Gwangju Writes: Third Floor Window

A Short Story Written by Eden J. Jones

So this is what it feels like. I’m sitting on the third floor of a coffee shop, looking out the window, and sipping a café latte as the cars pass by down below. This wasn’t my idea, so it sort of seemed unfair that I should be the one sitting here alone, surrounded by couples laughing and smiling while they gaze into each other’s eyes.

I supposed he could still be coming. Looking down at my phone for the hundredth time, I saw that it was 5:30 pm—precisely one hour later than our agreed upon meeting time. Kwanu, my currently M.I.A. date, was just as much a mystery to me now as he had been the day I met him.

It was on Valentine’s Day, exactly one month ago. I had been walking hurriedly toward    my eye appointment when I was tapped on the shoulder from behind. When I turned, there stood Kwanu, out of breath, clad in a yellow puff-jacket. He also had on a black cap that sat just above a set of beautifully brown Asian eyes.

“Escuz me,” He said in his broken accent,  “I see you walking back there…” he paused as if he didn’t know what to say next. “I was just wondering if you busy now.” It took me a moment to process the stranger’s words. How random they seemed…was he asking me on a date? “Um, well, I’m actually on my way to the eye doctor,” I explained, not knowing what else to say. I motioned to the tall building across the busy street, the one with the giant eye on top of it.

“Ah, I see,” he said, looking rather nervous. “Well, uh, I think if maybe you want, let’s have coffee sometime. Maybe I can get your phone number?”

I smiled at him. Ordinarily it is not my custom to give random men my number, but I was rather impressed by the courage it must have taken for him to run after me like this…and there was something about those brown eyes, and the way they looked out at me from under his cap.

“I have a new phone, so I don’t remember my number,” I told him (which was true). “But, I have Kakao Talk. Why don’t we just chat on there?”

Kwanu’s face brightened. “Okay, okay,” he agreed, quickly pulling out his phone.

I noticed his hands were shaking a little. It was cute how nervous he seemed. “By the way, my name’s Erica. What’s yours?”

“Oh! That’s very nice name. I’m Kwanu.” He showed me his phone then, with the messaging application open and I entered my I.D. for him.

“E-lee-ca, you don’t have boyfriend, do you?”

I smiled again, not sure whether to be put off or flattered by his forwardness. “No, no boyfriend.”

The answer seemed to please him. “Ah. I see. Well then, let’s you and I get coffee sometime!” he said, more confidently this time. “Sorry, my English not very good, but I think we can still talk.”

“Yes, we can still talk,” I assured him with another smile. Then I glanced at my phone. “I have to go to my eye appointment now, or I’ll be late.”

“Ah. Okay, okay. I was pleased to meet you E-lee-ca. Let’s meet soon!”

“Okay, bye-bye!” I said, waving.

That was exactly one month ago, as I mentioned earlier. Now, I had thought, I would actually have a chance to meet this mysterious young man who had, apparently been taken with me as I passed him in the bus terminal. Guess he couldn’t have been too interested though, or he would be sitting across from me now, instead of an empty booth.

Just then, a young guy wearing a black cap emerged from the stairwell across the room. My heart skipped a beat. We made eye contact and I thought just maybe it was him…but no. The guy broke his gaze and walked across the room, settling into a comfy-looking armchair beside a beautiful long-haired girl and began to chat with her without so much as another glance in my direction.

I sighed and gazed back out the window, making small circular motions with my, now lukewarm, cup of coffee. Perhaps something had happened to Kwanu, something serious. Maybe he was hit by a bus while rushing across the street to meet me here at the café… Gosh! I hope not! Or perhaps he had some emergency like his dog becoming deathly ill and he had to take him to the vet, and he couldn’t call to let me know because he had been in too much of a hurry. It also could be that he had come upon some unavoidable obligation—like his grandmother’s 89th birthday party—which he had forgotten about until the last minute. Maybe his phone was also dead, and that’s why he couldn’t call to explain.

I let out another low sigh. If I was honest with myself, I knew that the most likely scenario for Kwanu’s absence was that I had, for some unknown reason, been stood up. This was a first for me, not that I went on dates all that often.

I checked my messages again…nothing. Scanning the coffee shop parlor once more, I hoped to find that Kwanu was sitting in some hidden corner booth and had, in fact been waiting for me this whole time, only we hadn’t noticed each other (due to the location of his invisible booth and all).

Alas! Kwanu was not to be found… and I really needed to pee. However, I didn’t want to give up my window seat with the awesome street view. See, this was just another prime example of why being solo was so inconvenient. Had Kwanu come as he had said he would, he could have reserved the seating while I went to relieve myself. But that was neither here nor there, since Kwanu was not here, and probably never would be.

I told myself it was okay that Kwanu hadn’t come. This simply opened the door for more exciting opportunities: perhaps, for instance, another random stranger, taller, more handsome, and more interesting than Kwanu would now see me sitting here alone. Perhaps, he’d sit down. He’d introduce himself and we’d begin chatting as though we’d known each other for years. I’d soon learn that he had some killer job—doctor or lawyer, perhaps. After we chatted for a while, he’d invite me to see a movie with him across the street at the CGV. Then we would have dinner together because we didn’t want the magic to end. The night would conclude with a walk about the city in the crisp night air while we gazed at the city lights. It would be mystical, and far better than any measly coffee date with Kwanu would have ever been.

I looked a final time at my phone. It was now 6:45 pm, and outside, the sky was beginning to darken. Well, that was it then. Kwanu wasn’t coming, and there would be no second chances for him. No excuses. I didn’t care so much that I had been stood up as much as I wanted to know why. Had Kwanu gotten cold feet? Was he nervous about his English? Had he seen me walking on the street from the third floor window (where I was currently watching) and decided I didn’t look as good as he’d remembered? And why hadn’t he at least had the courtesy to message and say, “I’ve seen you from the third floor window and changed my mind?” Kwanu was a mystery, and I guessed he always would be. At least I had learned something from my two hours alone with my lukewarm café latte.  Never again would I give a random man this chance—it just wasn’t worth it. Men, in general, were not to be trusted, and this was exactly the sort of reason why.

I packed up my things and made my way toward the stairwell. No more “Kwanus” for me. Perhaps I’d treat myself to a movie and a nice big tub of mango-flavored popcorn, followed by dinner and maybe a nice walk in the crisp night air. Yes, that’s what I’d do.

I descended to the first floor of the coffee shop, and dumped my tray with the empty coffee cup on it into the trash. In doing so, I also managed to drop my phone onto the ground. This evening just kept getting better.

I went to reach for my phone, praying the screen wasn’t cracked, when my hand was met by another larger one. When I looked to see who the hand belonged to, I saw a handsome young man wearing an apron and a hat that read “Angel-in-us Café” across the front. The barista smiled and held up my phone.

“You dropped this,” he said, handing the device to me. I couldn’t help but gaze at him. His smile was fantastically white. My brief enchantment lasted only seconds, however, before I came again to my senses.

“Thank you,” I said, taking my phone and turning to leave. I only got a few steps before I heard him call after me.

“Wait!”

When I spun around, he was next to me and holding out a white Samsung Galaxy S4. “Do you have Kakao Talk?” At this request, a slow smile crept over my lipstick-red lips. Normally, it wasn’t my custom to give random men my phone number…but there was just something about those eyes.