Chapter 15Liem
15
Liem
The night came, and I bore witness to every refrain of it.
I harmonized with the scrapes of branches against my window each time the night’s breeze shifted and counted the beats, rests, and accents of the cottage’s sputtering HVAC as it kicked on and off.
But what I listened for was the creak of the cushions and groan of the couch frame each time Cody tossed and turned under his bundle of blankets.
“ I’m no good .”
It would take an eternity of nights to soften the edge of hearing those words, and this was only night one. How many nights had he tried to sleep with them haunting his mind? How long ago had he accepted them as true?
Those words coming from such a beautiful voice and attached to such a soul….
They were wrong. He was wrong, and only hours ago, I’d longed for the ability to slam my lips to his and will those thoughts into nothingness where they belonged.
But now wasn’t our time, just as it hadn’t been last summer.
I picked up the beginnings of a new kind of composition as light flashed by, illuminating my room briefly. I shimmied out from under my thin quilt, and my bare feet were soundless as I eased over to my bedroom door, which I’d left cracked. Through it I saw a rumpled Cody using his phone as a flashlight, his head bent in defeat as he fumbled to gather his shoes. I stood frozen and watched as he kept pausing mid-task, as if losing himself in all the wrong ways.
I eased my door open further, partly to cut through the somber atmosphere but mostly as a subtle announcement of my presence.
He had my dark-blue knit blanket bundled against him as he glanced over his shoulder.
Heavens, he looked tired. The compulsion to drag him to my bed and force him into relaxed, peaceful sleep was even more intense than my desire to pull him into my arms and kiss him senseless.
We stared at each other for a long moment in a way that you could only do in the hush of night, until eventually he opened his mouth as if to speak but then closed it, shifting his gaze to Bree and Vinh’s closed bedroom door.
Nodding my understanding, I ducked back into my room and grabbed my phone from my nightstand. I started composing a text, but before I made it the few steps to the doorway, I sensed him. My nerves lit up, my skin tingling and rippling with goose bumps as if he’d done something much more than merely exist nearby.
He eased a step into my room, still clutching the blanket to his chest. “I thought you were going back to bed.”
In the full light of day or even the soft light of morning, I might have smiled coyly and made some remark about him watching me sleep, but his statement had implications I wouldn’t address here. I couldn’t ignore them either.
The inference that I’d seen him in distress and had decided to turn my back and go back to bed.
That would not do.
I glanced down at my phone and sent the text I’d written, the task admirably distracting me from the physiological response to his presence. He’d asserted his boundaries mere hours ago, and I wasn’t going to disrespect his mind, no matter how misguided it was about his worth.
His phone lit up, and he squinted as he brought it close to his face, illuminating his features from below as he studied my text for a long moment.
Me
Grab your houseboat key and whatever you need to be comfortable.
He glanced up at me, and I took the opportunity to send the next text I’d written while he’d read the first.
Me
Please.
He paused longer at that, until finally, he gave a short nod and locked his phone, casting his face back into darkness, then went back into the living room.
And that… pleased me.
I grabbed my sleeveless hoodie from the top of my dresser and shrugged it on as I followed him out. It was some minor miracle that Vinh hadn’t woken, his sixth sense for unsafe or unsafe-adjacent shenanigans not alerting him to our leaving the house in the middle of the night, but I took it as a sign that this was the right move.
Even so, I took the opportunity to also send a text to my brother that said to not worry if he heard Cody’s truck start, which he probably would, considering how loud the old engine was.
We made the very short drive to the docks in silence, and when we got there, he kept his grip on the steering wheel and his eyes forward on the sunless sky, making no move to turn off the truck.
“I’ve felt like a dumbass all night,” he said to the partially fogged windshield.
He let go and turned toward me, the light from the lot’s security floodlights illuminating him just enough for me to make out his tired, torn expression. “I had you in my arms, LL. In my fucking lap. And I’m afraid I’ve fucked it all up already. Before it even—” He closed his eyes and bumped his head back against the seat instead of finishing the thought. “Talking is not helping.”
I dutifully ignored the slight warmth on my face from his words and the tightness in my skin because he was right. At least partially.
We needed to take care. And maybe that started with simple.
“May I give you an idea?” I asked, my voice softer than the riot in my body.
“Please.”
There was a beat of just-too-long silence as I pried my gaze from his mouth, only to find his eyes open again and his gaze fixed on me. “You need rest, Dezi. You have a new home here in a safe harbor. Bree came over earlier and put fresh sheets on your bed.” I paused, glancing down at the pillow, blanket, and mysterious shoebox he’d slid from under the couch and brought with him, then continued, “Rest until sunrise, and then Bree will help you get the rest of your things moved. She may even do it with a smile if you take her to get a coffee first.”
His lips twitched upward at the last bit. “What about you?”
There was no man more beautiful. Which was why I needed to call in reinforcements to respect the lines he’d drawn, because if he even implied that he wanted me to stay, I would simply never leave. Mustering my resolve, I answered as evenly as I could, putting no tone or edge to any of the words. “I’ll go back to the cottage and do the same. Then I’m headed to Gulf Shores to visit Aunt Ari and Uncle Gil in a few hours.”
His hand that had previously been tracing the texture of the knit blanket halted, and he gripped the material, bunching it up. “You’ve decided to go?”
I made a small concession regarding touching him and reached out to put my hand on top of his, but he intercepted it and turned it over, speaking before I could. “I’d understand if you did. Because of all that nonsense I dumped on you, I mean.”
“Dezi…,” I started, but he shook his head at me without meeting my gaze, stopping me.
He lightly traced the skin around the reddened scrapes with his thumb. “I may go visit my mom in Louisiana after I get my stuff moved over. It’s been a while.”
I had never, not once, heard him talk about his mother.
He’d come close over a year ago, that first time we’d spoken on the phone, but had pushed the subject of his mom aside, only talking about his dad’s aloofness.
And that sat so incredibly wrong, but before I could think on it further, he said, “Take my truck back to the cottage. I don’t like the idea of you walking back at this hour.”
I nodded somewhat dumbly, and then he brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. “And take care of these.”
The space between us brimmed with unspoken words and unnamed dreams as I bore witness to the night’s final refrain: the light whish as Cody took his pillow and blanket that I’d considered his from the first night I placed it on the couch for him, the sudden loud creak and then slam of the truck door, and the following long, heavy measures of silence as his footsteps faded away toward the boat.
Then came the closing fermata, held as long as Cody’s pause at the houseboat door, his macrame leaf key chain clutched tightly in his fist. A long, deep breath, a slide of the key in the lock, and then the music faded completely into the night.
The test beep of a reset fire alarm was unsettling.
The piercing shriek of four of them within a minute of each other was unbearable.
I glanced through the sliding glass door in time to see Vinh gracefully maneuver off the stepladder in his old—and Aunt Ari and Uncle Gil’s new—Gulf Shores condo. I jumped off the new director’s-style chair Ari had thrifted for the balcony, slid open the door, and poked my head inside the condo. “All done?” I asked hopefully, the distress in my voice apparent.
There was a brittle clank as he folded the ladder and nodded. “Until fall, or Thanksgiving at the latest.”
Vinh had been waiting for me when I arrived back at the cottage, his inquiring eyebrow as effective at interrogation as the most seasoned detective, but I wasn’t ready to voice any of it to him. Instead, I’d asked if he were open to a little road trip once the sun was up. Even without my visible distress, my wildly understanding older brother would have agreed.
It was something about him I had to keep in the forefront of my mind so I wouldn’t accidentally take advantage, and if I decided to make more trips to Ari and Gil’s, it probably meant it was time for me to invest in my own transportation. But that would have to wait because here we were now, with Vinh tending to his trauma-induced maintenance and me wondering if I packed any underthings in the bag I’d mindlessly crammed things into for this trip.
Vinh collapsed onto the couch, and I took the spot beside him just as the door swung open and a chattering Aunt Ari breezed in, followed by a mildly disgruntled Uncle Gil, whose arms were weighed down by an impressive number of overfilled reusable bags.
We both hurried from the couch to help him, but Aunt Ari intercepted us.
“Boys!” she squealed as she threw her arms around us both—a feat, considering my height difference with Vinh—and pulled us into a fierce hug. “I am so glad you’re both here.”
She stepped back and put her cat-eye glasses on, which had been hanging from her neck on a beaded necklace. After a thorough inspection of us, she clucked her tongue. “My, my. You boys have seen some life now, haven’t you?” She reached up and put her hand on Vinh’s cheek. “My Bub, so handsome, and you even have some smile lines now.” Then her other hand was on my cheek. “And my Liem. As splendid as always.”
This sort of behavior from Aunt Ari always made me wonder if it made more sense or no sense whatsoever that she shared genes with my dad.
“Arizona,” Uncle Gil said in exasperation, his bald head appearing in the cut-out window to the kitchen.
“Oh shush, Gilbert ,” she shot back. “These are basically our babies, and just look at them, would you?”
Ah, yes. This would be just the distraction.
Uncle Gil disappeared back into the kitchen, grumbling along the way, “I’ll get right on that as soon as I’m done unloading all these damn vegetables. Hopefully they’ll still be here by Labor Day.”
I laughed and glanced up to see Vinh’s lips twitch, but Ari just sighed wistfully as she dropped her hands and started toward the kitchen. “The Saturday morning farmer’s market just started back up, and it is sublime. They have the freshest microgreens I’ve ever seen.”
Vinh perked up at that and followed Ari into the kitchen, falling into an in-depth conversation in a way that only two people that passionate about cooking could.
Uncle Gil unloaded the last of the bags and started to fold them, so I joined him and grabbed a handful to do the same.
“I hear you’re teaching a class this week?” I asked.
He grunted in a vaguely affirmative way, then glanced over at me, his bushy brows grayer than I remembered. “How’re your shelves?”
“Perfect. They’re working out great.”
He took the folded bags from my pile, combined them into one larger bag, and then stowed them in a drawer. “I’ll send Vinh back with the plans I drew up so you boys can finish them soon.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Uncle Gil.”
His answering smile was reserved but warm, just like the rest of him.
A few minutes later, I followed Vinh to the door as he prepared to leave. “Thank you for bringing me here. I know that’s a lot of unexpected driving. I appreciate you.”
He pushed his messy hair off his forehead, his nón lá and oak tree tattoo on display. “You’re welcome.”
Ari appeared then, a large sketch pad in her hands. “I heard Gil say he wanted to give you the plans for Liem’s shelves.” She gestured with her head toward the living room, where Uncle Gil had passed out in the recliner in record time. “Find the page you need and take it with you.”
Vinh took the book from her and opened it, stopping on a random page. I watched from beside him and took in the rough drawings of garden planters with dimensions and measurements carefully written beside them. There were little building tips and material details marked with asterisks too. Vinh turned the pages until he got to a series of them dedicated to different types of ramps, including the ones Vinh had built at Ari’s and at Mom and Dad’s rental home.
It was one thing to know how much knowledge someone had, but another to actually see the physical evidence of it.
I leaned against the wall and asked Aunt Ari quietly, not wanting to wake the man, “Where did Uncle Gil learn to do all this?”
She smiled fondly. “His father was a contractor and a hobby woodworker before he passed.”
Vinh paused his shuffling, seeming to have found the page he needed. “He’s okay with me taking this out?”
Ari nodded. “Of course, Bub. It’s no use to him here, and he’ll be happy to know it’s being completed. He hates an unfinished project. He says it makes him itchy.”
Vinh carefully took the page out of the book before folding it and putting it in his back pocket. Ari kissed his cheek goodbye, and then I squeezed my brother tightly and thanked him again.
“Any time,” he replied but then leveled me with a warning look. “But just so you know, hiding in Alabama won’t save you from Bree. Or whoever else.”
I rolled my lips together, the realization dawning on me that I hadn’t considered how Bree would respond to my sudden departure.
He frowned at me in sympathy. “Just make sure you call or text her today, yeah?”
“I will,” I vowed, wondering how much Princess knew about yesterday by now, if anything. She and Cody were, theoretically, getting him moved onto the houseboat right about now.
Then my brother was out the door, and I was left to enjoy a quiet morning of painting sunrises on the balcony with Ari as we made plans for our classes at the Locc, an afternoon of solo exploring the town during her and Uncle Gil’s scheduled nap, and an evening of watching TV and playing card games with Gil, whose only face was a poker face.
It was just what I needed.
The next morning, I rose before dawn, my body attuned to it now, no matter where I was. I took my own sketch pad to the balcony, where I worked on one more piece with only the sounds of the crashing shore and of seabirds for company.
By the time I finished my charcoal impressions of hands that nearly touched, hearts that boomed and beat in symphony, and magnolia blossoms that hadn’t received quite enough sunshine to bloom, two things returned to me, having only abandoned me for a short time.
My peace.
My hope.