Numbered Love by Maysam Yabandeh - HTML preview

Boys Will Be Boys

A sweater vest over a compression shirt might not have been the smartest choice for the coldest April of the century. But how else could he show off his biceps on a date? Besides, winter doesn’t affect a real man. With a smug smile, Nam strokes his manly Burt Reynolds mustache and pops a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. Not all girls dig mustaches these days, but Elsa liked it, and that’s all that counts. He chews the gum with his back teeth, exuding the confidence he has gained over the years.

Nam takes a deep breath as he approaches the weird, stinky homeless man, the God-forsaken midnight resident of the Story Bridge. As Nam passes by, he takes a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket, and says, “How are you, old man? It’s been a while.”

The bald homeless man turns, shock evident on his face.

“Here. God bless. Buy some new clothes. And there will be another hundred for you if you stay put.” Nam hands him the bill, glances at his face, and moves on to the bridge. Good Lord, Livia was right. That crazy bastard does look like me.

“Got a few bucks to spare for a broken heart?” the homeless man asks Nam from behind, his voice tired.

Once he gets far enough, Nam exhales the rest of his breath and takes a deep one. “I already did, you poor bastard. Just don’t come to the bridge, all right?”

With each step more confident than the last, Nam marches onto the Story Bridge where his destiny awaits. Isn’t it ironic that a man doesn’t feel like a real man until he establishes himself as a ladies’ man, with a solid CV to prove it? Until he’s had his fair share of women. Until he can confidently call himself desired. Some men are not as lucky as others, though. Nam pities them. Poor bastards. They’re losers. And Nam is not. He is, in every sense, the winner of this game. He has been desired and will soon be beloved too. He’s had a fun life that satisfied him sexually, and in a few minutes, he’ll begin his next chapter in a love story destined to fulfill him romantically—assured by the bald Buddhist monk. Isn’t that a perfect, balanced life? When you have it all, the whole package, a bit of this and a bit of that.

Ever since he restarted his life, Nam has been certain his destiny awaited him in the land of dreams, America. Contrary to popular belief, arriving here was not too much of a challenge. The trick is to obtain an L1 Visa via an intra-company transfer. All you need to do is crunch numbers for one of those bloodsucking American corporations infesting Ho Chi Minh City. Who cares, as long as it’s not your blood? Who cares as long as you end up on the winning side—with Livia?

It’s been almost a decade since Nam landed in the US. However, he didn’t rush to find Livia. First, because rushing to find love is for desperate losers who haven’t seen a girl in their lives. A real man like Nam; he chills and hangs, letting love find him. Second, once you know your destiny will lead you to a special girl, why not sow a few wild oats before plucking that special blossom? Everything in its turn. All in good time. And in just a few minutes, it’ll be time for love.

As Nam gets closer to the center of the bridge, he notices a woman facing away, staring at the clock tower. She is dressed in a brown fur coat and a dark skirt that flows all the way down to her ankles. It’s the same outfit Livia wore the last time they met at the bridge. The clock tower shows 11:50—she’s early this time!

Would Livia recognize Nam in his new Burt Reynolds look? Nam had better make an entrance. “Guess who’s back? Guess who’s back? Dara Dara Da,” he sings, mimicking Eminem’s Without Me.

Livia turns back to him, her face marked by confused anxiety. It must be the excitement of beginning a romance with a great lover like Nam.

Yeah, that must be it, Nam tells himself as he opens his arms, ready for her to jump into his embrace. “Hey, baby. You missed me?” he says, chewing gum.

Livia stands still, taking a puff from her cigarette. Since when does she smoke?! Her gold cross necklace glints, casting a glare into Nam’s eyes.

Feeling the weight of the world on his arms, Nam drops them in exhaustion.

“How is she?” Livia asks through clenched teeth. “Is she pretty? Is she young? Younger than me?”

“She… Who?”

“Your wife,” Livia says with hatred, taking another puff on the cigarette.

“I’m not married, baby,” Nam says, chewing gum.

“Show me your hand,” Livia demands.

Nam slowly raises his hands in surrender. “I’ve come unarmed, baby.” He lets out a forced chuckle.

“No ring.” Livia exhales a plume of smoke. “Have you divorced her already?”

“Oh, this?” Nam gestures to his wedding finger. “Nah, I never got married. It wasn’t for me.” Gaining his confidence back, he says like Ryan Gosling in Forever Love, “It was always about you, baby.”

A brief smile breaks through Livia’s icy expression. She tosses the half-burnt cigarette into the river and runs toward Nam, arms outstretched.

Nam embraces her tightly, as if they were always meant to fit together. It feels right. It feels true. He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of her Giorgio Armani My Way perfume—the same 89-dollar-a-bottle fragrance Elsa wears.

Livia whispers in his ear, “I’m sorry you couldn’t find anyone. But, don’t worry, my poor thing. In a few minutes, we will fall in love, and I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you all the love the other girls never did.”

“Wow, wow, wow.” Nam pulls away from Livia’s embrace. “Timeout, timeout. Who said I had no one?”

“You just did. That no girl was ever willing to marry you.”

“Well, there was a slight change in the plan. I was gonna get married, but then it hit me that marriage comes with all that paperwork, prenup, postnup, lawyers, courts, and shit. ‘Do I really want all that?’ I asked myself and answered, ‘No.’ Then I figured all I really needed was just a few relationships to get me through my twenties until I would meet my true love.”

“A few?!”

“Which means you, baby,” Nam says, chewing his gum loudly enough for her to hear. He then puckers his lips for a kiss.

“You’ve been with more than one woman?”

Nam’s lips curl back into a half-smile. “Well, yeah,” he chuckles through his nose. “It’s been twenty years since puberty kicked in, so…”

“How many?”

“Well, let’s see,” Nam responds, puffing out his chest. “A classmate to explore sex with during those party days in college—that would be Bich. A colleague to get me through the first few years of that boring desk job—that would be Hoa. Two local girls to introduce me to the rich American culture once I got here—they would be…would be… Anyway. And finally, Elsa, the blonde secretary once I got the promotion.”

“And now me.”

“And now you, baby, my true love, who will last forever”—Nam gestures to the clock tower—“in about four minutes.” He smiles and pops his gum.

“I’m Number Six?” Livia asks, her voice tight as if it comes all the way from the bottom of a well.

“No, you’re Number One. Yeah, I mean the sex, I mean the sixth chronologically, but the only one that I have ever truly loved and will love forever—starting in four minutes.”

“Are you telling me that you loved none of them?”

“No-o-o-o. No-o-o. I mean, what is love, really? Who can ever define love? It’s a question for the philosophers to answer—like Einstein, or the other guy, Freud. It’s…ah…it’s a complicated matter.”

“OK, OK. Let me simplify it for you. Did you ever say the words, ‘I love you,’ to any of them?”

“Words? Who cares about the words? Words mean nothing. Fuck, it’s cold out here. I wish I had my jacket.”

“So, you did?”

“No, I didn’t think it would be that cold.”

“The words. Did you say them?”

“Well, I mean, you gotta say that to a girl after a while. There’s no reason to be mean. Didn’t you ever say that to your beloved husband?” Nam gestures to Livia’s wedding ring.

“Don’t turn this around on me. So, you told all five of them that you loved them.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. I love this watch too”—Nam shows his Rolex Elsa got him for his birthday—“but I’m not gonna marry it.” He laughs at his own joke, hoping that Livia will join in. A hope in vain.

Livia lights another cigarette and takes a slow, deep puff. “Did you tell any of them that you are in love with her?”

“Oh, please. Can we stop with all this interrogation? We’re about to fall in love in three minutes and to be perfectly honest, baby, you’re kind of killing the mood. God, I’m freezing.” Nam puts his hands under his armpits. “You don’t have any hand warmers with you, do you?”

“Answer the goddamn question, baby,” she growls through clenched teeth. “Will ya?” she barks.

“Okay, all right.” Nam spits the useless gum into the river and raises his index finger. “Yes, I said that once. Twice actually. To all five, to be accurate, but”—he shakes his open hand dismissively—“it didn’t mean anything.” He takes a step to be only a span away from Livia. Holding her face in his hands, he intently looks into her eyes. “You just tell a girl what she wants to hear, baby. Everybody does it.”

Livia exhales a plume of smoke directly into Nam’s face, her eyes fixed on him coldly. “Are you going to say that to me too, baby, once we fall in love in three minutes?”

Nam coughs and lets go of her face. “This is different. God has written this love into His plan.” He holds Livia by her arms, keeping her at a slight distance in case she blows smoke into his face again. “Our love is the true one. You know that. You know that very well. You yourself witnessed the miracle when I used the B-word.”

“And now you’re going to witness me using it,” she sneers, taking another puff on the cigarette.

“Oh, God, not again. Look, I’m tired of going back and forth through time. Let’s not forget that it was all your idea. You’re the one who said we should have a life before falling in love. You’re the one who slept with someone else first, remember?”

“Yes, but like a good Christian, within wedlock”—she tosses the half-burnt cigarette into the river—“with all the ups and downs of a marriage. With all the difficult moments. With all the sacrifices it takes to make a marriage work. I didn’t jump from the arms of one partner to another the moment the fun part was over.”

“OK, I may be a sinner, but who isn’t? We all fall short,” Nam says, waving it off with a casual gesture.

“Do you know how hard it is to forgive a cheating husband?” she says, her voice trembling. “Do you know how painful it is to let a man who reeks of a new women’s perfume every night into your bedroom, just because of those stupid vows? You know, I’ve been wondering if God really gives a damn about the vows, or if they’re just made up, like everything else, by you men to trap us women. All a girl is trying to do is be a good daughter and a good Christian, and then she finds herself bound to seek shelter in a loveless marriage, blessed by God.” Her eyes narrow as her fists clench, her voice cracking. “Do you know how it feels to pray every single morning for a promised midnight when true love would give you the strength to break free from this never-ending cycle of despair?”

“Oh, my poor baby. I had no idea,” Nam says, extending his arm to pull Livia into his embrace, hoping to soothe her pain with his long-overdue love.

“And here you are, standing before me, yet another man. You are all cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?”

“No. It’s not what you think. My relationships had their ups and downs too,” Nam says, dropping his arms.

“You said it: relationships. Plural. More than one. Nope. Nope. No way I’m starting this romance as the loser. Not this time.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to go back and get married this time?”

“It’s too late for that. You had your playboy life already. Now it’s my turn for a playgirl life. This time, no Jacob. Well, maybe only for six months—just long enough to settle my dad’s debt. Then, I think I’ll marry Doctor Koothrappali too. He always gave me that look after Sunday mass.” Tilting her head slightly, she taps her lips. “Hmm, and Georgie too, perhaps. He’s a bit silly, but for a few years, I do,” she says, as if reciting her wedding vows. She then smiles and turns her gaze back to Nam. “Once I’m done, we will be back here, and then you can fall in love with me…on my terms.” She clears her throat. “Baz—”

“Livia, let’s not do that. Please.” Nam gently lifts Livia’s right hand and places it on his chest. “I honestly, truly, sincerely love you. I swear to you before God.”

“I will love you too, baby, but in good time, once we’re even.”

“For the love of God—”

“Bazinga,” Livia says the awful word, and the once-perfect orderly world around them starts to crumble.

“Goddammit,” Nam mutters as Livia smiles, just before both are drawn into a swirling time tunnel.

“But we have to rub your head first,” baby Livia said, almost screeching.

“Or our wish won’t come true,” baby Nam added, backing her up.

“All right, all right. Let’s make it quick.” I leaned in and felt their sticky hands rubbing my head, as if they were trying to summon a genie from a magic lamp. “OK, that’s enough.”

“Thank you, Mr. Genie,” the boy and girl said in unison. As they climbed down the grassy hill, they took turns licking the lollipop.