Page 8 of Like It's 1999

At the moment, we’re checking out my favorite option. The place does fancy cocktails and has an upstairs room called the Speakeasy. It even has a claw-foot tub. They don’t make gin in it, but they do fill it with ice and beer. It’s also near a T stop, so people don’t have to drive.

“It’s perfect!” Kate hugs me and then grabs Will’s hand.

He nods as he scopes out the room. “We could even do a costume thing, like a ’20s theme?”

Alice looks up from the barstool where she’s been taking notes. “That would be way cool. People like an excuse to dress up without having to wear the same old, same old.” She flips through her calendar. “The thing with this place is availability. I think the guy said that they’re booked solid until the end of January.”

While Kate and Will go down the hall to check with the manager, I take a load off and sit next to Alice. As she slides her notes down the bar, something catches my eye. “Hey—is that me?”

Grabbing the pad before I can, she studies it. “Oh yeah, I guess it is.”

“You guess?” I shift closer so I can study the drawing. Or doodling. It’s something in between. In simple lines, she’s rendered an image of me sitting on the edge of the bathtub. “‘So this is your profession’…” I start the scene from the movieCocktail, perfect since we’re seated at a bar.

She doesn’t disappoint. Grinning, she replies, “‘More like my obsession.’ Seriously though, when I’m thinking through something, my hand just draws.”

“Seriously though, why aren’t you a professional artist? This is freakily good.” I ease it out of her hands because I’ve never actually seen a drawing of myself before. “I mean, you do have an excellent subject here??—”

She grabs the notepad back and whacks me with it. “You’re incorrigible.”

I tap the paper. “You know most people can’t do this, right?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs as she sets it on the bar. “It’s how I learned English.”

“By drawing?”

“Yeah.” Resting the side of her head on her hand, her gaze lands on the array of bottles in front of us. “When we moved to the States, none of us knew any English except my dad, and he was at work all day. I was the only Korean kid in my class, and they didn’t know what to do with me. So I would just draw what the teacher wrote on the board. A couple nights a week, this Korean woman my parents had hired to tutor us would come over and help me decipher what I’d written.”

“That is wild. You drew the words, but you didn’t know what they were?”

“They were just shapes to me.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten. I was in fifth grade. My teacher had the most beautiful cursive writing. It was kind of soothing to copy it.”

“But you didn’t study art at all?”

She shakes her head. “First of all, there’s no way my parents would’ve let me study art—not practical. At least I make enough money to support myself working in PR.” Holding up her drawing of me, she smirks. “What am I going to do with this? Sit on the pier and draw tourists? This isn’t art, it’s a party trick.”

“Whatever you say. But I want this.” When she frowns, I add, “Pretend I’m a tourist. What do I owe you?”

She rips the page off the pad. “For you? No charge.” She holds it aloft before I can grab it. “This time.”

After she hands the drawing over, I fold it carefully and slide it in my jacket pocket. “Funny, I kind of thought you’d learned English from movies since you’re a fan with such… encyclopedic knowledge.”

When she smiles, I’m pulled right into her orbit. “Yeah, my brothers and I did spend a lot of time watching movies together. Especially once I figured out that quoting the latest movies made me… well, popular. It was a way for me to fit in with the white kids.”

I’m picturing tiny little Alice clowning her way to popularity when she nudges me. “What about you?”

“Me what?”

“You’re quite the movie buff yourself.”

I’m about to tell her that since my dad worked for IBM—aka, “I’ve Been Moved”—we relocated every year, making movie characters my only consistent friends. But before I can open my mouth, Kate sticks her head between us. “We’re going to go with the last weekend of January, after the honeymoon.”

“And I’m outta here; I’ve got to go play Bob Cratchit up in Beverly,” Will says after kissing Kate thoroughly. “Thanks for the help, you two.”

“Anyone interested in a movie?” I ask as I put my jacket back on. “There’re a couple of indies playing in Coolidge Corner.”

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