22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
S kye
I make my way to Thrax’s room, full of things to talk with him about, even though we had dinner together last night. It’s been a few days since his surgery and I think we’ve grown a bit closer because I was there when he woke up, just as I promised. He trusts me more now.
I check on him every morning to see how he’s doing. But when I arrive, his room is empty, the bed neatly made.
Frowning, I head toward the cafeteria, figuring he might have gone for breakfast. As I pass the atrium, movement catches my eye. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I spot Thrax standing in the center, his gaze fixed on the sky above.
My heart sinks. Has he regressed? Is he back to searching for those elusive airplanes?
But the moment I step into the atrium, Thrax turns and flashes me a wide, genuine grin. Relief washes over me when I realize he was waiting for me here.
I quickly cue up the translation app on my phone and slip it into the holder clipped to my pants so I now have both hands free when we talk.
“Good morning,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my voice. “How are you feeling?”
Although he used to avoid connecting with my gaze, he lances me with a direct look, his expression calm and happy. “I’m well.” He touches his bandaged ear as though he’s half-forgotten he had surgery recently. “Very well. I… I have something for you.”
His eagerness is palpable, but he seems hesitant to continue.
“Oh?” I prompt gently.
He shyly gazes down, the effect adorable on a towering gladiator. “I’ve been learning to carve wood. A man who works here and always wears jeans taught me. Because I wanted to make something perfect, just for you, I’ve been keeping it a secret. I gave a lot of thought about what to make you. I think… I hope you’ll like it.”
Before I can respond, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object on a leather cord. With a proud grin, he holds it out to me.
My mouth drops open and I gasp as I take in the carved wooden penis dangling from the necklace. Heat rushes to my face as embarrassment and anger war within me.
“What… what is this?” I sputter. After taking a step back, I lean closer, hoping it’s not what it looked like at first blush, but no, it’s an erect penis, complete with plump, dangling balls.
Anxiety coils in my guts, tying my insides into knots and making my throat constrict. Is this some kind of joke? Am I some type of joke to him?
Or maybe he’s not who I thought he was. Maybe he’s like the guy in college who seduced me until I gave him my virginity, then laughed about it with all his friends and half the dorm.
I try to master my breathing, fighting to stop a panic attack .
“Do you think I’m some kind of… of whore? What kind of woman do you think I am? Who… who would want a gift like this?”
He holds the necklace out toward me for another beat, then his smile falters, confusion and hurt replacing the excitement in his eyes as he lowers his hand, dropping the offensive necklace onto the grass. But I’m too furious to care, my words spilling out with so much heat I don’t have the self-control to censor them.
“I thought we had a connection , that we understood each other, respected each other, honored each other. But this? This is completely inappropriate! How could you think I’d want that ?” I gaze at the thing on the ground and have to force myself not to stomp on the damn thing, just as his giving me this thoughtless gift stomped on my heart.
Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and storm out of the atrium, leaving a stunned Thrax in my wake.
I’m so caught up in my indignation that I nearly collide with Laura in the hallway. She takes one look at my flushed face and asks, “Skye? What’s wrong?”
I explain in hurried, angry whispers, expecting sympathy. Instead, Laura bursts into laughter.
“How can you laugh?” I demand, my frustration growing. I can barely restrain myself from stamping my foot like a three-year-old. “This isn’t funny!” I’m too proud to tell her I allowed myself to feel so much affection for the man that my heart is aching.
Laura’s laughter subsides, and she focuses seriously on me as she realizes how hurt I am. “Oh, Skye.” She shakes her head. “You’ve got it all wrong. In ancient Rome, phalluses were everywhere. They weren’t considered obscene or pornographic. They were symbols of good luck and protection.”
My anger deflates, replaced by confusion. My brow furrows as I ask, “What? ”
Laura pulls out her phone, quickly summoning a series of images. “Look,” she says, scrolling through dozens of pictures. “Rings, necklaces, even gravestones—all with phalluses on them. They were talismans, meant to ward off bad luck and evil spirits.”
As I take in the images, my earlier outburst plays back in my mind. Oh, God. What have I done?
“I… I need to go,” I stammer, already turning toward the atrium. “I need to apologize.”
Laura gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Go on. And Skye? Remember, cultural differences can be tricky. Always try to understand before you judge.”
Nodding, I hurry back to the atrium, my heart heavy with regret. Isn’t this like what happened with the thumbs-up sign? I, of all people, should know that my relationship with Thrax will be riddled with misunderstandings like this.
I just hope Thrax forgives me for jumping to conclusions—and gives me a chance to make up for rejecting the gift he put so much effort into creating.