by Nicole James
Then there was the age difference. He was in his thirties. She was young. He didn’t know how old, but she had to be in her early twenties, innocent and possibly naïve. Everything told him he should run for the hills.
But then there was that other hand. The one that told him they connected—on a level he’d never experienced. He felt it the first time he’d looked into her eyes and every time since then—when he’d first seen her staring up at the wall of art in Brothers Ink, a look of wonder on her face, and then when she’d turned her face toward him, and he’d been knocked upside the head with the aura that surrounded her…
He didn’t know what the fuck it was, couldn’t explain it if his life depended on it, but he knew it when he felt it. Bam! It hit him like a ton of bricks.
It was crazy, he knew, but that didn’t make it any less true.
His eyes focused in on movement in the shadows a block down, and he straightened. The figure was slight and moving rapidly. It had to be her.
He stood in the circle of light from the bulb above the door. He wanted her to see him, to know he was here, waiting, just like he’d promised.
She wore jeans and a short hooded down jacket. The hood was pushed back, and her long glossy hair flowed in the wind, gleaming under the moonlight.
As she drew closer, he caught the smile on her face, and his broke out in an answering grin, the happiness at just seeing her bursting inside him. He couldn’t help himself, when she got close enough he grabbed her face in his palms and pulled her close, his mouth descending on hers.
It was the best hello he could give her.
When they finally broke apart, he signed, You came.
She nodded. “You waited.”
I promised I would.
“I was afraid I was too late.”
He shook his head, and then reached out a hand and pulled her toward the door and out of the cold. He signed, I’m glad you came.
She tried to sign something to him, but he waved his hands. I only know a few phrases. You have to use your voice.
“What else did you learn?”
He signed the phrase he’d practiced the first day. I missed you.
She smiled. “I missed you, too.”
I watch you walk by every Tuesday and Friday on your way to the market.
“You do?”
He nodded.
“I saw you that day you were across the street,” she said.
I waited outside just to watch you come out.
“You did?”
He nodded again, the smile on his face near to bursting. He pulled her to him and kissed her once more. She opened her mouth when he probed, and she seemed just as eager as he was, but a few moments later she was pushing out of his arms, one hand planted firmly on his chest.
He looked down at her, his brow creasing in a confused frown. What had he done?
Her eyes searched his.
What’s wrong, he signed.
“I didn’t come here to…to have sex with you, Max.”
He was so relieved it wasn’t something else, he almost huffed out a laugh, but she wouldn’t think it was funny, so he signed, I know that. That’s not why… His hands stilled, he couldn’t think of the symbols. There was so much more he wanted to say—more than the few words and phrases he’d learned. Finally he signed one he knew. We need to talk.
She nodded once and whispered, “Okay.”
He pulled her to a couch against one of the brick walls. When she sat, she pulled a small backpack he hadn’t noticed before off and dropped it to the floor. An artist’s sketchpad poked out.
What is that? He pointed to it.
She pulled it out, her face bright with excitement. “My drawing book. I wanted to show you a picture I drew.”
He bobbed his head enthusiastically and waggled his fingers to hand it over.
She flipped to a page and passed the book to him.
It was a picture of a hummingbird caught in mid-flight, its wings back, its body curved forward. The colors were vibrant, the detail amazing.
He mouthed the word, Wow! And then signed alphabetically, Amazing!
“You like it?”
I love it. It’s very good.
Her face beamed with pride.
He made the motion of a pencil.
She nodded and pulled one out of her bag.
He turned to a blank page and pointed to it, asking silently if he could write on it. She nodded. He scribbled the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t sign.
We have to work out a way to see each other. And no, I didn’t ask you to come here for sex. I like you. I want to get to know you. Do you feel the same way, Malee?
He turned the pad for her to see and held his breath while her eyes traveled over the lines. When she reached the end, those beautiful dark eyes lifted to his, and she nodded.
He turned the pad back and wrote again.
Doesn’t mean I don’t still want to kiss you, because I do. But I’ll be respectful. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You say, stop, I’ll stop. We can just talk if you want. I want to know all about you. Okay?
He flipped the pad around.
She nodded again, enthusiastically. “I’d like that, too.”
He wrote again.
Tell me about your drawings. Can I see others?
She nodded and motioned to the pad.
He thumbed through the pages. They were all good, one after another. Incredibly good. He looked up at her with big eyes and smiled, then flipped back to the page he’d been writing on to scribble another note.
You’re an artist. They’re all good. He paused and scratched out the word good and replaced it with the word great!
She blushed, but her eyes brightened from just those few words of praise, and it made him wonder if she received much encouragement regarding her art. He jotted another note.
Is this what you’d like to do for a living? Something with your art?
She shrugged.
No wonder you were so fascinated by the art on the wall at Brothers Ink.
She nodded. “All the colors were so beautiful. They inspired me.”
Good. I’m glad. He hesitated with the pencil hovered over the paper, then scratched out another sentence. Did you have any trouble getting out tonight?
“I just had to wait until everyone went to sleep.”
He began writing again, and she scooted closer to look over his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to keep flipping the pad around.
Could you meet me here every week? Whatever time is good for you. Whatever day. I’ll make it work. You could come to our shop if you want.
His eyes met hers earnestly.
She shook her head. “Not your shop. If someone saw me…”
He nodded. After the gym closes, could you meet me here?
She bit her lower lip and damned if he didn’t want to kiss it. “Maybe. If I can sneak out.”
He nodded, happiness flooding through him for the first time in a week. When?
“I don’t know.” She searched his eyes. “Maybe Wednesday nights.”
He nodded. One night a week wasn’t ideal, but he’d take it. He jotted another note. The shop is closed on Sundays and Mondays now. Could we spend time together on one of those days? Can you ever go out?
She bit her lip, thinking.
The pencil scratched across the paper. You know I’d like to come to your door and pick you up, meet your parents, do this right.
She shook her head frantically, a panicked look on her face. “No, you can’t. My father would never allow me to see you.”
Why? Because of the tattoo shop? Or because I’m not Thai?
“He hates your shop. He hates the people it attracts.”
And the other part?
She looked down, plucking at her sleeve. He tilted her chin up with a finger, searching her eyes.
“I think he would prefer I marry a Thai boy.”
Max nodded. She was honest, he couldn’t fault her for that, but
it still saddened him to think he may never measure up, that he may never be the kind of man they thought she deserved. But, damned if it didn’t make him want to try.
“I wish things were different,” she whispered.
Me too, sweetheart, he scrawled and then looked away. She touched his sleeve, and his gaze fell to her delicate hand, resting on the soft flannel.
“I still want to meet you. I don’t care if we have to sneak around. And maybe someday we won’t have to.”
He looked up into her eyes and signed one of the phrases he’d learned. How old are you, Malee?
“Twenty.”
When will you be twenty-one? When is your birthday?
“November twentieth.”
He nodded, studying her. She was so young, younger than he’d even thought. Jesus Christ, this whole thing was insane.
As if she read his mind, she said, “I’m not a child. Everyone treats me like one. Don’t you treat me like one, too! Promise me.”
He searched her eyes. God, he didn’t want to disappoint her. He wondered if there would be any path that this would lead them down that didn’t end in heartbreak for both of them. But somehow, he had to give it a shot. He signed, Okay. I promise.
“I should get home,” she whispered.
He nodded and started to shove her drawing pad in her bag, but she stopped him with a hand. He looked up at her, and she took the pad, thumbed through it, stopping on one drawing. She tore it off and handed it to him.
“For you.”
Taking it, his eyes dropped from her smiling face to the paper. The hummingbird. He met her gaze and signed, Thank you.
She shoved the pad in her bag and stood.
Can I drive you home?
“Okay. To the alley.”
He nodded, grinning, and took her hand in his, watching as her eyes fell to their joined hands. He gave hers a squeeze, which caused her gaze to flick up to his. A smile burst across her face, and he gave her a wink. She returned the squeeze and winked back.
They walked to the front, and Max flipped off the lights and locked up. His truck was parked on the street, and he beeped it open, then held the door for her. When she was inside, he jogged around to his side and climbed in. He put the drawing in the glove box and started the engine while she buckled up.
He adjusted the heat and soon the truck was warm. Then he pulled from the curb. As he drove slowly down the street, wanting to stretch their time together, he reached out and took her hand in his. Threading their fingers together, he rested their joined hands on her thigh.
As he turned a corner and headed toward Main Street, he glanced over at her. She felt his gaze and turned her head. They both grinned.
He stopped at a red light at Main and glanced around. The town was quiet, the streets empty, nothing but a cold wind blowing scraps of paper and a few stray brown leaves down the street.
The light changed, and he drove across, a moment later pulling down the alley, until he was stopped in the same spot as the last time he’d dropped her off.
Putting the truck in park, he looked over at her and signed, What do you do on the days the restaurant is closed?
She shrugged. “Sometimes we prepare food or go shopping. Sometimes I read.”
He pulled his phone out and tapped out a note, turning it for her to read. If you can get away, I’d like to see you. You could put that light in your window to let me know.
“Maybe.”
His eyes searched the alley, and he noticed a pipe going up along the brick wall near the back door to their restaurant, and he had an idea.
You could leave me a note. You could tuck it between that pipe and the wall. I could check for it every day.
She nodded, brightening. “Okay.”
He set his phone on the seat, and this time he didn’t ask if he could kiss her goodnight. He just cupped her face, his fingers threading into her silken hair, and pulled her to him. She opened for him this time with no coaxing, and her hands moved to his shoulders.
Her kiss was just as sweet as he remembered. He could smell the fragrance of the soap she used, or maybe it was the shampoo she used. He wasn’t sure. But its scent filled his nostrils, and he breathed deep. He broke off, remembering his pledge to go slow with her.
Stroking his thumb over her cheek, he studied her eyes. She would let him go further if he wanted, he could see that. And that was exactly why he needed to stop. She needed to be able to trust him to stop. He wanted her to trust him. It was important to him, he realized.
So he eased back, putting more space between them.
They smiled at each other, and then he lifted his chin toward the back of the restaurant, releasing her.
“Goodnight, Max,” she said softly.
Goodnight, Malee, he signed. And then she slipped out of the truck, dashed across the side street and disappeared into the darkness. He watched until he saw the light that appeared when she unlocked the restaurant’s rear door and slipped inside.
Then he cranked the engine and slowly pulled out.
***
Malee snuck up the dark stairs and crept through the quiet apartment. She slipped into the room she shared with Lawan. A small bedside lamp burned next to her sister’s bed. Lawan lowered the book she was reading, and her eyes searched Malee’s. She signed, Are you okay?
Yes. I’m fine. You waited up for me?
I was worried about you.
You don’t have to worry. Not about Max.
You were out walking the streets at night. Of course I have to worry.
He drove me home.
Good.
Go to sleep.
Are you going to see him again?
I hope to, yes.
Was he nice to you? Did he behave?
Yes, Lawan. He was very nice. Now go to bed.
Her sister put her book aside, flicked out the light, and rolled over.
Malee changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and crawled into bed. She stared out the window, down the street toward the gym. The light was off this time, but she could make out the building in the glow of the streetlamp.
She thought about Max’s idea to write notes to each other. She would write him a letter. She smiled, thinking about tonight. He’d learned some actual sign language for her. That melted her heart. And he’d been so respectful of her. She had to admit, she’d had some misgivings about meeting him, and then when he’d kissed her, pulling her close, she’d been afraid her fears would come true, that he was just interested in sex. But he wasn’t. He’d proved that. And everything he told her, she believed.
He wanted to see her again. She’d have to come up with some excuses, some reasons to be gone more. She longed to have the freedom other girls had, but she knew her parents were not like other girls’.
Malee closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with the image of Max smiling down into her upturned face.
Chapter Eleven
Malee was in the restaurant kitchen the next morning. It was early, and they hadn’t opened for lunch yet. She was chopping vegetables, the steam in the kitchen already making her T-shirt damp. It didn’t matter; her mind was a thousand miles away.
Okay, maybe just blocks away.
Kiet, who’d been peeling shrimp next to her, brushed off his hands and went to open the back door, talking to someone outside.
Malee frowned, wondering who it could be. They’d already gotten the seafood delivery this morning.
An older woman whirled in. She was dressed in a bright colored skirt, a flowered blouse, with scarves around her neck and a huge brimmed hat pushed down over the gray hair on her head. She pulled a pair of big designer sunglasses off and peered at Kiet.
It was Aunt Ratana! Malee hadn’t seen her in years, but she remembered her father’s oldest sister and her favorite of all her aunts.
Aunt Ratana had married a rich man, but he’d died a couple of years ago. They were from Thailand, but had lived in California since she was first married. She was the first i
n the family to come to America. Soon after, she’d worked to bring Malee’s father over.
He was the youngest of the seven children, in his early sixties now, but Auntie Ratana, who was the oldest, was in her upper seventies. And her husband had been in his eighties.
Malee always loved when Aunt Ratana would come to visit. She was so vibrant, so full of life. She lived life to the fullest, always going, always doing. And now that her husband had died, Malee heard she’d been traveling all over the world. She had the money and freedom to do it, and a part of Malee envied her. To be able to do what she wanted, go where she wanted… Malee longed for that type of freedom.
Aunt Ratana hugged Kiet and then pulled back, holding his face in her palms. She studied him and said something to him. Malee tried to read her lips, but she didn’t quite catch it all—something about being proud of him. Then her eyes moved past Kiet to Malee, and she clasped her face in surprise, her mouth forming a big O. The biggest grin formed on her face, stretching from ear to ear, and she clapped her hands and waved Malee over.
She signed, Malee! Come here. Come see your Aunt Ratana!
Malee dashed into her arms, surrounded by a big hug as a rich, exotic perfume enveloped her—a perfume she remembered from her childhood.
“Aunt Tan!” she called, using the nickname she’d given her aunt as a child.
Her aunt pushed back out of her arms so she could sign to her. You have grown so big since I last saw you, Malee. And into such a beautiful woman, too!
Malee’s father came forward and hugged his sister. She patted his face and said something joyfully up into it. Then pulled back, turned to Malee, and signed, I told him he is still my favorite little brother.
Malee could see everyone shake with laughter, even if she couldn’t hear it.
Her father said something to his sister. Aunt Tan poked his arm and gestured to Malee, then she signed, Sign so she can understand you!
That was one thing Malee loved about Aunt Tan. She always made sure she was included in any conversation—something her parents sometimes forgot to do.
Her father glanced to Malee, and then signed as he spoke to his sister. “Ratana, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
