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Joy holds a map of Europe in her mind. No straight lines for roads or wavy for mountain ranges, she sees plush green fields and vast blue skies, occupied city streets and the shuffle of shoes across them. She fills in unvisited places with a monochromatic image of what could be, to be coloured in once she finally sees it in person. During her continuous flights between Incheon and Berlin or Amsterdam or Dublin, she finds solace in the waiting areas of airports, back pressed against the gigantic window facing the runways and feeling the vibrations of nearby planes taking off. She’s accustomed to the lurch in her heart whenever her own plane begins to ascend. Back in Seoul, her small apartment, only used during the short breaks between tours, is barely home now. Joy’s home is wherever her feet and suitcase take her.
Several months ago, Joy and her partner, Wendy, saw their tour group off at the airport, their suitcases unusually in neither of their hands. A mishap back in Seoul caused the guides’ flight to be for the day after. As the last tourists walked through the gates, Joy waved at them with a smile as Wendy shouted, “Have a good flight!”
Afterward, Joy suggested that they go to Bristol: she had seen a picture of the River Avon months earlier and had wanted to visit ever since. One two hour train ride later, Joy leaned over the railing of the bridge, admiring the sparkling water. She snapped photos with her mind, colouring in her mental map and feeling exuberant. After Joy felt satisfied, Wendy proposed they take a walk around the area.
Upon passing Park Street, Joy saw her: a girl, with a paintbrush in hand, running around a wall covered with a white sheet. Carefreeness exuded from the girl, a paint stained shirt hanging loosely off her shoulder and her bare feet running through the grass. She was flicking orange paint at other people also wearing paint stained clothing, laughing hysterically.
Joy took a few steps closer to the scene, eliciting confused exclamations from Wendy. Now Joy could make out her face. The distance between them was growing smaller, with Joy moving closer to the wall and the girl running farther away, dodging paint attacks of various colours. The girl turned to see her assailants and, after taunting them and whipping back around, accidentally flicked paint at Joy, hitting her with orange on the left side of her chest.
“I’m so sorry!” She immediately untied the rag around her wrist, rubbing at the stain and continuing to apologize. Joy took the rag from her hands and said, “it’s okay. This shirt’s old anyway.”
The girl smiled at this, her eyes curved into crescents. Joy thought this was gorgeous.
“I’m glad, and I’m also Seulgi.” She held out her less paint covered left hand. Joy took it, and introduced herself while shaking it.
“Not to pry, but you’re not from here are you?” Seulgi asked.
“I’m from Korea,” Joy explained. “I work for a travelling agency, so I’m here for some tours.”
“That’s so cool,” Seulgi said with a dreamy sigh. “I wish I could travel.”
Joy began to say something more, but Wendy called for her a couple feet behind. “They got us a flight back tonight!” Wendy exclaimed. “But we have to leave now!”
Joy turned back to Seulgi with a disappointed expression. “That’s too bad,” Seulgi shrugged. “but if you’re ever in town, you should stop by. I spend most of my afternoons here.” She left Joy with a squeeze of the shoulder, leaving Joy with the feeling that she should definitely return.
Usually, Joy loved switching up her tours, shuffling from country to country and seeing all she could, but she felt incredibly relieved when receiving her next assignment: London was the first stop. Her excitement was bursting during the flight. Multiple times, an eye-mask donning Wendy punched Joy in the arm, mumbling “go to sleep”.
As soon as they landed, Joy beseeched Wendy to watch the group alone until dinner. “Yeah, yeah,” Wendy said, hefting her suitcase out of bag claim. “Get her number this time.”
Joy buzzed with anticipation on the train ride, checking her reflection in the window whenever she could, fixing up her post-flight hair and putting on lipstick with a shaky hand. The journey seemed much shorter this time.
Her feet scurried past the bridge above Avon and brought her back to Seulgi, who greeted her with a smile. Now that they had time to properly, they sat on the grassy hill getting to know each other, splitting Seulgi’s sandwich. Joy learned that Seulgi was an art student and was commissioned, along with other people in her major, to paint a mural on the side of the department’s building, hence the excessive time Seulgi spent there. Seulgi learned that Joy got her job through Wendy, and how grateful she was for it. Her experiences travelling were some of her most cherished.
The conversation melted the time away, Joy barely noticed it passing. “Could I get your number?” Joy asked, scrambling to her feet. “I mean, so we can stay in contact.”
Seulgi took Joy’s right hand in hers and gave it a pat. “Maybe next time. You’ll have to come back,” she said with a wink.
Joy had no time to protest. She left running to catch her train, waving at Seulgi, and feeling exhilarated.
The next time they met was two months later. Receiving her new assignment every few weeks was a moment of heart-pounding anticipation and being let down whenever Joy saw that London wasn’t on her itinerary. Wendy would shake her head and shrug, feeling equally disappointed. A lack of London meant an increase of Joy talking about Seulgi during their tours.
After (eventually, finally) landing in London months later, Wendy didn’t hesitate in letting Joy make a beeline for the station, wishing her good luck.
Joy’s heart thudded against her chest as she approached Park Street, suddenly feeling concerned that Seulgi wouldn’t be there. But she was there, by the wall, jumping to fill in a bird’s eye just out of her reach with white paint. Joy took the brush from her, easily finishing the job.
Seulgi immediately gave the girl a hug, taking Joy aback. “What took you so long?”
This time, Joy did leave with a phone number, which Seulgi scrawled on her arm before Joy’s mad dash back to the station. Rain began to fall as she approached the entrance, making the numbers unintelligible. She sighed. Of course.
Three weeks later, Joy returned to a frantic Seulgi rushing from point to point along the brick wall, lifting portions of the tarp to fix up one spot or another. The mural was due in exactly two weeks, Seulgi explained, there was no time to waste, but Joy should really try to make it to the unveiling and also why didn’t she call?
Joy managed to pause Seulgi’s rapid feet for a moment to tell her of the rain issue, to which Seulgi laughed. She wrote her number on Joy’s arm again, but the latter made sure to memorize the elusive digits immediately.
“It’d be really nice if you could make it,” Seulgi said between pants. “you’ve been pretty enigmatic for the last few months.”
“Right back at you,” Joy flipped through her mental agenda, wondering if her next assignment in London would intersect with the mural unveiling. “I feel like I barely know you.”
“But you keep coming back, don’t you?” Seulgi said this with her back turned to Joy, kneeled in front of an arsenal of paint pots.
Joy sighed. “I guess I do.” Seulgi looked back at her, giving her a brilliant smile, erasing all uncertainty Joy briefly held.
By some miracle, Joy’s instructed to go to London for the few days of buffering between assignments; she was to meet her group onsite later. She questioned how or why this was arranged, but Wendy just had a curt smile after informing Joy of this change, continuing to roll her suitcase down the Parisian runway as she whistled.
So now Joy is here, and she feels like it’s all been leading up to this. Her feet can’t possibly reach that vast green field any faster. Beyond the curvature of the hill, she sees the top of the building, then the top of the tarp covered wall, she makes a swift descent just in time to see several sets of hands pulling the sheet down.
On the paint-covered expanse of bricks, she sees birds and flowers, a familiar river flowing across the tiles, intersecting streets and signs, faces that are smiling and laughing, and in one corner, she sees a painted version of herself, a splotch of orange paint on the left side of her chest.
“Do you like it?” Seulgi asks, creeping next to her and looking delighted at Joy’s gaping. All Joy can do is nod enthusiastically in reply, taking another moment to absorb the colourful details.
“It’s beautiful,” Joy says, turning to meet Seulgi’s eyes. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Seulgi is feeling the utmost satisfaction, but her grin has a shyness that Joy’s never seen before. (It’s adorable.) Seulgi digs the toe of her sneaker into the ground as she looks up with those expressive eyes and asks: “Do you want to come over for tea?”
“Yes,” Joy responds firmly.
They walk arm-in-arm to Seulgi’s flat in which dozens of scrolls hang on the walls: portraits of beaming people and visions of nature and abstract versions of the world.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Seulgi says as she tosses her keys into a glass bowl. “I’ll be right back.” Joy watches figure retreat to an open doorway leading into the kitchen.
Only the sounds of a kettle rumbling and porcelain clinking break the silence. Joy admires the gallery around her. On the desk pushed up against the sole window in the room, Joy spots an unfinished pencil drawing, much different from the plethora of artwork. It looks familiar, she picks it up carefully. Upon further examination, Joy sees that it’s her: there’s a calm, peaceful expression on her sketched face.
“I’m doing it from memory but it’s pretty good so far, don’t you think?” Joy can hear Seulgi say with the clatter of the tea tray against the table. “I’ve been working on it for a while.” She can hear Seulgi’s footsteps approaching her now. “But it’s been difficult. I don’t see my muse very often.”
Joy turns around, and kisses Seulgi like she’s wanted to for months. Seulgi smiles against her lips, the older girl’s arms wrapping around Joy’s shoulders. It all feels so right, Joy thinks, her heart swelling.
Then she feels a slight pressure on the back of her neck, Seulgi subtly leading her away. Their mouths still clumsily connected, Joy lets herself be brought into a connecting room, lets her back be pressed against a plush surface.
Joy opens her eyes and sees Seulgi, smiling sweetly. “I’m glad we finally found time,” she says.
Joy smiles back. “Me too.”
Their tea’s getting cold, but neither of them mind.
Joy doesn’t visit Bristol as often as she’d like, but it’s okay. She knows Seulgi will always be there. There are so many places in the world Joy still wants to see, and there are so many things in England Seulgi still wants to do. They feel satisfied for now, they know their schedules will merge when they’re ready.
However, there’s still no greater feeling than the lurch in Joy’s heart when her plane lands in London, when her train arrives in Bristol, and when she finds Seulgi waiting for her. Joy loves returning to her, taking her paint-covered hands in her own, and kissing her on the cheek.
Whenever Joy looks into Seulgi’s eyes, she feels an overwhelming sense of home.