Page 115 of You Had Me At Annyeong!
‘Aren’t you injured? I saw on TV, you were limping,’ Timira cuts him off mid-sentence.
‘I can manage a few steps even with this limp. Don’t forget, ma’am, I’m made of steel. And hey! You can help me in and out of the car, can you not?’
Timira gulps and keeps mum.
‘Oh, c’mon. Would that be a problem? Will Baek Haneul mind? Are you no longer allowed to have a life of your own?’
What’s wrong with this guy? I called to offer him some comfort, and he’s only trying to rile me up! I refuse to bite the bait, NOPE!
‘I’ll see you in about thirty. Bye!’
Timira hangs up without waiting for Rodrigo to respond.
What have I brought upon myself? Why did I have to do this? Is this even the right thing to do? Perhaps I ought to have checked with Bhaskar or Alice. Haneul is not going to like this. Uff, main bhi kya paagal hoon! Why does my brain have a mind of its own, argh?!
It’s close to 9 p.m. when Timira finds herself outside the very posh Hannam The Hill, where Rodrigo lives on the twelfth floor in a plush penthouse apartment.
Isn’t this where BTS used to live?Timira had wondered when she read the address that Rodrigo had texted her. Alice would kill to be here!
‘Come on out. I’m outside your building,’ Timira texts him upon reaching.
Wearing an oversized sweatshirt and an even bigger smile, Rodrigo limps out of the door to his apartment block. His injured knee is hidden underneath baggy sweatpants.
‘Hi, Timmy the clown!’ He playfully ruffles Timira’s hair, unwashed and hastily held together in a bun on top of her head. Sprigs of hair are springing out like cat whiskers. Rodrigo smiles adoringly as he pats her head, while Timira grabs his wrist and lifts his hand off of her head.
‘Rod, don’t. Please don’t act like I am your favourite person!’
‘But, you are, T!’
Yeah, that’s why you cheated on me and broke my heart, you ass!
Timira rolls her eyes silently.
‘Let’s go. The cab’s waiting.’
Rodrigo pulls the hood of his sweatshirt on and wears it on top of his baseball hat. He also pulls up his turtleneck to cover most of his face up till his bandaged nose.
Timira is observing him keenly.
I don’t think anyone’s going to believe me if I tell them what’s happening. None of this feels real. Truth really is stranger than fiction!
‘Gisanim, Jongnoro gajuseyo[Driver sir, please take us to Jongno]!’ Rodrigo instructs the taxi driver in fluent Korean as soon as he is seated inside.
Jongno is about seven kilometres from Hannam, but at this time of the night, there’s very little traffic. It takes them under twenty minutes to reach. As they approach a group ofpojangmacha, little tents serving street food and alcohol, he asks the driver to pull up.
‘Hang on, let me come over and help you out,’ Timira is feeling responsible but sans any emotion.
The dry, chilly breeze that Seoul is infamous for gives them an icy welcome as they step out of the warm confines of the cab.
‘Gisanim, please give us about an hour. Feel free to grab a snack while you wait. Here, keep this, please.’ Timira thrusts 50,000 won into her rental driver’s hand, who refuses promptly.Oh, crap. I forgot this isn’t India. There’s no practice of tipping here!
‘Ahjussi, miyanhaeyo. But, please accept this. Or, I’m dragging you to eat with us. It’s either this or our company!’
The elderly driver is as impressed by Timira’s attempt to speak in broken Korean as by her honest threat. She reminds him of her niece working in Thailand whom he misses terribly and now finds himself unable to say no to her. Victorious Timira tells him to eat something tasty and waves at him sunnily before turning towards her dinner companion.
‘All right, Rod. I’m not sure you could’ve picked a place more public that this!’ she says sarcastically.
Rodrigo smiles. ‘Relax, Tim. Nobody will notice!’
