She hardly noticed him, nor he her, she guesses. But now, as the two of them sit at the same table, she can have a close, quiet look at him ...
II
The lawyer
‘Good morning. We meet again,’ says a warm voice. She turns to look up. Oh, him again, she tells herself, surprised. The voice belongs to James, a lawyer she met through a mutual friend.
‘What are the chances, right?’ James continues, as if he read her mind. He wears a dark suit and a nice smile.
‘Right. Morning,’ she says in a small voice, her face twisting into a courtesy smile.
‘Are you waiting for someone? Or —,’ he pauses, ‘May I sit here?’
‘Sure,’ she says, retrieving her clutch from the opposite chair and putting it behind her back onto her chair.
‘Sorry for the intrusion. It’s always packed at lunch time. Not a single empty seat,’ he pauses to sit down, then adds, ‘Except this one of course.’
She nods but quickly peeps through the room to find a few seats unoccupied. Um, did he lie? But what for? She asks herself, feeling disappointed that she's been abruptly robbed of her privacy. Maybe he didn’t notice. She shrugs it off, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Still, she absent-mindedly frowns at the thought that he might have lied.
She hardly noticed him, nor he her, she guesses. But now, as the two of them sit at the same table, she can have a close, quiet look at him: a tall figure, olive-coloured skin, dark hair, brown eyes, a strong jawline and light stubble: He is devilishly good looking — Quang would say.
But just a second later, a flicker of excitement overtakes her face — it says that maybe, just maybe, she can resume her people watching session over lunch. She can change her target: from groups of strangers to this one person who she’s met briefly a few times too many — the guy sitting across the table. Though she might have failed at watching random strangers, watching only one person, who she is accidentally having lunch with, seems feasible. While she’s weighing her newly popped-up idea, James is already diverting attention to his phone, looking at it solemnly. His face always looks serious. Must be his lawyer’s face, she thinks.
‘Sorry, just need to send an urgent email,’ he says as if they were in a planned meeting.
‘Sure. Don’t mind me,’ she glances at him as she says it. The intruder of her space is now engrossed in his phone. As far as she can tell from their brief encounters, with his possible lie dismissed, he seems decent. They met for the first time at an event Kim, their mutual friend, organised, then bumped into each other a few times again around her office building and at random places. They’ve never really talked though, only exchanged scripted smiles and pleasantries. She hardly noticed him, nor he her, she guesses. But now, as the two of them sit at the same table, she can have a close, quiet look at him: a tall figure, olive-coloured skin, dark hair, brown eyes, a strong jawline and light stubble: He is devilishly good looking — Quang would say.
‘All done.’ James says as he puts his phone down.
‘Here to stay. Wow, you read thrillers?’ He says, moving his gaze from the cover of her book to catching her eyes. She can’t make out whether it's fascination or sarcasm in his voice. Maybe both.
‘What should I make of that?’ She asks wryly.
‘That's just nice. Crime thrillers are my favourite,’ he says.
Of course it is. You are a lawyer, she thinks.
‘Hardly have time to read though,’ he shrugs.
‘In this day and age no one has time anymore, don't you think? You just make it I guess', she says into her coffee, thinking of the conversation she had with Quang about her taking time off and feels grateful.
‘Can I be honest? You don't strike me as someone who reads thrillers,’ he says, holding onto the thriller ‘theme’.
‘What do you think I read?’ She asks, a curious smile on her face. She's not in the slightest offended. People tell her that all the time, she finds it amusing.
‘I don't know. Sci-fi?’ He says, his seriousness half gone. ‘You looked like you were a galaxy away amongst aliens earlier,' he smiles.
She says nothing back but smiles at that, and looks at him for a moment too long than necessary — subconsciously carrying out her secret mission.
‘Actually, on second thoughts, if you keep holding that stare, I’d say you read nothing else but thriller,’ he says with a wry smile while gazing back at her, his eyes sparkling.
She blinks, fiddling with the handle of her cup, and lets out a sheepish laugh. James is laughing too. His laugh contains sincere joy and warmth. Not those robotic ones she often hears, including her own sometimes. She appreciates such authenticity. James seems transformed when he laughs. At this moment, in front of her, the serious-looking James has disappeared into thin air, the carefree James taking his place.
*
The staff delivers their lunches, setting both plates together with two glasses of water on the table. She says thanks to the staff with a smile. ‘Actually, I saw you entering the cafe,’ James says after doing the same and turns to look directly at her. There is something in his tone that makes her raise her eyebrows.
Realising his words might have come out wrong, he quickly justifies himself, ‘Oh I wasn’t following you. I mean, we keep crossing paths, erm —’ he pauses for a second. ‘We've run into each other, …umm... , three times this week? But I promise I’m no stalker. You don't think that, do you?’ He smiles awkwardly.
‘Well, now that you've brought it up, should I be thinking it? I wouldn't wish to call on a restraining order though,’ she says in a half-joking, half-serious tone, reminded of his stalkerish no-empty-seats claim earlier. She once had to seek the police’s help to handle a stalker so she's a bit on guard. It was all a bit mad: the guy had been stalking her online for years during the time she lived overseas. He then flew to her city upon finding out she's back in Vietnam. He was ‘camping’ around her house for days on end, professing his undying love, threatening to end both her life and his, and refusing to leave. Not until the police came and escorted him to the airport. Shivers run down her spine at the recollection.
‘You alright?’ James asks.
‘I'm OK, thanks', she says, forcing a smile. ‘So, no stalking? Are you sure?’ She presses.
James lets her question hang in the air for a beat, then looking her square in the eye, he says, ‘You never know it could be you being watched while you’re watching others.’
That stops her in her tracks. Her face changes. Taken aback written all over. Her eyes widen. Her mouth slightly open, but no words come out. A flush of heat rises to her cheeks. A feeling of being exposed. A stab of uneasiness. Mixed.
James sips his water, studying her face, enjoying the reaction. There's something deep in his eyes, something not serious nor carefree — it's wolfish.
They lapse into silence. James’ brown eyes never leave hers. Curious. Fascinated. She fixes her eyes on his. Bewildered. Lost for words.
In the end, James lets out a big laugh. That warm, joyful laugh.
‘I am just a fan,’ he says sincerely. ‘I follow your blog. So follower, yes. Stalker, no. I enforce the law, not break it. I read that one you wrote about people watching. Thought I’ve caught you red handed,’ he continues to look at her, his face drawn into a grin, his palm held out to gesture for her to start eating.
There’s a pause before she drops her gaze. ‘That’s caught me off guard,’ she says benignly, and gives him a soft smile — a genuine one at that.
*
She reckons her dual mission is now deemed completed: the dullness gone, her protagonist found, and what’s more, she’s going to have the rest of the day to enjoy some idleness. As she reaches for the cutlery to begin digging in her lunch, she’s making a mental note:
Watching you.
A romance, possibly. A suspense novel, more likely.
***
V, Saigon, summer, 2020
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