SHE SEEMED TO BE MORE freaked out than I was, which didn't make a lot of sense since I was the one who harmed her all those years ago. She turned her back on me, and I didn't dare to move. When she finally turned around again, facing me, she had a hand to her cheek, that arm's elbow resting on top of her other arm that's wrapped around her waist. And I had to admit, she still had that sort of natural C-Pop glow to her she had when we first met.
Before I got to say anything, she said, "OK. Okay, okay." She took a huge inhale that looked like it might explode her lungs. "Okay. You're here. Wow. Okay." She looked like she was going to start pacing around but doesn't. Just stood there, waiting for me to say something.
My hand had somehow gotten to shaking as I found my voice, gaining it back bit by bit. "Uh, yeah, I guess I am? How would you not know? I've been filming here for two weeks now. Do you work around here? And how do you and Mary Qiu know each other? Workie? Is that your name now? It can't be, sorry, but it sounds ridiculous. How are you? You look great. Where did your highlights go? What happened to you after Mr. Wang? I never heard from you again. I'm so sorry, Bridget. I'm so sorry. I was so petty about such a thing years ago and I—oh god, things are spilling out of me."
She stays a good distance away from me, eyes dashing back and forth between me and the ground. "I think maybe...maybe..." I could barely look at her myself as she did with me. "Maybe we should talk. About some things." Her muscles on her arm from dancing so long ago flexed. Yes, we needed to talk. Should've done it so long ago. I should've done it so long ago. A simple apology that has been delayed for longer than intended. Or if I ever intended to even make the apology. "Maybe with some tea?"
She led us to some crew members' resting room. There was a teapot and some hot water, adding on with the tea bags. She started making one. I sat on the folded chair and table, feeling all those past times I've spent with her in a cafe of sorts, now meeting her again here in a too sharp-lighting room with an awkward smell to it. When she's done, she pours it into two paper cups and comes to sit in the chair across from me. Her two hands wrapped around her cup. None of us took a sip.
"Okay." She made a small gesturing motion with her hand, while the other one still glued to her cup. "So, maybe we can start with small stuff. Small stuff first, right?"
"Right. Small stuff." The jeans from the outfit I was given for shooting felt scratchy, making me realize I haven't even changed back to my own clothes. "Should I ask first or should you? Actually, I guess I'll just ask." I let my lips wander to the edge of my paper cup, the steam rolling up, the warmth of it feeling like a pleasant air blanket wrapping up my eyes and nose even when my mouth hasn't touched it yet. I set the cup down instead of taking a drink, waiting for it to cool. "What did you do after G.W.F. broke up? How did you end up here in LA? I thought you were back in China all these years. Sorry, that might've been too many questions at once."
"No, not at all. I'm used to questions." Instead of warningly testing the temperature of the tea like I did, she takes a sip of it, not shying away from the hotness at all. "The littlest one of most, they call me Workie here because," she rolled her eyes a little, "I apparently work a whole lot of load. That's why. But yeah, it is a pretty ridiculous name after all. I guess I've just gotten so used to it."
Her shirt was simple, nothing fancy, some paint on it even. And her fingers looked callused, which it hadn't before. What had she been doing all these years?
"After G.W.F. broke up, Mr. Wang wanted me to go out individually, said I had 'a talent'. I actually believed him for a bit." She eyes me, half of her face in her paper cup, then she laughed. "He said that to you too. And a lot of others. I guess that made it seem less important, but sometimes I wonder if he did ever see a talent in me. Have you seen him? I haven't since G.W.F broke up."
I feel the memory of Mr. Wang begging me for money, or whatever it was he wanted. And the satisfaction of not giving it. A stain leaving my life forever. "Yeah. But I don't think I will see him again."
She nodded, taking another sip. "Afterwards, I just...I didn't want to do C-Pop anymore. None of it, I guess."
"What? Why? You're good, Bridget, you're so good. You were always the best out of all of us, and I should have never..." The rest of that sentence fades, because I couldn't get it to form. "Sorry."
For the first time since we met again, her eyes suddenly stopped wavering. It lands and stays cooly on my face. "I think you should stop apologizing. Or maybe...I don't know. Just let me finish first I guess." She lets one of her elbows rest on the table, that hand unawarely starting to scratch lightly at the back of her neck. "After that, my parents wanted me to go to school, since it wasn't too late yet. Exactly. So I went to college. I couldn't really find a job after that though."
All I could sort of think was, at the time: this was all my fault. But then, something in the way Bridget looked at me, it felt very similar to the way I looked at her. And what did I feel to her? Guilt.
"There was a friend of mine who knew someone in Sacramento. I had a passport, and some other stuff, and plus, where else did I have left to go? There was no room for me in the media by then, people forgot about me. Or if they ever noticed me."
"That's not true."
She smiles warily. "You were doing so good by then. Acting? I never thought about that even, but I guess we live very different lives."
I wanted to take back everything I did to her that moment. I know I said I didn't regret doing what I did, and that is true, but I still felt sorry. Like I've said, one can feel deeply sorry about something yet not regret it. Although maybe in this case it might be different, because later, I felt less sorry for Bridget than I had in years.
"So I arrived in Sacramento, rented a place with my friend's friend, and started to look for a job. It wasn't easy, but eventually, and pretty luckily, I stumbled into Mary. She took me in, taught me some things for backstage, and that was what got me going." She got up, picked up the teapot, and poured some more of the cheap tea into her cup. "Do you want some more?"
I looked down at my cup, which was still completely full. "I think I'm fine."
She nodded, setting the teapot down and sitting in her chair again. "And with Mary's jobs, I also work part-time at the adoption center down in the city. The kids there are rather loud, but I guess it does spread my mind when I help out there." Her eyes wandered around the place before dropping back to me. "But that's basically it. My life. As simple as it is. Tell me about you though, how have you been?" She laughed, a laughter that used to make me blush without understanding why. "I think back then, we all should've known you would've made it to where you are now. It seemed so obvious, I don't know why I couldn't see it."
This time, I did blush a little. But the guilt eats with it. "You could've done it too. You were so much better at dancing. So much better at singing."
Bridget shook her head, a tiny smile going along with it. "I'm fine where I am now. I think it never would have worked out for me."
I wanted to argue against her, because she really had something back then. Still had it now. But the look on her face as her eyes lingered on the teapot, it was all I needed to shut up about it. I guess some people didn't want to think back to what could've been. I always did think back.
"I've seen all of it," she brought the edge of her cup to her lips, two hands gracefully on it, but pauses there, not taking a sip. She sets it a little below her mouth and looks at me, dark wondered eyes. "Your films."
I think at that point, if it was back then, I would've leaned in and kissed her.
She brought the cup back to her lips and sipped it. "You do miracles in it. And no one can deny that you're good at what you're doing."
"Bridget..."
"I just didn't understand it back then," she twirled a finger at her hair, all black now, without the rosy redness of strands it used to have, losing all the interesting stuff she used to carry in her movements even with her still pretty face. "So persistent."
She twirled her hand some more, seeming to not be a conscious doing, and then my eyes caught it. A ring. Barely the size of anything, no diamonds or pearls, on her ring finger. It glistened. And some reason, seeing that, part of my heart dropped. Her eyes wandered to where mine rested, and then she quickly tucked her hand away, her other hand covering the ring.
"Oh yeah, I'm...married."
I swallowed, trying to keep that feeling of dropping a heart in my chest out. "That's great. What...may I see them?"
She smiled, but it wasn't a sweet one, like thinking back to what your lover looked like and how much you loved them. She looked like she barely cared as she drawed out her phone and pulled out a photo from it. An asian man about her age with glasses stood next to her, in their conjoined arms, a toddler boy with Bridget's captivating black eyes.
"He's cute," I said, but then quickly added: "I meant your son. I wouldn't hit on your husband or anything if that's what you're thinking."
Bridget started to burst out laughing. I haven't heard her laugh in so long. "No, I don't think you would."
Our eyes locked, and in that millimeter of a second, I felt like I was suddenly tucking her into her bed after I drugged her, and right when she kissed the exact person who was hurting her. We both looked away at the same time.
"Sorry." This time though, I did not blush. It was only guilt, nothing else. Although Bridget...I don't know. I don't know how she ever felt, toward me or anything I guess. I think I never know about Bridget Wu.
She twisted the ring on her finger around and around. "Do you think things would've played out differently for the two of us if you hadn't...done what you did?"
My breath felt fiery, and I wanted to run away. But I couldn't, and wouldn't this time. "Maybe. Maybe, I really don't know. I'm sorry."
Like she didn't hear me, her eyes stayed on her ring as she twisted it and twisted it, until she finally just took it off and set it on the table. "Or if I hadn't done what I had."
Then, instead of avoiding looking at her, I looked at her. Long and hard. And then I finally found it, that crack in her expression, and at the same time, she fell. Her face squirming to a frown, then tears started to splatter out of her eyes. It all started to unpack, and I didn't know what to think.
Her lips formed the first few words. I heard it. But I didn't hear it either.
"I was just so mad at you. Could you blame me? I guess you could. But I was so mad. I was so mad I trusted you, gave you everything I had because I cared, because, at some goddamn point, Maeve, I loved you. And you..." Her shoulders shook, but I had no intentions of calming her. My ears feel muffled. "Damn it, ugh, I hate it when I cried." She reached for the tissue box, pulling one out and dipping it gently at her eyes and cheeks. When she was done, she looked at me again. "Does this call us even? I'm sorry, I...I was just...I don't know. I saw you at those concerts, smiling your best, doing all that, getting your own assistant, and all I could think about was how all of that was supposed to be mine. And you took it."
I could barely get my lips to move. "Say again...what was it you did? What was it you did those years back then? Tell me again, Bridget. What. Did. You. Do?"
She blew her nose, eyes now rimmed red, and shook harder. "I-I convinced Mr. Wang to get rid of you and...you already know the rest."
It's like you thought you knew someone, and then you don't. You thought all this time they were the too nice and too innocent creatures of this world, and that to take on those like that should be a sin. You thought that you owed them everything, because of what you did, or maybe you still do. You never even second doubted the fact that they could've been the one behind you being forced to resign your whole career back then and be turned down by almost every other company. You thought all of that was because of yourself, because you made a scene at a reality show you were forced to attend. Instead they were the one plotting everything against you, somewhere you couldn't see. You thought...you thought all these when the truth was well hidden. And now you see the truth, yet you don't know what to feel, how to react. Because, as simple as it is, you just don't.
Her hands covered her face as she sobbed harder. I looked at the clock, somehow time has passed by insanely fast.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I know I shouldn't have. It was wrong. It was two different things from what you did to me. I still had a job, and...you, I kicked you to the very brim. Mr. Wang told me your parents kicked you out. It...it made me feel so guilty, and I still do feel guilty. I don't expect you to forgive me, I really don't, but I wanted to let you know about this. And I wanted to tell you, for what I've done, when you...whatever you did to me, I forgive you for that. What I did was worse. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I think this is too late. But I'm sorry."
My back was extremely straight as I just sat there. She cried some more, until I found myself standing up, getting another tissue, and gently giving it to her. She looked up, face splotchy and eyes disbelieving as she looked at me. "Here, some fresh tissues may help."
When she finally calmed down, I was back in my seat across from her. I tried to understand who this person in front of me was, because I thought I knew her. I thought she was so sweet, someone who wouldn't hurt an ant. She blew her nose one last time and gazed up at me. We didn't talk for a long time.
"I don't know what to feel, Bridget." I took up the paper cup and took a sip of the tea for the first time, it was oddly cold and bitter. "I...am I mad? I should be. I don't know. But yeah, if you really want to know, things went hell for me for what you did."
She flinched, rubbing her eyes. "I'm sorry."
I shook my head, then picked up my phone. Ten missed calls from Cameron. "I don't know what to think, Bridget, or feel like I've said." When I opened my phone, on the side-bar of the memories, it suddenly wandered to a picture of me and Klarise together two years ago at home, when Mason took it while we were cuddled together on the sofa and watching TV, fighting over his fresh baked cookies. I closed my eyes and closed the phone screen, it hurted to see but I couldn't bear to delete any of her pictures. "I know how guilt feels. I've felt it. A lot. And I think that's what we deserve for the things we've done. It's the aftermath, the punishment."
She didn't say anything when I got up, heading for the door. I stopped there though, waiting. I felt like I needed to say something. Something maybe offending, because I should be mad. But then I wasn't really mad. I just felt shook, and sorry that I didn't know who she was. Or the chance of actually maybe, getting to know her better. Were me and her ever even friends?
She stood up, her chair being booted back with her legs, and pulled something out of her pant's pocket. "You already have my number, right? If you didn't delete it. Yeah, I kept the same one still. But just in case, here's the number at the adoption center I work at. You can call there and ask for me."
I nodded, tucking the card into my purse.
"If you ever need a favor I guess, I am here," she started to turn away.
I smiled, and awkwardly, I pulled her arm to get her attention back, gathering her in for a hug. It took a few seconds of hesitance, but eventually she hugged me back, and I got the feeling that she didn't want to let me go when her arms wrapped tightly around me. I broke away from our hug first.
"I will."
She started to gather her own things when I left, and when I turned to close the door, I saw that her wedding ring was still placed carelessly on the table. With her phone, a text message lit up the lock screen, and to my surprise it wasn't of her husband or son in the picture. It was a picture from a long time ago, I didn't even know that moment was captured. Kayla and Phoebe stood on either side of us, while me and Bridget stood next to each other in the center, with highlights dyed in our hairs and our young faces gleaming with sweat and the eagerness to prove ourselves. That was our first performance with a crowd, and my face smiled so tight it was full of flaws, yet I've never seen myself so happy before. Bridget stood next to me, her hand holding mine in the shadows, smiling at me instead of the audience.
So I guess, even if I barely knew Bridget or what kind of person she really was, she was my friend. It was just a pitying thought that I never got to know her better.