brings his birdcage to a tree branch quite close to us, and stands alone. I wonder what he’s done to be ostracized from the others. ‘Do you think they’re all friends?’ I ask Sam.
‘Nah, I’m sure they fight. Someone is getting above himself with his shiny new cage, or this one said that one’s bird is ugly. We humans aren’t built to live happily ever after.’
My heart goes out to the lone man, until I notice a younger man calling to him as he approaches. The old man smiles broadly, clapping him on the back as he hangs his bird’s cage. I bet their birds are good friends too. Maybe sometimes we do live happily ever after.
The bird market itself is almost overwhelming in the number and variety of birds for sale. Most are tiny and colorful, and all are noisy. A few of the stalls sell bird food, but it’s not the kind you’d find in PetSmart. It’s the kind you’d find crawling around your garden. Crickets, grubs, grasshoppers – it’s a bird banquet. Some of the cages are utilitarian but many are delicately woven bamboo confections, beautiful, and tempting to buy even without a bird.
As we continue down the row I notice one non-bird-related stall nestled in the midst of the hubbub. A seamstress sits behind her ancient heavy black Singer sewing machine, stitching away. And she’s singing, beautifully voiced and powerfully, joining the birds in their melodies. She looks so strong and assured, deftly turning her cloth and singing to herself. She looks content, and at peace. I want desperately to be like that.
‘Sam,’ I whisper, welling up. ‘We need to talk.’
He freezes, searching my face. ‘Let’s sit down.’ He leads me to a low wall. ‘What is it, Han? Are you okay?’
‘No. And we’re not okay.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Sam, I know about…
her
. I know you’ve been seeing someone else. Pete mentioned it. He didn’t mean it as a betrayal or anything I’m sure.’ I feel I should defend Pete now that I know he never had it in for me. ‘You’d told him about our talk, that we could see other people, so his comment was innocent. Sam, how long has it been going on, with her? And remember, I can ask Pete.’ I could keep talking but my vocal chords have seized up.
‘Aw, Han, I don’t want you to be upset.’ He grabs my hand. I let him. ‘It’s not what you think. We traded details way back when we met. We’re in similar fields and, oh I don’t know, it was innocent.’
‘What do you mean you traded details? When? In the jungle? I was with you the whole time.’
‘When you asked me to go out and take photos, remember when you were ill? I ran into her, in that cafe across from the school.’
Of course. I assumed he’d asked a stranger to take his photo in front of all the landmarks. Lara was the photographer.
‘I didn’t think anything of it,’ he says urgently. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you. We just had a coffee and wandered around for an hour. It wasn’t even worth mentioning. I forgot all about it to be honest, then,
months later
, I randomly got an email. I answered because there was no reason not to. Han, I can see by your face that you think it’s more than that, but it’s not. She’s got a few friends in Ho Chi Minh and put me in touch. They’re two guys, really nice guys, who’ve set up a business there. You know I’ve been working late, and on weekends, and it was nice to be able to go out every so often for drinks. I felt like I was able to enjoy being there a bit, not just working all the time… then I saw her once when she visited them for the weekend. Nothing happened, I promise you! But then you said you didn’t want a long-distance relationship and we agreed that we could have dates with other people. So the next time she visited we went out. It’s not serious with her, Hannah, I promise. You don’t have anything to worry about. It’s just a bit of fun, she’s not even in Ho Chi Minh and I hardly ever see her.’
My ears hear everything he’s just said. Yet my mind registers just one thing. It’s not serious. ‘Do you think that makes a difference, that it’s not serious? Sam, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re fucking another woman. I assume you
are
fucking.’ He flinches. ‘Yes, I thought so. Are you saying you’re willing to throw us away for a
bit of fun
?’
‘No! I’m not throwing us away. Han, I care very much for you. I want us to be together in Hong Kong. And we will be, very soon. We agreed we could see other people while we’re apart. Didn’t we? Am I missing something?’
‘Yes, you are. You’re missing the fact that you shouldn’t want to see other people if you like me as much as you say you do. And yet you are. That means one thing to me. That you don’t
care for me
, to use your words, as much as you say you do. Or at least you don’t care for me enough not to want to be with someone else. The thing is, Sam, I don’t want to be with anyone else. That’s what makes us different. And I don’t think we can reconcile that.’
‘But we can be together, just us! If you don’t want to see other people then I won’t either. Like I said, it’s not serious with Svetlana.’ Svetlana. I hate hearing her name. Now she’s a person, not a computer-generated boyfriend-stealer. ‘I’ll call her tonight,’ he promises. ‘I’ll call her right now and tell her. Han, I don’t want to lose you.’
‘I’m sorry, Sam.’ I can’t believe I’m about to say this. My throat threatens to choke off my words, but they are determined to come. ‘You lost me when you chose to see somebody else. Technicalities don’t matter – whether you legally could or not. I want someone – no, I deserve someone – who’s as committed to me as I am to him. You’re not that person. So I’m sorry, you’ve already lost me.’
He stares at me, dumbfounded, as I sob. ‘Hannah, can’t we talk more about this?’
‘There’s nothing – what could you possibly say that takes away the last few months, Sam? Can you make anything you’ve – hiccup – said not true?’
‘No,’ he says quietly.
‘I’ve loved you, Sam. I didn’t deserve this. And you know that. Don’t you?’
‘I feel terrible.’
‘Well, I don’t feel like whistling a tune myself.’
‘I mean I feel terrible about what I’ve done.’
‘You should.’ I stand on shaky legs. ‘You fucked this up, not me.’
‘I’ve been such an asshole.’ He shakes his head, clenching his fists. ‘You’ve been nothing but wonderful and supportive and kind. You moved out here for me and I’m not even in the country! You did move for me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper.
‘And I knew that. Even back in London I knew you were doing it for me. Even when I was telling you I didn’t want you to, I knew you were. And I let you. Even though it scared me that you’d make that kind of leap, I let you because it didn’t feel like a big step. What I mean is, it felt natural. It felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t feel scared by it. I felt good, and excited and positive about our future. Even when I found out I had to be away, it didn’t seem like the end of the world because I knew I wanted to be with you. Hannah, what I’m saying is that I love you. God, what an idiot I’ve been. Why didn’t I just say it before now?’
‘Maybe you didn’t feel it before. I don’t know, Sam, maybe you don’t even really feel it now. You’re scared of losing me. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve had this entire relationship your way. Of course you don’t want to lose that. Maybe that’s all you feel.’
He’s crying now. ‘It’s not. I do feel it, Hannah. How can I convince you?’
‘I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know how you’d do that. Just because you say it doesn’t mean I’ll believe it. Your actions speak louder than your words. You’ve said all you can say. I’ve heard you, Sam, I really have. But I want to go back by myself now.’