DAWN
Victor showed up just as I was stepping out of line in the hospital's cafeteria, with a tray filled with food for both of us.
"Let's go," was all he signed before grabbing me by the arm and leading me toward the exit.
"Wait, I just got food. And we haven't eaten since breakfast."
He took the tray from me and dumped it into the nearest trash can without an explanation.
"Hey!"
Without any apology whatsoever, he took me by the arm and all but dragged me out of the cafeteria.
I was alarmed, to say the least. Even more so, when he started walking me in the opposite direction of the elevator bank that would take me back upstairs to my mother.
I stopped, digging in my heels to demand, "What are you doing?"
"We're leaving," he answered. "Your mother has gotten through surgery. She will be fine."
"Maybe. But I'm not leaving here without at least saying—"
I cut off when Victor abruptly stopped us walking and yanked us to the left and into a hallway. It was one of those short corridors that led to a closed accounting office.
"What the hell, Victor?" I asked. "Why are you acting so crazy?"
The answer to that question came not from Victor but in the form of a man storming past the corridor where he'd hidden us. A man I recognized.
It was my father.
He looked angry, which I pretty much knew, meant that he was afraid. It was the same expression he wore when he pulled me out of Victor's Roppongi apartment.
I stopped arguing with Victor and instead went to peek around the corner. I watched my father's back for a few moments before he broke left toward the elevator bank and disappeared.
After he was safely out of sight, Victor and I walked out of the building's front entrance without saying a word.
There was a car idling right outside of the hospital. A large black Suburban, not an Audi. But the driver got out and opened the back door as soon as he saw us. Less than two hours later, we were on a plane headed to Providence.
It was a long, tense plane ride to Texas. Going back was even more awkward. I still couldn't believe we just narrowly missed my dad.
Or that Victor had helped me dip in and out without Dad ever being the wiser.
"I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for me this weekend," I admitted about halfway through the plane ride.
He was quiet for so long. I wasn't sure if he would acknowledge what I said.
But then he raised his hands to sign back with a stone-cold look, "Don't thank me."
And in that was pretty much all he said to me for the rest of the plane ride.
The night guard was waiting beside the open gate when we pulled up to the house.
He was another old guy like the day guard, and he had never said one word to me. However, he greeted Victor in cheery Cantonese. And I was pretty sure the sudden uptick in his friendliness levels had nothing to do with the quality of his English.
"Well, thanks again," I said to Victor, figuring this was where we parted. "See you on May 25th, I guess."
He didn't answer. Just stared down at me, his expression icy and impassive.
So I guess our dynamic was back to that again. I headed into the house with my backpack, more than ready to be done with this crazy day.
After kicking off my shoes in the front entrance, I went upstairs to the bedroom, where I threw down my backpack. I'd been trying to stick to one of those ridiculously complicated Korean skincare routines for my last semester of school, but not tonight.
I fell straight into bed and deep black sleep. Until my Monday morning alarm went off what felt like only a few seconds later.
Alexa always wanted to act like she didn't hear you this early on Monday mornings, so it took me a few yells before I could get it to turn off.
I stumbled into the bathroom, emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. But I woke right the hell up when I found Victor in there, toweling off from the shower he had just taken.
"What are you still doing here?" I demanded; my voice was squeaky with shock.
He wrapped the towel around his waist before answering, "This is my house. So I decided to enjoy it for a little while."
"For how long?" I demanded.
He shrugged. "As long as I decide."
My Alexa chimed up from the other room, warning me that I only had thirty minutes until I had to be at school. I'd learned to set reminders every ten minutes from the time I was supposed to get up. That was the only way to ensure I didn't go back to sleep or get caught up in a good graphic novel after the alarm went off.
I switched the shower back on. "I have to go. I have to go to school."
"I won't stop you," he answered. But then, after a slight pause, he signed, "This time."
Wow. Threaten much?
But at least he finally left me alone in the bathroom. I got showered and dressed and even managed to throw on some lip gloss and foundation in record time. Victor wasn't in the bedroom when I got out of the shower. After I got downstairs, I hastily scarfed down a microwave breakfast burrito. And I swear I could hear him kicking around in the overhead guest room I sometimes used as an office.
He wasn't bothering me exactly. But his "this time" would definitely hang over my head today. If not for the rest of the semester.
This is why I so didn't need Elizabeth Ann Margaret to approach me right after Monday's seminar. The first part of our main thesis production class took place right before lunch. Jacoby had already split, probably to go suck on his vaporizer outside. And everyone else in the amphitheater where our small grad class met was either pulling out the lunches they'd brought from home or making plans to grab something either on or off-campus during the hour break.
I planned to walk over to Harry's Bar and Burger to pick up a couple of their famous sliders. Maybe eat all my WTF feelings with a side order of sweet potato fries and wash down all my WTH-am-I-going-to-do-now confusion with a root beer.
But here was Elizabeth Ann Margaret, blocking the aisle and not wanting me to be great.
"Hey, Dawn," she said, cocking her head to the side like she was the super princess in her frankly not very experimental thesis animation, and I was the pitiful grub she felt sorry for.
"I just wanted to say how sorry I am about what happened a few weeks ago," she started to say, her voice dripping in dramatic regret. "You didn't come to Asher's house party on Saturday. I hope that didn't have anything to do with Asher or me."
She glanced over my shoulder, and I knew she was probably looking at Asher, who sat two rows up from me and could probably hear every word she was saying. I'd forgotten all about the house party he and his roommates threw on Saturday, even though Asher had invited me face-to-face.
"It's fine. I was just busy on Saturday," I answered quickly. "I was hoping to grab some lunch before the second part of class if you don't mind getting out of the way."
Elizabeth Ann Margaret stayed right where she was and continued blocking the aisle as if I'd said nothing, "I guess I got carried away because I've known you for ages now. But it doesn't feel like I know you at all. You know?"
"Maybe there's nothing to know," I answered. At the same time, I reminded myself that rich girls like Elizabeth Ann Margaret always sued when you punched them in the mouth.
"So, does that mean you're not really married?" Her remorse morphed into avid curiosity. "Come on, you can tell me."
"Why?" I asked, just as loud as she was speaking. "So you can tell anybody who asks about me all my business?"
Elizabeth Ann Margaret had the nerve to look hurt. "I'm not trying to gossip. I just don't think it's right pretending to be something you're not."
"And what exactly do you think I'm pretending to be?" I asked. "Because the last time I checked, the only thing I've ever passed myself off as was hard-working."
"Hey, girls. There's no need to fight," Asher said from two rows up. "We'll probably all feel better after we have some lunch."
Elizabeth Ann Margaret glared at him. Then addressed the rest of the class. "So no one else thinks this situation is a little weird? I mean, she's this cool, untouchable, mysterious character. It's like she's trying to get us to ask all the questions about her. But then she acts all snitty when any of us want to know about the husband we've never seen. And the huge house she lives in all alone."
"C'mon, stop, Elizabeth Ann Margaret," Asher said. "You're out of line. She's allowed to have secrets if she wants to. It's none of our business."
"So you're just completely on her side?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret asked him. This time she honestly did look hurt. "Even though she's told us nothing real about herself and as long as I've known her?"
I cast my eyes to the side, annoyed and empathetic at the same time. My life wasn't my own for most of my 20s, but I watched TV. Lots of it. Elizabeth Ann Margaret wasn't as talented as she wanted to be. And she was approaching an age where her biological time clock was telling her that if she couldn't have the career she wanted, she should at least try for a stable relationship.
How often had I dreamt of having a real relationship instead of the steaming pile of psychological mess I'd endured for nearly ten years?
So yeah, I got it. But at the same time, I had to tell her, "Look, Elizabeth Ann Margaret, Chase after Asher or don't chase after him. My situation has nothing to do with yours."
"So you're saying you don't want him?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret shot back like we were in one of the reality shows I used to watch fanatically before I got serious about art.
I shifted my eyes to the side. I hated lying, but not answering would only invite her to draw her own conclusion. And how was I supposed to explain that I'd be totally fine with Asher asking me out…after I was done serving my ten-year sentence?
I tugged on my ring, trying to come up with the best answer.
But then, suddenly, I didn't have to.
"Who is that?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret froze, her eyes shifting up to the seminar classroom's doorway. Along with the gazes of every other woman in our class and quite a few of the guys—heterosexual, gay, and everything in between.
I followed the direction of their stare, and my heart nearly gave out.
Victor…
Victor was coming down the stairs right toward us.
And I could see why everyone was staring. For once, he wasn't wearing a suit. Instead, he rocked a short-sleeved Henley and a pair of jeans, even though it was still cold out. But no one but me seemed to be questioning his winter wardrobe choices. Maybe because the Henley clung to his muscular chest. It also showed off the bottom two-thirds of his sleeves while his open collar provided a tantalizing peek at his dragon tattoo. And the trendy gray jeans perfectly framed his muscular legs.
"Wait, is that…is that your husband?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret whispered beside me.
Victor reached us before I could come up with an answer.
He couldn't speak, but he didn't have to. Elizabeth Ann Margaret stepped right out of his way, giving him access to stand in front of me without a word being said. I could feel Asher's eyes on us from the other row. His and everyone else's.
"What… What are you doing here?" I asked.
Victor held up a takeout bag from Harry's to answer my question, then pressed it into my hand.
The day guard must have told him it was one of my favorite lunch spots.
"Thank you?" A question lifted my voice. I was so baffled by his sudden appearance…and his lunch gift.
He grinned down at me, and sadly, I was rocketed right back to high school. Once again struck shy and speechless because he’d aimed that blast of sunlight in my direction.
Instead of signing, "You're welcome," like he did back in high school, though, he stepped forward and tipped my head up.
What was he doing? Surely he wasn't going to…
He couldn't possibly have heard Elizabeth Ann Margaret's question about who he was. But he answered it in the next moment.
He kissed me. He kissed me for the first time in fifteen years. In front of the whole class.
Then he withdrew, leaving me, Elizabeth Ann Margaret, and the rest of the class behind in total shock.