Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
M y eyes open and adjust to the haze of morning light floating into the room. I roll over and check the clock. 8:35 AM. There’s been a series of mornings just like this. Is this morning number eleven? Twelve?
Yes. I count in my head. Twelve days. Almost two weeks on the other side of apart from Marcus. I should be home, not hiding in this hotel room. I promised myself and Marcus I’d be back by now, but things haven’t been as quick as I’d hoped. First was the mix-up with my name. Or…actually…my entire existence. Turns out, there is no record of a Zhang, Mei Li born to my parents. Chang—as everyone calls him—had to dig deep to find out I was born Zhao, Xin Yao and my birth certificate only had Mama’s name on it. They changed my name when we illegally came to the United States and forged a fake birth certificate for Zhang, Mei Li.
Then it was roadblock after roadblock as Chang tried to track down the owner of the diamonds. Everything came back unresolved, and every unresolved day is another day away from Marcus. I’ve been at this hotel waiting for answers and wishing I could call or text Marcus. Anything. But every day, I’m reminded of how life and death it is that I don’t contact anyone, not only for my safety and to protect the investigation, but also for Marcus’s. But I haven’t been doing nothing for the past week. The same day Chang gave me my birth certificate, I got to work filling out the Taiwanese passport paperwork and visa. If I have to wait until it’s safe to return to Marcus, I’m going to do something that will help me get back to him and stay with him for good.
It’s been almost a week since I begged Chang to take me to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to submit my paperwork. He’d been reluctant at first, but I was persistent. I told him if he didn’t take me, I’d go on my own. After turning in my application, the agent told me it would take around ten days to process. I’m still waiting. But I will get my passport, and I will make it back to Marcus soon.
A knock rattles the door. I pull my sleep-heavy body from bed, dragging myself to the door, and peek through the peephole like Chang told me to do. Just in case it isn’t him. It’s always been him, though. Same time, every day.
He stands on the other side, breakfast in hand. When I open the door, he flashes me a smile. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Hello again,” I say, opening the door wider for him. “Come in.”
He walks in, sets breakfast on the small table, and pushes his hand through his hair. It’s not as neat as it usually is, like he didn’t get around to doing it before work.
I close the door behind him and fold my arms over my pajama shirt to hide my bra-less chest. “Any news?”
He nods. “Yeah, actually. I stayed at the office all night.”
“Really? That sounds promising…”
He shrugs, his eyes dropping to the floor before leveling with mine.
“What is it?” My hope slams against his hesitation.
He clears his throat. “The diamonds trace back to some highly influential people back in the States. People whose lives would be ruined if this connection comes to light. Nick’s in the middle of it all and is desperate to get them back so the people he’s working for don’t dispose of him.”
My chest tightens, and the best I can do is whisper, “How do you know all this?”
“Your father, or who you knew as your father, is in prison here in Kaohsiung.”
My stomach bottoms out. “What…? He’s here? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chang puts his hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I should have. I needed to make sure of some things before I said anything. But yes, he’s here. And he was willing to shed some light on the situation. He doesn’t have much to lose at this point.”
I drop into the nearest chair as anger pushes through all the layers inside me. He’s not even my real father and he’s ruined my life, not saved it or given me a better one. “Why did he agree to talk? That man wouldn’t do anything good unless it benefitted him somehow. So what did you promise him?”
Chang sits in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “If what he told me is true, his sentence will be shortened.”
I cover my trembling mouth with one hand and shake my head, pushing back tears that I will not cry for him.
“And…I told him I’d talk to you about going to see him. He has some things he wants to say. But that’s your choice. I promised him nothing regarding you.”
My thoughts are backed up against the inside of my head. “I have nothing to say to him.”
Chang’s eyes are soft and a little sad. He says, “That’s not all, Mei Li. And I’m so sorry for all of this information and turmoil, but I have news about your cousin, Chaz.”
“What did he do now?” Nothing Chang says will surprise me.
“He’s dead.” Chang’s words drop between us, lifeless on the floor. Final. Surprising after all.
“What?” My question comes out in a whisper.
“He was murdered. Nick put a hit out on him, no doubt. There’s not enough evidence to prove it was him, but we’re working to find it. It will take more time.” Chang shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”
The escaping tears are painful, laced with meaning. It’s not true. There’s no way. Chaz was always untouchable.
“Are you sure it was Chaz?”
Chang nods. “His body was identified.”
“How did he die?” My voice trembles, and I wipe tears from my cheeks.
“He washed ashore in Jamaica. A bullet in his head.”
Everything goes static. The room dims to a dull grey, like someone’s trying to shut off the world and leave me trapped in it.
“Also…” Chang rotates a ring on his middle finger, watching it circle. “Because we suspect Nick of ordering Chaz’s death, we have reason to believe he knows about you being here. And that he’ll put a hit out on you, too, if he hasn’t already.”
I watch his face for clues about whether I should be scared, but his eyes are gentle, like a soft place I can land if the world falls out from under me. “What does that mean for me going home? What happens now?”
Chang stands, steps toward me. “It means…you’re safe here. I feel confident we’ll find Nick. I promised you I would help get you back to the States, and I will. We just need a little more time to make sure he never hurts you again.”
Chaz is dead. I could be next. I’m not going home.
I glance down at my clenched hands and the heaviness of the information presses on me, holding me in this place. All I want to do is rewind every step that brought me here. I need to get back to Marcus. I need him to know why I’m here. But now nothing is as straightforward as it was supposed to be, and Chaz, the barrier between Nick and me, is gone. I can’t go anywhere until Nick is locked up. But I don’t have time to wait for that. I left my note to Marcus purposely vague so he wouldn’t stop me from coming here, but he’ll think I’m never coming back. There’s no way I can call him, and even if I could, how would I explain my reasoning? How would I explain that his worst fear—me leaving—came true?
My throat tightens, and my heart pounds. Maybe I should call despite Chang’s warning. But if I do, and Marcus finds out where I am, he’ll be on the next plane here. And Nick could find him.
Chang shifts and a bag rustles. I jerk my attention to him, disoriented. “I, uhh, got what you asked for,” he says, handing me a paper bag.
Blinking, I focus on it in my hands, and it sucks away all thoughts of calling Marcus. Avoiding Chang’s eyes I say, “Thank you.”
He nods. “Yeah. No problem. And before I go…I don’t know what brought you here or what you’re going through, but…I’m here to help in any way you need. I don’t have to know the circumstances, how or who. Whatever the results of that,” he says, nodding toward the bag and what’s inside it, “I’m here for you, and I’ll make sure you’re safe and have whatever you need.”
My heartbeat fills my ears while tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away. “Thank you. Really.”
“I’m sorry to leave you after all this news, but I have to get back to the station. I’ll stop by on my way home, though. Anything else you need, let me know, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I give him a weak smile, and he disappears through the door.
My breath catches in my throat, and I stare into the emptiness that’s now swirling with new fears and questions. But I have bigger questions that began days ago.
I stand, hands trembling, and brace myself on the back of the sofa before walking to the bathroom, paper bag crinkling in my hand—the only answer I can actually get right now.
Breathing like I just ran around the room a dozen times, I turn on the bathroom light and close the door behind me, trapping myself inside with my emotions. I pull a box from the bag and set them both on the counter. I stare at the pregnancy test, unsure how to approach it now that I’m alone with it.
After a few heavy seconds, I undo the box flaps, slide out the foil package, and tear it open.
Three minutes…
In San Francisco, we were used to earthquakes, but when they hit, ten seconds always felt like ten hours.
The package in my hands is an earthquake that could level my world, and three minutes is a lifetime.
I sit on the toilet.
Three minutes is months full of memories and places and him . Like the time we were eating at McDonalds, discussing the percentage of real beef in our burgers. “It’s probably donkey,” Marcus said. “And I’d know the difference since I grew up on a donkey farm.”
I’d choked on my burger, and he’d had to slap me on the back.
He’s the only person that can make me laugh like that. Not even Lin had that power. He’s also the only person who can scare me speechless. Like the night in Vegas when he borrowed our role-playing neighbor’s Batman costume and hid behind our bedroom door in the dark. When I came inside from getting the mail, he jumped out, hands on his hips, and I dropped to the floor, screaming and curling into a ball. He’d laughed so hard, he could barely lift me off the floor, and I’d hit him—hard—and then he’d kissed me. Hard.
When Marcus wasn’t making me laugh or cry from fear, he’d been gentle and caring. Like the night I’d pouted before his first day of work in Indiana because I hated being away from him. That night as I’d slept, he’d taped notes all over our apartment, and the next day, I’d woken up and rolled onto a small pile of notes in his empty space beside me. I’d found them everywhere that day—in the cupboard, the shower, under the toilet lid.
I place the stick next to the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I count under my breath, and when three minutes are up, I wait longer, still staring at myself because this might be the last time I see this version of me. The me who lived in another lifetime where Marcus woke me almost every morning with a kiss on the back of the neck and told me he loved me more that day than he had the day before. A lifetime where he came home from work, kicked off his shoes, and stripped off layers of clothing, walking around the apartment with his pants hanging low on his hips, my eyes obsessed.
The night I’d sat blindfolded on the kitchen counter while Marcus hand-fed me Jelly Belly’s one at a time, making me guess the flavors.
“You should be here right now,” I whisper to him like the words will drift all the way back to him. “I should never have left. I can’t do this. We’ve never been this far apart before, and I shouldn’t be doing this without you.” Tears drip onto the counter and I swipe my face. I imagine him in the bathroom with me, and I give into the tears, my pain echoing off the walls as it rushes out of my broken insides. When the torrent is over, I’m shaky and empty, holding onto the counter until silence settles too heavily on me.
I pick up the stick, swallow, open my eyes…blink. Look again. My heart swells, and fear dissolves as I spread my hands over my stomach. Tears puddle in my eyes and happiness pushes away the pain, leaving love and determination to get back to Marcus and turn the two of us into three.