by Rowan Shaw
The rest of dinner unfolded the same way. The closer we got to the end, the stronger the teasing got. It was still bordering on rude, but I knew the kid meant no harm. She had a sharp mind and a sharper mouth, that was all.
Brandon, though, kept giving me looks overflowing with apologies. I concealed a smirk when he gestured that he'd make up for it all some other time. Those were two blow jobs coming my way all right.
Chapter 37
BRANDON
My last week with Patrick went by so fast, I barely saw it pass. He'd insisted upon coming all the way to Paris to take me to the airport, but I almost wished he hadn't. The broken look on his face wrecked me when I made it through the gate and headed for security.
I arrived in New York City yesterday. This was still my home, and yet it felt so foreign. The skyscrapers clashed with the smaller buildings I'd gotten so used to. Everything here was huge, overwhelming, and loud. The metropolitan energy that used to fuel me with life didn't feel the same anymore. After heading to the coffee shop in the early morning, I dragged myself to the house Eve and Ling had managed to rent and spent most of my time unpacking. I wanted to go back to France already.
I gathered I'd always be torn between the two countries. I could deal with that, probably, but it was Patrick's absence that gutted me the most. I'd been here only one day, and I was already suffocating without him. We'd FaceTimed as soon as I landed yesterday. Patrick had insisted he wanted to make sure I arrived in one piece and settled all right. But it wasn't the same as FaceTiming knowing I could see him whenever I pleased.
The house I shared with the girls wasn't bad at all, but I didn't plan on living with them forever. I loved being around my daughter, and Ling and I got along well enough, but there was a reason why she was my ex. We weren't meant to share the same dwelling anymore, and a part of me couldn't help but hold a grudge against her for forcing me to move back here.
I shivered from the gripping cold as I stood in front of my mom's door in Queens. I hadn't seen her in over a year, but she opened to me almost as soon as I knocked, as if she'd been waiting behind the door for my arrival the entire time I was gone. Her smile spread to her eyes, deep crows' feet digging at the corners, when she pulled me into her arms hard.
"I missed you so much," she said with tears of joy in her voice.
My chest squeezed with guilt I could never fully repress. "I missed you too, Mom."
She hugged me harder, then dragged me inside. "I got you your favorite, red velvet cake."
Everything here was the same as it used to be when I was a kid. In some areas of her kitchen, the turquoise paint had peeled from the walls, and her porcelain sink was cracked in a corner, but the place still held the same welcoming feel I enjoyed so much. We'd moved here after my father left us, but Mom had turned this house into a joyful home filled with love.
I took off my heavy coat before sitting at the table, giving her a discreet look. She had more white streaks scattered in her black hair than she did when I left. She was still young, in her early fifties, but seeing the marks that time kept carving in her face worsened my culpability.
My mom had Chinese heritage, like Ling's parents. She was a first-generation immigrant who'd rebuilt her life from scratch. She met my so-called father when she was still in her early twenties. Though we had no pictures of him in the house, and my memory was vague, I knew he was a white man of Irish descent. They'd married fast, the idyll lasting only so long.
I hated that my mom hadn't found anyone to rebuild her life with, but she assured me she didn't need a man to fulfill her. As someone who'd been single for so long, I understood and agreed, but I still worried about her being alone in this house when I was away.
"I'll bring Wei tomorrow," I assured her when she went to fetch the cake. "She's jetlagged and sleeping right now. I didn't want to wake her up."
"It's okay, dear. She's so little. Let her rest."
"She's not that little, Mom. She's almost eleven."
"Oh, I still think of her as that tiny little girl, you know." She placed the cake on the table and sat by my side after cutting us a slice each and placing the bigger one on my plate.
Her crows' feet etched into her skin with concern. "Are you sure you're okay, sweetheart?"
"I'm okay. I'm just tired."
She narrowed her eyes harder. I could never fool her.
"We didn't need a cake that big," I said as I took a bite.
"You'll take the rest home. How is Ling doing?"
"She's well." Unlike me.
My mom observed me for a long minute, but if she could feel my sinking mood, she didn't comment upon it. I asked her about her friends and tried my best to listen, though my mind kept wandering back to Patrick. I wondered what he was doing. It was about five P.M. in France right now. He was probably at work.
We had planned to FaceTime tonight. I didn't want to think about the moment I'd be going back to work. I wouldn't be able to see him at all then, not even online.
I forced myself to eat some of the cake. I'd missed the taste so much, though over the years, I'd almost forgotten how good it was.
"You don't seem happy to be here. Is anything going on?" my mom asked.
I hated how she could read right through me.
"I'm just jetlagged."
She grabbed my hand and ran her thumb over my skin. "I appreciate you coming here, but I want you to go home and rest. I'll see you often now that you're here permanently."
Permanently. The word boomeranged inside my head long after I left her house. Seeking any distraction I could think of, I headed for the closest music store.
Permanently. How could I even hope to make things work with Patrick if I was to remain here forever?
I wasn't strong enough to take the first step and leave him. As long as he wanted me, I was going to do my best to make things work, even if it killed me.
I pushed the door of the store, seeking the indoor warmth. I'd been forced to sell my piano back in France and was planning on renting one here. If I managed to get anyone to hire me for private lessons at all, the sessions would have to be at their place. It was less convenient than the set-up I had in France, but I'd be thankful for anything I could find to earn back my wages.
After talking to the owner and setting a delivery date, I perused the CD section. It was scarce, almost nonexistent. I was the only person I knew who still insisted upon owning CDs. I couldn't stand digital music. The thought of losing my entire library to some technological mishap gave me hives.
I walked through the sections—my tastes so eclectic, they could go from classical music to pure metal—and I flicked through a few disks, knowing full well I couldn't afford any of them at the moment. One of them caught my eyes. My favorite band had a new album out.
"If you like them, I'd advise you try this as well," said a man as he held out a CD, his loud voice startling me.
I looked at the CD jacket but didn't recognize the name.
"They're indie," he explained. "You have nothing against indie groups, right?"
"No, of course not."
He extended his free hand to grip mine in a loose shake. "I'm Justin."
"Brandon."
He pushed back his red hair from his face, his white skin peppered with freckles. He had the deepest blue eyes I'd ever seen. In other circumstances, I might have found him handsome.
"So Brandon, what's your favorite band?"
I didn't feel like chatting, but I didn't want to be rude. When he saw me hesitate, he volunteered the name of his favorite artist without me asking, then went on babbling about his own band.
"It's indie, too."
"Oh, is that why you asked if I liked indie bands?"
He gave a short smile. "Wouldn't want to start out on the wrong foot, you know? Flirting with a guy who might hate what I'm into."
Flirting? I looked at him without a word, ready to leave.
When Justin saw I was about to call it quits, he grabbed my elbow and stop
ped me. "What would you say to some coffee? My treat."
I looked from his hand tightening around my sleeve up to his ocean blue eyes. If I were single, I might have been tempted to take a chance on him. But I wasn't single, and him flirting with me only reminded me of what I was missing.
"I'm already with someone."
His hand loosened, and I pulled away.
"He lives in the city?" he asked.
"He lives in France, actually." Not that I owed him any explanation.
His smile returned. "I'm not the jealous type. I won't tell him if you don't."
And just like that, I felt the need to flee. "I'll pass, thanks."
I left without looking back at him. My guts clenched with the need to vomit. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if some random guy were to hit on Patrick during my absence. No matter what I told myself and how much I trusted him, I wasn't sure how he would deal with the complete lack of sex. I tried hard not to envision the worst, but my day was now ruined. By the time I got to the house, I was in a worse mood than I was this morning.
I heard giggles and loud laughter pouring from inside before I even pushed the key into the hole. When I walked in, I found the kitchen table covered in paper packages filled with food, and Eve was riding piggyback style on Ling's shoulders. Ling had her head held back, her mouth wide open to welcome the whipped cream that Eve was feeding her right out of the can.
The whole scene irritated me in spite of myself. I looked at them, anger growing inside. I'd given up on the man I loved to be with my daughter. What sacrifice did Ling ever have to make to be with Wei? None. She'd never had to forfeit anything for Wei, because unlike her, I would never demand that she choose between her lover and our child.
Chapter 38
PATRICK
The weight on my shoulders lightened the moment I turned on my iPad and called his number. When his beautiful face appeared on the screen, my momentary joy got kicked in the sack by the crestfallen look in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" I couldn't help but worry. He looked exhausted, distraught.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He forced a smile. "Just tired."
It'd been a month since he left. He was working two jobs, one as a piano teacher for some institution, the other as a barista at some coffee shop. His schedule had become even more erratic than mine, which left us very little time to communicate each week. I thought I'd get used to his absence eventually, but that didn't seem likely. I missed him every second of each day.
"Are you sure you're just tired?" I asked.
His grin never reached his eyes. "I miss you."
"I miss you too. Show me what you're wearing. I can only see your face."
He stood and paraded in front of the camera. As always, he was dressed in that cute formal style I loved so much, his blue V-neck sweater stopping a bit below his waist where his black slacks started.
"Your turn," he said.
I stood in front of the camera and licked my bottom lip.
"You're in a robe?"
"Very observant, mon amour."
A tiny smile poked up on his face as it did every time I called him "love."
"I just came out of the shower," I explained.
His dark eyes filled with sullenness as I sat back down.
"What is it?"
"I just want to shower with you," he replied.
"Soon."
"How soon?" A glimpse of joy shone through his gaze.
"I don't know."
He gave a resolute nod, his enthusiasm dimming just as quickly. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"
"I'm going to the art museum with Jean-François and his boyfriend. They've invited me out of pity. Then, we're getting some kabob."
"You'd better not be sharing," he joked.
I laughed, remembering our time at the fair. "No, but I'm gonna have to watch them make googly eyes at each other the entire time. I don't think I've ever seen a couple eye-fuck each other as much as those two. It's really gross to watch."
I smiled when I managed to make Brandon laugh. Sitting in my swivel chair, I leaned back, my elbows on the armrests as I rubbed my mouth.
"Are you wearing anything under that robe?" Brandon asked.
"What would the fun be in that?"
"Can I see?"
"I don't know, mon chou. Maybe if you give me a genuine smile, I'll strip for you."
"You're just cruel," he complained, but I was glad to see amusement finally rise to his eyes.
I did as he wanted just to make him happy, though jerking off during our video sessions only killed me a little bit more each time. It made me crave the real thing and wish he were here. I took off my robe slowly and pushed my chair back so he could get a full view.
His eyes traced my entire body before he gave a lopsided smile.
I jerked my chin at the computer screen. "Your turn."
"I think I'd rather talk," he said. "But please remain like that."
I shook my head. "Nuh uh, I'm fine with talking, but if I'm staying naked, then so are you. Plus it's cold as fuck here."
"I was gonna say..." He let out a tiny laugh, mocking my shrunken dick.
I gave him the middle finger, making him chuckle louder.
"You don't have heat at your apartment?" he asked.
"I do, but there must be something wrong with it. I've been freezing my balls off for three days now."
"Get dressed. I don't want you to get cold."
I shook my head stubbornly. "Not before I see you."
"Okay, fine."
He was about to take off his pants when his door flew open and his ex barged in. "Brandon, I..."
She stood there at the entrance. I didn't have time to cover myself before she gasped and covered her eyes with her hand. "I am so sorry."
"It's called knocking," Brandon snapped.
"I know, I'm sorry." With her hand still covering her eyes, she retreated backward. "I'll come back later."
She left and closed the door behind her. Irritated, Brandon stood to go turn the lock, then came back to his seat.
"I need out of here," he said. "Seriously. I'm sick of this."
"It's okay, mon chou. I mean, I wish she'd seen me without my frozen dick out, but that's fine."
When the anger on his face didn't lessen, I asked him if there was something specific he needed to talk about.
"I'm just tired of being here already. I don't think it's fair. I'm always so angry, and it's not good for Wei to see me like this."
"Did you tell Ling that?"
He shook his head.
"Maybe you should."
"I just don't see how it'll solve my problem."
I slid my robe back on and tied the belt around my waist. "Maybe, but at least she'll know how you feel."
"I need time. I'm just too angry right now. I don't want to blow up in her face, you know?"
"Maybe you should write it down. Make your points clear."
Brandon nodded, but I could tell he wasn't convinced. It was slowly destroying me to watch him drown. No matter how hard I tried to buoy him, he was barely holding on.
Chapter 39
PATRICK
The months dragged by, feeling like a damn eternity. Summer was close already, and I still had no fucking clue when I'd get to see Brandon again. I'd agreed to meet Enzo and Jean-François at some café to appease them, but the worry in their eyes when I walked in didn't help with my mood.
Enzo ran his gaze up and down my body, his forehead creasing.
"Are you okay?" he signed.
"Yes, why?"
"You don't look like yourself, that's all."
I took my seat and didn't comment. I'd just ended another FaceTiming session with Brandon, and instead of assuaging my loneliness, our video chat did nothing but increase my solitude and frustrate me. He wasn't coming back. I knew that. And there was no way for me to move to the US. Not unless we got married, and I wasn't at that stage yet at all. Getting a VISA would be impossible, and even if
I did manage to get one, my professional license was unlikely to be recognized there. I'd have to start from rock bottom to prove myself in the field or find a completely different job. Considering I could barely string together three intelligible words in English, I knew none of that fantasy was realistic.
A part of me knew we might as well give up, but another part couldn't let him go. He'd snuck under my skin and wouldn't budge.
When the waitress approached, I ordered a sirop menthe, the memory of Brandon taking his first taste punching me in the guts.
The concern in Enzo's dark eyes increased as his gaze roamed my face. "We have a surprise for you," he said out loud, the cheery tone of his voice clashing with his general attitude.
I didn't want to break his heart and acknowledge I hardly cared, so I forced a smile. "And what would that be, mon chaton?"
He glanced at Jean-François, who seemed equally worried about me, then dug into his man purse, retrieving an envelope that he dangled in front of me. His whole face illuminated as he extended it my way without telling me what it was. When I failed to open the envelope, he grew impatient and jerked his hand, telling me to go on already.
I let out a sigh and pulled the back flap open, then looked inside, trying to show more enthusiasm than I felt. There were two tickets inside. If they'd gotten me some concert tickets, it was nice and all, but that would hardly cheer me up. I pulled them out anyway and froze.
"Are those—?"
"Plane tickets to New York," Enzo shouted. His joy was contagious, even for someone in my pathetic state. I flipped through the tickets and checked the dates.
"Tickets for late June?" That was only a month away.
"We know it's late notice, but we decided it was an emergency at this point," Enzo signed.
I didn't know what to say. It was too generous—a gift I couldn't accept. "I'll pay you back."
"No," Jean-François protested. "You are not paying us back."
"We all put money into it. Florian and Enrique as well."
My guts twisted with guilt. They barely made enough with their jobs as it was, and considering how I'd treated Florian, I didn't deserve such a present from him.
