I take a deep breath, my finger hovering over the buzzer. My chest is filled with clouds and ocean foam. This doesn’t feel real. I lean down to Kelpie. “Hey, little man, can you do me a favor?”
Kelpie nods seriously. “Whatchya need, Kettle?”
“Pinch me.”
56
KITE
“Ouch!” I hear on the other side of the door. “Well, I guess I asked for that.”
I wring my hands nervously. My body swaying a little. Kin winks at me as he manages to appear casually confident, leaning against the hall table. Frankie swings from the bottom of the stairs, grinning. This feels unreal. “Frankie…” I beckon with my bruised fingers. She bounds to my side. Knocks my hip. I plant my feet. I am strong. I am safe. I am…
I shake my head. “What’s tha matter, Nor-ah?” Frankie asks, tipping her head up to me.
“I just… This just… It feels a little like a dream.” I feel a pinch at my elbow, and I jerk my hand away. “Ouch!”
“There. Now ya know yer awake.” She nods once and gallops to the door while Kin chuckles, already a comfortable installation in this home.
Frankie throws open the door, and there he is. Hiro. Staring down at his arm and rubbing it. “You didn’t have to pinch me so hard, Kelp…” He glances up. Our eyes meet, and it’s like the windows shudder. The heat rises, and I think I might evaporate to steam.
I open my arms; they shake and bow like rigging in a storm. But I strengthen with every step he takes toward me. “Welcome…” He looks a little scared. A lot relieved. Like he’s just realized, as I have, that this is real. And it’s ours.
The boys stream around us, awestruck but certainly not struck dumb. The house rumbles with noise as they run their hands over the polished wood. Poke at the heavy curtains. Marie opens the kitchen door, and the smell of beef potpie lures them. She barely has time to press herself against the door as they squash through the opening and disappear. I hear Kelpie say, “May I please have a slice of pie, Madam?” And I giggle, covering my mouth.
Kin limps away, Frankie following. He mutters something like, “Lovebirds,” and shoulders the door open.
We stand on the black and white tiles, two breaths between us. He closes the gap and takes my hand, pulling it from where it lingers over my mouth. Gold on the horizon of a dark blue sea. “Welcome…” I start again. He leans in, and brushes his lips over mine. There is a pain to his movements. I feel it, too. We have to believe it. We have to let go. “…Home.”
His kiss is soft. Like a nervous step over the threshold. But he whispers against my mouth, “It’s good to be home.”
We’re given less than sixty seconds before the Kings pour back into the foyer. Marie chasing them with napkins, begging them to use cutlery. I smile. We have much to teach them. That alone brings a bubbling effervescence coursing through my body.
Kin’s deep, joyous laughter fills the space. He taps his cane loudly on the tiles. Clap. Clap. Clap. “Just had to check it was solid. That I wasn’t dead and floating on a cloud.”
Hiro slaps his brother on the back. “I can’t believe it either.”
This makes me happier than I ever thought I could be. To give this to the Kings, to Hiro. I feel so light I could fly. Opening my arms, I close my eyes. This house has never sounded so full. Bursting with excitement and love.
Hiro wraps his arms around my waist. Pulls me into his chest. His mouth at my ear. “Last chance to take it back.” He’s joking, but there’s a twist of realness to his words. Like me, he’s still struggling to believe. He’s still waiting for the earth to shake and crumble. For the solid things to give way and the dream to pitch in with it. This will take time.
I lean into him. Let his lips brush my ear. His nose burying in my hair. “Never.”
Never. Never. Never.
Kin tsks loudly as he hobbles past us. “Sinful. Positively sinful, you two.” We bounce apart. Always. Always. Always this small distance between us the size and shape of a wedding ring. Then Kin lifts his cane, pointing to the sky. “Now, if you would be so good as to show me to my room…”
57
KITE
We’re folding into a family. Our corners rough and jagged. Nothing is neat. Nothing meets where it should, but for me, its imperfection makes it close to perfect. These weeks have been close to perfect. Listening to the shift and snore of boys sleeping in the playroom, I ease the door open a crack and count their heads. A warm smile creeping over my lips.
The window is ajar, and I pad between the beds to reach up and latch it closed. The inky sky gives promising twinkles of light through thready clouds. The snow lacing the trees can return to beautiful. No longer dangerous.
The boys are warm, blankets up around their ears. I let my hand drift over their toes as I leave the room, thinking about schools and uniforms and how they’re going to fight me. And I can’t wait.
Frankie’s door is closed, and I hear Kelpie and her whispering to each other. Secrets of children. Dreams and grand plans. I knock lightly on the door. “Sh! You two need to go to sleep.”
They giggle, and I roll my eyes. Little chipmunks. I hear furniture dragging across the floor, and I have to go inside.
“What on earth are you doing?” Kelpie is pushing his bed to the foot of Frankie’s. I touch my chest and try to contain the laugh that wants to escape, because they look so earnest and guilty at the same time. It bangs against the bedpost, and they huff.
“There.” Frankie dusts her hands, appearing terribly grown up. “That will do nicely.”
I point at the beds, ordering them in. “Right now, both of you under the covers.” I kiss them both goodnight, praying they’ll get some sleep.
As I leave, I feel a compression in my chest. A losing. Almost… jealousy. Thinking how unfair it is that they can share a room, yet Hiro and I cannot.
I huff. This is the fifties. I’m a modern woman. Yet, there are some things I can’t seem to compromise. And if I’m honest, some things I desperately want.
Bare feet across a landing that used to feel like an unsteady bridge. An unsafe crossing. Now it’s just a landing. It thunders with children’s feet. It softens nighttime trips to the bathroom.
Sighing, I push open the bathroom door.
A splash of water hits the tiles as Hiro, who is lying in the bath, suddenly pulls his limbs into his body in an effort to cover himself. My mind etches a vision of his wet torso into its pages, and I quickly turn around. “Oh my God! Hiro, I didn’t know you were in here.”
Water moves as he shifts in the tub. “Well, you didn’t knock.” He sounds amused. Not embarrassed. I am embarrassed. “Can you… er… pass me a towel?”
I pull a towel from the hook, then walk backward slowly with it in my hand. My feet stepping in puddles. He takes it, and I hear him rise from the water. My thoughts whirl like a tornado. My cheeks feel like red hot coals. “Are you…”
Hearing the water draining, I turn as he’s wrapping the towel around his waist. I bite my lip. My eyes dancing over everything in the room, avoiding his gaze. He reaches for a hand towel and rubs his hair. It sticks up at all angles, his face fresh and flushed from the hot water. His eyes feel like a branding iron in the way they rest on me. I touch my heart. It bangs against my chest like a child caught in a closet. “Kite,” he says, walking toward me adorably disheveled and nervous.
“Y…y…yes?” I say, my back pressing against the door. A towel rail digging into my back.
In a rather resigned voice, he murmurs, “Can you pass me my shirt?”
“Oh. Of course. Sorry.” I grab the shirt. Press it to his chest. Just wanting to feel the heat of his skin for the slip of a second. He puts his hand over mine, but I dip down and away. Fleeing before I do something I’ll regret.
I hear him exhale loudly as I speed down the hallway.
Yes, things are close to perfect. But this last little part, this missing corner, is becoming some sort of exquisite torture.
58
Today my little brother turns eighteen. Officially an adult though he’s been acting like one for as long as I can remember. He’s the responsible one. The one who thinks about the consequences. But he’s also forever the dreamer.
Leaning on my good leg, I ignore the occasional shots of pain coming from my bad one. I know he watches me for signs. I don’t want to give him any worry right now.
Kettle, who is now Hiro as well, and has taken so many steps forward, sits at the grand polished oak table, eyes closed, wary smile. It has served him well to dream. It started small, but it got bigger than either of us could have spun in those dumpster-side stories. All because he was always ready to give someone else a chance. Let new kids in.
I shake my head as a cake covered in candles is placed in front of him. The flames give him a golden glow. He opens his eyes to the decorated chocolate fudge cake with garlands of sugar flowers and blue blobs of sky-colored icing. It makes me laugh, but with this twinge of sadness at the sight of him taking in his very first birthday cake. The mix of emotions crossing his face—from overwhelmed to pleased, and then to that expression I’ve seen so many times. The one where he’s counting the number of mouths to feed and how far he can stretch it.
I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to do that anymore.
Is it possible that big heart of his got what it deserved?
Almost.
He always said anything was possible. I never believed.
I was so wrong to doubt. Not that I’d tell him. The Kings sing loudly, though half don’t know the words. Kite’s vulnerable voice sailing over the others. That honey gaze of hers is for him only. Lucky bastard. With a snort, I join the last chorus, singing as obnoxiously and as off key as I can.
“Happy birthday to you!” I slug his shoulder, and he gives me a treacherous look.
I put my hands up. “Hey, just be glad I only gave you one. Technically, I owe you seventeen more.” I waggle my brows.
I pretend to punch him again, and he ducks from my fist. The flames flicker and melt wax onto the writing. Happy Birthday, Hero. My jaw tenses. Of course they changed the spelling, thinking it was a mistake. It shouldn’t matter. I pump my fists. It doesn’t matter. Just let it go.
Kettle sits at the head of the table, just staring at the cake, kind of frozen in this hallmark moment, unsure of what to do. Kite leans down, her cheek close to his. The tension between them is amusing and damn painful, and I chuckle. He smiles, but I can tell he’s getting uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to do.
I clap my hands. “Hurry up, we’re hungry. Blow them out and make a wish.” Like a slap, Kettle remembers what he’s supposed to do. This tradition is not exactly new; we saw it happen in the camps when an officer celebrated his birthday. We got to sing. We rarely got a slice, though.
He inhales and blows. Kite laughs when he only manages to blow out four candles. “Go on, Kite. Give the poor guy a hand. He’s obviously lost the ability to breathe with you standing so close.”
“Oh,” she mutters. “All right.” They both turn scarlet, which I enjoy immensely. I shouldn’t, but I’ve got to get my kicks where I can find them. My leg twinges. A sharp pain shooting through my hip and into my back like a bad telegraph. Shifting, I lean against the door, trying to arrange my face in a happy birthday way, not an I’m in excruciating pain way.
They blow the candles out together. Eyes meeting electricity sparking and all that mushy stuff. I roll my eyes. Now that Kettle is eighteen, there is absolutely no reason why he can’t marry the girl. Though I’m sure he’ll find some moral objection to it. Like the money or her mental fragility or some other bullshit.
Kricket shoves her way to the front. “Did you make a wish?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I smirk. “Yeah, Kettle, what did you wish for?” The way they’re looking at each other, the wish is probably not for children’s ears and probably involves something like Kite and him alone in a bedroom…
I open my mouth to say just that, but Kite speaks first. “Sh! You don’t tell anyone what you’ve wished for. If you do, it won’t come true.”
I feel for my brother. I know what he wished for, and it’s not as debase and fun as what I would wish for. It’s written all over his face that he just wants to be with her. I wish he’d stop tying himself in knots and do it already. Frankie watches him. She touches his arm gently, which is an effort for her, and I can tell she knows what he wished for, too.
Kite picks up the cake, and it’s tracked by many pairs of hungry eyes. “I’m just going to cut this up.”
Kettle stands suddenly, then wrestles the tray from her hands. “Please. Let me.” Always the gentleman.
He walks out of the dining room, warnings in his eyes that I have no intention of heeding. Most of the boys follow him, already fighting over who gets the biggest piece, the corner piece, and who gets to eat the candied flowers.
Kite flops into a chair, skirts puffing up around her, and sighs. She glances up at me. This bruised and stitched-together girl. Half samurai, half geisha. I get why he loves her. They fit together. Star and sky. She stares with wide, worried eyes. “Do you think he liked the cake? I know they spelled his name wrong.” Her irritation dives down. “I actually spelled it for them twice over the phone to make sure, and they still got it wrong.”
I pull the chair out beside her. Ease into it. In the kitchen, I hear scrapping. Stools falling to the floor as the boys fight over the cake. “I think he loved it.” Putting a hand on her arm, I pat it once. She tenses mildly. I see her trying to relax, but it’s hard. I understand. She’s not ready to let me into that bubble yet. And that’s okay. “The fact that you even tried to get them to spell it right means a lot.” A whole lot.
She swipes at her frizzy blonde hair. “I suppose.” Her eyes are downcast. Her hands clasped neatly in her lap. A girl carved from finishing school and beatings. It’s a peculiar combination.
“Kite. You’ve done so much for him. I think he just has a hard time accepting all the…” I gesture around the room. “All of this.”
She laughs. Soft and pretty. “Gosh. I haven’t done anything compared to what he’s done for me.”
My eyes hurt from all the rolling. I rub my brow.
Frankie cuts through the crap. “Why hafn’t you and Hiro gotten married yet?” she asks.
“I… um… I guess we’ve been so busy getting the Kings settled and organizing the house that we haven’t really had much time to think about it.” Her eyes drop. I can tell it’s probably all she thinks about. “Besides, I’m not sure he still wants to. He hasn’t asked me.”
Frankie takes her hand. “Maybe he’s waiting fer you to ask him again.”
Her amber eyes want and dream just like Kettle’s. “I don’t think so. I think it’s just… not the right time.”
“Do you want to marry Hiro?” The kid keeps pressing. I like that she doesn’t get subtlety and hints. It makes for fun and awkward conversations.
Kite sighs. “More than anything.”
These two are idiots. Too damn polite for their own good. I want to shout it to the ceiling, but I clench my teeth together and stretch my words. “Aaanyway… I think I’m ready to try and eat my weight in frosting.” I stand up, limping my way to the kitchen and shouting through the swing door, “You better have left me a corner piece!”
Kricket bounds behind me, leaving Kite swirling greasy patterns on the table with her finger. “Aren’t you gonna eat the cake, too?”
I laugh. “The frosting’s the good shi…” Kite gives me a warning look. “…stuff. It’s the good stuff. But hell, I guess if I have to, I could be persuaded to eat some cake, too.”
She huffs as I leave the room. She may be even more annoyed once she finds out what I’ve got turning around in my head. Then again, it might be just what the two of them need.
A swift kick up the you know what.
59
HIRO
I stare at the ceiling,
unable to sleep. Shifting under my duvet and feeling the foreignness of warmth. The carpet beneath me is more comfortable than my mattress in the tunnel. The bed is untouched. I prefer the floor. It’s what I’m used to. The rose with its swirled, ornate plasterwork mocks me, threatens to fall. Today was a good day. Filled with new things. Unnecessary things. Indulgences. Sugar. And looks that keep me alive and make me want to die at the same time.
But…
I fold my arms over my chest, breathing in deeply. These are things I never thought I’d have. I’m eighteen. I got there. I survived. A few months ago, that would have been enough for me. Just to have got to this point, to have lived this long. But now there are needs and wishes that go unfilled. They make new holes in an already-leaky vessel. They add stars to my night sky. Unreachable light. Light I will always crave and search for.
“Kite,” I whisper. It sounds like a sigh. It sounds like the only word I want on my tongue. I chuckle quietly. My hands stretch and crack, and I place them beneath my head. I’m in deep.
The door creaks open, my heart flattens, but then evens as the smallest shadow vibrates across the floor. Kricket. She steps into the room, golden light from the landing gracing her shoulders like a fairy cape. Propping up on my elbows, I tilt my head. “You’re awfully formal for bedtime. Aren’t you, kid?”
Her expression is strangely serene and at odds with the way she walks, pumping up and down on her tiptoes. She has a garland of silk flowers in her hair, and she bows her head. Standing over me, a strong whip of a child, she whispers, “I hef a present for you, Kettle. For yer berfday.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. Humoring whatever play this is.
She pulls me down the long, carpeted landing. There are sprinkles of rose petals on the floor, all a little bruised and crushed beneath her feet. They point a path like shells to the beach. They lead to Kite’s bedroom door. I stall, my feet lining up like I’m waiting for an inspection. “Kricket… does your sister know you’ve brought me here?” She shakes her head, a mischievous smile creeping over her peachy lips.
Hiro Loves Kite Page 21
