Chapter 5
Sarah
“You need a new psychologist, Nate,” I said as I picked up around the living room, stacking discarded books in my arms and re-fluffing the throw pillows.
He shot me a glare with those blue eyes of his. “Why? I think our current arrangement is perfect.”
I gave him an incredulous look as I slid the books back onto the shelves. "It's unethical for us to continue our sessions now that we're friends, and I'm close with your family as well. I have colleagues who are just as qualified as I am, if not more so. They'd be thrilled to work with you."
“But what if I don’t want to?” he pouted.
"Go to therapy?" I asked, stretching onto my toes to reach the top shelf beside the fireplace.
I had managed to get the furniture back in place after our painting escapades and quickly learned it no longer matched the room.
I had spent the last week finding new pieces and upcycling what I already had to match the space.
It had gone wonderfully, and I was wrapping up the final touches, refilling my book and vinyl shelves.
The new sheer, cream curtains were hanging over the window, the wooden coffee table freshly stained a warm walnut tone that complemented the brick fireplace well.
The room felt like a warm hug and an oasis away from the stresses of my day-to-day life and the quieter weight of my own mind and heart.
Nate rolled his eyes. “Of course I want to go to therapy. We both know I need it. I mean go to someone new.”
I turned to him, fists planted on my hips. “Do you want me to be your friend, or do you want me to be your psychologist? Because you only get one.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, sinking into the couch. “I’ll find a new doctor.”
"Good choice," I said with a smile, dropping into one of the armchairs across from him. "What do you think?" I gestured around the room.
"I like it. It's very blue," he said approvingly.
I barked a laugh. “It’s very blue? That’s all you have to say?”
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused. "The walls are blue."
I chuckled softly. “You’re such a man,” I mumbled under my breath.
Our conversation was cut off by a knock on the front door. Nate looked over his shoulder, confused. "Who do you know that would knock instead of just walking in?"
I stood and smoothed my cream sweater. "Everyone but your family knocks.
It's a problem unique to you lot," I explained, crossing to the front door, though I was just as puzzled as he was.
I wasn't expecting anyone, and most people who knew me well enough to show up at my home would have called ahead first, knowing I might be with a patient.
My best guess was that I had ordered something after a glass… or two of wine and completely forgotten about it. I pulled the door open, braced to face my late-night purchase and assess the damage to my bank account, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
Fai stood at the edge of my porch in a worn black hoodie layered under a jean jacket, a ball cap pulled low over his hair, and jeans I could have sworn he had owned for a decade.
He was holding a tray of coffees and looking at me nervously, his eyes full of hope and wariness in equal measure, as though he was afraid to be hopeful, afraid I would turn him away or shut the door without a word.
"Hi." His voice was soft but steady, rich in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
I took a slow breath in.
“Hi,” I said on an exhale.
"Who's here?" Nate called from behind me. I felt him step up to my side, then go still when he saw Fai. "Oh." His tone turned serious. "If he's staying, I'll head out."
“I can just come back later,” Fai offered, pointing over his shoulder toward his blue two-door truck parked on the street.
Nate shook his head and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. “It’s fine.” He gave me a fast kiss on the cheek and shouldered past Fai as he stepped off the front porch, pausing at the bottom of the steps to turn back and mouth, "You good?"
I nodded, and Nate accepted that, turning and heading down the driveway. With anyone else I might have worried about them walking home in the rain, but Nate knew these streets like the back of his hand.
I turned back to Fai, who looked a little deflated by Nate's cool reception. "What are you doing here?"
He let out a long, tired sigh. "It's quite the story. But mostly I was hoping you had my birth certificate."
I was taken aback by the request but nodded, knowing it was in my safe. I stepped aside, inviting him in.
Out of an old habit, I caught myself subtly checking for the smell of alcohol as he stepped past. Even when he hadn't smelled like alcohol, he used to carry the faint scent of his favorite bar.
What I found instead stopped me. He smelled clean, like detergent and the amber and vanilla shampoo he had been using since we first moved in together, when he discovered you could have separate shampoo and conditioner instead of that two-in-one stuff.
He had used it for the entire length of our marriage.
He drifted slowly into the living room, pulling off his cap and tucking it into his back pocket as he took in the new space.
"It looks incredible in here." He turned slowly, taking in each change with quiet consideration. He pointed to one of the armchairs. "Did you reupholster that?"
I laughed and nodded as I closed the door with a steady thud behind me. “Yeah, it was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and don’t you dare lift up that seat cushion. It’s where I’m hiding the extra fabric.”
He smiled softly. “It really looks incredible. I like the color. I hadn’t even thought about painting a ceiling. It really ties it all together.”
I held back an eye roll because he didn’t know the pain that ceiling had caused and instead I pointed at the tray of coffees he was still holding. “You bring me something?”
“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head as if he were recentering himself after getting lost in his head.
"I got your usual oat milk macchiato, but then I wasn't sure if that had changed, so I also got a latte with almond milk, because of your lactose intolerance issues. And then I realized how late it was, so I got two decaf options as well.” He set the tray down on the coffee table, turned to me, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I think I panicked.”
I laughed softly and reached for the macchiato. "Thank you. Truly." I took a sip before looking back up at him. "You said you just need the birth certificate?" I asked, trying to ignore how my heart felt knowing he had gone through so much effort to get me something I would like.
He nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was in the office, but I couldn’t find it. I figured you must have grabbed it and brought it home.” He trailed off and looked around the room. “To your home.”
“You’re mostly right,” I began. “I needed it when we reissued our passports like five years ago. Let me grab it." I slipped out of the living room toward the bedroom where the safe was.
I thought about Fai as I keyed into the safe and pulled out the document folder holding his birth certificate.
He looked like himself again. His hair was still its usual mess, his clothes well-lived in, but his caramel skin had more color to it and his eyes were clear.
I didn't want to hope, but I couldn't help wondering if he was sober.
I turned to leave the room but stopped in front of the mirror.
I straightened my sweater. It was an off-the-shoulder, cream one I had bought a few years back but still fit me well.
My hair was in goddess braids with the top currently pulled back away from my face.
I looked good, and I was honest enough to admit that I wanted Fai to think so too.
I took a breath and walked back into the living room to find Fai perched on the edge of the couch, looking as though he didn't quite belong there, which was strange given that this house had been his home for a decade.
I held up the folder and gave it a small wave. "One birth certificate."
He sighed in relief and took the paper from me as I stepped closer. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I may have a few more of your documents if you need them,” I offered.
He waved me off. “You can just toss them out. This is the last thing of any importance.”
I settled onto the arm of one of the chairs, unable to fully relax with him here. The fire crackled softly behind me, and the smell of cookies baking in the oven, originally intended for Nate, helped settle my nerves somewhat.
“What do you need it for?” I asked curiously.
He ran a hand through his hair and across his jaw. “I was hoping I would be able to make out my mother’s name.”
“Haven’t you tried before?”
He nodded. “Yeah, a hundred times. But,” he paused and swallowed, “now I know her name. I was curious if I would be able to make it out.”
My eyes went wide. "What? How?"
"That story I mentioned earlier," he said, leaning back into the couch. "Want to hear it?"
Fai had fully settled into the couch by now, another cookie in hand. His jacket was draped over the arm, his cap on the coffee table, and his shoes by the door. He had his feet up, leaning back into the pillows with a plate balanced on his chest as he ate.
While his story wasn’t long, the number of questions I had was endless.
He had an entire brother out there. Not only did I make him tell me the story, I insisted he let me read the letter, and I proceeded to analyze it thoroughly.
It was straightforward enough on the surface—his brother explained who he was, how he had found Fai, and ended with an invitation to his home.
But something in the undertone felt off to me.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but I wasn't ready to trust the brother's account at face value. I kept those reservations to myself, for a couple of reasons, both of them about Fai.