RSL Ch 18

“I’m going to Japan next month. It would be nice to see you if you’re in Seoul.”

“It’s not like you can just casually drop by like next-door neighbors. It’s not Europe.”

“You once said Japan and Korea are like Germany and France.”

“Yeah. Because they dislike each other.”

“We don’t dislike you guys.”

“Yeah, sure. Then let’s say Japan is like the UK of Asia.”

“Ah… that’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly how it feels.”

I took out a cigarette from my pocket and glanced around. I wanted to see if it was okay to smoke, but Alain nudged me.

“Who cares if you smoke? This is Paris.”

A waiter approached and brought an ashtray to the long table corner where we were sitting. I lit up and gazed ahead. We were sitting at a cafe table inside with a clear view of people passing by. The sky was clear without a single cloud. The June weather in Europe was charming enough to last the remaining year.

After finishing our coffee, Alain and I strolled along the quay of the Seine. With the tourist season in full swing, the tree-lined path leading to the Eiffel Tower seemed packed with people, like a marathon.

In fact, Alain got along better with Han Jae-yi and Juk than with me. He was also a friend who acted without thinking about the consequences. As a prime example, I always cite the “hill incident.”

Our apartment was located in the 7th arrondissement of Paris. Along the Sevres Street that extended from the Sorbonne University, the road split in the middle, with the right side gradually ascending the hill. Despite our caution, whenever the three of us walked and chatted, one of us always ended up stepping onto this right path.

Once, Alain decided to walk to the top and then suddenly decided he was too far away from us and jumped down. He ended up in the hospital with stretched ligaments.

The hillside path that had taken its place in memory was starting to appear in reality.

“Do you want to stop by?”

Alain still lives in that apartment. He converted it into a shared office space, running his one-person business from one room while renting out the other. He added the condition that I wouldn’t be a bother, but truth be told, I wanted to go in and see it after so long.

I walked through the shared front door and up the musty wooden stairs. An elderly Polish couple lives on the second floor. Judging by the familiar foot mats, they’re still there.

The door to Alain’s apartment was open. As I walked into the living room, I was struck by a sense of nostalgia. Despite the carpet covering it, the worn wooden floor was still covered in cigarette burns from our smoking days. The walls looked clean with a fresh coat of paint.

A woman with a shortcut hairstyle was taking ice out of the kitchen fridge.

“Mel, say hello. This is Maximilian. My close friend from back when I was a mess.”

“I’m Maxmilian Schmitz.”

I pronounced my name properly in German and extended my hand.

“Just call him Max. Mel is the tenant here. She does photography.”

“I’m Melanie Simone, sorry, my hands are cold.”

After shaking hands, she reached for the ice cubes again. A large wine glass was ready.

“It’s white port wine. It’s amazing with tonic and ice. Care for a glass?”

I nodded as there was no reason to refuse. While she made the midday port wine cocktail, I took a slow stroll around the apartment. Not much had changed. The same old sofa we lounged on while eating junk food was still in the living room, and the worn-out kitchen and tables remained unchanged.

It looked like Han Jae-yi’s room had been converted into an office by the woman named Mel. There was a black desk that was quite wide and a designer chair that looked expensive. There were camera lenses I didn’t recognize and a huge printing machine. The bed was gone and the lights had been replaced with LEDs.

The ashtray on the window sill was familiar. It was a crudely painted tin of Eiffel Tower souvenirs I’d picked up at a 99-cent dollar store. A recently smoked cigarette filter was discarded with lipstick smudges on it.

“Maxie, come out to the terrace.”

At Alain’s call, I went out to the living room. A table and three chairs were set up on a small terrace the size of a palm. The entrance to the terrace was so narrow that we had to enter one person at a time. I took the glass of port wine she handed me and the three of us toasted.

It reminded me of why Han Jae-yi chose this apartment. Being able to see the Paris cityscape from the terrace was not something anyone could easily come by.

“I told you once, Mel. I flew out for a whole semester when I was a sophomore in college with some friends from Germany. He’s one of them. He’s a pilot now, and he had a layover in Paris, so he stopped by for a bit.”

“It’s good to see you, but Alain is still talking about that crazy episode at the bar.”

“I see. I couldn’t even muster the courage to talk about it when I’m drunk.”

“I mean, we almost got arrested by the police.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Melanie sipped her port wine with a familiar reaction. Red lipstick stains were left on the wine glass. Suddenly, I wondered about her accent, as her English didn’t have the typical French accent.

“But that wasn’t our fault. The three of us went on a road trip to Italy once. Coming back at the Nice border, the police suddenly pulled us over. You know how it is in Europe, border controls are practically meaningless.”

“Absolutely pointless.”

“But then, the police! I was actually a bit touched, thinking finally the French police were doing something. But then out of nowhere, they threatened to arrest us for illegal migrant transportation.”

“Did you really do that?”

“No, I’m not someone who lacks compassion for others. I wouldn’t do something that risky. But here’s the twist: when the police opened our car trunk, two people came out from there.”

“What? Were they dead bodies?”

“No, they were alive. They were Syrian refugees. They had hidden in a highway rest area and hitchhiked on a French car when they saw our license plate. We had no idea and happily drove all the way to Nice.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been on two more rides and didn’t even feel the weight?”

“No, I didn’t feel it.”

“Oh, that’s because… we were drunk, all three of us. Um… drunk, not just from alcohol.”

Melanie nodded as if she understood my additional explanation. It seemed like she found this episode quite surprising, as it was new to her. What kind of stories were they telling at these drinking sessions anyway?

“One story I remember hearing… was about the ‘Louvre Museum first-floor dash’ and how you got fined for it.”

“I didn’t get fined. Just got a scolding.”

Alain shrugged as if it were some remarkable leniency. It was actually a somewhat embarrassing memory. I had forgotten about it, but for Alain, it seemed to be a top-tier episode.

Like all French people, Alain was a devotee of Nouvelle Vague films. One day, he convinced Han Jae-yi and me to reenact a scene from François Truffaut’s ‘Jules and Jim.’ It was the scene where the three protagonists have a race in a quiet museum.

They ran out of the Louvre’s breathtakingly quiet ground-floor entrance before I had a chance to prepare myself, and I had to hastily follow suit. We ran from one end of the exhibition hall to the other, making a loud racket unlike the silent museum atmosphere in the film. Unlike in the movie, we were immediately caught by the security guards. I grumbled about being embarrassed, while Alain and Han Jae-yi laughed about the realistic ending.

Being drawn into their antics, I drank until I was on the brink of passing out that day. I was too drunk to get up after collapsing in Clemenceau Square. We would hang out like vagabonds every day and stumble home at dawn. Once, there was a misunderstanding when Alain’s parents unexpectedly showed up at the house. The sight of three guys sleeping tangled up in just their underwear would have been hard for any French to accept. The excuse that it was hot because it was summer didn’t hold up.

We really enjoyed sleeping ‘tangled up’ like that back then. I called it ‘Parisian tolerance.’

“After that, my mom asked me several times if I liked guys.”

“Really?”

Melanie raised her eyebrows and took out a cigarette.

“No, I like girls. But back then, for some reason, it felt like the three of us were dating.”

“Maybe we are just hanging out too much.”

I had to somewhat agree with him.

“Yeah, maybe. Besides, none of us went to have sex with any girls back then. We really just hung out with each other.”

“Exactly. It was like Jules, Jim, and Catherine.”

Melanie blew out a puff of cigarette smoke and laughed.

“Yeah, Maxi was our Catherine. We didn’t need girls. We were both trying to impress this guy.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

I kicked Alain’s leg sticking out from under the table with my foot, cutting him off.

“Really. Jae-yi and I were obsessed with who could come up with the craziest ideas. And he was the judge. You could tell from Maxi’s expression.”

I borrowed a cigarette from Melanie and lit it. The unfamiliar scent of menthol wafted through the air, and I wondered to myself what I looked like back then.

“So Alain, did you win?”

“No way, Jae-yi and Maxie are soul mates. There was no room for me. I knew it even then, but I just enjoyed pretending. Plus, Mel, that bastard is marrying Giselle Weber this time. It’s my total defeat.”

Melanie whistled and looked at me. I laughed and gave her a nonchalant look, like it was all part of being young and immature. But inside, I felt differently. Unlike my natural reaction, Alain’s testimony evoked ambivalent feelings in me. The cigarette tasted sour and sweet.

Maybe Han Jae-yi and I were actually in a relationship. We may have been emotionally dominating each other, only lacking the physical connection.

 Our relationship often bored those around us, but Alain was different. Without emotional bias, he seamlessly integrated into our relationship. Eventually, a triangle-like love affair formed, leading to the birth of ‘Parisian tolerance.’ And adding to that was the summer. Summer drives Europeans crazy.

Alain did his part and walked away from the relationship. We went on with our lives as usual, until Jae-yi put an end to it. Alain’s testimony gave me confidence and I was able to look at the situation in a more realistic way.

It wasn’t so much an unrequited love as it was a one-sided betrayal.