Someplace Like Home |n.j

2.

The alarm brought me back to consciousness, and I willingly abided, opening my eyes to an unusual sight. Why would I ever be foolish enough to sleep on the couch? And then it hit me.

Right. There was a certain customer last night that was horribly drunk. I had no other choice than to fulfill my duty and make sure she had somewhere safe to stay for the night. I will never understand why grown people cannot take care of themselves. It's not as if they don't know their limits. Getting drunk should be something left to do at home, not outside.

Nevertheless, I washed up and took my time before checking up on her. Now standing over the hungover lady, I started to really look at her for the first time, the mess that I was left to tend to. She doesn't look like a Korean. Little moles decorated her face like subtle freckles, and her cheeks were red, but I'm guessing it's just the effect of her drunken state.

Acknowledging that she was a stranger, I stepped away and left to prepare my bag. I decided to let her wake up on her own as I left to buy breakfast.

Eventually entering my studio with newly bought food, I walked in to see the stranger sat up on the bed, awake now with her face in her hands.

She jolts up at the sound of me closing the door, and turns her head to look at me. I purse my lips as we shared an awkward silence.

"Hi." I say first, and she responds with a nod.

Her eyes cast to the blanket on her body, then back at me, "Why am I here?"

She's definitely not Korean. But she was fluent, regardless of her accent. I allowed myself to put the breakfast on the table. With my back facing her, I answer while taking the instant noodles out of the plastic bag, "You were drunk last night. I had to take you here. I'm the bartender from last night."

I take the two servings and fill them with hot water under the boiling pot.

"I'm sorry about that." She then mumbles under her breath, even in Korean, "Shit."

The only step now was to wait for it to cook, so I went to pull back the curtains and let the sun in. I turn to look at her, she was glancing at her shirt. Or mine, to be precise.

"Uh..."

I answered it for her, "You puked and it got over your shirt. I switched it out for you since you didn't want to move much."

Her eyes sudden jolted wider, and I'm assuming she finally remembered the events. This lovely stranger puked all over the bathroom and made a great fuss. I didn't get to bed until three in the morning.

"This is embarrassing...I swear I'm not usually like this. How can I make it up to you?"

I sat myself down on my chair and really thought about it. There isn't anything that I need in particular. I'm in no rush for money, either. I was about to shrug when a corner of my brain jabbed me for ignoring something.

I'm a lonely person. I don't have many friends, and while the bar is always filled with people, it makes it even more lonely. You get used to hearing the commotion without being able to take part of it.

After a while, that state starts to take over your lifestyle rather than just existing at the workplace. You start to live like you're just watching by the sidelines. You see everything up close, you can understand it, observe it, but never be a part of it. There's an invisible wall that I've grown used to being restricted by.

As much as I found dealing with this lady a hassle, it was the most interesting and occupying thing I've experienced in a while. She was a new face too, something I could learn about with a blank slate. And I admit that I am curious about her. A foreigner that spoke fluently with an accent, drunk as hell at the bar I worked at. I wanted to know, not anything in particular, but she was a book I wanted to flip.