“He was in good spirits just last night.”
“That was last night.”
“Hey! My spirits are fine!” Paul shouted from his room. “And I can hear every word you’re saying,” he added as he came through to join them. Arthur and Lauren remained silent for a moment.
“Why don’t you come along with us, spend a few days in the South?” Arthur suggested.
“Because I’m writing a novel. I leave in three weeks and I want to have at least a hundred pages for Kyong. And, more importantly, I want her tolikethose pages. I want her to be proud of me.”
“You need to stop living in your books, man, and try living in the real world for a change. You need to go out and meet people—and I don’t just mean other writers.”
“I meet plenty of people during book signings.”
“And I’m sure you have very meaningful exchanges with them, spanning ‘hello,’ ‘thank you,’ and deep thoughts like ‘good-bye,’” Arthur said. “Do you call them on the phone when you’re feeling lonely?”
“No, I have you for that, even if the time difference is sometimes tricky. Please stop worrying about me. If I keep listening to you, I’m going to end up believing I have a problem—and I don’t. I like my life, I like my work, I like spending the night diving into my stories, I like the way it feels. You know the feeling, Lauren. You like the way it feels to spend nights in the OR sometimes, don’t you?”
“Idon’t like it, though,” Arthur sighed.
“But it’s her life, and you don’t try to stop her, because you love her just the way she is,” Paul replied. “We’re not so different. Enjoy your romantic getaway, and if my Korean trip cures me of my flying phobia, I’ll come and see you in San Francisco in the fall. Now, there’s a nice title for a novel:Autumn in San Francisco.”
“True. But only if you’re the main character.”
Arthur and Lauren packed their suitcases. Paul accompanied them to the station, and when the train pulled away from the platform, in spite of everything he’d told them, he felt the heavy weight of solitude bearing down on his shoulders.
He stood a few moments in the place where he’d said good-bye to his friends. Then, hands in pockets, he turned on his heel.
When he picked up his car from the parking lot, he found a note stuck to the windshield.
If you move to Seoul, I will come and see you in the fall—I promise.
Autumn in Seoulcould also be a nice title.
I’m gonna miss you, man.
Arthur
He read the note twice, then put it in his wallet.
After wondering how to brighten up his morning, he decided to go to the Opera. There was a favor he wanted to ask the director.
Mia was sitting on the bench in Place du Tertre, lost in Paul’s words. The caricaturist was watching her. He must have seen her open her purse and take out a tissue, because he left his easel to go and sit next to her.
“Bad day?” he asked.
“No, good book.”
“A real—what do they call it—tearjerker?”
“Actually, up to now it’s been very funny. But the main character just got a letter from his mother after her death. I know it’s ridiculous, but it really touched me.”
“There’s nothing ridiculous about expressing your feelings. Did you lose your own mother?”
“Oh, no, she’s very much alive. But I would love it if she wrote me something like this.”
“Maybe one day she will.”
“That’d be very surprising, given our relationship.”
