Chapter Text
To say it was a bad idea would be an understatement. It was quite a horrible one, even. Maybe even worse than that, if it was possible. And yet, it was his bad idea, so Chan had to go through with it. Sure, he heard the alarm bells in his head long before he even took the decision of spending his vacation in the States. It was a questionable decision to begin with, but he stuck by it, because he just wanted to go somewhere he never visited. Somewhere hopefully no one really knew who he was, and he could just breathe and be himself.
Being a chef was no easy task, especially if you have managed to make the most of it. Obviously, at first Chan did not expect to achieve such critical acclaim throughout his first years of his career. He remembered sitting down with his family and telling them he wanted to open his own business; he was adamant he was ready for the journey ahead, despite being only 21. Everything was much harder than what young Chan would have thought, but he never lost his spark. After a lot of work and failed attempts, he created something he was proud of. Yet, over the years it started chipping away at him. Work was all he was thinking about, all he was allowed to think about. It was unhealthy; he had to recognise that.
It wasn’t that he hated his work, because he didn’t. He very much loved it, but he still needed a getaway, every so often. That “every so often” had gotten sparser as years went by, so he was due one. In his mind, the dots connected nicely when he decided he would go to a small town somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the States and have the time of his life. Researching for the best place to visit happened over the span of a few weeks, until Chan decided he would make his presence known in the town ‘Yellow Wood.’ Many didn’t know a lot about the place, but most who have been there — for one reason or another — said they enjoyed their experience. They also mentioned Indiana, as a state, was quite lovely. They did not, however, enjoy the place where they had to stay. Chan put in great effort to even find if the motel still existed, which it looked like it did. Based on the pictures online — few, mind you — it looked pretty bad. Chan should have taken that as a sign to maybe switch locations, but he was already fixated on this specific town. So, he told himself ‘How bad could it be, really?’ that day.
Now, faced with the actual building. It was that bad, it seemed.
“Fuck me.” Those were the only words that dared to spill from his lips, and he was already defeated. Maybe, he should have trusted his gut and never come all the way there, but he was already in town, he already paid for the services, and God damn it, he had a rented car, too! Was he supposed to just book the next flight home? No. He wasn’t a coward. Whatever the vacation would bring him, he was going to take it and deal with it.
Except, Chan didn’t even want to step inside the motel. He was afraid. Maybe he was a coward. No. Those were the demons he was supposed to be fighting..
“Okay, Chan. You can live through this.”
Could he, though?
With renewed faith (not so much, though), he finally got out of the car and looked at the motel for the first time, without it being through the windows of the vehicle. The longer he stared, the worse it seemed to get. He had to get it going. So, he tried to focus on everything else that was annoying him. The rays of sun being a little bit too bright and the heat clinging off his skin like it was sticky and hard to get rid of. The silence being too loud, but not enough to silence his own thoughts. The fact the car’s plate might have been outdated, but he had no idea if that was true or not. He could swear the man seemed a bit suspicious when he brought up the fact — out of nowhere, by the way — that they were still up to date. Would make anyone wonder. He also needed a shower urgently, and if he stayed in the middle of the parking lot for more than five minutes, he was going to peel off his skin and wash it in a river.
Each step was heavier than the last, and Chan had no one to blame but himself. He was ready to turn back to religion, if the experience was going to be as bad as he expected it to be. He was already praying it wouldn’t be the case.
Once in front of the door, he took in the last inhale of somewhat fresh air, and pushed the door, being met with a scene that could have been taken out of a ‘60’s movie, probably. The décor seemed stuck in an era that didn’t fit it anymore, and the whole vibe was off. It seemed clean, but Chan could taste the chemicals in the air, with an underlying smell of cigarettes and old furniture, and his respiratory system didn’t seem too pleased about that. Whenever the cleaning was done, it was too recent to be ‘hidden,’ and also a reminder this was going to suck. And it was no one’s fault but Chan’s.
“Welcome to Yellow Wood Motel. What can I do for you?” The lady at the front desk didn’t make any effort to smile, or to show any sympathy towards Chan and the fact he probably looked just a bit in distress. Quite the opposite, she seemed annoyed by his arrival, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was tired or if because she really couldn’t give less of a fuck he was there. Great. Just what Chan needed. Not like he wasn’t losing his mind already.
“Yes. Hello.” Chan gave her a smile, even if she didn’t give him one to begin with. “My name is Christopher Bahng, and I called in advance a month ago. Fairly sure I booked a two week stay.” His words felt weird, and they would have felt weird, still, no matter how many times he would have let them do flips on his tongue before he would have spoken them. They were rough around the edges, and totally not how a normal person would be speaking. He even tried to hide his Australian accent for some reason, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why. Everything was going wrong in his head, so the universe must have decided everything needed to go wrong in his life, too. So thoughtful of the universe.
“Oh, yeah. Heard something about that, I think.” There were multiple red flags in that room, but Chan decided he couldn’t see the colour red anymore. If he wanted to remain at least a bit sane, he needed to ignore it as much as possible. “Your room is number eight and it’s on the right side.” She just passed the keys to Chan, as if she couldn’t wait for this interaction to be over. Well, damn.
So, if Chan had any issues, he could just very well walk into the woods and never come back. He didn’t even know if there were woods anywhere nearby.
Maybe Chan needed to stop being such a hater. And also a pain in the ass to himself. Maybe, despite everything that seemed and felt wrong, things would be okay. So, he smiled at the lady again, bowed his head a bit, and took the keys.
“Thanks.”
Chan decided to just start walking out of the main room and towards his motel door on the right. He did not bring his suitcase with him, nor his backpack. Just in case he decided to leave, after all. All that talk about not being a hater, and appreciating the effort and everything… Yeah, directly out the window. Still, he arrived in front of room eight. The outdoor hallways seemed nice enough, besides some paint clinging onto the wooden railing in front of the doors for dear life. The doors didn’t look out of a horror movie, either. Hopefully, they also didn’t sound like it.
He unlocked his room and opened it slowly, preparing himself emotionally for whatever he would be met with. He saw a wardrobe in one of the corners, relatively worn down, but not the worst. Then there was a nightstand. Small, but with one drawer at least, so Chan could use that for more important stuff. Then, there was the bed… The frame was… questionable. He could see paint that was ready to peel off of the metal. The mattress looked… ‘loved’ and the sheets were grey, but at least he didn’t notice any stains on them. The pillows also didn’t look quite fluffed up enough, but he could live with that. Then, there was a big drawer with a TV atop of it, but it was… a TV, alright. It was a bigger CRT model, one that had more room for the screen. It was in good condition, or it looked like it, Chan had no idea. He wasn’t going to think about it too much. The carpet had seen better days; Chan was sure of it. The window looked kind of dirty, but it was the effort that mattered, right?
Overall, it was not the worst. It wasn’t the best, either. Far from it, actually. Really, really far. It was like ‘the best’ was the middle of Europe and this room was Neptune. Could have been worse. The bathroom was going to be the one that would make or break the motel, however. He was not ready to venture into it. Hell, he barely ventured into the room, and you expected him to try to face another possible heart attack already? He deserved a break, come on.
“Okay. This is not bad. I expected it to be way worse.” If there was a deity out there in the sky, they must have considered Chan’s misfortunes the greatest show of all time. Chan knew talking to himself, reasoning why he was here… It was probably like the funniest show to whatever deity there was in the sky. At least one of them was being entertained. “It can’t get any worse.”
Then, Chan opened the bathroom door. And he should have kept his mouth closed earlier.
—
Despite everything that made Chan want to cry in his rental car, he decided to power through, still, and at least try to enjoy his vacation. He was here for two weeks; he had to use them to see if there was anything redeeming about this town. It was going to be a hard task, as much he knew, but he still had some hope. He had a reason why he wanted to come to this place, right? He needed to prove to himself the reason was out there, and that he could find it, that it was waiting for him, probably gift-wrapped and ready for the taking. Yes, Chan was in Yellow Wood for a good reason. And he was going to enjoy finding that reason. Or so he hoped.
It could be some sort of nonsense. Maybe a lot of it, really. But Chan didn’t want to give up. He was one inconvenience away from doing just that, though, so his faith was still somewhat limited.
It was easy enough, though. He just needed to shower and ask the lady at the desk for some directions so he could find a place to eat. Then, it would be well into the evening, so he could just come back to the motel and have a good night’s sleep. Well, as good as it could be on that mattress. He didn’t dare sit on it yet. It was going to be a surprise for later.
Though, even if his mind was loud, Chan was successful in letting himself believe. He entered auto-pilot mode, which was the best outcome for now. He went back to his car, taking his bags into his room, ready to unpack. Clothes were placed in the wardrobe and drawer, while some precious things went into the nightstand. A few, however, remained in his bags still. He made sure to check for wi-fi, and, surprisingly, the connection was strong in his room, which meant he could use his laptop and not rely on local cable for entertainment. With that out of the way, it was finally showering time.
He chose some of his most casual clothes. A button-up shirt with short sleeves and some loose, breezy shorts that would do him good to walk around in. Summer in Australia was a lot, but summer in the States was probably something, too. He made a mental note it was probably a good shout to apply sunscreen before he would leave again. The last thing Chan needed was a sunburn.
Going into the bathroom took courage, even on autopilot. He was doing stuff without thinking much, sure, but that didn’t mean he forgot he didn’t like his room. In all honesty, he probably blacked out as soon as he was inside again, because all Chan recalled was the fact that he was out of the bathroom in clean clothes and his hair was half wet. It was probably for the better that way. The less he remembered, the better the vacation was going.
Was it a healthy mindset? No. Did he give a shit? No. Go figure.
Chan didn’t spend any more time looking for a hair dryer. It was summer, so he was content with letting the sun do its job. First, though, sunscreen. He grabbed it from his backpack and applied some on his face, arms and legs, and put on a pair of sunglasses — mostly for a mysterious factor — and he was ready to explore the town. Well, as much as he could in the next few hours. He had the whole time in the world to look around and become familiar with the place. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Chan wasn’t going to tackle Yellow Wood in one evening, either. He was going to be on the lookout for special spots for sure, but they were going to be noted down for later in the week.
Yeah, that sounded nice.
With a slight smile on his face and a changed demeanour, Chan felt like it wasn’t the end of the world anymore. That was good. He was going to have a great evening. He could feel it, under his skin, deep in his heart, in his veins. Everything of sorts. Chan was so sure of it, he was almost excited. Okay, maybe he was very excited.
His mood changed tremendously, and the change was like night and day. It seemed like even the lady at the front desk noticed, because she seemed quizzical about the fact he was in such a good mood when he approached her.
“Hey, so, sorry for bothering you.” Chan gave her a small smile and took off his sunglasses, trying to seem more genuine in his interaction. “I was wondering if there were any places to eat around here?”
She gave him a quick look, and she seemed to suppress a sigh. However, she decided to help out.
“Well, it depends mostly on what you are looking for, but we have a few spots. There is a pizzeria vis-à-vis from District 9 Avenue, Smith’s Pizza. Then, we have a fine dining place, called S-Class and it’s close to the City Hall. Then, we have our oldest diner — still standing — Placebo at the edge of town to the north. Most people prefer the diner, if not for the food, then mostly because everyone likes the owner and his family.”
So, only three places. That limited Chan’s options, but it sounded like each theme was different enough to not have overlapping menus. However, he was worried about the last place. He didn’t even get proper directions, only that it was somewhere on the northern outskirts, which, sure, was kind of enough, but it troubled Chan. Whenever he encountered the concept of a preferred restaurant due to the owner, it meant that there was something amiss with it. Something that the community was not acknowledging, due to their like of the person behind it.
Now, he wasn’t in Yellow Wood to put his big chef hat on and criticise the establishments and their food. Chan was sure that if these places were still open, there was a good reason for it. He wasn’t looking to right a wrong he didn’t even know existed yet. He was there in passing, and he hoped to just have some good food. And one could never go wrong with pizza, if you asked him.
“Thank you, it means a lot.” Chan nodded and put his glasses back on, walking out of the motel and then towards his car. He made sure he had his wallet on him one last time, then he hopped into the car and turned the key. The engine purred, and Chan leaned closer to the integrated GPS, putting in the address of the pizzeria. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat in the building per se, or if he wanted to take it to go, but it all depended on the vibes of the place. In this case, Chan just had to go there and see. That was literally it. “First adventure, I guess,” he murmured to himself. Once he was done with the GPS, he leaned back into the driver seat and buckled the seatbelt, ready to drive out of the parking lot and towards the Italian dream that was going to be his dinner tonight.
The road was quite peaceful; not many cars passed by him, and those who did were pretty fixated on arriving from point A to point B. Chan was thankful that no one spent unnecessary time to rubber neck an unfamiliar man in an unfamiliar car. To some extent, he hoped to go under the radar in the town. He didn’t want to disturb the locals, or, worse, somehow flip their routine upside down. Chan would never be able to forgive himself if he managed to do that. He was normal, just like them, and he was just enjoying a few nice days of vacation in the middle of Nowhere, USA.
Well, that was what he decided in his mind. And it remained the same until he found himself in the parking lot, already catching curious stares thrown at him through the windows of the pizzeria. It wasn’t weird, after all, he was a new face. He expected it, to some extent. People were going to be curious about him, but surely any buzz in regard to his appearance in this town would die as fast as it started.
He couldn’t be more wrong, actually. Once he stepped foot inside the pizzeria, the arrival bell’s sound was the only thing that enveloped him, as chatter dwindled around him and the stares of at least ten people settled on him.
That was awkward. He felt awkward, but not in the sense that he looked uncomfortable. Moreso, he could feel every hair on his body standing up at the same time; the air was a bit too chilly; and the inside of his nose felt itchy in a way that could rival any form of torture known to man. He was pretty sure there was a non-existent bug on one of his calves, and there were at least four compulsive urges that told him to pick at his skin to calm down whatever his heartbeat was even doing. His reactions were piling up on his psyche in such a way that he could barely process anything anymore.
Now, of course, he was used to being the center of attention to some extent. He was a well-known chef, with some of the best rated restaurants all over Australia, with the franchise extended even in a few countries in Asia. The Australian Good Food Guide awarded half of his locations Three Hats, while the other half got Two. Meanwhile, the couple Michelin inspectors that have found their way in Chan’s restaurants in Asia have consistently awarded his establishments with Two Michelin Stars. With that accounted for, however, it did not mean that he was fine with people staring him up and down like a piece of fresh meat. Well, one could argue that he was that piece — as much as he didn’t want to recognise it — but it still didn’t feel nice. People staring felt weirdly violating and mean-spirited. However, that was all in his head. So, he needed to snap out of it.
That was like asking a cow not to eat grass, but alas.
Chan tried to brush every feeling he’s ever had off, and he continued to walk towards the counter. He wanted to eat out, to get used to the feeling of being in a community that wasn’t his own, but he might have lucked out tonight. He was ready to collapse under the stares — which did subdue, thankfully — at any given point. No matter how muted the ‘curiosity’ was, he still felt examined and talked about. It wasn’t good for him, and he recognised as much. He could just watch a show on his laptop back in the motel room. That sounded way better than sitting alone at a table in the pizzeria and having people talk about him within earshot. At least more than they’ve already done.
“Hi there. What can I get for you?” The cashier behind the counter flashed him a smile, and Chan could catch a hint of apology in it. It wasn’t much, but it did ease Chan’s worries tenfold. He glanced at the guy’s shirt; the nametag read ‘Jeongin’ in capital letters. Chan tried to not stare too long at the cashier, remembering he was there for a reason. Jeongin took out a small notebook and a pencil, ready to write down the order.
“What do you recommend?” Chan knew he should just get whatever he wanted, but he couldn’t help the innate urge to do the usual inspection of a menu through the staff. It was in his genetic code at that point in time.
“Oh, man.” Jeongin turned around and took a peek at the menu, analysing the plentiful options engraved onto plastic. Chan found the amount of food to be way too much, and if he would’ve had any say in the matter he would definitely cut the menu in half. Chan didn’t have the time to externalise his mental grimace, because Jeongin turned back around right away. “My favourite has to be the Quattro Stagioni with a mozzarella crust, but I don’t know if that’s something you might dig. I have to say though, our mozzarella crust is top tier and no matter the pizza, you should get that with it.” Jeongin gave a big smile and nodded his head. He seemed dead set on that choice, and Chan was nothing if not a people pleaser at heart. After all, he was a chef, the biggest people pleaser of them all.
“I see, thank you for your honest opinion. In that case, I’ll have exactly that, and a garlic sauce, if that’s okay. To go, also.”
“Coming right up.”
“Thank you.”
While he waited, Chan busied himself by taking a proper look around the place, trying to assess what year it was built in and with what intention. Sure, it was clear that it was meant to be a pizzeria, but what Chan was looking out for, moreso, was the vibe that the establishment was meant to exude. Was it meant to be a higher profile pizza place that cared about the Italian cuisine and the way it was meant to be done? Was it meant as a family oriented restaurant that had the community at heart? Was it meant as a mix of both? And if yes, which side was more dominant, based on the way the décor looked? Did the menu reveal anything of sorts? Did the people enjoy their pizza, and if yes, what kind of pizza were they eating? On the contrary, if they didn’t like it, which was disappointing and why?
So many questions, yet, no answers.
Well, Chan could make a thread of ideas and concepts in his mind based on his observations, but he didn’t find it rather fair to the owners and customers. He couldn’t simply come to a conclusion by giving everything one look and making an educated guess based only on that. It was just a mental game he was doing, after all. He wasn’t inside Smith’s Pizza to give his chef opinion on anything, but it was one of his pleasures to consider each and every intricacy when he visited a restaurant. One could call it a bad habit. Chan chose the words ‘intense interest.’
In that very moment, though, he was grateful that no one could tell that he was analysing the whole restaurant from top to bottom, left to right, and even beyond, due to his sunglasses. It could really be considered only him taking in the place on a basic level. However, he did hope no one thought that he was staring at them specifically. That could have been awkward, and last thing he wanted was to make someone feel uncomfortable.
“Here you go.” Jeongin returned with a pizza box in his hands, sliding it softly over the counter towards Chan. “This will be $28.50. With the garlic sauce, of course.” He placed the small container on the pizza box. “Careful, by the way, it’s hot. Cash or card?”
“Cash, thanks.” Chan smiled and retrieved his wallet from his pocket, looking for the right sum. He did make a point of reminding himself that tipping was a big thing in the Sstates. “Here.” Chan handed Jeongin two $20 bills. He put his wallet back and took the pizza box, but not before he wished Jeongin a nice evening, a sentiment which he returned.
Well, that wasn’t too bad. It still was bad, but not that bad. It could have been worse, all things considered..
Once out of the restaurant, Chan headed for his car and placed the pizza box on the passenger seat, while the sauce container found its spot in one of the cup holders. Since he wasn’t eating out, he figured he needed some kind of drink of choice to have the full takeout experience. He remembered the vending machine he had spotted near the other side of the motel, so he could make do with that. If only he knew where a grocery store was, he would have opted for that instead. He had no idea how often the stuff in the vending machine was changed, but he was also not going to ask. Ignorance was always bliss.
He nodded to himself and got in the car, starting the engine, ready to drive back to the motel. Though, if he spotted any store on his way back, he was going to take the chance and stop there to get a few drinks.
Chan reached for the radio for the first time since he’d gotten into the car. Yes, he didn’t play any music on his road trip from the airport to Yellow Wood. He did play a podcast on his phone, but that was different. He had no idea why he didn’t try the radio earlier — maybe he ended up being too focused on his anxiety about his vacation.
Whatever the reason was, at least he wasn’t driving without music anymore. He did focus on the road, but whenever he could, he would switch the channels around until he landed on one that seemed to be Adult Contemporary music. At least, that’s what he assumed, based on the two back-to-back songs that spilled from the speakers. He was most familiar with this genre of music, purely based on the fact that it was what he liked to hear in the kitchen when he cooked, no matter the place. It was also the type of radio station his parents used to play the most on road trips. It all connected in his head.
The music filled the silence of the road nicely, as Chan did not encounter any more cars going a certain direction. He did notice some teens hanging out in the front yard of a house, and they seemed to be having lots of fun. Otherwise, everything else was wrapped in silence. Chan had no idea what he was expecting exactly, but he did come for the quaintness of it all to some extent. He didn’t mind it one bit.
It wasn’t long until he arrived back in the motel’s parking lot. The sun was halfway set, and the street lights started flickering for a second before they turned on fully. The light bulbs dangling from the ceiling in front of the room doors were also lit, providing extra light for whoever was outside. Chan was pretty sure he was the only one staying here, but it did bring him some comfort to find out that he wasn’t going to be completely alone in the area once night would fully settle.
He took his pizza box and the sauce and made his way towards his room. Once inside, he placed the box next to the TV on the drawer. The pizza was still warm, which was a good thing. Just a quick run to the vending machine, and he was ready for a night in.
He walked towards the other side, wallet in his hand. Chan hoped that the machine would accept bills, as he had no change. You didn’t hear this from, but he also didn’t find it within himself to go to the front desk lady. He bothered her enough in one day. Plus, Chan had a feeling she didn’t really like him.
Thankfully, the writing on the machine said it did accept one-dollar bills, so he was in luck. He took a quick look at what he had to work with, and it had most standard options. Coke. Sprite. Fanta. Vanilla Coke for some reason; Chan never saw dispensable Vanilla Coke so far. Monster Energy. The options made sense, but they weren’t exactly what Chan wanted. Root beer… Why was there root beer in a vending machine? Why was beer at all in a vending machine? Was that legal? And why did it say Zero Sugar on the can? He had no idea what to make of it, but he was intrigued. He was going to waste $1.50 on it, which wasn’t too bad, but he could already feel that it was a bad idea. Alas.
He put the two one-dollar bills in the machine and punched in the correct number for a Barq's root beer. The design was kind of silly, but it was funny enough for Chan to enjoy it. He hoped that the drink wouldn’t be bad, either. The machine was taking its sweet time, though. It felt like years until the can finally dropped. He took it and waited for the change to drop too, but after like a minute, no metallic sound was heard. Chan raised an eyebrow and pressed the button that should return his change, but it was stuck. He tried again. And again. It worked, but barely. Yet, no change. He was getting robbed by a fucking vending machine. Insane.
“Whatever, man.”
Chan sighed and started walking back to his room, can in one hand, wallet in the other. Things couldn’t go right for him at any point, could they? It was getting hard to see the full half of the glass. However, he needed to. If he left on his first evening in town, he would beat himself over the fact that he didn’t give it a fair chance. It was just a minor inconvenience. He wasn’t going to miss those 50 cents. He didn’t even need them
Back in his room, he left out another exasperated sigh and tossed his wallet and the can on the bed. He paced around the room, in his quest of opening the window and fishing out his laptop. He kept looking for his charger, and he did find his adapters and his phone’s charger, but no sign of the laptop one. He could swear he had it in sight when he packed his stuff, and he was more than sure he put it in his backpack. However, the more he checked every compartment, the less likely it was that he had the charger on him. This was fucked. He didn’t bring his charger? How did he manage that? What was he supposed to watch now?
Chan slowly turned his head towards the TV atop the drawer.
“I refuse.”
Though, he couldn’t quite refuse. It was the only form of entertainment he had readily available, excluding his phone. And he wasn’t going to eat pizza and watch something on his phone. It felt weird.
“Fuck me, dude.” Chan closed his eyes, and he was one step away from praying to be stuck down by lightning. “Fine.”
He took his wallet and placed it on the nightstand, same with the Barq's can. He looked for the remote, bringing it with him to the bed, alongside the pizza box and the garlic sauce. He sat in the middle of the bed, switching on the TV and trying to go through the channels. For whatever reason, most of the channels were dead at that hour already and the only thing that seemed to be playing was Diners Drive Ins and Dives. At that point, it had to do. Chan just had to watch that. It was fine.
The premise of the show was pretty simple. The show’s host visited places with good food to try them. If there was a catch to it, Chan couldn’t tell. It seemed really easy to understand. Would he call it good TV? Probably not, but it was entertaining, to some extent. If Chan had to name it something, he guessed the words would be ‘slop,’ or whatever kids used these days to talk about crappy content in general.
The TV series was kind of saved by the fact that the pizza was good. He had no idea what to expect — or if it was going to be decent at all — but he didn’t have many complaints. The dough was just the tiniest bit soggy, but that was kind of expected, so he didn’t care for it. Also the pastrami was definitely a type he never tried before, but he didn’t mind it much in this combination of assortments. It was a fine pizza.
Now, when it came to the root beer, he was afraid to take a sip. He went through the steps of opening it and having it in his hand, but he stared at it like it wronged him in some way. He leaned closer and took a quick sniff. Chan immediately became worried. It didn’t tickle his nostrils in the right way, so he knew that it would probably not fare better on his tastebuds.
Despite his hesitancy, he gave in right away, because he was thirsty. He took a gulp, and, well, maybe he should have taken just a sip, because that taste was not it. What the fuck was wrong with this drink? It was nothing like beer and it tasted kind of… peculiar. First, it wasn’t beer. Not at all. Second, it was a carbonated drink, but it tasted like drinking gum instead of chewing it. Specifically wintergreen gum. What the hell did he just ingest? It didn’t leave a savoury aftertaste, either. It was sweet, way too sweet for his taste. Chan hated everything about it, and, if he was truthful, he didn’t think up until that point that his day could get any worse, but apparently it did. For the love of God. That drink was fucking repulsive.
“I should’ve stuck with water. What the fuck.”
He sighed and placed the Barq's can back on the nightstand. He was going to enjoy his pizza without any accompanying beverage. Whatever. The garlic sauce was really good. At least one thing was going right for him, after everything.
After his less than fortunate meal was over, he stood up from the bed and took the pizza box with him outside, looking around for the bin meant for paper, carton or anything similar. Although it took him a few rounds about the place, he finally found it, and he was able to get rid of the pizza box.
The evening air was just a little bit chilly, but it was pleasant. Definitely appreciated after the long and arduous heat that he had to endure throughout the day. He was almost considering spending some time in front of his door, leaning on the railing and trying to finish that God awful drink. It wouldn’t change much about its taste, but maybe the vibes would be enough to get him through it.
Content with that idea, that’s exactly what his plan ended up being. He left his door slightly open, so the hum of the TV could keep him company alongside the stars that were starting to show up in the night sky, slowly but surely. He was, for the first time, taking in the environment surrounding the motel, and, truth be told, it wasn’t that bad. It surely wasn’t that scenic, but it had something about it. The landscape sung to Chan, the way a mother was singing a lullaby to her baby. It was bringing him peace, no matter how weird the analogy was. It was like a reward, especially after the day he had going for him. Chan felt like he could actually take a breath and try to assess the fact that the anxiety that followed him through the day was ruining everything even more. Sure, many things sucked from the get-go, but that was alright. He could make it work. He was sure of the fact that things were about to right themselves, one way or another.
Though, what wasn’t righting itself was the fucking root beer.
“Jesus, this is fucking awful,” Chan murmured, and he took another swig out of the can, trying to get through it in a timely manner. “How does someone like this?”
The aftertaste was genuinely doing a number on him, but he consoled himself with the fact that half of the liquid was gone already. Next time he was going to actually look for a store and buy something he enjoyed, rather than put his trust into whatever the magical vending machine was telling him about. He got charmed (and robbed) once; he wasn’t going to fall for it again. That was a promise.
Chan took another sip, making a displeased face. This time, however, he didn’t have the heart to comment on the taste again, nor think about it. Thankfully, he had other stuff to focus on. The hum of the TV; the slight on and off of a neon sign on the other side of the motel and the very quiet sound it made with every switch; the sound of cicadas, which he assumed were at the end of their season, as it wasn’t as loud as he thought it would be. He also heard the sound of an annoying mosquito somewhere near his right ear, and he had to exude as much calmness as possible, because he did want to flail his arms around to drive it away. Thankfully, it went away on its own.
Another gulp, another train of thoughts. Another gulp, another reinforcing of the fact that he was going to have fun, and the first few hours were just unfortunate. Another gulp, and the fucking drink wasn’t getting any better.
Eventually, it was finally done, and Chan could finally throw it in the trash can that was placed at one end of the railing. It got progressively darker while he was outside, to the point that he could barely see more than a few meters in the dark, which was kind of scary, but he tried to not think about it. He wasn’t necessarily afraid of the dark, but he didn’t like it either. It wasn’t always rational why Chan felt a shiver down his spine, but feeling it was enough for him to not want to be out there. He got back into his room, closing and locking the door as soon as possible. Okay, maybe his heart was beating slightly faster. Could you really blame him, though?
Once inside, he decided that he could leave the window open. He didn’t have the luxury of an air conditioner, so he needed all the cool air he could get from his window. Now it would also be a test to see if he liked the bed or not. While he sat on it, he didn’t mind that much, but it didn’t give him enough time to get accustomed to it and assess if he was about to have a horrible night’s sleep. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case, as he had enough horrible nights back in Australia. Most of his time was spent trying to figure out how to tackle the ever expanding dominion of his restaurants. If the food was good enough, both in taste and presentation. If people in charge would be able to recreate his exact vision. The list could go on. He didn’t need any more stress during his vacation, but he was sure that this wasn’t for him to decide, truth be told.
His evening routine and the change of clothes came naturally to him, something he had done over a hundred times, something that never changed and was not going to change anytime soon. He was exercising the same autopilot mode he tried this morning, and it was doing wonders for him to just not think about anything nor have the anxiety buzzing off his skin, making him uncomfortable at all times. It was like turning off his brain and taking things easy, for once in his life. Slow was good, and he didn’t have the luxury of going slow most days. Again, he didn’t mind his job and life, but there wasn’t much chance for him to be like this. It was hard to explain, but being in control of everything at any time was something he did crave, but it was also exhausting him in ways that were beyond human comprehension. It was definitely a way of loving being a leader, in an unhealthy, obsessed way, so much so it was chipping away at his psyche, that he had to dissociate to actually feel normal.
People would call it concerning, and many did. Chan just thought that he was making the most of the cards he’d been dealt long ago. He didn’t see a problem with it, but he also wasn’t trying very hard to see it, because he knew that it would ruin the whole process. Sure, it made sense for him to try to shake off the bad habits, but they were so ingrained within his being that he would feel like he was naked without them. It was either Chan, just the way he was, or a hollow shell of who he actually was. Chan liked himself just the way he was, despite all the flaws that grated him. He wouldn’t exchange them, no matter how annoying, for anything.
Was it a weird way of approaching life? Maybe, but it was his life. His life full of unfortunate events and minor inconveniences that made him want to scream at the top of his lungs, like, at least five times since he stepped foot on American soil. But that was besides the point, wasn’t it?
“Okay,” he whispered to himself once he was out of the bathroom in what he called pyjamas — a tank top and shorts. In other circumstances, he would drop the tank top, but as a guy in an unfamiliar place, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to do that. At least, not yet, he figured. If he was about to get hot during the night, he could always just discard it right then and there. It was whatever.
He stretched for a while, as if that could help in any way to get rid of the bad vibes that plagued him throughout the day, and once he was done, he finally lay down on the bed, searching for the sleepy dust that came with this specific piece of furniture in general. He could feel himself sinking just slightly into the material of the mattress, but it wasn’t unpleasant — quite the opposite. There was a certain firmness, but it also provided enough softness so a person could just let go of their thoughts and focus on this specific pleasure of life. A decent bed. The pillows weren’t too bad, either. He must have fluffed them up himself earlier while on autopilot, because they were at a higher angle, the way he usually enjoyed it. They cradled his head just right. He liked the way the bed felt against his back. This was a win, and Chan was going to take it.
He took his phone from the nightstand and checked the time. It was relatively late, but way earlier than what he expected. He was amazed that jet lag didn’t hit him hard. In any other situation, he would have expected to just crash as soon as he was in the motel room, but he actually felt tired at the right time. That was another win that Chan was going to revel in. He would hate it if the time, affected by a possible jetlag, would take away from his plans for his vacation. That was the last thing he needed.
He made himself more comfortable, and he connected to the wi-fi, ready to check some of the messages he didn’t go over yet. Most of it was work related, and those could wait until the morning. People were going to understand, since he was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, he checked his chats with his family and friends. Family, because they wanted to know that he was alright; meanwhile his friends were nosy about how things were going so far. Was he going to tell them he almost went back home? No, but he could allude to the fact that he was very close to never giving Indiana another try ever again.
They were being annoying, asking if Chan had felt the need to change any restaurant he came across; and while he didn’t quite experience that yet, he hated the fact that they knew him so well. In his defense, he only observed. Didn’t say anything out loud, even to himself, about possible changes. He was being good. He knew where they were coming from with their teasing, though: Chan did have a bit of a record — not necessarily notable, but it was one nonetheless — of finding himself in food establishments and trying to help people to make them better. Sometimes it happened for no reason at all — probably a force of habit at this point — but he wanted to think that he was getting a little better about it.
Once he gave them a half-annoyed (but fond) answer to their inquiries, he decided that this was already enough phone-in-bed time. Usually, he would browse social media in a less than casual manner or look at his email and try to answer important messages, but he needed to remind himself he had a team that could take care of that. He had no reason to worry about anything while he was on vacation.
Yet the urges to control and lead, those persisted. Shaking them off was a hard task, but Chan could just imagine he was a tree and his childhood friend, Felix, was shaking him so hard that all the leaves (urges) were falling down, and being then taken by the breeze. This silly comparison was once given to him by Felix, when he was trying to cheer Chan up during their early twenties. Since then, he thought of it whenever he was getting too into his own head about the fact that he couldn’t possibly relax, like, ever. It was a stupid thing, but again, he felt the most comfortable being in charge of everything in his life. Everything.
That couldn’t happen if he allowed himself to overlook certain things and relax. No wonder his doctor once told him his posture is way too stiff, even if it was correct. That was one of the most awkward moments of Chan’s life, if he had to be honest. It’s not often that a doctor criticises your posture due to a completely different reason.
Alas, that only meant that this vacation was wildly unlike anything he was used to. That was good. He had to learn to go through these experiences, the same way a fish would swim through rough water. If something went wrong and he couldn’t fix it, that was fine — he would follow the flow of the current.
A grimace adorned Chan’s features right away at that thought. Okay, he maybe needed a bit more work on that front, but he was going to get there eventually. One way or another.
Chan sighed. He really needed to just close his eyes and stop going around in circles in his mind. No matter how many Olympics he won in the stadium of his mind palace, he needed to quiet his thoughts and go to sleep. A new day was awaiting him in Yellow Wood, and he needed to make most of it. No more random inconveniences. Hopefully, no more intense stares from the townspeople, though he doubted that one. No more Chef Christopher Bahng in a tourist disguise. Just Chan. ‘Just Chan’ was nice and something he liked. That sounded like the perfect next day, if he was honest. He already felt excited about it. He also felt very tired, and he was more than ready to finally succumb to the sleep he badly wanted.