Metaphorically, my emotions are like these sliced pears in front of me. What was once a whole, unpeeled pear now became fractions of its deep, unveiled self. It was as if its boundaries were stripped away by a sudden, incoming knife. They pile up with a drizzle of honey. The anxieties within me are grinded until they become a liquid substance and poured into a cup, prepared to be consumed and to never return to its original state.

I am not one for hospitality; I rarely get guests. I don’t want to look bad, though. This is why I am making pear juice with honey. It’s not the best thing I have made, but it’s better than being empty-handed.

I walk over towards the living space and hand Wendy a cup. She was looking at her phone intensely. She did not notice me coming her way. “Have some juice,” I said to her, but she didn’t seem to listen.

My sketchbook is on the table, so I grab it. I write down a sentence and shove the book in front of her face, obscuring her vision. It startles her; she then stares at me. “Why’d you do that?”

“I’m offering you hospitality.” I point to the pear juice. The sight of it gets Wendy excited; why would someone get excited over pear juice?

“Wow, bae* juice!” She takes a sip and seems pleased with it. “It tastes better than those canned ones in the supermarket. You’re good at cooking!”

“Is blending fruits to make juice considered cooking?”

“I think it is.” Wendy then zones out as she stares at the juice. Is there a bug or a seed there? Her face scrunches up as she blurts out “I forgot to take Gustav out to pee! I’ll be right back!”

She grabs her dog that was sniffing every nook and cranny of my apartment and rushes out. For someone who was worried about her violent ex and wanted to stay at my place, she sure lacks a sense of danger. Is she like this naturally or does she have ulterior motives? I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a scheme for her to get me to become a model for her art. I quickly realized I lost the chance to pet her dog since I was too busy trying to be hospitable. Damn.

Jay enters my apartment; Wendy hadn’t even closed the door all the way. “Isn’t that the girl from earlier? Why’s she here?”

“She wanted to stay at my place to avoid her ex.”

“Is that so? Are you sure she doesn’t have a crush on you or something?”

The way he looks at me annoys me. It is a teasing expression, as if he wants Wendy and me to become a couple. Such a thought bewilders me. “Stop that.”

Jay just chuckles as he apologizes. I hand him another cup of pear juice that I had, but he rejects it. He told me he’s going to leave soon.

“What happened to that man?” I ask him out of curiosity.

“I took him to the security guard. He’s going to deal with the rest.”

A sense of relief comes to me, allowing me to relax. That means Wendy does not have to stay at my house for long. I don’t have to deal with being hospitable to a guest for long. I take a sip of the pear juice to relax myself even more.

I almost choked on it when someone knocked on my door. Is it Wendy?  Jay opens the door for me and like I assumed, it is her. She seems surprised to see Jay. “You’re the guy with the Ghost Man!”

“I’m Jay, Eugene’s uncle.”

She seems to be a bit enamored with him. Don’t try your luck, Wendy. Jay has a girlfriend. “The way you saved me back there was so cool. Thank you.” She becomes coy as she holds her dog closer to her and starts swaying her shoulders. The way she behaves towards him is quite surprising. She’s rather loud and assertive when she’s with me, but she’s acting like a smitten teenage girl towards Jay. Well, it’s understandable. Jay’s quite the looker. I do remember him being popular with women.

“No problem.”

“Do you live here?”

“No, I come to visit Eugene occasionally. I came yesterday to pick him up to go to my niece—his sister’s wedding. Today, I dropped off some fruits that my sister—his mom–bought for him.”

Wendy looks moved. “That must be so nice. My mom doesn’t send me fruits and such! All she does is nag at me to get a real job.” She puffs her cheeks.

“What kind of job do you have?”

“I’m an artist! When I’m not drawing, I work as an art tutor as a part-time job.”

Jay hums. “You’re an artist? What kind of art do you make?”

His question causes Wendy to freeze. I can see her become uneasy; her toes start wiggling. “I draw…humans. I like portraits and anatomy as such.”

“I’d love to see your art sometimes.”

“When I get the chance, I’d love to show it to you.” The smile she has on is a farce; I can tell she doesn’t want to show him. I became curious. What kind of art does she draw? If she’s being so hesitant, does she draw gore and such? Does she have some sort of fetish?

“Did you know that Eugene is an artist as well?”

Wendy gasps. “He’s an artist too? I thought he was unemployed!”

I am five seconds away from kicking her out of my apartment. I don’t care how cute her dog is; if she insults me again, she’s out for good.

Jay tries to hold back his laughter as he looks back at me. I glare at him. “Eugene’s quite popular on the Internet. Want to see his works?”

“Please!”

Jay then turns back to me. “Come show her your stuff!”

I don’t want to, but having another artist see my work in person is a chance that I’d probably never have again. Although reluctant, I take a few steps forward and take out my phone. I open up my social media account and show her my artworks.

Wendy puts Gustav down and snatches my phone from my hand. “You’re Quackgene? Oh my god, I really like your work!”

The annoyed impression I had on Wendy fades away as if it were an illusion I had conjured up. In a flash, a bright aura shrouds her; it is like she’s shining. The glint in her eyes is genuine; those kinds of eyes do not lie. Her words—her compliments—are like melodies to my ears. I couldn’t help but to fixate on her every second she spent looking at my phone. A calming feeling comes to me when I look at her. When she hands my phone back with a smile on her face, my heart skips a beat.

--

*:  There are several meanings of "bae" in Korean. It could be a surname, a boat, a stomach or pear, to name a few. It has no correlation with the commonly used slang.