Chapter Seven
Much happened over the next forty-eight hours. Penny sent her flight details. Then followed up with a text. Ugh, my dad is coming too. But I’m sure we’ll be able to ditch him. He wants your email. Can I give it to him? He is BEYOND. Sorry. Mika agreed Thomas could have her email. What else could she do? Soon enough, Thomas sent a confirmation he’d be on the same flight with Penny. He also included a suggested itinerary, leaving on the track changes in the Word document so they could discuss, i.e., negotiate, the schedule. Fucking lawyers.
Details were agreed upon.
Day One (Sunday): Arrive on flight 3021, at 10:21 a.m. It would take them approximately fifteen minutes to go from their gate to the baggage claim, where Mika would pick them up. Bags in hand, they would proceed directly to lunch. Penny insisted on food trucks? Thomas had written, baffled by such a notion. After lunch, Penny and Thomas would spend the afternoon at the hotel resting and have dinner in because, apparently, Thomas was a cantankerous old man living inside a cantankerous younger man’s body.
Day Two (Monday): They’d visit the Portland Art Museum, where fake-Mika had interned, and have dinner at Mika’s house, where fake-Mika’s charming boyfriend Leif would join them.
And on it went. Day Three (Tuesday): Dinner at one of Portland’s Michelin-starred restaurants. Day Four (Wednesday): Lunch with Hana . . . culminating on Day Five (Thursday): Mika’s faux gallery opening. The one she’d rambled on to Penny about. I have the best artist. He’s brilliant. I can’t believe he hasn’t been snatched up by another gallery. How lucky am I?
Mika vacillated between panic and excitement. Fourteen days, scratch that, twelve days. She had less than two weeks to fake her life. Less than two weeks until she met Penny in person again. The countdown had begun.
Charlie and Hana promised to aggressively support her. They cleared their evenings and weekends to help her prep. Charlie even intended to ask the tech guy at her school to engineer some photographs of Mika around the world. The house. The hobbies. All handled. Or would be handled. Two pieces were still missing. The gallery space and Leif. Of the two, Leif seemed easier, the lowest-hanging fruit.
And Leif wasn’t answering Mika’s phone calls or texts. Bastard. She’d tried a half dozen times. Nothing. He’d read her texts. She was sure. The little bubble with three dots appeared and reappeared like he was deciding what to say, then settled ultimately on passive-aggressive silence. He’d left her no choice. She stood on Northwest Twenty-Third Avenue, a hip, high-end shopping district. When Tuan gave her the address, she’d been surprised. She’d thought his store would be somewhere deep in North Portland near some skeezy strip bar named Pirate’s Booty. The outside didn’t look like a weed shop. The windows were covered with beige bamboo shades. The name, Twenty-Third Marijuana—not super inventive, Mika thought smugly—was spelled in wooden letters and softly lit underneath. Mika sighed and opened the door. Whatever.
A huge white dude with neck tattoos stood near the entrance. “ID.”
Mika fished her license from her purse. “I’m here to see Leif.”
He shone a light on her ID, looked at her, looked at the ID, then handed it back to her. “See Adelle.” He pointed to a cool white chick with a Bettie Page haircut. “She handles his schedule. You want to buy anything, it’s cash only. ATM is located in the corner.”
“Thanks.” Mika stuffed her license back in her wallet and wandered toward Adelle. Leif owned this? This cross between an Apple store and a spa? New age music played. Enya maybe. Glass counters framed in light wood showcased all sorts of paraphernalia—bud, balms, baked goods. It was busy. The store hummed with traffic—conversations revolving around different kinds of highs. “You want something mellow?” she heard a clerk say.
“Yeah,” the kid wearing a University of Portland sweatshirt replied. “Just something totally chill.”
Adelle held a clipboard and was scribbling on it. At Mika’s approach, she glanced up. “What can I help you with?” She wore a tag with the word Manager on it.
“I’m here to see Leif.”
Adelle tilted her head, chewed on a piece of gum. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Um, no.”
“Sorry. Leif sees people by appointment only. And he’s not in anyway.” She went back to her clipboard. There was a tattoo of a koi on her arm and some kanji.
“That’s a nice tattoo. What does it say?”
“Oh!” Adelle glanced up. “‘Fearless.’”
Nope. Mika had taken calligraphy for a decade. It was the kanji for weasel. “Look, I know Leif is here. The truck he converted to run on recycled vegetable oil is parked out back.” Mika straightened, feeling brave and assertive. “Please tell him the woman who once shaved his back is here.”
Adelle’s mouth opened and closed. She popped her gum. Then she picked up a phone and hit a button. “Yeah, hi. Sorry to bother. Someone is here to see you.” She appraised Mika. “Asian, short, and kind of angry . . . Sure.” She hung up. “You can go on back.” She gestured to a white door with an employees only sign. “His office is the last one on the right.”
Mika hefted her purse over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you.” She was through the door before Adelle could answer.
Leif’s office door was open a crack. Mika didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t bother getting up from his desk. She focused on his office first. Not much to look at. Pretty simple with a white desk and giant computer. No windows. Then with no other place to go, her eyes focused on Leif.
He leaned back in his chair, adjusting his big body. His new, slimmer big body. Gone was the pudgy stomach, the fullness in his face. Now his cheeks were sharp angles under a five-o’clock shadow. His long blond hair had been clipped and lay in a purposeful wreck. Her heart stopped for a moment. The first time he’d kissed her, he’d asked permission. With gentle hands that grew plants, he’d cupped her cheeks. I want to kiss you right now, can I?
“Well, well, well.” His voice sliced through Mika’s memory. “Look who decided to grace me with her presence.”
“Dale.” Leif’s real name. He hated it. “It’s nice to see you.”
His lips turned up in a rakish grin, revealing whiter teeth than Mika remembered. “Mik.” She hated the nickname. It was too close to Mickey. “Wish I could say the same.”
She faked a smile. He faked a smile. It was a duel of sorts. Mika stepped inside the office, undeterred. She folded herself into a chair. “Make yourself at home,” Leif snorted.
“This is a nice place,” she said tightly.
“I did the construction myself.” Leif puffed up a bit. “Solar panels on the roof keep our energy bills to under one hundred dollars a month. We’re a zero-waste facility too. We compost almost everything.”
“Wow. A long way from sleeping on a futon and playing Frisbee golf all day.” She paused. Stuck her nose up in the air. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
“I know. I’ve actively been avoiding you.” He leaned farther back in his seat and spread his legs wide. Dick. This was not her Leif. Her Leif watched The Blair Witch Project stoned in his underwear. His top three values were: unbanking, tiny houses, and Hacky Sack. Her Leif hated Ronald Reagan. Ate burritos in hot tubs and had a friend called Mustache whose real name he did not know. Her Leif always made sure the front door was locked, the windows too—mostly because he feared someone might steal his stash. But it made Mika feel safe. And he didn’t mind that she liked to keep their bedroom door open when they had sex. One of her quirks, Leif always thought, like how she hated the song “Return of the Mack”—who doesn’t love that song? And whenever she got fired from a job, her Leif would put on clothes that were too small for him and dance around the apartment singing “fat guy in a little coat.” This was new Leif. New Leif wore tailored jeans and stacked leather bracelets and drank green juice. New Leif probably spent most of his time working out while polishing his anger toward his ex like a wicked dagger.
She fluffed up her tone. “I need a favor.”
Leif blinked at her. “No.”
She waited for him to elaborate. And waited. So, not going to happen.
“Have a nice day.” He picked his phone up from the desk and started to scroll through it.
“Leif.” Mika worked hard to keep her voice steady. “You owe me. For Puerto Rico.”
He dropped his phone and pressed a hand to his fine T-shirt-covered chest. Did Leif have pecs now? “I owe you?” The rise in his voice made Mika flinch. “How so?”
Anger shot through Mika as sharp and hot as electricity. “I transported drugs for you,” she hissed. At the airport, he’d thrust the baggie at her, eyes glittering like someone who had discovered something new and entirely unknown, something that would change the course of the world itself. Just put them in your bag, babe. Please, this could be the key to getting my business off the ground—a new strain. We could be rich. And she’d done it. Sweating through security and the whole flight.
“Seeds,” Leif said as if offended, as if she was overreacting. “They were seeds.” He ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head. Gathered himself.
Once home, Leif had been moody, pouty. You never support my dreams, he’d said.
Flummoxed, Mika answered, But I carried seeds for you.
Leif devolved to downright petulant. But you didn’t want to. I don’t think I can be with someone who isn’t on my side.
Are you kidding? Mika spat out, thunderstruck. You’re breaking up with me because I transported drugs for you but didn’t want to? It went very bad very quickly from there. So maybe she’d accused his parents of being first cousins. Then when that didn’t cut deep enough, she’d called his dreams stupid. Why do you have such a hard-on for tiny houses? she’d said, stuffing her clothes into plastic garbage bags with hurricane force. She’d called Hana to pick her up. You’ll never open a weed store. It’s absurd. Thirty-two and still chasing rainbows.
At least I have dreams, he’d said.
On her way out, she’d slipped the seeds that meant so much to Leif in her pocket, then filmed herself flushing them down the toilet. She sent the video to Leif. He sent a single word back—Bitch. To which she replied, Fuck off immediately and forever, Leif. And that’s where they left things.
Shame burned Mika’s face. She smoothed her hands over her knees. “Look, I’m sorry I implied your parents were first cousins and . . . for everything else. I realize now how unsuited we were for each other.” Their relationship had been like a minor traffic accident. They’d rear-ended each other, then been bound together in a way neither had ever intended. They weren’t built to last. Most of the time, Leif had been high (sometimes he’d take pills too). Mika had been emotionally closed off. Leif didn’t know about Penny, but she was always there, a plate of glass between them. He sensed it from time to time. When Mika would go silent. When she’d stare vacantly into a pot or pan, burning food. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. Let him see all those dark spaces within her. What would he think? Anyway, Leif wanted to be numb; Mika already was. She hadn’t felt alive since . . . well, for a long time.
“You’re right about that.” He shook his head, signaling one thousand regrets.
They sat for a moment. Silence, thick and heavy, settled in the room. “I need your help,” she said at last. Her stomach dropped. He had her where he wanted her, belly up and waving a white flag of surrender. If he said no again, she’d go home and concoct a new story to tell Penny. Leif was in a boating accident. He’s missing at sea, presumed dead. It’s sad, but I’ll move on. Do you know any single male thirty-somethings? But then again, she wanted Penny to see her with Leif. To see Mika loved by someone. Worthy of their affection. “Sixteen years ago, I gave a baby up for adoption.” The words were out before she could snatch them back.
She stared at him. Tried to read his face. The muscle in his jaw worked. At length, he stood abruptly and grabbed his keys from the desk.
“Please, Leif.” Mika stood, blocking his exit.
He peered down at her. “C’mon, Mika.” His voice was velvet and way too nice. “I haven’t eaten. Let’s go get a bite. My treat.”
Mika was rendered speechless. She didn’t know what to do with this new Leif. Didn’t know what to do with herself. “Okay,” she said uncertainly.
His mouth turned up, a cross between a rake’s smile and old Leif’s. “Thought so. You never turn down a free meal.”
She hated it when he was right.
* * *
Leif guided Mika to a diner down the street. She ordered a double stack of pancakes and a side of bacon. Leif had a salad, no dressing, and seemed confused when they didn’t have bone broth. In between bites, she told Leif about Penny, about the lies. All of it. When she finished, Leif picked up his glass of water, drinking and watching her over the rim. “Well?” Mika tore apart her napkin, balling the pieces up and lining them up along the edge of the table like tiny soldiers.
He placed the water down, wiped a hand across his face. “Jesus, give me a minute. You’ve hit me with a lot of information. I always felt like you were hiding something.” Leif processed things out loud. “I thought maybe you weren’t into me and were into Hana . . .”
Mika raised a mystified brow at him. He was serious. He couldn’t be serious. “Really? That was your go-to? That’s been living in your head this whole time?” Such a guy thing to assume. She’s not into me, so she must be a lesbian. “Please tell me your ego isn’t that fragile.”
Faint pink lines slashed his cheeks. “You’re right. Sorry. But it wasn’t all in my head, though, right? You weren’t into Hana, but you relied on her in a way you never relied on me.”
“That’s true, I guess.” Mika turned to Hana when times were hard. Every year around Penny’s birthday, Mika would pack up. Girls’ trip, she’d say. Then spend the week at Hana’s, ignoring Leif’s phone calls and opening herself to the unfairness of life. The inexplicable sorrow.
“What about, I mean, can I ask about Penny’s biological father? Does he know about her?”
“He doesn’t get to know about her,” she said sharply.
“Okay,” Leif said carefully, watching her.
“He’s not the issue,” Mika said in a tumbled rush. “The issue is Penny, and she’s coming to town, and she thinks you’re my adoring boyfriend.”
“Mika,” Leif said, with such naked grief on his face, Mika had to turn away lest she become undone. The waitress brought the check. Leif withdrew a wad of cash from his wallet and set it on the tray. “I need some air.” He walked out, Mika catching the door and chasing after him as he went. This part of Twenty-Third wasn’t too busy. A bicyclist shot by. A mom meandered past with a toddler.
“Leif,” she said as he paused at the corner. “I can’t do this without you.” Her throat bobbed. “I need you . . . I need this.”
Five whole agonizing seconds he stared at her, head cocked to the side, eyes searching. “Alright,” he said, although it sounded very much the opposite. “I’ll do it.”
Mika smiled ear to ear. “You will?”
“For the record, this goes against my better judgment.” He opened his hands. “But if it means that much to you . . .”
“It does. More than anything.”
“Tell me what I have to do then.”
She gave him the date and time, and he wrote it down on his phone. “Maybe wear a suit or something. I’ll send you a write-up with everything I’ve told Penny. But the highlights are: we’re madly in love, I’m starting up my own gallery, and you’re in agriculture, but I didn’t specify which type.” She paused. “Then I can make excuses for you the rest of their visit.”
He sighed. “Okay. Done.”
“Also, you took me to Hamilton opening night.” She paused. “We met the cast.”
“Wow.”
“It was super romantic. You surprised me, and after, we kissed in Times Square.”
“I’m impressed with myself.”
She squinted at him. “It’s going to be okay.”
Leif spun his keys. “Chances are fifty-fifty this explodes in your face.” He tongued his cheek. “What are you doing for a gallery space?”
“I don’t have that part figured out yet. I thought I’d tell Penny it’s being renovated or something.”
“She’s going to want to see it.”
“I don’t know.” Mika flicked a hand. “I can tell her there is asbestos or something.” How easy was it to lie now? Too easy. She consoled herself with the thought that the lies weren’t significant. It was the love she and Penny shared. That was real. That’s what mattered the most.
“I might have a space for you. It’s a place I own in North Portland . . . a warehouse. I thought I’d use it as a grow house. But then all these artists started opening up studios down the street because the rent was cheap. I decided to go with what the universe was telling me and flip it to studios.” Mika blinked, surprised—an industrial zone turned artist lair. Leif scratched the back of his head. “Anyway, a buddy of mine is an artist, and he’s been using the space. Would probably let you display his work if you wanted.”
Without thinking, Mika flung her arms around Leif. “Thank you.” She pressed her face into his chest. He still used the same soap. But he didn’t have the bit of fat around his midsection anymore. She missed his love handles. He’d confessed once kids made fun of him in school—pinching and poking at his sides. She should’ve told him how much she loved his body. How the sex was always better when your partner was a little flawed. It made her less inhibited. She didn’t mind Leif seeing all her jiggly parts then.
“You’re welcome.” He returned the hug with one arm.
Mika pulled back and squinted against the sunlight. “Hey, do you remember that time in Whole Foods when you asked the checkout person to type in the bar codes because you didn’t want lasers touching your food?”
“I do.” His eyes glinted with humor.
“That’s the most annoying you’ve ever been.”
He stepped away from her. “I’m going to have Adelle send you some literature on lasers and food handling.”
“Do that.” Mika was halfway down the street before she turned and yelled, “And while you’re at it, tell her the kanji on her arm means ‘weasel.’” She gave Leif a jaunty wave. “Let me know about the gallery.”