Nine

The marquee lights shine like a carousel. It's been a few days since I last saw Haru. I keep staring at the street, hoping he shows up again. Every bicycle that passes makes me think he's somewhere close. I've been visiting the places we went in hopes of running into him. I even stopped by the café we met at on the way here. But he wasn't there again. Now I'm just standing outside the theater before work. I wish there were a way for me to call him. Ask him when we're going to see each other again. How much longer do I have to wait for you?

I give it a few more minutes before I head inside. It's my first week working the box office. I'm dressed in the standard uniform, a white collared shirt with the same bow tie I wore from my last job. But instead of serving hors d'oeuvres, I'll be selling tickets from behind a glass window. I spent all of yesterday onboarding with the assistant manager, learning about their new show that's opening this week. It's called Mr. and Mrs. Eloise, about this couple who fake their wealth to climb up the social ladder in Manhattan.

The box office is located to the right of the lobby. Long marble counters are sectioned off by marble pillars. As I head through the back, I see two people around my age sitting at a table by the wall. A girl with blond streaks and a guy with jet-black hair and blue eye shadow are chatting, sharing a bag of M&Ms. I've been curious about who else would be working today. As I set my things under the counter, they both turn their heads in my direction. Their blank stares make me go still.

" Are you supposed to be in here? " Blue Eye Shadow asks.

For a second, I question it myself. "I think so. I just started this week." Some blinks are exchanged, but no one says anything. Maybe I should introduce myself first. "My name is Eric."

"Eric who ?" he asks.

"Ly."

"Do you go to the Art Institute?" asks the girl, crossing her legs.

"No."

The guy tilts his head. "What's your sign?"

She smacks his arm. "Enough with your astrology."

"If he's a Gemini, he can't work here—"

"Of course he's not a Gemini. Look at those shoes."

"I can hear you guys," I say.

They whisper intently to each other. Then the girl rises from her chair, moving her hair behind her ear. "Sorry about that," she says, extending her hand. "I'm Alex. And the Jimin impersonator there is Simon."

"Nice to meet you guys," I say.

"Same," she says, still holding my hand. She looks at me for a moment. "You have a very symmetrical face. Has anyone told you that before?"

"I don't think so…"

"I'm a makeup artist, so I notice these things," she says, nodding thoughtfully. "The bow shape of your lips is a sign of loyalty."

" You made that up, " Simon scoffs.

Alex shoots him a look. "I've read articles on this."

"If you believe that stuff, I have some snake oil I'd love to sell you." Simon laughs, rising from his chair. He grabs a box from the floor and carries it to the counter. I notice the color of his nails. They're a midnight blue with flecks of gold, looking like stars.

"I really like your nails," I say.

Simon holds out his hand, admiring them himself. "Thank you. I painted them last night." Then the phone rings beside him. He sighs before answering it. "Hello?" A pause. "Yeah, can you hold?" Simon covers the receiver and turns his head. "Alex, where are those cast tickets?"

Alex shrugs. "How should I know?"

"Because you were in charge of them last week."

"No, you were in charge of them."

"Are you gaslighting me?"

A voice mumbles through the phone. Simon lifts his hand from the receiver and shouts, " I said hold! " He presses a button and slams the phone down.

I stand there for a moment, wondering what I'm supposed to do. "Can I help with anything?"

Simon gives me an exasperated look. "Listen, Eric. They don't pay me enough to train the new hires, okay? Besides, we have a pretty tight system running at the moment." The phone rings again. Simon picks it up and slams it right back down.

Alex sits on the counter. "We do need someone to work the box tonight," she says.

"What happened to the old man?" Simon asks.

"He sprained an ankle."

" Another one? How many ankles does he have left?" Simon shakes his head, then turns back to me. "Alright, Eric. Looks like your services are needed. Congratulations, you'll be staffing the box tonight."

"You mean, the one outside?" I glance at the entrance. There's a little box office window that sits between the glass doors.

"Technically, it's still inside," Alex says, grabbing another bag of M&Ms.

"It's not that bad out there," Simon says, waving away all concerns. "And the glass is bulletproof, so you'll be fine."

I blink at him. "Is that something to worry about?"

"There've been incidents, " Alex whispers.

" You'll be fine, " Simon repeats. He grabs the cashbox from the counter and hands it to me. "Here—I'm going to assume you know what to do with this. Remember, no public bathrooms! And if you get any weird questions, just tell them you don't speak English."

"How long do I have to be out there?"

"We're supposed to take turns," Alex says with a shrug. "So, it won't be all night."

"Should I come back after—" I start.

"No, we'll get you, " Simon says, patting me once on the shoulder.

I glance at the door and back at him. I was looking forward to working inside, enjoying the view of the lobby. "I guess I'll head out there then."

"Have fun," Simon says with a quick wave.

I stand there a moment longer, hoping for more instruction. But they both turn back to the counter, chatting casually as if I'm already gone. So I grab my things and leave through the door.

The box sits between the entrance doors, in the awkward space that keeps leaves from blowing into the lobby. It's a small shrine of glass, made to fit a single person, like those fortune teller machines at a carnival. I set my things down and take a seat in the chair. There's still plenty of daylight out, giving me a clear view of the street. Crowds pass back and forth, snapping pictures under the marquee lights. There's not much to do but sit like an old guard, giving directions to strangers here and there. The hours tick by slowly. I keep checking the time, wondering when the others will come get me.

There's a broken desk bell in the drawer. I've been tapping away at it to pass the time. I can't seem to get it working again. The dull sound of metal fills me with a strange emptiness. What are Simon and Alex doing? It's been a few hours with no word from them. By the time daylight fades to a night sky, no one has taken my place.

People start trickling out the doors, signaling the end of the shift. I guess that means it's time to close up. I'm still figuring out which key works with the lock. That's when I notice them through the window. Simon and Alex are leaving together, already changed out of their work clothes. They're loud with conversation as they walk right past me. I almost call their names, in case they forgot I'm in here. But they don't even turn their heads as they vanish through the doors.

I can't help taking that personally. So much for making friends on the job. I let out a breath as I reach down for my bag. A shadow moves over me, accompanied by the sound of a bell as someone approaches the window.

Isn't the desk bell broken?

I lift my head up. Haru stands at the window, smiling back at me. He's wearing a light gray jacket over a white shirt. I shout through the glass as I drop my bag, " Haru? Oh my god. You're here! "

"Surprise," he says with a smirk.

" When did you get— " I pause, realizing there's a better way to do this. "Wait right there—" I turn around, stumbling as I open the door. I take a quick look around before I rush to Haru, throwing my arms around him. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"I would have come sooner had I known you missed me this much," he says.

"Where have you been?" I ask. "You left the Skydeck without saying anything. I didn't know if you were coming back."

"Sorry for taking off," he says, moving the hair out of my face. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "It's alright. As long as you're back now."

Haru smiles, moving his hand along my shoulder. "Of course I am." Then he turns his head, glancing back at the box office. "So this is where they have you working?"

"Yeah. For tonight, anyway."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"Sure."

Haru opens the box office door and sticks his head inside. "It's very… small," he says, looking around. "Small but charming."

"The glass is bulletproof."

Haru gives me a look. "Bulletproof?"

"Theater can be rough," I say, narrowing my eyes. "I'm really putting my life on the line out here."

Haru cracks a smile. "Well, glad to know you're protected." Then he glances at the floor, noticing my bag. "I see you brought your camera with you. What are you working on?"

"Nothing really." I let out a breath, picking it up from the floor. "I actually haven't touched it in a while. But there's this film scholarship I'm applying to. You have to submit a short film." I leave out the part where I told Jasmine I already made it to the next round.

"What's it about?"

"I haven't decided yet," I admit. "But I have a few weeks to figure it out. I was thinking about getting shots of the theater. But I can do that another time."

Haru shrugs. "Why not tonight?"

"Because you're here. I figure you want to see more of the city."

"We have plenty of time," Haru says. "Besides, you promised to show me the theater."

I consider this. "I guess I can give you a tour."

The lobby is practically empty, making it a good time to show him around. I could get a few quick shots while we're inside. I glance around for security guards. Then I lead Haru through the entrance doors, making a sweeping motion with my hand. "Welcome to the Chicago Theater," I say in my tour-guide voice. "This is the grand lobby, modeled after Versailles."

Haru looks around, appearing impressed by the architecture. "Imagine working in here, instead of that little box."

"Don't remind me." I shake my head and sigh. "Anyway, this is the main box office. And on the opposite side is where you get refreshments." I continue walking, motioning him to follow along. "See the grand staircase behind me? It's a replica from the Titanic. I learned about it during training."

"That's a bit dark, don't you think?" Haru asks me. "Modeling something after a tragedy."

"Some of the best love stories are born out of tragedies," I say.

Haru runs a hand along the wooden rail. Then he continues up the staircase. "And what's up here?"

"The mezzanine," I say, following him upstairs. The marble balustrade wraps around the entire floor, giving us a full view of the main floor. It feels like we're standing on a palace balcony, glancing down at an empty ballroom. This would be a great place for a scene in a movie. A princess observing her guests from above, wondering who her prince is.

While Haru is looking around, admiring the paintings on the walls, I take out my camera. I play with the settings, adjusting a few things before I hit record. The lights are dimmed, offering a moodier effect. Someone is wiping down the counter, giving some life to the shot. I move around the mezzanine, trying out different angles, getting a shot of the stained-glass windows. One of the sconces is flickering, adding drama to whatever this will be. This is just practice, getting me back into the swing of things. I only film a few minutes' worth of video before putting the camera away. That's when I notice I'm alone.

"Haru?"

I'm about to call out again when I hear his voice.

"Over here."

It doesn't sound like he wandered too far. I follow his voice, hoping I don't run into anyone. Thankfully, no one else is around when I find him. He's standing beside the entrance to the theater.

"They left it open for us," he says.

"What do you mean?"

Haru smiles as he turns the knob, pushing open the door. Looks like they didn't lock it properly.

"We can't go in there," I whisper.

"But you promised a tour…"

"I'm gonna get in trouble."

"You won't get in trouble."

I fold my arms. "And what makes you so sure?"

He smirks. "As long as no one finds out. We can do anything."

We can do anything. Someone else said that to me before. In this very theater, right? Then my mind flashes to Jasmine. The two of us running up the staircase as children, hoping to sneak into the show. Too bad we never made it inside. "Alright, a quick look," I say. "But we have to make it fast, okay?"

Haru holds opens the door, letting me go in first. It's very dark inside, making it hard to see the seats in front of me. A single beam of light shines from the stage.

"How do we get down there?" Haru asks.

"There's probably a staircase."

It takes a second to find it, but eventually we reach the lower level. It's strange being alone in an auditorium, surrounded by rows of empty seats. I wonder what it's like to see a show in here. As I'm looking around in the dark, I realize Haru isn't beside me. I almost panic before I see him on the stage.

"What are you doing up there?"

"I want to look around," he says.

"You're gonna get me in trouble—"

Haru ignores this as he wanders behind a set piece. I glance at the steps at the side of the stage. Then I make my way up to get him. There's enough light to make out the set of an apartment. Two glass doors are open to a faux balcony, overlooking a backdrop of Manhattan. There's a grand piano at the center of the stage. I wander toward it, wondering if it's real. It's been a while since I sat down at the piano. I run a hand along the keys.

"You play the piano?"

Haru appears at my side, startling me a little.

I shake my head. "No, I don't," I say. "My sister does, though. She taught me a few songs when we were younger. But I doubt I remember any of them."

Haru touches my back. "You should try to play one," he says.

I look at him and back at the piano. Then I set my camera down and take a seat on the bench. My fingers rest on the keys as I try to remember the chords. Maybe if I start playing, something will come to me. I close my eyes, letting my fingers move on their own. The sound of the keys rings through me, sweeping me away to another memory…

I open my eyes to Jasmine's bedroom. I am eleven years old, sitting at her piano as sunlight streams through the window. She's sitting right beside me, trying to teach me a new song.

"Keep your fingers like this," she says, positioning them for me. She makes it look so easy when she plays, her movements as fluid as water. But I can't seem to follow her, no matter how many times I watch her do it. "Try it again," she says patiently.

We've been at this for hours. But I haven't gotten any better. Finally, I pull my hands back in defeat. "I don't want to do this anymore," I groan.

"You're doing fine, Eric. It just takes some practice, that's all."

"I don't want to practice."

"Then you'll never learn how to play."

"I don't care anymore." I rise to leave, but Jasmine puts a hand on my shoulder, sitting me down again.

"You can't give up like that," she says. "Do you think I learned to play overnight? Just give it one more shot. We'll try something different this time. Here—" She positions my hand again, keeping hers on the piano, too. "You play the left-hand part, and I'll play the right."

"Fine…"

It's a little confusing at first, trying to keep in time with each other. But once I find the rhythm, it becomes easier to follow along. Since there's only one hand to focus on, I don't stumble quite as much. I hold the low notes, grounding the song, as Jasmine's fingers dance across the keys to the melody. It's like this intricate dance between us, filling the room with our music.

The door opens behind us as Mom comes in with a laundry basket. She looks at me and says, " ?? ng l à m phi ? n ch ? con n ? a." Stop bothering your sister. As she walks over to get me, she notices my hands. "You colored your nails?" she says. "Ai cho con s ? n m ó ng tay v ? y?" Who let you do that?

I fold my arms, hiding my hands from her. I painted them last night with Jasmine's nail polish while we were watching a movie. I didn't think it was a big deal. But Mom grabs my hand, taking a closer look at them.

"Who let you do that?" she repeats.

"I painted them," Jasmine lies.

"You shouldn't let him do that."

"It's not a big deal," Jasmine says back. "I know a lot of boys that do it, too. And Eric is helping me practice, okay?"

Mom stares at my hand, shaking her head. " ?? ng l à m ? i ? u n à y n ? a," she says. Don't do this anymore . Then she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Jasmine leans into me. "It's okay," she whispers. "I like your nails like that."

I don't say anything. I just lower my head, hiding my hands in my lap.

After some silence, Jasmine asks, "Do you want to keep practicing?" But I don't answer her. She doesn't push me on this. Instead, she smiles and says, "How about I play you something instead, okay?" Her hands return to the piano. I close my eyes for a moment, listening to her song until…

"You shouldn't be in here."

A deep voice pulls me back from the memory. I look up from the piano as Jasmine vanishes, along with the music. I blink a few times and find myself in the auditorium again. Someone is standing in one of the aisles. But it's too dark to make out a face.

"I said you can't be in here," the voice repeats.

I rise immediately, nearly knocking over the bench. "I'm sorry, I was just looking around." I stumble through the dark, making my way down the stage. That's when I notice Haru is gone. I glance behind me, wondering where he could be. But I can't stay to look for him. The guy is still watching me from the side door of the theater. I can't make out who he is from the silhouette. Hopefully he doesn't recognize me, either. I hurry down the aisle, leaving through the double doors, hoping I don't get in trouble and lose my job on the first day.