Tattered by her past, Sage is a makeup artist desperate to prove herself. After a lucky and last minute job offer with one of the biggest entertainment companies in South Korea, Sage finds herself on a plane to Seoul. As a reserved woman, she finds...
Mila has an 'I told you so' face after she sees me walk into the apartment on Saturday morning, my eyes red and puffy from crying.
"He hit it and quit it, didn't he?"
"Mila!" I couldn't believe her crude insensitivity.
"Sorry." She says after she realizes I'm genuinely upset. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "But we didn't sleep together."
"No? Then why are you—"
"He said he liked me too much. But that it wouldn't work since he's going back to South Korea."
"That sounds like a pathetic excuse. What kind of guy doesn't want to fuck a girl that he likes?!"
If there's one thing my sister is good at, it's being a realist. She doesn't say these things to hurt me, she says them to get me over it quicker. So that I don't hold onto false hope. I walk to my room and plop down on my bed, not yet bothering to remove my stained dress. I let out a huge sigh into my pillow. I think the tears are done, for now, at least.
Why does this hurt worse than my breakup with Dylan? Am I really so pathetic that a guy I've known for less than a week means more to me than my two-year relationship?
I do some self reflecting during the remainder of my weekend. I try to figure out why I'm so hung up on Changbin. Is it because he's the first guy to show me any kind of romantic interest since my breakup? Is my self-esteem so low that I would fall head over heels for the first person who notices me? Does it really hurt worse than Dylan or does it hurt different? The fact that I was the one being rejected instead of the one that left?
Following lots of ice cream, takeout, and comedy movies, I finish my weekend by taking a bubble bath and scrolling through social media on my phone. After checking in with friends and family, watching some cute cat videos, and sorting through ads, an article shows up on my Facebook page.
Stray Kids arrive at Incheon Airport after a week long project in New York City
I don't know why I clicked on it. I shouldn't have. I think I was just getting used to the idea that I wasn't ever going to see Changbin again. Which I guess is still true. I won't ever see him in person again, but it's obvious that I have to suffer by seeing pictures. Pictures of him in casual clothes and no makeup, just like I like him best. I scroll through the pictures in the article and I groan when I reach his. Bare arms and biceps. A plain black shirt that shows off his chest. The same chest that I've seen naked.
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I throw my phone to the bathroom floor and sink down into the bath water. Damn Facebook algorithm. I had never even heard of Stray Kids before I worked with them. Now I'm going to be seeing them everywhere.
I'm never going to get over Seo Changbin.
* * *
Elizabeth greets me at work Monday morning and hands me a check.
"Here's your share from the JYP gig."
I take a look at the check and my eyes widen, not expecting the number that's printed next to my name.
"Elizabeth, this is nearly double what you pay me in two weeks." I say in genuine shock, before realizing how it must sound to her.
"Yes, Sage. I did tell you that they would pay well. But remember, I could have easily sent one of my more qualified artists in your place. Instead I gave you the opportunity."
"You told me you needed the other artists for the broadway show." I remind her.
"Please use this as inspiration to work hard," she deflects, caught in her blunder. "I expect to see more out of you."
Frustrated with her blatant disapproval, I clock in to begin my work. I spend the morning doing makeup for various clients. Looks for weddings, photo shoots, even job interviews. People in New York will always pay to put their best face forward. Around noon, I finish with a client and head to the stock room to refill my brush cleaner. I stop when I hear Elizabeth's voice coming from inside the stock room. I don't hear another voice with her, so I assume that she's talking on the phone.
"I just don't know what else to do with her. She's not on par with my other artists. Not even close."
My heart sinks. Is she talking about me?
"I know. That's why I gave her that job. So she could have some extra money before we—"
A coworker of mine walks by and I have to step away to pretend like I wasn't listening in. Before they what? Is she firing me?
I quickly clock out for my lunch break before my head starts spinning. I walk to the next block and find a seat in a dimly lit cafe. I feel sick to my stomach now and I don't think I can eat anything. How does everything go to shit so quickly? First, I get rejected by Stray Kids' manager, then I get rejected by Changbin, and now my own employer? Do I really not have anything to offer? Feeling sorry for myself, I put my head down on the table and sulk. What am I supposed to do now? I moved to New York to do better for myself. Now I just feel even more worthless than I did in Virginia.
Once my break is over, I have no choice but to return to work. I certainly need all the money I can get before Elizabeth fires me. As I approach my station, I'm greeted with a huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. Baby pink lilies, daisies, and roses arranged in a tall, clear vase. They smell almost as perfect as they look.
Who would send me flowers?
I feel a sharp pang in my chest and immediately my eyes start to tear up. They must be from my mom. I don't know how moms do it, but they always seem to know exactly when you need a pick-me-up. I'm not sure if Mila told her that I was upset lately or if it's just some weird mom intuition, but this beautiful, sweet, fragrant gift couldn't have come at a more perfect time. I miss her so much. I start to feel guilty for not talking to my mom more often as I reach for the tiny card, wondering what kind of corny, sentimental message she left for me.
Upon opening the envelope, true realization hits as the feeling of gratitude drops and instead forms a pit in my stomach.
