EIGHT

I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could, which in hindsight was a bit ridiculous considering the volume the music was at. The bar was dimly lit, the cool air sharp to the touch. Conversations—white noise—drifted about idly. In the middle of it all was a brilliantly lit wall, the vibrant white light revealing an enormous collection of different bottles—alcohol and otherwise.

I leaned against the wooden separator near the entryway, observing Tiffany as she whizzed about inside of the enclosed half-moon shaped space, offering conversation and smiles to her customers. It was just so natural—she belonged there, in front of other people, entertaining them. She did it so causally that I felt the joy from her interactions even given the distance between us. It was something akin to a dance, with her moving back and forth, her hands and mouth working in a graceful frenzy.

It was truly mesmerizing. My lips were pulled upwards much before I realized that I was smiling. “Why am I just standing here?” I muttered to myself, making sure to eliminate the smile lingering on my face that Tiffany would be sure to tease me about, heading towards the row of black-leather leather stools.

I could do nothing but smile sheepishly at Tiffany as our gaze met. Sure enough, she stormed to me as I sat down. “Yah, how could you?! You didn’t come visit me at all these last three days! I missed you so much!”

“We video chatted yesterday, and the day before,” I reminded the fuming Tiffany, “And we talked for like two hours each day.”

“Hmph. I’m not serving you anything today, meanie,” she huffed, turning around indignantly.

“What? I’m going to talk to your manager then,” I told her, standing up.

“You do that, my manager loves me anyway,” she replied flippantly.

I promptly sat back down. “Fine, I don’t need a drink anyway.”

“Because all you need to get drunk is my scent?”

I let out something between a scoff and a cackle. Tiffany, who had turned around to face me, was leaning forward, resting her arms on the counter in front of me, head resting on her hands, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. “How could you even say something like that? Isn’t it embarrassing?” I said, trying to cover the embarrassment that was gradually creeping into my system.

“Because your reactions always make my day,” she cheerfully supplied as her answer. “By the way, we’re going shopping tomorrow; there’s a few things I want to get,” she told me, standing back up straight.

“Tomorrow? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” I replied, confused.

“Whaat? Don’t you want to go shopping with me?” Tiffany pouted, “Didn’t you say you wanted to be the best friend to me as you could?”

“I mean—It’s not that I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to get in the way of your work,” I swiftly offered my justification.

“It’s ok, TaeTae!” she answered, “I have Wednesdays off!”

I nodded in acknowledgement; just moments ago, something Tiffany said perplexed me. However, Tiffany’s explanation offered an ample resolution to the problem. “So that’s why you work on Sundays?”

She nodded just as someone called for her. She whisked off, my eyes following her as she greeted the other customer. I found myself just watching her absentmindedly, only aware of this fact as Tiffany turned around to meet my gaze, shooting me a smile. I smiled back; even though she was just a bartender, Tiffany’s people skills were honed like the tip of a newly crafted katana. Where did she learn this skill? Maybe her previous job? I, again, pondered Sooyoung claim regarding Tiffany having a hard time making friends.

Try as I did to allocate my brain power elsewhere, the thought remained something that stuck to the back of my head. Even the next day, as I met Tiffany at the front of the mall we agreed to convene at, the thought remained a pesky fly, ducking and weaving about inside my mind. Watching her approach me, half skipping, I had an extremely hard time envisioning Tiffany looking gloomy and hard to approach. Then again, that’s not necessarily what ‘having a hard time making friends’ looks like.

“Waah, you look so cute TaeTae!” Tiffany squealed as she latched onto my arm, “We even match! Did you dress up for our date?”

That day, I had chosen to wear a wispy, white, dress-like shirt along with denim jeans. I would be lying if I said I didn’t deliberate on my outfit for the day, but I didn’t think it was anything spectacular. “What, this was a date? Why didn’t you tell me?” I replied, feigning shock. Realizing that Tiffany would make this joke, I prepared myself beforehand for this exact situation. Was it strange to ‘prepare’ in this manner? It felt necessary with someone like Tiffany.

“Hmph, you’re no fun,” Tiffany huffed, clearly disappointed. I performed a mini-celebration inside my head.

“You look beautiful too,” I told her. She was wearing a thin, white poncho with laces at the end, a tan colored pair of pants hugging her legs tightly. Underneath the poncho was a thin, summer-y, white shirt with additional laces adorning the wide neckline of the clothing.

“Oh, really? Thank you!” Tiffany exclaimed, separating herself to look at me, a type of expression that spelled out ‘pleasantly surprised’ painted on her face, “Did you finally decide to give in to me?”

“What? What does that mean?” I replied, confused, looking back at her, “Give in to what?”

Tiffany shook her head, smiling and regripping my arm, “Nothing, let’s go! I wanted to get some furniture for my apartment, so we’re going to a furniture store.”

Now that Tiffany mentioned it, my recollection of my visit to her apartment a few days ago included an observation of a relative lack of what one would call ‘commonplace’ decorative household appliances, despite the rather expensive appearance of what was present. Tiffany’s interior decoration certainly didn’t match her exuberant personality; aside from the basic necessities, it essentially seemed bare. Maybe that was because her last job kept her away from home? Maybe she was a flight attendant or something; I could definitely see Tiffany being a really good flight attendant.

Dishes and various portable containers greeted us as we entered the store. “Let me know if you see anything cute,” she told me, breezing right through the merchandise at the front of the store.

“Are you looking for anything specific?”

Tiffany shook her head. “I have the basics, but I recently felt like it was a bit too boring, so I’m mainly looking for something that will spice it up,” she replied casually.

“Well what do you normally do at home?”

I should have known better. “Watch lots and lots of porn,” she answered confidently.

“Ok, n-never mind,” I replied, accidentally stuttering in embarrassment.

Tiffany laughed, shaking my arm playfully, “I’m kidding, TaeTae. I mostly just sit at home and think about you,” she replied in an exaggerated dreamy, far-away voice.

“Ok fine, if you won’t answer me seriously, then I won’t help you,” I conceded, attempting to shake Tiffany’s arm off.

“What?” she whined as she stubbornly remained latched onto my arm, “You don’t believe me?”

I gave up after a short scuffle, replying by saying, “Well, how could you spend that much time just doing that? It’s not like there’s a lot of topics to ponder when thinking about me.”

“Sure there are,” Tiffany countered, “Like what you would look like with light pink hair, what kind of outfit would best suit you, how sexy it would’ve been if you chose that transparent night robe that other day, what you would look like right after stepping out of the shower, what your sizes are…”

I knew she was only teasing me, but that didn’t stop my face progressively turning pinker as Tiffany listed the last three items.

“Speaking of that, I should also buy another towel, shouldn’t I? That way, when you come over—then again, maybe not…”

“OK, let’s go find that towel!”

I trudged ahead, me pulling Tiffany this time; the cheerful woman broke out into giggles, obediently following me. However, after a few steps, I was stopped short by Tiffany, who suddenly pulled me towards a section dedicated to decorative, fake, plants. “What about these? These are really pretty, aren’t they? Plants always make an apartment look a little more homey, don’t you think?” Tiffany offered, releasing her grip on my arm.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” I replied, studying the plants with her.

“I think I’ll get this one,” Tiffany said after a short while, heading off, scouring the place for a salesperson. As Tiffany walked away, I stood in front of the product she showed interest in, a tree a degree taller than myself, its branches reaching out and falling in a semi-parabola with long, thin strings of leaves sprouting from each branch in every which way.

I couldn’t help but notice similarities between it and Tiffany; like Tiffany, it was skinny but had an elegance to it, even down to its neatly woven, light-brown basket that carried the base of the pseudo-plant. Not to say that the beautiful basket was synonymous to any part of Tiffany’s.

“This one,” Tiffany said to a salesman, pointing at the decoration.

“Ok. You’ll just have to sign here and we’ll have it delivered to you within two to three business days,” he replied, clipboard in hand with a stack of paper stuck inside the clip.

“Ok, thank you!”

Even outside of work, Tiffany maintained her upbeat demeanor. I couldn’t imagine being a salesman for a furniture store was a very exciting job, but the employee definitely was wearing a smile. It was just amazing, how Tiffany just affected people around her so easily. And then there was me, a shy, socially inept, small woman.

“Onto the next one!” Tiffany promptly said, having provided her signature.