The Surprise Guest

You think it’s been three weeks.

The date on your phone says it’s your birthday but right now it’s just another Tuesday.

You can’t help but at the cracked screen of your phone, the photo of Jen still there. A picture you took while on a date in some random café. It was now a relic from the last time you felt alive.

The breakup wasn’t dramatic or some big scene.

She had sat across from you at the kitchen table with her hands folded.

“I think we’ve become different people. I don’t see a future here… a future with you anymore.” You asked for specifics. All you got were generic non-answers.

None of it felt real.

It felt like she was reading statement she prepared for a meeting at work. When she got up to leave, she didn’t even hug you. She just have you a pat on the shoulder and walked out.

Then she walked out and when the door clicked shut. That’s when you just didn’t care about anything anymore.

For days, you didn’t leave your apartment. You ordered food you didn’t eat. You aimlessly doom scrolled for hours on end.

Your friend Sunghoon called every evening. His voice on the phone was a buoy in a flat, gray sea. “You’re alive. That’s a start. We build from there.”

You didn’t build. You just floated aimlessly in your own thoughts.

Sunghoon is a music producer. A very successful one, you’ve seen his name on credits for songs you’ve heard just about everywhere you go. He lives in a nice part of Seoul, it’s a place with a view that costs more than your entire monthly salary.

Two days ago, he decided that you needed a birthday party.

“It’s your birthday,” his tone leaving no room for debate. “You will be in my apartment and there will be people and there will be music. Dude, there will even be a cake for you that isn’t from a convenience store. This is not optional.”

You argued with him, fuck that. You said that you weren’t ready for crowds, weren’t for pretending to be okay. He cut you off. “You don’t have to pretend man. You can chill in a corner and people watch. But you will be here.”

So here you are at your birthday party in his apartment.

Sunghoon’s apartment is huge with it’s open floor plan. One entire side of it is just windows and another side has a balcony, all of it having a crazy view of Seoul at night. The music isn’t loud, just a some lounge music Sunghoon probably worked on. The place smells like citrus and smoke from both Sunghoon’s love of essential oils and the people smoking on the balcony.

You sit on a wide leather ottoman with your back against the wall holding a glass of something amber-colored that Sunghoon handed you. You haven’t sipped it. He said you could just sit in a corner and people watch, so that’s what you do.

Sunghoon really is a conductor as he moves through the room. He laughs with a group near the kitchen. He adjusts the volume on a speaker with a tap of his phone. He introduces people to each other with ease. He is clearly in his element.

You are most certainly not.

A woman with short dyed red hair approaches you. You know her as a friend of Sunghoon’s, someone you’ve met once before at some random gallery opening, her name is Chae, at least as far as you can remember.

“Sunghoon said you might be… still recovering.”

“He talks too much.”

Chae nods. She doesn’t try to fix it. She just stands there for a moment. “The view is better from the balcony. There’s less… people,” gesturing toward the sliding glass doors.

Less people sounds good so that’s where you go. You step out into the cool air with the distant noise of the city streets below. A couple of people are smoking while looking to be in some sort of romantic conversation. Those were the days. They glance at you, then return back to their convo.

You lean against the railing with the glass of whatever cool against your palm. You look down at the streets, the moving dots of cars, the patterns of lit windows. You just want this day to be over.

Sunghoon finds you ten minutes later. He comes out alone carrying his own drink and stands next to you at the railing. He doesn’t look at you, he just looks out onto the city.

“Sorry that it’s not a great party. That you’re not having a good time.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. The vibe is too chill. I think I invited the wrong people,” taking a sip from his glass. “But it’s happening. That’s the important part.”

You turn your head to look at him.

“Why is it important?”

“Because you’re here. You’re outside your apartment. You’re breathing air that isn’t stale with your own misery. That’s why it’s important, it’s a building block.”

You don’t answer. You look back at the city.

“She called me,” Sunghoon says.

Your body stiffens. You don’t move.

“Jen?”

“Yeah. Two days ago. She asked me if you were okay.”

Nope. You definitely weren’t okay.

You wait.

“I told her you were alive. I told her that was the current status report. She asked if you were eating. I said I wasn’t your mother.” Sunghoon pauses. “She sounded… fine. Not sad. Not guilty. Just curious. Like checking the weather for a place she used to live.”

The metaphor is apt and makes your throat tight.

“Did you tell her about this?”

“Of course I didn’t man. This is your thing. Not hers. You don’t owe her shit. She made her choice. You get to make yours now. Starting with not letting a Tuesday be just a Tuesday.”

The music inside changes to a new track, the bass is now vibrating through the glass door.

“Come on inside dude. At least take a look at the cake. It’s a great cake. I paid a lot for it.”

You follow him back in. You can tell a few more people have arrived. You recognize a face from college, a guy who used to study film. He nods at you from across the room. You nod back.

The cake is on a table near the kitchen and you hate to admit it, but it look amazing. Definitely done by a professional. This should’ve been for someone else, someone who deserves it more.

Sunghoon claps his hands to get everyone’s attention.