Chapter Twenty-Five
Charlie and Tuan were tipsy and slow-danced at the Allison, a cute hotel near the vineyard where they’d decided to have dinner. A few yards away, Hayato and Seth chatted up the bartender.
“Hey.” Thomas slid into the booth beside Mika.
“Hey,” Mika said back. “Where have you been?”
Thomas smiled. His eyes were slightly glazed, courtesy of the three wineries they’d visited. “I did something.” He shifted and pulled a stack of index cards from his back pocket and placed them on the table.
“You didn’t!” Mika said, eyes wide, then darting to Charlie. Her face was firmly planted in Tuan’s chest. “You stole them,” she accused, mouth ajar. “I’d never have expected such deviant behavior from you.”
“Totally unpremeditated. Perfectly defensible in court.” Thomas’s smile spread. “Anyway, I was going to the bathroom and saw the van parked outside. The door was just open. I mean, if Charlie didn’t want her cards stolen, she should have guarded them better.”
“True,” Mika agreed sagely. She put a finger to the top card and slid it off the pile. She flipped it over. “‘Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible,’” she read aloud. Thomas smiled lazily, and she felt it all the way to her toes. Mika set her phone on the table. She scrolled through and found the timer app, setting it for four minutes. “You first,” she told Thomas.
Thomas stretched out in the booth, making himself comfortable. He scratched his jaw. “I was born in Dayton, Ohio. My parents were married for twenty-three years, and I have an older brother.” He leaned forward, and beneath the table, his thigh pressed against Mika’s. Neither moved away. “I had a pretty normal childhood, I think. Football games in the winter. Baseball games in the spring. My dad loved sports and having sons to take them to. I think he was disappointed when I got into rowing in college. He had a heart attack and died when I was nineteen.”
“I’m sorry,” Mika said. There were two minutes, twenty seconds left on the clock.
“Thank you,” Thomas said. “Anyway, I met Caroline shortly after that. We hooked up at a party, and I cried after. I thought she’d never want to see me again but . . . she was so fucking nice about it. And it felt so good to know I wasn’t alone.” Mika’s stomach twisted, seeing the pain on Thomas’s face. “We got married soon after we graduated and did the rest of schooling together. She helped me study for the LSAT. I helped her study for her nursing certificate. We also started trying to have a family. My parents had me when I was young, and it was the same for Caroline. Caroline had it all planned out. Get pregnant early, have a few kids, then retire soon after they went to college. We were going to travel together.” Thomas wasn’t looking at Mika. He rubbed his forehead. “We blamed it on stress at first, not getting pregnant. School, exams, all that. A year went by, and another. Caroline’s doctor recommended a specialist. A few tests later and the results were inconclusive. I still remember Caroline’s face, her frustration, her heartbreak. She felt betrayed by her body. ‘It’s my biological right,’ she’d said. I was more relaxed about it. Taking on the mantle of ‘If we’re meant to be parents, we will be.’ But Caroline had a goal. She wanted a baby. She wanted to be a mother. After a lot of discussions, we decided to look into adoption. There were a couple of false hopes. A woman in New York who was pregnant but decided to keep the baby. A teen in Florida who had surrendered her six-month-old but wanted him in foster care with the hopes of reuniting and—”
The timer went off. “Keep going,” Mika said, wanting to hear more. Wondering about Caroline’s infertility. Betrayed, that was the word Thomas said Caroline used. Mika had felt the same about her body. How it had accepted Peter’s baby when Mika had said, No, I don’t want this. And then there was Caroline, who had said yes, but hers wouldn’t comply. She felt as if they had something in common now, both viewing their bodies as hostile landscapes. Caroline’s from infertility. Mika’s from rape.
Thomas shook his head. “No. Your turn now.” He patted his chest. “Rule follower, remember? Tell me about you. I want to know about baby Mika.” He set the timer for four minutes and started it.
“Well . . .” Mika took a sip of wine. “I was born right outside of Osaka.”
“Wait.” Thomas paused the clock.
“Hey. No fair.” Mika frowned.
“You weren’t born in the States?”
“No. We moved here when I was in kindergarten.” Mika had been as thin as a twig, as small as a leaf when they’d left Japan. She started the timer again. “My dad worked for a tech company. It went under soon after the economic bubble burst in Japan.” Shige became a casualty of the employment ice age. “He was lucky another company offered him a position in the States.” Mika had another memory. She was in their car, on the highway, on their way to the airport. Semi trucks whizzed by, and they passed a vineyard. Grapevines hung heavy with grapes the size of golf balls, white paper bags covering them to protect from birds and weather.
“We brought our own food on the plane.” Hiromi wouldn’t eat any of the nuts or chocolate biscuits, even though they were free. She eyed anything American with a sense of distrust. Mika had watched through the window as they landed. The brown water of the Columbia River as the plane descended, the current flowing west. She went on. “My mom wasn’t excited about moving to the States, but I was. A new place, a new world it seemed like.” That was where Mika’s and Hiromi’s paths had diverged. Mika had gone running headfirst. Hiromi couldn’t even bring herself to take a few timid steps. “We rented an apartment the first couple of months. My mom didn’t leave it. She’d give me a few dollars and send me to the store. A police officer stopped me once and brought me home.” Mika paused, eyeing the timer. Less than one minute left.
“What happened?”
Mika screwed up her face. “He called social services. It was a whole thing. They couldn’t find a translator, but they did get ahold of my dad at work. He was able to defuse the situation. When they left, my mother still didn’t understand. ‘In Tokyo, kids ride the subway alone,’ she said. ‘She’s my daughter. Who are they to say what I can do with my own daughter?’” Mika watched the time dwindle. Three. Two. One second. The clock beeped. “Time’s up,” Mika said before Thomas could argue. She grabbed another card from the pile. “‘What do you fear most in life?’”
Thomas thought about it for a moment. “That’s a tough one. I guess I fear dying young, like my father and Caroline, leaving behind so much unfinished business. Maybe that’s where my need to control everything comes from.” He glanced at Mika. “You?”
Peter came to her mind first, but she dismissed the thought. She didn’t fear him. She feared the violence. She feared it might happen to her again. But there was a bigger, more immediate looming threat. “I guess I fear my mother.” Sometime during Mika’s conversation with Thomas, refilled wineglasses had appeared on their table. She drank.
Thomas leaned forward. Now their knees and elbows were touching. “I’m going to need you to elaborate.”
Mika inhaled, the knot of resentment toward her mother tightening. “Maybe I fear being like her.” Wasn’t there a saying about sons committing the sins of their fathers? More like daughters and mothers. “Or I just fear her in general—her disapproval, it’s like a curse. When I was growing up, nothing ever felt good enough for her. The house we lived in. My father’s job. Me. I don’t know. She should have stayed in Japan, I guess.” Hiromi wanted to live in Japan. For her daughter to be Japanese. But Mika was Japanese American, and it was the American part her mother hated most.
Thomas tilted his head. “Maybe she didn’t know how to handle it, moving to another country.”
“She absolutely did not.” It was all Mika could think to say, but then she added quietly, “I’m pretty sure my mother hates me.” You’ll waste your life, Hiromi had said about Mika painting. But really, Hiromi had meant, You’ve wasted mine.
“Maybe she doesn’t know how to love you,” said Thomas.
“Is there a difference?”
“I think so.” A pause. “Parents make mistakes,” he added.
“This isn’t the same as throwing Penny a period party.” Mika shook her head, frustrated. She thought of her relationship with her mother. Punctuated by silence. When she’d been caught shoplifting. When she’d come to her mother in her broken need. I’m pregnant.
“I know it’s not the same. All I’m saying is, you go in full of earnest conviction and hope for the best and plan to pay for their therapy later in life when you’ve fucked it all up.” He paused. “That was a joke.”
“Ha.” Mika thought about what parents passed down to their children. Peter, the attack was in her DNA now, Suzanne had explained. It’s coded in you. It has rewired your central nervous system. What happened to Mika was embedded. What had Hiromi passed down to Mika, then? What crosses had Hiromi brought to bear upon her daughter? Same as Mika, Hiromi had her own dreams—raising her family in Japan, a life that had been promised, then ripped away by circumstances out of her control. Maybe her ikigai wasn’t being a housewife. Hiromi had been a maiko. She’d lived in a house she loved, she had a before. Her own ghost life. “This is a very sobering reality,” Mika said.
Thomas’s knee pressed into hers. She raised her eyes to his. Then under the table, she felt him graze her hand. Automatically, she opened her fingers, and Thomas slid his between hers. They sat for a moment holding hands, hanging on to each other. Charlie’s words came back to her. It’s okay to want . . . It’s okay if it gets messy . . . Things have a way of working themselves out.
After a moment, Thomas held up his wineglass with his free hand. “To the ties that bind.”
Mika clinked her glass to his. “To the ties that bind.”
* * *
The happy glow stayed with Mika in the van. She sat next to Thomas in the back. And somehow, her head found its way to his shoulder. Outside the window, the stars blurred together like in a Van Gogh painting. She listened to Tuan and Charlie kissing. Hayato murmuring to Seth. To the sounds of traffic and the rattle of the windows disturbed by the rushing air.
At Charlie’s house, Hayato and Seth loaded into an Uber. Thomas asked if Mika wanted to share one. “Sure,” she agreed. Actually, it didn’t make any sense. Mika lived on this side of the river. Thomas’s hotel was downtown on the other side, the same boutique hotel he always stayed at. But she wanted to linger in his company a little longer. And if Thomas knew that it was out of Mika’s way, he didn’t show it.
They sat in the back seat of an SUV on the way to Thomas’s hotel. She watched the city lights play on Thomas’s face as he confirmed with the driver where they were going. Music played, a heady beat with lots of bass. The car careened over a speed bump, and Mika jerked. Thomas reached out. His hand cupped her knee. He turned to her. “Okay?”
“Fine,” she said, mouth dry, completely boneless.
His hand stayed put, and as they glided over a bridge, it inched ever so slightly up. Again, he peered at her. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered back, and his eyes glittered, emeralds in the night. Warmth pooled in her belly.
He held the door open when they reached the hotel. “Want to come up for a nightcap?” he asked.
One more drink wouldn’t hurt. Again, she agreed, and she felt a ripple, a rush of air, the rest of her defenses falling. Icarus taking flight.
As if under a spell, she followed him through the dim lobby and into an elevator. The lighting was brighter in the six-by-six-foot space. It sobered her up a little. An older couple rode with them. Thomas stared straight ahead, and Mika let her eyes wander down his body, stopping at the hem of his untucked shirt. Adrenaline and anticipation pumped through her veins. The couple deboarded, and the air suddenly felt heavy, laden with magic. Music spiraled from the speakers. A classical piece Mika recognized but couldn’t name.
Up they went.
Floor five.
Six.
Seven.
“Mika,” Thomas said, eyes shining and not with drink. Then his hands were gripping her hips. She tipped her chin up. They met in the middle, mouths open and wanting. Five tense hours of lust and want pouring out of them and into each other. He crashed into her, and Mika welcomed him, wrapped a leg around his waist, as he pressed her against the back of the velvet paneled wall. Her hands fisted in his hair. Ding. Twenty-first floor, an automated voice announced. Somehow, they stayed fused together. Stumbling down the hall, hand in hand. It was a long corridor. Too long. Thomas gave up on walking and sought Mika out again. Her back was against the wall, hotel room doors flanking them as Thomas took complete possession of her mouth.
He broke the kiss, taking a breath, and murmured into her neck, “I feel like I’m attacking you.”
“Issokay,” Mika moaned. And it was. God, she wanted him. She was on fire.
He nicked her ear with his teeth, tightened his grip. Mika moaned again as he sucked on her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access. She’d like more of that. Yes, please, and thank you so much. Through slitted eyelids, she glimpsed one of the hotel room doors. Remembered Penny opening it in her bathrobe, hand outstretched for a box of tampons. Reality dawned, quick and unforgiving. Thomas was Penny’s dad. She snaked her hands up to Thomas’s chest, gripped his untucked shirt. “Wait. Stop.”
Her mind spun in dizzying circles as he stepped away. “Right. Sorry,” he said.
“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly. There was two feet of space between them, but it was bigger than that, Grand Canyon wide. “I just think we should talk.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Let’s get a drink.”
Mika nodded. “In the lobby. A drink downstairs at the bar,” she qualified. Thomas plus Mika plus bed didn’t equal a great idea right now.
He studied Mika with a tense brow. “Downstairs it is.”
* * *
In the bar, Mika took the chair opposite Thomas, as far away as she could get without sitting at another table. He remembered her order from last time, a local red wine, and placed it again with the waiter. Soon enough, they had their drinks. They stared at each other for one whole long minute. Thomas’s hand flexed around his glass. Mika squeezed her thighs together, thinking of that same hand on her thigh, her hip, what it might feel like creeping under her shirt.
“Thomas,” Mika said seriously.
“Mika,” Thomas parroted back, voice still thick with desire.
“We kissed.” She sat up a little straighter.
“We did.” When had Thomas become so agreeable?
“I liked it.”
“Me too.” He sipped his scotch, eyes on Mika. “I’d like to kiss you more.”
She ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth. “I feel the same.” Thomas smiled slyly. “But what about Penny?” There, she’d said it. She’d poked the elephant in the room.
He sighed. The lust blinked out of his eyes. “What about Penny?” he murmured to himself.
Mika fingered the base of her wineglass, unease making her stomach sensitive. “I’m working hard at my relationship with her. I don’t want to lose her. But you and me . . .” Mika let it show in the rasp of her voice, her thirst for him.
“I feel it too,” said Thomas. “There is obviously something between us.” Some of the tension dropped from Mika’s shoulders. It wasn’t all in her head then. It was mutual. Thomas liked her.
He reached across the table and grasped her hand, turning it to caress the inside of her palm with his thumb. “If you want to tell Penny, we can. But I think we should keep it between us for now. Clearly, we’re attracted to each other, and we have a good time together.” He licked his lips. “Let’s explore this on our own. See if it’s something real, then if it is—”
“We’ll tell her,” Mika cut him off.
“We’ll tell her,” he agreed solemnly.
Mika gave Thomas a slow nod. “Alright.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back. Fuzzy contentment ballooned around them. They finished their drinks, then Thomas kissed her long and sweet outside the hotel. He held the door open as she climbed into a taxi. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, leaning down.
“Tomorrow?” she asked, heavy-lidded and tired.
“Church? With Penny and your parents?” Thomas reminded her.
Mika’s eyes flared open. “Right,” said Mika. Thomas kissed her again and closed her taxi door. Mika touched her lips as the car pulled away, a single heady thought rolling around in her mind—perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.