“Tomorrow,” Langston said, reaching for his keys dangling from the ignition. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
His mother’s neighbor came out in his robe and slippers, wheeling a trash can behind him. He waved and parked the trash can on the curb. “Hey, Langston!”
Langston gave a feeble wave. “Hey, Mr. Whitaker.”
Mr. Whitaker leaned down and peered into the car window. “Coming to visit your mom?”
Langston sighed and got out. I guess I’m doing it today after all. “Yes.”
“Tell her Sarah is making stew beef next week. Khone loves it when she makes stew beef.”
“I will.”
“Are you taking care of yourself? You look tired.”
Langston attempted a smile. “It’s been a long day.”
Mr. Whitaker straightened up and started back toward his house. “Wait until you retire. You won’t know what to do with yourself.” He laughed. “’Night.”
“Good night.” Langston turned to his mom’s house, walked through the yard, and used his key to let himself in, calling, “It’s me.”
Khone poked her head out from the kitchen. “Oh! It’s my Langy-poo!” She walked into the foyer and reached up, pulling at his shoulders so she could give him a kiss. “I didn’t know you were coming.” She took his arm and walked him to the kitchen. “I’m about to bake some salmon. Got it on sale today.” She let go of him and opened a cabinet. “Let’s see. I have green beans and corn. You like corn.”
“I’m not hungry right now.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Well, I’ll wrap some up for you so you can have it later.”
“Thanks.” Langston scratched his head. “I met a woman today at Bronze Leaf.”
Khone laid four pieces of salmon on a pan. “Oh yeah?”
“She said she knew my father.”
Khone paused before sliding the pan into the hot oven. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a woman I’ve seen in Bronze Leaf a couple of times. I followed her outside and confronted her about a project that’s been put on hold.”
“Why in the world would you do that? You weren’t rude, were you? Who is this woman?”
“Her name is Antoinette Grayson.”
Khone washed her hands. “What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t get a chance to say much. She did most of the talking.” Langston decided he didn’t need to divulge that the conversation had taken place while he’d been in Antoinette’s trunk. “She said I looked like my father, William.”
Langston watched the color drain from his mother’s face.
“She asked me where I was born and how old I was.”
Khone seemed to struggle to keep a neutral expression. “Who exactly is this Antoinette person?”
“I think she’s a business partner or colleague with Dr. Pillay.”
Khone frowned, reaching up into the cabinet for two cans of corn. “She obviously had you confused with someone else. She was mistaken.”
“I don’t think she was.”
“She was mistaken,” Khone said emphatically, grabbing the can opener out of a drawer.
“She seemed to know I wasn’t born here. How would she know that?”
Khone’s voice was shrill. “How would I know? You come in here talking about a strange woman who has you confused with someone else. I don’t know what she’s talking about, and it sounds like she doesn’t either.”
Langston was quiet as his mother opened the cans with shaking hands and poured the corn into a pot on the stove. He felt the mistrust in his gut creep up to his throat. His hands were clammy and he felt like he was very close to breaking out into a cold sweat.
“Mom.”
“What, Langston?”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“The truth.”
She ran a hand over her short, dark hair. “You know, I don’t appreciate this. I feel like you’re confronting me because of something a stranger said.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think I like your tone.”
“And I don’t think I like being lied to.”
“Langston!”
“Do you, or do you not, know who my father is?”
“I told you I don’t.”
Langston’s anger boiled. “I didn’t ask you what you’ve already told me. I’m asking you if you know who he is. Do you or don’t you?”
Khone’s face was hard, resolute.
He reached in his pocket and slid out the photo he’d picked up from his apartment before driving to his mother’s house. He lifted it up so she could see it. “Who’s this?”
“Celeste. Your birth mother. You know that.”
“You know,” he said. “I’ve always known something was off with me.”
“There are plenty of adopted children in the world.”
“I’m not talking about the adoption. I mean with me. I’ve always been noticeably different. I don’t think like other people. I don’t behave like my peers.”
“But that’s good.” Khone’s voice had taken a pleading tone, which further irritated Langston. “You don’t want to be like everyone else.”
“My nightmare. The one you keep dismissing? It means something, doesn’t it?” He thrust the picture at her. “Who is this?”
Khone swallowed, looking up at him with wide, shining eyes.
“What is the matter with you?” He wanted to shake her. “Say something!”
“That woman was mistaken,” Khone finally said. “She has you confused with someone else.”
“If it was a mistake, then why do you look so terrified?”
Khone hugged herself, trembling. She looked like she wanted to bolt from the room.
Langston had never felt rage swell in him like this before. It made him feel strong, dangerous. “I swear, if I have to ask you one more time—”
“I was trying to protect you!” Khone blurted, bursting into tears.
The words jolted Langston. He knew he’d just accused her of keeping secrets, but he hadn’t been ready for the admission. It took him a few moments to find his voice.
“You’ve been lying to me?”
Khone dropped her head.
Langston began thinking about everything she’d ever said about his past. “Which part? Which part did you lie about?”
She began sobbing.
“Oh my God.” Langston backed away, bumping into a chair. He felt lightheaded, disoriented. “Which part?”
Khone’s eyes were bloodshot and flooded with tears. “Everything.”
Langston leaned heavily against the wooden kitchen table. “Tell me about my father.”
Khone shook her head hard.
“What about Celeste?”
“There is no Celeste,” Khone whispered.
“What do you mean there’s no Celeste? Whose picture do I have then?”
Her words were barely audible. “I don’t know.”
Langston clamped a hand over his mouth as the room started spinning. He blinked wildly. Khone reached for him, but he stepped away, trying to collect his thoughts. “I trusted you.” His voice trembled and cracked. He felt wetness on his cheeks. “You heard me screaming at night from those awful night terrors. You saw how that affected me. And all this time… you knew.”
“Langston.”
“Why couldn’t you have told me the truth?” Langston wiped his face. “What would it have cost you? I would have loved you the same. Are my parents in Witness Protection or something? Did they abandon me and you don’t want to say? Was it incest? Why couldn’t you have told me the truth?”
Khone sighed. “I just couldn’t.”
“Oh. Well.” Langston sniffed and threw his hands in the air. “That explains everything, doesn’t it? You just couldn’t.” He turned and walked out of the room. “To hell with this.”
Khone caught up with him and grabbed his arm. “Wait!”
Lang
ston balled up his fists and snatched his arm out of her grip. A deafening pop startled both of them as the large mirror in the foyer burst. Glass pieces hung suspended in midair in front of the now empty rectangular frame.
They both stared at the glittering cloud of glass splinters. Some shards were motionless, and others rotated, catching the light with their sharp, jagged edges. Langston felt out of his body, like a head just floating in the atmosphere. He watched himself pluck a piece of glass out of the air. He held it close to his face, staring at the reflection of his brown eye. It was like someone else was looking back at him.
Khone gasped and the glass rained noisily down onto the parquet floor. Langston dropped the mirror shard. He walked to the front door, glass crackling underfoot. When he stepped outside, the door slammed behind him, leaving Khone trapped inside. He heard her yanking on the doorknob, her screams muffled. “Langston! Langston!”
He got into his car and peeling away from the curb, revving the engine, speeding past other cars and barely slowing for turns. He gripped the wheel tightly, clenched his teeth, and ignored his cell phone, which rang repeatedly until he parked at his apartment building.
He walked to the second floor, hearing a melody from Jade’s apartment drift down the hall. Instead of knocking, Langston stood in front of her door and listened. He imagined Jade sitting with her eyes closed, cello between her knees. He was grateful for the sweet reprieve of not having to do anything but listen. When the song came to an end, he knocked.
Jade opened the door in pink and white pajama bottoms and a pink tank top, hair in a lopsided ponytail. “Hey.”
Langston grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. He didn’t kiss her sweetly, like he’d done before. This kiss was ravenous and greedy. He held her tightly, feeling her body stiffen in surprise and her chest rise as she gasped. At his urging, she backed up so that he could push the door closed with his foot. He thrust his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like strawberry gummy bears. Reaching up, he groped her soft hair until he found the elastic band. He pulled on it, releasing her hair, which cascaded onto his cool hands like a warm blanket.
Langston could feel everything, like an electric current running through his capillaries. Every nerve was on end. He was vaguely aware that all of Jade’s furniture was levitating several inches in the air and slowly floating toward the walls.
Jade’s skin was warm and supple when his hands roamed under her tank top. He groaned, and the coffee table bumped into them. Langston planted his shoe on the edge of the table and pushed it, making it float away through the air. He deftly unhooked her bra with one hand while tugging at the waist of her pajama pants with the other.
She put a hand on his chest, breaking the kiss. “Langston.”
He continued working the pajamas down her thighs. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”
He cupped her bottom and pressed her against him. She gasped. He trailed kisses down her neck, her chest, and the top of her breasts.
“Langston.”
He peeled off her tank top and bra, gliding his hands over her curves. He needed this. He had to have her.
“Tell me you want me.” He pulled Jade down onto the carpet and rolled her on her back. “Tell me you want me inside you.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her warm breath tickled his ear. “I want you inside me.”
At her words, Langston thoroughly explored Jade’s body deep into the night, doing things to—and with—her that he’d only fantasized about.
Chapter Twelve
Langston opened his eyes to the faint, grey light of dawn. Everything was still and quiet, except for the rivulets of rain streaming down the windows and dripping from the panes. The heat kicked on and blew softly through the vents. Though the carpet underneath him was warm and soft, he could feel the small indentations in his back from the springy pile. Jade must have gotten a blanket and pillows sometime after he’d passed out. They were in the middle of the living room floor, draped in a white blanket with pink, yellow, and green polka dots.
Jade was nestled next to him. Langston leaned away to get a good look at her. Lips slightly parted, hair tousled on the pillow, she was a sleeping siren. He smiled and watched her as he had at the hospital. He kissed her forehead. Jade stirred, turning onto her back, but didn’t wake.
He reached for her, and his muscles instantly protested. His biceps, back, stomach, thighs, calves… everything ached. He pointed his toe, and muscles in his leg he never knew existed throbbed. He turned his head and winced at the aching in his neck and shoulders. He eventually got his arms around her, nuzzling her shoulder. He drifted back to sleep, exhausted, sore, and completely satiated.
Sometime later, he awoke again, body still smarting with pain. He breathed in deeply.
“Uhhh…”
Even his chest hurt. He lifted the blanket and looked down at himself, checking for bruises. He felt like he’d taken a beating. Feeling around on the carpet, his fingers found his glasses. He put them on, and the dim room came into focus.
“Whoa.”
All of the furniture—the coffee table, couch, love seat, armchair, and end tables—had been pushed to the walls, leaving a wide island of beige carpet around them. Throw pillows, blankets, pens, notepads, the television remote, two bottles of nail polish, a bottle of lotion, a ceramic mug, an open bag of gummy bears, and a book were haphazardly splayed on the floor.
Langston rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to piece together the details of last night. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me inside you. He kept replaying the words over and over in his head, each time sounding a little bit more like Pepé Le Pew. He cringed, processing an odd mixture of pride and embarrassment. He sat up and felt something squishy on his foot. When he pulled up the cover, he saw a limp condom stuck to his ankle.
“Ew.”
He peeled it off, discovering two more discarded nearby, and thought Jade should probably consider hitting this entire area with a steam cleaner. He managed to get to his feet, first having to get to his knees and will himself up through the soreness. Once in the bathroom, he threw away the flaccid prophylactics, washed his hands and face, and took a good look in the mirror.
He was surprised that he still looked the same because he felt so different. Not stronger necessarily, but more powerful. He looked at Jade’s contact lens case on the sink counter.
“Come.”
It slid over to him without hesitation.
“Away.”
It slid back to its original place beside her toothbrush holder. He looked for something heavier, doubling back to her bedroom and facing the bed.
“Come.”
Immediately, there was a piercing jab in the back of his eye, and he bent over in agony. It was like a nail being hammered into his temple. The pain subsided and he touched his eye, expecting to see blood on his fingers. His hand was clean, and the bed was at his shins, several feet away from where it had been. He was a little more reluctant this time, when he looked at it and said, “Away.”
The bed slid away, and Langston dropped to his knees as pain racked his head. He sat there, bent over with his face at his knees, as if in prayer, until the pain, once again, went away. Sitting up, he concluded two things: he now had control over his telekinesis, and the price for it was debilitating pain.
Now with a migraine to match his aching muscles, he limped back into the living room. Jade was sitting up, looking bewildered. Langston became very aware that he was stark naked. He tried to figure out a way to cover himself without looking like he was trying to hide. Unless there was a fig leaf lying around, he was just going to have to own this moment of sheer exposure. In the light. Light that suddenly seemed much brighter than it had a few minutes ago. He waved, immediately berating himself. Why in the hell are you waving, fool?
“Good morning,” she said, sounding sheepish.
Langston searched for his boxer briefs. “Morning.”
He found them next to the front door and
put them on. He lingered there, letting a few moments of silence settle in. Then they spoke at the same time.
“I hadn’t planned on barging in.”
“That was really something last night.”
They laughed awkwardly. Jade got up with the blanket tucked tightly under her armpits. “I’ll be right back.”
She hustled to the bathroom. Langston got dressed, and started straightening up, putting things where he thought they were supposed to go. He found his cell phone under one of the end tables. He’d missed seven calls, six from his mom and one from Everett. He checked the time. 9:15 am. He was over an hour late. He sent an “out sick” email to Dana, then called Everett.
“It’s not a federal holiday, you know,” Everett answered.
“I’m not coming in today. I just told Dana that I was sick.”
“Are you?”
“No. Cover for me if Dr. Pillay double-checks, okay? Tell him you talked to me, and I sounded congested or something.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“Honestly? I barely know myself. I’ll give you a call later.”
“Okay.”
Jade walked back in as Langston ended the call. She’d dressed in a purple version of the tank top and pajama bottoms she’d had on before.
“Coffee?” she asked, maneuvering around the furniture blocking her path to the kitchen.
“Yes, please.”
The high pitch of the coffee bean grinder grated on Langston’s ears. Jade fumbled around distractedly, like her kitchen was suddenly a foreign place. He picked up a throw pillow and placed it on the dislocated couch, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She spilled some of the coffee grounds on the counter as she poured them into the filter.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She looked up quickly, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Oh.” She brushed the grounds into the sink. “I’m fine.”
He nodded and continued his perfunctory cleaning until the smell of coffee filled the room. Jade poured two mugs and they sat at the island next to each other, knees almost touching.
“Sooooo…” Langston said slowly.
The Wiseman Revelation (The Wiseman Series Book 2) Page 10
