Chapter 13 Slowly Falling
Slowly Falling
Love did not arrive loudly for Tan and Amari.
It did not sweep through their lives in one dramatic declaration or demand that either of them recognize it immediately.
It came quietly.
In routines.
In missed calls returned before bedtime.
In grocery lists.
Inside jokes nobody else understood.
Amari learning that Tan hated raisins but loved oatmeal cookies.
Tan learning that Amari needed complete silence for at least fifteen minutes after especially difficult work meetings.
In Sunday dinners.
In Wednesday night takeout.
In the way Tan always walked on the outside of the sidewalk without thinking.
In the way Amari began keeping his favorite sparkling water in her refrigerator even though she thought it tasted like television static.
Their relationship grew in spaces so ordinary that neither noticed how much of their lives had become shared until months had already passed.
By the time they'd been dating for six months, Tan had a toothbrush at Amari's house.
Not officially.
At least that was what he insisted.
The toothbrush sat inside a ceramic cup beside hers.
There was a small bottle of his cologne beneath the bathroom sink.
Two T-shirts had somehow migrated into one of her dresser drawers.
A pair of sneakers remained beside the back door.
Yet whenever Amari referred to "his stuff," Tan responded as though she were making wild accusations.
One Saturday morning, she stood in the bathroom holding his toothbrush.
"T."
Tan shouted from the kitchen.
"What?"
"Come here."
He appeared several seconds later wearing sweatpants and a white undershirt while chewing toast.
"What?"
Amari held up the toothbrush.
"Explain."
He looked at it.
"That's a toothbrush."
"I know what it is."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
She pointed toward the cup.
"You live here now?"
Tan swallowed his toast.
"No."
"You have toiletries."
"One toothbrush."
"And cologne."
"Emergency cologne."
She stared.
"What emergency requires cologne?"
Tan thought.
"Unexpected dinner reservations."
Amari burst out laughing.
"You are ridiculous."
He reached for the toothbrush.
She pulled it away.
"Also..."
She walked toward the bedroom.
Tan followed.
"Why do I feel like I'm being investigated?"
"Because evidence is accumulating."
She opened the dresser.
"Exhibit B."
Two folded T-shirts.
Tan looked.
"Those are mine."
"I know."
"So why are you showing me?"
"Because they're in my dresser."
"You washed them."
"And instead of taking them home?"
"You folded them."
"You are missing the point."
Tan leaned against the doorway.
"Maybe I'm comfortable here."
Amari stopped.
The teasing softened.
She looked at him.
"Yeah?"
Tan's expression changed too.
"Yeah."
She smiled.
"I like that."
"Good."
"But you're still not getting a whole drawer."
Tan laughed.
"I didn't ask."
"You were thinking it."
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
He stepped closer.
"Maybe half."
Amari pointed toward the kitchen.
"Go finish your toast."
Tan kissed her forehead.
"Half a drawer."
"Quarter."
"Deal."
She looked shocked.
"I wasn't negotiating."
"Too late."
Tan had become familiar with Amari's house in ways that had nothing to do with possessions.
He knew which floorboard near the hallway squeaked.
He knew the thermostat had to remain at seventy-two because seventy-one made Amari cold and seventy-three somehow made her "unable to sleep."
He knew her neighbor Mrs. Calderon had a little terrier named Chico who barked at everything except Tan.
He knew which kitchen drawer jammed.
He knew the bedroom window needed two pushes before it locked properly.
Some of those details came naturally.
Others came from his police instincts.
That bothered Amari at first.
One evening she caught him checking the back-door lock for the second time.
"T."
Tan looked over.
"What?"
"You already checked it."
"I know."
"Then why are you checking it again?"
He paused.
Habit.
Training.
Concern.
He could have chosen any answer.
Instead, he gave the most honest one.
"Because of what happened here."
Amari's expression changed.
"I don't need you treating my house like a crime scene."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Tan let go of the lock.
She crossed her arms.
"I worked hard to make this feel like home again."
"I don't want to walk around wondering whether you're seeing danger every time you come here."
He hadn't considered that.
"I'm sorry."
Amari studied him.
"You don't have to apologize for caring."
"But?"
"But I need you to remember I'm not still that woman from the first call."
Tan nodded slowly.
"I know you're not."
"Then trust me too."
The words surprised him.
Amari stepped closer.
"You always tell me to trust myself."
"Okay."
"Trust that if I feel unsafe, I'll tell you."
Tan exhaled.
That was harder than he expected.
His father had always taught him protection.
Observation.
Preparedness.
But Tan was beginning to understand that loving Amari did not mean guarding her every breath.
Sometimes protecting her meant respecting her ability to protect herself.
"Okay," he said.
Amari raised an eyebrow.
"Okay what?"
"I'll stop checking the lock twice."
"Good."
"Unless I hear something."
"T."
"Fine."
She smiled.
"Thank you."
Tan wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Still keeping the security cameras."
"Those I paid for."
"Exactly."
Amari laughed and kissed him.
By the ninth month of their relationship, Tan had become so integrated into Amari's family that her father stopped referring to him as "that officer you're seeing" and started calling him "son" whenever he needed help moving something heavy.
Amari's parents, Denise and Calvin Davenport, lived in Inglewood inside the same home where she'd grown up.
The first time Tan met them, he wore a blazer.
Calvin had looked him up and down.
"You going to court?"
Amari whispered,
"Daddy."
Tan laughed.
"I wasn't sure how formal dinner was."
Calvin pointed toward his own Lakers T-shirt.
"Not very."
Denise hugged Tan immediately.
Calvin made him earn everything else.
Not because he disliked Tan.
Because Craig had changed the way he evaluated men around his daughter.
Calvin had blamed himself for not seeing what Amari endured.
He'd spent months carrying guilt even after Amari repeatedly reminded him that Craig had intentionally hidden his behavior from everyone.
The first several dinners, Calvin mostly watched.
Tan noticed.
He didn't resent it.
If anything, he respected it.
Then one Sunday, after dinner, Calvin asked Tan to help repair a loose fence panel.
Amari watched from the kitchen window as the two men worked outside.
Denise stepped beside her.
"Your daddy likes him."
Amari smiled.
"You sure?"
"He asked him to touch his tools."
Amari laughed.
"That's the standard?"
"Your father wouldn't let your uncle use that drill."
"Uncle Marvin broke the last one."
"Still."
Outside, Calvin held one end of the wooden panel.
"So how serious are you about my daughter?"
Tan nearly dropped the drill.
Calvin didn't smile.
Tan set it down carefully.
"Very."
"Very what?"
"Serious."
Calvin nodded.
"She tell you everything Craig did?"
"Enough."
"That's not what I asked."
Tan looked at him.
"She told me what she wanted me to know."
Calvin studied him.
Good answer.
"My daughter didn't used to be afraid."
Tan nodded.
"I know."
"After him, she was."
"Sometimes still is."
Tan didn't deny it.
Calvin appreciated that too.
"I couldn't protect her."
The statement caught Tan off guard.
"You couldn't know what she didn't tell you."
Calvin stared at the fence.
"I’m still her father."
Tan understood that more than Calvin probably realized.
"My dad would've said the same thing."
Calvin looked over.
"The police officer?"
"Yeah."
"You close?"
"Very."
Calvin nodded.
Then quietly asked,
"If you hurt Amari, how hard would it be for your daddy to arrest his own son?"
Tan stared.
Calvin held the expression for another second.
Then laughed.
Tan exhaled.
"Man."
Calvin slapped his shoulder.
"Had to see your face."
Tan shook his head.
"That's messed up."
"Answer the question."
"My dad would arrest me himself."
Calvin's laughter disappeared.
"Good."
Tan looked at him.
"So would I."
Calvin studied him again.
Something passed between the two men.
Understanding.
Calvin held out his hand.
Tan shook it.
"Then finish this fence, son."
Tan smiled.
"Yes, sir."
From the kitchen, Amari stared through the window.
Denise smiled.
"See?"
Amari's dimples appeared.
"Yeah."
She did.
Tan and Amari's relationship wasn't perfect.
That mattered.
They argued.
Sometimes over ridiculous things.
Amari hated that Tan would start laundry and forget to move the clothes into the dryer.
Tan hated that Amari left half-empty water bottles everywhere.
She believed his apartment needed decorative pillows.
He believed decorative pillows existed only to be moved before sitting down.
One Friday evening, she bought six.
Tan stared at his couch.
"Where am I supposed to sit?"
"Between them."
"There are six pillows on a three-person sofa."
"It looks nice."
"I live here."
"So?"
Tan looked horrified.
"You've invaded my home."
Amari laughed.
"Your couch was sad."
"It's furniture."
"It needed personality."
"I have personality."
"Debatable."
Tan picked up one pillow.
It was embroidered with the words HOME IS WHERE LOVE LIVES.
He stared.
"This is propaganda."
Amari nearly fell over laughing.
"Put it back."
Tan dropped it onto the floor.
She gasped.
"Tan!"
"I'm taking my couch back."
She chased him around the living room with the pillow.
He caught her around the waist.
She shrieked.
They collapsed onto the sofa laughing.
Then the laughter quieted.
Amari lay half across him.
Tan's hands rested around her waist.
Their eyes met.
That still happened sometimes.
A completely ordinary moment suddenly shifting into something warm and intimate.
Amari's smile faded.
Tan lifted one hand and brushed a curl away from her cheek.
"You know you're beautiful?"
She smiled faintly.
"Depends on the day."
"Every day."
"Even first thing in the morning?"
"Especially then."
"You're lying."
"I've seen you in a bonnet."
Amari's mouth fell open.
"Watch yourself."
Tan laughed.
She pinched his side.