Somewhere Only We Know (Part 3 of 3)

Two days had passed since Violet and I had dinner together at the Thai restaurant. I had been at the clinic, staying late into the evening to clean things up and organize my files.

That evening I shredded old documents and records while my receptionist wiped down the counters. She was a fifty year old woman with a permed gray hair and a rather round physique. She also had an extra wide smile and an amazing chicken soup recipe.

“Doc, I think this is everything. I can’t believe this is really our office, you know? I can actually see my desk for a change---now that’s exciting.”

“Yeah. This place is immaculate. Thanks so much.” I poured a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker and offered it to her. She thanked me and cradled the cup with two hands.

“Nah, don’t mention it. Glad to help.” She had a sip of the coffee. “Ah, this is good. By the way, is something going on? You have this look on your face, like something’s bothering you.”

“Really? I suppose I am a bit preoccupied lately.”

“Just as I thought! I can tell just by looking at you go about your things around the office. Part of having two kids in high school, you know what I mean?”

I smiled. “Of course. Just a bit of personal business, that’s all.”

“You know, if we’re open tomorrow I’d bring some soup for you. That seems to always make your day.”

“Thanks for the thought though. That would’ve been great.”

“Well, since you’re off tomorrow, why don’t you go out to do something? That’d make you feel better I bet, getting away from the office and all.”

“That sounds like a good idea. But I think it has more to do with the stuff on my mind.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure what that really means, but sometimes you’ve just got to make up your mind, you know?” She gathered her purse on her desk. “Anyway, I should probably get going. Gotta bring some dinner home for the kids.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“Nah don’t worry about it. My husband should be picking me up soon.”

“I see.”

“Thanks for the coffee! Good night, doc.”

“Thanks. You too.”

After she left I did a final walkthrough around the clinic and went into my office. It’s a bit past six, and with the lights off, everything was a navy blue silhouette from the little bit of light coming from the window. I left the lights off, sat down on my swivel chair, and looked at the faint reflection of my face on the mahogany desk. I felt suffocated.

I pulled out Violet’s card from my pocket and placed it on the desk. What the hell, maybe I should go out and do something. I picked up the phone on my desk, and dialed the number on the card.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Let’s do something tomorrow.” I said. “Well, if you’re free, that is.”

There was a pause at her end. “I’m definitely up for something. They’re taking us to dinner, so how about take me somewhere afterwards?”

“Hmm...let’s go downtown then. I’ll meet you in front of your office at eight.”

“Sounds good! I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“See you then.”

When we met up the next evening, I suggested that we go to a used bookstore around NYU. I used to go to this bookstore a lot when I did my residency at the NYU Hospital.

“It’s got that really nice old book smell.” Violet said as we strolled through the aisles.

“I would come here and spend three or four hours reading. It’s a really nice place.”

“I remember you didn’t read much in college though.”

“I suppose...I started reading a lot more after college. After college all of a sudden I have a lot of time by myself, so I filled my time with reading. There were a lot of standby time during residency.”

We stopped in front of the shelf against the rear wall. Violet pulled a book out and started thumbing through it nonchalantly. “Hey, I’ve been thinking of asking you something.”

“Hmm. What is it?”

“Well, why did it take so long for us to see each other again?

She stopped flipping the book but kept her gaze on the page. I looked away.

“Well?”

“I’m not sure.” I said. “Honestly.”

She looked up. “Just...I hope it’s not about Jeremy still. You know we’re divorced.”

“You said in your last letter.”

“Right...so, I hope it’s not about that. I’ve always thought you were
still upset over the whole thing.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, you seemed to have taken it pretty hard.”

I thought about it for a while. “I did.”

“I’m really sorry. I was immature and insensitive back then.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

“So...that’s not why you really haven’t talked to me all these years...?”

“Not all of it.”

“So there’s some of it.”

“Not all of it, but yes that was part of it.” I leaned in a little closer. “Violet, I’m just being honest. I don’t think it’s something people can just forget and then start over clean. At least it’s been hard for me. But I really don’t think that’s why I haven’t kept in touch with you.”

“Then...what is it? I really would like to know.”

They were not completely clear to me still, the reasons why I just dropped Violet from my life after college and medical school. Maybe it was because I felt betrayed but realized that I was merely deceived by my own fantasies? Or that the whole Jeremy thing left these indescribable aftertastes, in more ways than one? Or that I really had tried to move on as I thought I should, and thus wanted to remove even those little trace of her like her emails and letters?

“I was busy.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. We’re all busy. You’re only too busy for things you don’t want to do.”

“Med school and residency took up a lot of time.”

“You just said that you had a lot of free time then, didn’t you?”

“I was psychologically and emotionally preoccupied.”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse.”

“Why do you want to know so badly anyway? Am I not seeing you now?”

“I want to know because, well,” she stopped herself, and sighed. “You know what? I just don’t understand you. I really don’t.”

She returned the book to the shelf. Without saying anything, I put my hands in my pockets and looked away.

The store manager came and told us that the store was closing soon. We left the store and took the subway together back to her hotel, without saying anything to each other the entire time. As we walked up the steps from the subway station, I felt the cold summer air hitting me. I took a long, deep breath.

I walked her up to the front of the hotel.

“See you.” She said and started for the door.

I placed a hand on her arm. “Hey. About tonight...just want you to know, it’s complicated.”

“Maybe you should actually figure it out first, yeah?” She said without looking at me, and walked into the hotel.


For the next couple of days I tried calling Violet many times, but she never picked up. In the meantime, I relegated myself to menial manual tasks such as developing x-rays and routine checkups for some old patients at the clinic. I stayed in late every night, ate cup noodles for dinner in my office by myself, and stared out of my window.

In the quietness of my own office, I thought about Violet. I seemed to remember all too well those very fragile moments when she went away from me. In my dreams, she’d always had her back to me. Ever since I’ve met her, it felt as if fragments of myself had been melting and dripping away, but seeing Violet again after all these years somehow convinced me that I can recover these missing fragments. Something grinded inside of me, pushing me, edging me, prodding me, to the point of madness.

I closed my eyes and my thoughts went to the painting. I was drawn into the thin spaces in between the orange stripes---there had to be a message buried in there somewhere.


One night I was at the office looking outside my window. The afternoon thunderstorm had slowed into a lazy drizzle, and there weren’t too many people on the street.

Suddenly my doorbell rang. I went to open the door, and found Violet standing outside, all of her clothing soaked.

“Hey.” Her voice was coarse.

“Gosh. What are you doing here? Come inside. Let me find you something to change into.”

I rummaged through my office, but couldn’t find anything but a couple of pairs of surgical scrubs. “Sorry, these are the only things I have,”

“That’s alright. I suppose they’ll do.”

After she changed, she sat down on the couch in my office. I sat down next to her.

“I looked you up in the phone book and saw your ad. Sorry for barging in on you like this, but I wanted to talk to you.”

I thought about it for a bit. “You could have answered my calls.”

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to talk to you when I’m ready.”

I felt the air stiffen around us. “So...are you ready now?”

“I’m still not sure, to be honest. But if I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will. I guess we’ll never be ready.”

“We’ll never be ready.” I repeated after her. “So why don’t we start now?”

She sighed, and leaned on me, resting her head on my shoulder. Her hair fell naturally over her face, but she made no attempt to brush it off. Her index and middle fingers traced a path along my cheekbone, from the lobe of my ear to the tip of my chin. I could feel her warm and damp breath on my face.

“You know, life’s just strange. We think we can make all these decisions, be the master of where we’ll go...but I realized that, there are these strings attached to our actions, ever so gently tugging at us, until we reach where we were meant to go in the first place.” She whispered into the air, like wisps of incense smoke.

I didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Violet said. “Are things still complicated for you?”

“I think so.”

“I see.”

“Although I think I’ve come to a...determination of sorts.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to me and kissed me on my cheek. Like that first time at the balcony of the dining hall, but softer, and it seemed like it would go on forever. I slipped my arm behind her and wrapped it around her. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.

We stayed like that for a long time.

Later that night I sat in the receptionist room couch, in complete darkness, next to Violet, who had fallen asleep. I had placed a thin blanket over her small body. Her legs were curled up towards her chest, pressing against me.

I had a glass of water in my right hand. I looked at its silhouette in the dark.


Several mornings later, I was sitting in the passenger’s seat next to my receptionist. She woke up at around five that morning just so she could drive me to the airport.

On the way out, she handed me a small plastic bag. “When you get hungry on the plane,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You’ll be back,” she paused, “right?”

“I will. I promise.”

I walked into the plane, found my seat, and settled in for the long flight to Kyoto.

(The end)