Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
L akeshia
Nothing seems to keep me warm anymore.
Even as I lie in Shinji’s arms, my blankie secure under my cheek, and a weighted blanket over me, nothing works.
“Still awake?” Shinji pulls me closer into his heat.
“Sorry for disturbing you.” I pull away, but he stops me with a reassuring squeeze.
I relax into him, accepting the comfort he needs to give me and I need to feel semi-normal. I take a lock of Shinji’s hair and twirl it around my finger. His hair always sparks a reaction from me, whether it’s desire or acceptance, I can’t help but play with his long tresses. And right now, I need all the reassurance he can provide.
Although I’m in a better place than I was two weeks ago, I’m only there after facing some hard truths. The first is the pain I inflicted on all of us, made more damaging because of the growing distance between me, Shinji, and Takeshi.
How could I have known these two men would mean so much to me over such a short period? Takeshi’s nightly absence is a constant reminder of the harm I’m doing to his relationship with Shinji. Then I have to see Takeshi during the day, doing his best to help me plan my revenge but with the skin under his eyes darkening more by the day.
“Are you still thinking about your last therapy session?” Shinji rubs circles on my shoulder.
The darkened bedroom prevents me from distinguishing his features. Pressure from withholding so much of myself during the day becomes more bearable and loosens the chains around my vocal cords.
“Yes and no.”
Shinji followed through on his promise to find me someone to talk to about my past. Although hesitant at first, if I wanted to live a life with more fulfilling experiences than forever traversing numbness and pain, I had to speak up.
“Talking to a stranger is harder than I expected.” I snuggle deeper into Shinji’s arms, glad he can’t see my face. “Telling her about Paul was easier than with you. I don’t know if it’s because it was the second retelling or if it’s because we pay her not to judge.”
The butterfly caress against my skin halts for a moment. Shinji resumes his touch, but the lapse tells me he wants to ask if I’m ready to share my story with Takeshi. I can’t deny there is a yearning inside me to come clean if it means having his reassuring breath fanning my face while Shinji’s heat warms my spine at night.
“Why haven’t you criticized me for what I made you do that day at the hotel?”
Shinji stiffens at my abrupt subject change.
As the silence thickens the air between us, I bite my lip to stop myself from spewing excuses or demanding an explanation.
“I guess I’ve avoided thinking about it too deeply for fear of pushing you away at a time you need someone in your corner.”
“Would you have spoken if Takeshi were still here?”
“Knowing he would be with you when I couldn’t… yeah, I probably would have spoken sooner. What you did really fucked me up.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I regretted it almost immediately and I need you to know before it’s too late that I understand now what you were trying to tell me.” I push out of his arm and turn to him despite not being able to see his face. I reach for his hands and squeeze them in mine. “What I did before knowing you doesn’t work anymore, and I can’t deny the reason. Even in the depths of my misery, I crave a connection with you.”
“What about Takeshi?”
Shinji’s question is one I’ve contemplated over the last few days because of the hole his husband’s absence has left inside me. “We don’t work without him.”
“He needs to know that.”
“But you?—”
“It doesn’t mean the same coming from me.” Shinji exhales his frustration. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Like on the nights you leave when you think I’m asleep?”
Shinji retracts his hands, leaving me bereft. “How’d I slip up?”
I lie beside him again and pull his arm around my waist. “I missed your heat.”
After the first night without Takeshi, Shinji would slip out during the twilight hours to return early in the morning.
“Takeshi needed me, too.”
I bop my head. “And it’s my fault he doesn’t have you right now.”
“What’s the point of talking about this if you aren’t ready to?—”
“I made a list today,” I stop him from saying what we both know.
“Yeah?” he deftly leans into the new topic.
I extract myself to turn on the lamp and retrieve the piece of paper I spent hours on today instead of locating more of Tommaso’s strongholds.
Shinji rises until he rests against the bed’s headboard.
I sit facing him, however, mustering the courage to look him in his eyes while I share another piece of me is a challenge. “My therapist recommended I make a list of the things I want and my progress toward attaining my goals.” After a deep breath, I hand Shinji the paper.
I watch him without breathing, waiting for the moment he lands on his and Takeshi’s name. Topping the list is revenge. Beside it is a smiley face and a note saying in progress. Other items include friendship, getting over my aversion to Tora—I have a neutral face next to that item—and at the end of my list are Takeshi and Shinji. Although they’re last, it isn’t because they mean the least but they are the hardest for me to understand. Beside their names are fierce frowning faces and the word more circled over and over until it resembles a thick border.
All day I’ve questioned what more means.
When Shinji’s eyes widen, I say, “You should turn the page over.”
Only two items are on the backside of the page, Takeshi and Shinji. Between them is one word.
“Lakeshia…” Shinji gasps, raising glossy eyes to me.
“I want to tell Takeshi. Will you come with me?”
“Now?” He looks toward the clock with blue numbers displaying the time. Two thirty.
Hope shines within his brown irises. His emotions almost match my own when I finally realized what I wanted from them.
Everything .
“You were going to leave soon, anyway.” I lift my shoulder in an unusually shy move. “And we both know he won’t come back unless I do my part to convince him.”
Before my last words leave my mouth, Shinji leaps toward me and kisses my forehead before leaving the bed to search for clothes. In his excitement, he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and heads toward the door.
I press the residual warmth on my skin and follow at a slower pace. Deep in thought, I skip the underwear, pull a flowy dress over my head, and press the spot of Shinji’s lingering kiss.
“Something wrong?” he asks at the threshold to the hallway, a concerned frown twisting his lips and dampening his earlier enthusiasm.
Instead of answering, I meet him where he stands and press into his body, rising on my feet until our mouths connect. A second of shock surges through his body, then he softens into me, tentatively opening his mouth and welcoming my tongue.
I relish the sensation. After going without for weeks, this kiss is a sweet reminder of what I’ve deprived us of and is a much-needed respite from the turmoil dogging me since my anxiety attack.
“Thank you,” I say, separating from him. “Let’s go get our Takeshi back.”
A smile breaks out on his face and he takes my hand to quickly guide me out of the house and into his car. Although we’re all on one big compound, Takeshi’s refuge isn’t a simple trek, and neither of us want to arrive sweaty and out of breath for our big undertaking.
We pull up to a mansion I haven’t seen before. Its impressive size is similar to Shinji and Takeshi’s home. Shinji doesn’t give me time to marvel at the sight, instead rushing me inside, eager for the reconciliation I proposed.
He leads me past dark, empty rooms toward one with a dim glow. He pushes me inside but doesn’t enter. When I look in his direction, he shoos me forward and mouths, “I’ll be here the entire time.”
I inhale a bracing breath to shore up my vanishing courage and move toward the shadow sitting at the bar contemplating a glass of liquor.
“This is beginning to feel a lot like pity,” Takeshi says, his voice heavy with the invisible burden I lay on his shoulders.
Everything about him emits the aura of a man contemplating his end.
“Not the welcome I was expecting, but I’ll take it.” I try for a light tone, but my attempt falls flat.
Takeshi swings around, unable to hide his surprise in his wide eyes and slack jaw. “Why… How?” His eyes eat me up the closer I get to him.
I glance at his glass, around the room, then at him again. Now that I’m here to confront him and confess what’s held me away for so long, I can’t find the words. Blurting out that I’m messed up because of a rape I endured during my freshman year in college doesn’t seem like the right opening for this conversation.
I begin by answering the easier question first. “The how is Shinji drove me.”
Takeshi’s gaze jerks toward the entrance, but Shinji isn’t there. Although I can’t see him, I sense him nearby.
“Did he guilt you into coming here?” Takeshi’s mustache bristles with barely contained anger.
“You should know better than I, Shinji would never.”
He nods, his shoulders slumping in relief. “So you asked to come here?”
The hopeful note in his question twists at my heart. If not for me, he wouldn’t be living his days with doubt and torment.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Does this mean you know what you need now?”
I shake my head. “Not really.” My response causes the longing in his gaze to dim, so I quickly add, “I know what I want. I’m still not sure what I need to get there, though.”
“And what is it you want?” The question comes out as if he’s strangling from fighting opposing emotions; too afraid to expect anything yet never cowering from bad news.
“You. I want you.” I raise my arm, stalling him from lurching toward me as if I’ve gifted him with a present from the gods. “But I can’t have you the way I want until I explain why we’ve all suffered these past few weeks.”
Takeshi slumps in his chair. “You want…me? You want me.” Each time he repeats himself, his tone firms with the conviction of his belief.
“You remember the first night I freaked out on you when you and Shinji were too…” I fall silent, still unable to put the experience into words.
“I remember. It was hell watching you overcome your demons from that night.”
“Yeah, the thing is, I haven’t overcome them, and I wasn’t fully honest with you about the source of my trauma. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t lie. Not exactly. The story I told you happened, but…” I look around the room toward a seating area with dark leather chairs. “Do you mind if we sit somewhere more comfortable for the next part? Standing here to confess isn’t easy.”
He nods and rises from the barstool. “Whatever you need.”
His response, so much like Shinji’s causes me to shake my head. “You and your husband are always so fucking accommodating.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Not really.” I lead him to the comfortable seating, hoping it will give me the extra push I need. “But tonight is about what we need. You and me.” I take a breath before recounting the same story I told Shinji.
There are a lot of starts and stops, and my body trembles, recalling my rage and powerlessness. Despite reliving the horror, the third time around is easier than the first. Still a bitch to experience again, still full of pain, but at a level I can endure without seeking to numb it. Not that I’m seeking that solution anymore. Nothing but doing the work will make the trauma bearable. And I’m invested in doing whatever I need to fulfill the list I shared with Shinji.
Takeshi listens without interrupting, a mask of nothingness steals over his face, hiding his emotions from me. When I’m done, I sit and wait, not pushing for a reaction yet desperate for some sign from him.
As the silence lengthens, I begin to fidget in my seat. Doubts begin filtering in and one particular thought burns in my gut. “Now that you know, do you want to cancel our deal?”
“What?”
I rush to clarify. “If you don’t want me to carry your child any longer, I’m sure we can convince Shinji to find a different surrogate.”
“Why would you bring that up?”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t you wonder? The only reason you brought me here was to?—”
“That may have been the case once, but you must know… You know what? Tear up the goddamn contract.”
“Takeshi,” Shinji bursts through the door, a protest on his lips.
“No, Shinji. If a piece of paper is the only thing keeping Lakeshia with us, we’re building a relationship on a faulty foundation. Don’t you want us to last?”
Shinji’s shoulders slump while my mind whirls from his reasoning. Shinji glances between me and Takeshi. “You know I do.” He takes a seat separate from us.
Is this distance new or to help me and Takeshi?
“Then we need to start anew,” Takeshi says without meeting my gaze.
Starting anew… The idea holds a promise that makes my list seem more achievable.
“I’d like that,” I whisper, suddenly shy as if he’s asking me on my first date.
Never having to question if my worth begins and ends with providing them with a child erases the concern I shared with Shinji on our trip to Texas, but unease continues to ride my gut. Takeshi has yet to respond to my confession. He exhales a tired breath and contemplates the ceiling while Shinji and I wait in nerve-racking silence.
Between pursed lips, Takeshi asks, “Did my threat play a role in reminding you of your powerlessness?” He turns his hands over and over, curling them into fists while refusing to look at me.
“Threat? Oh!” I rush to enclose his hands in mine while kneeling on the floor. When he lowers his face to see my earnestness, I say, “Believe it or not, it only took two days for me to dismiss it.” His disbelieving scoff prompts me to explain. “Shinji wouldn’t let you, contract or no contract.”
“You’re certain?”
I jerk my head down. “As sure as I am that I hate hurting you the way I have over the past few weeks.”
“That sounds more like guilt.” He removes his hands from my grasp, surprising a bark of laughter from me.
“You should be happy I feel remorse. If you meant nothing to me, you couldn’t move me to this extent.” I grab his hands again, this time placing them over my heart. “Now that you know my reason for pushing you away, will you stand with me while I heal myself? I’d rather not do it alone.”