when i talk to you (cupid walks right through)

The air was incredibly light – the soft clinks of long-stemmed glasses, the airy laughter between friends, shy glances between couples. Lingling reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Kate’s ear, muttering praises – “You’re beautiful.” “You’re the catch.” Kate let out a huff next to her, her eyes flickering to Ling’s for one brief second – long enough for the latter to catch the hesitation, the doubt.

She turned her body towards Kate, letting her hand fall on Kate’s hand, where it’s resting palm-down on her thigh, “It is okay. Just order a whiskey on the rocks if you want us to make a quick exit.” Kate nodded before smiling at the table, seemingly engrossed in an internal monologue.

Kate had been happy with Lawan – for seven long years, they made the picture-perfect couple. Till Lawan started keeping longer hours at the office and Kate started spending longer at Ling’s place, out in parties. Something about the space they shared, that had once been sacred, felt alien. Kate had read about it, watched it play out on TV – how love would sometimes just fizzle out. But nobody ever thinks it would happen to them.

They started drifting apart before either of them could realise, could decide to rein things in, restructure and rework and repair. Instead, the relationship had come to an end, almost quietly. They sat down for dinner one night and just knew. Neither of them talked and when Lawan kissed Kate that night, tears stained the space between them.

The next morning, Lawan packed her things and moved out. Kate didn’t move to stop her; weeks later she would tell Lingling that the air shifted into something lighter when the door closed, like the very house they shared was holding a breath.

That was seven months ago. Seven months of Lingling watching Kate unravel and put herself back together over and over again, standing by in case she ever needed anything. When she called at midnight, Lingling was there – leaving her bedroom to pace in the living room, whispering advice that felt hollower every time she said those words, till Kate lulled off to sleep. Every time Kate or Lawan called each other, in varying states of inebriation, Lingling stayed around to pick up the pieces. And yet, she couldn’t wrap her head around why they both couldn’t let each other go – what could possibly be so powerful and devastating about love?

Lingling had imagined going through a similar scenario far too many times and never once did she think it would break her like it did Kate or Lawan. She couldn’t fathom the possibility of letting another person sink their roots so deep in your chest that them leaving would rip you into shreds.

Towards the fifth month, all of Kate’s friends were starting to ask her to consider getting out there again. “Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” Gap had said through bites of a sandwich before Ling had elbowed him under the ribs. Reluctantly, Kate had agreed but nothing prepared her for the nightmare that was the dating market. Date after date ranged from disappointing to horrifying and after the woman who sometimes broke into fake French – Kate, who was fluent in French, didn’t recognise a single word – Kate almost threw in the towel.

So when Junji had suggested a blind date with a woman she ran into at the gym, Kate’s first response was to laugh in her face. But nobody had ever been able to say no to Junji and Kate already didn’t have much of a fight left in her. So she agreed to the date….on one condition – Lingling had to come with her.

Kate chose the café – they frequented the joint during their college days; it was familiar and safe. Before Lingling could say anything more, she noticed a shift in the energy. The group of college kids on the table to their right seemed to have found a new burst of energy, pointing and muttering before teasing each other. Lingling turned slightly and caught a glimpse of the center of attention.

A tall woman, definitely younger than her, made her way through the café, her body swirling effortlessly to avoid the haphazardly placed tables. Her ash grey bob stood out against her ivory skin and the dark burgundy of her leather jacket. For a brief second, Lingling felt something flip in her chest, an unfamiliar yet familiar feeling; like the rush before an airplane settles in the sky after takeoff.

“Kate?” the woman asked and Lingling watched Kate’s eyes light up as she took her in.

Lingling kicked under the table, her toes snagging against Kate’s shin, before Kate stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the marble floor. “Hi, yes. Is Kate,” the words left her lips faster than she could think. She let out a nervous laugh as the woman watched her with an amused smile. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Kate.”

The woman laughed as she pulled Kate’s chair back slightly to give her more space where she was standing – Lingling noted the gesture, it was gentle in an unthinking kind of way; something that suggested kindness instead of pretense. “I’m Orm. It’s lovely to meet you Kate. I’m glad Junji set this up.”

There was a lilt in the way Orm spoke, like she knew she had an effect on the people around her and had perfected how much to sway her voice and which syllable to punch through. And it was clearly working from the way Kate blushed a deep pink before moving aside to let Orm slide into the seat opposite to them. Ling hadn’t said a single word since Orm walked in and yet she couldn’t look away. From the way Orm smiled at Kate with a small nod to make sure she was okay to the way her fingers traced the edges of the menu.

She seems like a good match for Kate, that’s all, Lingling thought to herself before clearing her throat to dislodge whatever seems to be blocking her windpipe. Orm turned to her and their eyes met, for a brief, electric second, and Lingling saw Orm’s cavalier demeanor crack for a split second, too quick for anyone to notice.

“I’m sorry. That was so rude of me,” Orm said, extending her hand towards Lingling, “You must be Lingling. Junji said you’d be joining me.” Ling couldn’t help but smile, “That’s alright. Kate can be quite distracting.”

“That she can,” Orm conceded with a wink in Kate’s direction.

Lingling liked the way Orm said her name. She liked the way her fingers wrapped around Ling’s, lightly brushing against her wrist.  But she didn’t like the way that made her feel; it all felt too disarming. Like someone had pulled the magic rug from under her and she was freefalling through the sky. It all felt…wrong.

As Orm and Kate discussed their order, Ling pushed her chair a bit farther away, trying to fade into the background so the two could continue the date. She pulled out her phone and flipped across the books in her collection, looking for one she still hadn’t finished. But the time caught her attention. 3 PM. She swiped through her notification and frowned; no update from Apichai. Her sigh of discontent was perhaps a bit too loud because she noticed Kate & Orm’s heads turn in her direction.

“Are you alright?” Orm asked, her eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern.

Kate noticed the way Lingling’s posture stiffened and brushed her shoulder in a soothing motion, “Is it Nim?” Lingling smiled, slow and measured, and mostly non-intrusive, before responding, glancing between Orm & Kate, “It’s alright. Api was supposed to text me once she was back from school but…you know how he is.”

Kate nodded before turning to Orm, “Nim is Lingling’s daughter; she’s adorable!”

“How old is she?” Orm asked, her eyes lingering on Lingling a beat too long, something unreadable in her gaze, before she turned to Kate again.

“Fourteen, this month,” Kate managed to say before the waiter placed their dishes on the table, shifting the conversation away from Lingling.

Is Nim back? Lingling typed in. The response was instant, Yes, an hour ago. I forgot to text. In a meeting.

The exchange doesn’t bother Lingling – not because she’s annoyed or tired but because it’s expected. Apichai has never been one to remember things on time – anniversaries, birthdays, date nights…they all come to him from calendar reminders. If he needed to pick Nim up, he would remember but texting Ling that she’d come home? Sometimes that would slip through the cracks. And Lingling had known him long enough to know that it wasn’t malicious.

“Lingling makes the best coffee I’ve ever had,” Kate’s voice broke through her thoughts as she nudged her with her knee. And Orm’s gaze found Lingling’s eyes again. It was harder to hold her gaze this time; the knot in Ling’s chest tightened. She hated the way Orm’s eyes burned into her, like she was searching for something, for a crack in Lingling that she could tear through and peek inside. So Lingling looked away, focused instead in the way Orm’s coffee was mostly untouched.

“Don’t like the coffee?” Lingling found herself asking. For some reason, she was curious; needed to know why Orm did anything at all.

“It’s…okay,” Orm said, sheepish in a way Ling hadn’t expected from her, almost like she was gauging if her not liking the coffee would upset anyone at the table. Adorable, confusing. “I’m just used to a finer blend.”

“I don’t like the coffee here either; the piña colada is much better,” Lingling responded before going back to her phone, back to her search for a book. “Ling has been drinking the piña coladas here since she was 17,” Kate laughed and the conversation ended but Ling could feel Orm’s eyes on her. Snippets of Orm and Kate’s conversations would momentarily break through her focus – Lingling kept tuning in to make sure Kate was having a good time. She liked the way Orm stirred the juice in Kate’s glass when the pulp settled at the bottom; she liked the way Kate didn’t seem to remember Lingling was there.

And yet sometimes, when she was sure Kate wasn’t watching, Orm’s eyes would flicker back to Lingling. With every split second she got, she mapped a new detail of Ling’s face to memory – the mole on her cheek, the lines of her jaw, the soft skin where her eyes met her cheekbones.  Orm watched as Lingling’s fingers moved on the phone screen, flipping pages, zooming in. She had never met a woman so mesmerizing. And yet, every time, she tried to pull her focus back to Kate but there was a tug in her chest, drawing her to the woman to the side – in Orm’s eyes, Lingling seemed to shimmer, from the force of the energy that thrummed around her.

Beautiful, unattainable, and so deceptively…hers? Orm wished she was hers – to love, to cherish, to wrap in a love so transcendental that time would come to a standstill to let them be in each other’s presence a little longer. It felt stupid and reckless, to feel such divine, fated ownership over a stranger. Is this what it’s like? To have your breath knocked out of your lungs?

Lingling tried to ignore the way Orm kept looking at her but it’s like the air shifted every single time those hazel irises flickered in her direction. It was like Orm was trying to pick Ling apart, piece by piece, and Lingling wanted to remain whole. Didn’t she?

Suddenly Kate’s phone rang in her purse and she cursed under her breath before muttering a quick apology. The words Kate spoke into the phone were ones Ling had heard often – an emergency at the hospital, she would have to leave. Almost by habit, Lingling started getting ready to leave – she slipped her feet back into her shoes and clicked her phone off – and froze at Kate’s suggestion, “I really hate to do this Orm but please stay, finish your dinner. I’m sure Lingling could keep you company.”

“This is what I get for coming on a date with a surgeon,” Orm replied, her tone teasing and light, “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s not a bother, really,” Kate said before looking at Ling, her eyes pleading her to stay. Kate needed to know if the date went well, if there would be another one. If she had messed up. And Lingling couldn’t say no; not when she hadn’t seen Kate laugh like that around anyone in a while. So she smiled and she said yes, because that’s what a friend does.

She watched as Kate typed her number into Orm’s phone and she looked away briefly as Kate leaned in and brushed her lips slightly against Orm’s cheek to give them some semblance of privacy. And then it was just them – the café was quieter now and Lingling could hear every clink of utensil against plate, including Orm’s fork picking through the half-eaten pasta.

“Mind if I ask what you’re reading?” Orm asked.

Something about the way Orm phrased her words prickled under Ling’s skin, like warm water that’s just a dash too hot. Orm seemed to infuse everything she did with this care that Lingling had noticed five minutes after she’d arrived. She would make a wonderful partner for Kate; if it worked out.

“The House in the Cerulean Sea,” Lingling said.

“Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us,” Orm said around a laugh, “It’s one of my favourite books.”

There it was again, the flip in her chest. At the sound of Orm’s laugh and the way it reverberated through her chest. It was all so disorienting; none of her friends made her feel the way this stranger did.

Her phone buzzed in her hand: Will you be home by 11? Need to leave for the airport. Lingling clicked on her list of alarms to crosscheck the one she had set before she left the house. Yes, don’t worry. Your wallet is on the kitchen table. The black tie is on the bed. She didn’t wait for a response, she knew it wouldn’t come.

She could still feel Orm’s eyes on her, studying her every move. She felt an overwhelming need to explain. “My husband. He’s flying to Tokyo tonight. I need to be back by eleven.”

“How long have you been married?” Genuine curiosity.

“Nine years,” Lingling replied. She watched the flicker of confusion in Orm’s eyes, like she was doing the math and deciding whether her next question would be appropriate at the same time. Lingling decided to save her from her own misery, “We adopted Nim when she five. I wanted kids. Api didn’t…love the idea of a baby so we found a middle ground.” A voice in Lingling’s head told her she was sharing too much so she pursed her lips together before looking back at Orm who was listening to her with her head propped up on her arms.

“You married young.” It wasn’t a question—no judgment.

“I was 21. We had been dating for a year. So when my parents decided it was time for me to get married, he was the easies—right choice.”

“Now I’m upset I wasn’t born a few years earlier.”

A beat of silence followed Orm’s admission, because that’s what it was. As much as Lingling didn’t want to admit it herself, Orm’s words were meant to be much heavier than they sounded.

“That’s funny Orm.”

“You’re-” Orm started but her tone was too soft, her eyes burning into Ling with too much intensity for Ling to afford to let this continue.

“-married,” Lingling said, her voice tense.

“Gorgeous.” Orm raised her coffee to her lips.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not into women,” Lingling’s voice trembled from the shockwave that passed through her when Orm’s foot accidentally brushed against her calf.

“Are you into me?” The edge in Orm’s voice was unmistakable. Her voice was deeper now, her fingers inching closer to where Ling’s hand was on the table. The second they made contact, Lingling had to swallow a gasp. What was happening to her?

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Orm asked. There it was again – the care, the ever-perceptive need to make sure everything was okay.

“You’re a lot.” Lingling said instead, punctuating her words with a shaky laugh, hoping that would ease some of the charge. Something dark flickered in Orm’s eyes as she pulled her fingers away and suddenly Ling’s hand felt too cold. Suddenly she realised how it must have sounded and a clamp settled around her throat, uncomfortable in a way Orm was not.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” this time Lingling closed the space between their hands, letting her fingers settle in a comforting gesture, “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Being a lot isn’t a bad thing?” Lingling didn’t like the way Orm hesitated when she spoke.

“Not for me.” Orm seemed to visibly relax as she flipped her hand over and Ling’s fingers dipped naturally between hers; too naturally.

Lingling needed to veer the conversation away from this heavy, thick tension between them. A tension she couldn’t name but something as mundane as a name wouldn’t lessen the suffocation in the air.

Ling took a deep, steadying breath right as Orm exhaled into the space between them and something passed between them – as undeniable and invisible as the breath they seemed to be sharing. The flips in her chest were accumulating into a sensation like a house of cards crumbling to the floor.

“What are you still doing here?” Lingling asked, eyeing the empty utensils on the table.

“I’m afraid if I look away you’ll vanish,” Orm was gentle enough to feel like a caress and yet it barreled into Lingling’s chest.

“I’m married.” Lingling shifted her hand to her lap.

“So you’ve said.” Orm’s eyes locked into Lingling’s.

“You were here on a date with Kate.” Lingling looked away.

“And Kate is wonderful.”

Ling met Orm’s gaze again and for a moment neither of them spoke as the sounds of the café grew louder. Raucous laughter had been replaced with hush whispers as couples slinked in closer over shared beverages. Cutlery moved smoother and the hiss of the espresso machine was the loudest sound in the room.

“Kate liked you. Will there be a second date?” Lingling attempted to steer the conversation again, reminded of her duty to her friend.

“Three times,” Orm said, completely side-stepping Ling’s question, “I’d love to have a second date with Kate but you have to meet me three more times. That’s all.”

“I can’t do that to Kate,” the answer felt foreign on Ling’s tongue. Do what to Kate? What was she doing? With the way this woman was making her feel, unlocking something dormant under her skin; shouldn’t she be more worried about what she was doing to Apichai? The way her husband’s name snuck into her mind rattled her – what does a woman she’s just met have to do with her marriage?

Orm dipped her head to the side, a soft smile lighting up her features in a way a stray beam of light never could, “Do what? I am into Kate. You’re not into women.”

The knot in Lingling’s chest morphed into confusion – what was the problem? Why was she so…knocked off course by the idea of Orm wanting to see her again? Maybe it was the way she watched her, her eyes glistening with obvious interest. But that interest would never amount to anything. So she conceded.

For Kate – for the woman Ling thought she would lose to her grief. And Orm had made Kate laugh and for now, that’s all that mattered.  

“Just three times,” Lingling’s heart betrayed her, hammering in her chest. But when Orm smiled, Lingling wondered if she was even strong enough to turn her down. Only when Orm finally stood up to clear the cheque did Lingling look away from the heart her lips – so luscious and soft – formed around her smile.  

Lingling swung her purse over her shoulder and followed Orm to the counter. Her phone buzzed in her hand from the alarm, right on time, a reminder of the life waiting for her outside the café.

They stepped out into the cool night air and Orm’s eyes hadn’t wavered from Lingling for even a second, not like they’d wandered earlier at the table from Kate. The way her eyes stayed on Ling was sure, grounding and unsettling in equal parts, and that’s why Ling couldn’t afford to look back. But she noticed when Orm leaned towards her, like every cell in her body had become attuned to everything Orm did or could do.

She looked in her direction and noticed Orm’s hand stretched in her direction with her phone facing Lingling. She didn’t have to say a word for Lingling to understand. Every press of a number on Orm’s keypad felt heavier than the last as Ling saved her contact and handed back her phone.

“So where’s our first meeting?” The question escaped Lingling before she could stop it, before she could even understand where it came from.

“Have you heard of Mayaki?”

Who hasn’t heard of Mayaki? Lingling wanted to ask – she had been trying to get a reservation there for months but they always seemed to be booked solid. “I have,” she said instead.

“The next time you’re free for dinner, come to Mayaki. Just text me an hour in advance,” Orm’s struggled to keep her voice steady despite the way her heart was pounding in her chest. She braced for the answer, for Lingling to say she wasn’t actually serious – for the prettiest woman she had ever seen to slip out of her grasp. Instead, Lingling laughed and the sound pooled in chasm between her stomach and her beating heart – the only vacuum in her body had been replaced by the sound of this woman’s laugh and Orm was thankful for it – more complete since she had left her house.

“Do you own the place or something?” Lingling challenged, hoping to catch a crack in Orm’s confidence; to call out a bluff.

“Something like that,” Orm said instead, reducing the space between them by a single step.

“Will you ever give me a clear answer to something?” Lingling stepped closer.

“When you’re asking the right questions,” Orm winked and Lingling’s world reduced to her smile.

Lingling’s faltered; Orm was close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from her body and it was intoxicating. In a way Api isn’t. The thought jolted her back to reality, the discomfort from earlier rising like bile through her throat. And maybe it was the way she hesitated to return Orm’s smile that finally resulted in the crack in Orm’s composure she had been chasing but now regretted.

Ling’s cab slowly rolled against the pavement, gravel crunching under its wheel.

Orm stepped back, fighting the urge to pull Lingling into her, begging her mind to let her go. The woman married with a kid. The woman who had insisted she wasn’t into women but Orm couldn’t ignore the way Lingling’s breath stuttered every time she got too close. Or the way she swallowed every time their fingers brushed against each other.

One final move, just a single confirmation. That’s what she needed from this night, before she let this woman leave. Orm watched as Lingling entered the cab and rolled down the window. Their eyes met again and Orm leaned against the glass, “You’ll come?”

“We’ll see,” Lingling said, fighting to keep her voice even.

“That’s enough for me,” Orm said, lying. As the cab peeled away, Orm stood on the curb watching the car till it became unrecognizable in the traffic. Absentmindedly, she brought her hand up to her lips, brushing them against the curves where Lingling’s fingers had dipped into hers.

“I’ll see you soon Lingling,” she whispered into the night air. For years Orm had followed her heart’s every desire – every job offer she found tempting, every woman that caught her eye. And yet, for the first time in 24 years, the dull beating of her heart had been replaced by an aching vacuum that only felt deeper with every second she spent without her.

Lingling. Hers.