And yes, she still was his wife.
****
Remy fiddled with an old transistor radio recovered by the help when they were gathering supplies. Never ending static met his every turn and at the moment he seemed to give up, a signal came through.
“Hurricane force winds in excess of 100 miles an hour have been clocked as far south as Martinique,” droned in a polished yet weary voice. “While torrential rains continue to devastate the ABC islands of Aruba, Bonnaire, and Curaçao, life-threatening flash floods and mud slides have been reported as far north as the Dominican Republic and as far south as in-land Venezuela.”
Deena reached over and turned it off. Irritated, Lloyd extended a hand to power it back on, only to freeze at the sight of Crystal’s silent tears.
“I went out into the hall,” Crystal said with arms around herself as if to ward off frigid conditions. “The water’s climbing the stairs. Tyson’s down there. Tyson was down there.” She choked. “God—what am I going to tell his mother?”
An arm went around her. It was her brother, Tariq’s. But as soon as it landed, she shrank with a recoil of disgust, as surely as if a cockroach had attempted affection.
“Crys—” Tariq said.
“Don’t touch me. You know I don’t like it.”
“Okay, fine. I only thought—”
He reigned his arm back in.
“You see, this is why I didn’t want to come. I don’t want people trying to touch me. I can’t stand people touching me.”
Deena stared. Everyone stared.
If she knew the absurdity of her words, she didn’t let on.
As the hour grew late, most everyone found some variation of awkward sleep. Blankets and pillows from the bedrooms were strewn about all over the floor. Makeshift pallets meant that they slept lined head to feet in a room not designed for so many. With a body pining for rest and a mind trucking on overdrive, Deena lay awake, fitful. Noah laid snug against her stomach and Mia at her back, with Tony flanking his sister’s other end, then Tak on the other side of him. No words past between them since she’d said they were over.
“Can’t sleep either?” Crystal said in the dark.
There was no way Deena wanted to have this conversation. No way she could be the sort of selfless comfort her cousin needed when her own life burned down around her. Deena wanted to feign fatigue, mimic sleep, but somehow that seemed cowardly and mean-spirited.
“I keep trying to imagine Tyson dead,” Crystal said. Lying on her side, she walked fingers back and forth across the carpet, following them with her gaze as she did so. “But it feels impossible. He was so strong and tough.”
Deena said nothing. She didn’t trust herself to speak on the topic just yet.
“He had a…friend,” Crystal said. “Named Ash. He died last year. I’ve been telling myself that they are somewhere, enjoying each other’s company. And that, in a way, he must be happy now.”
Deena swallowed. “They were close then.”
Crystal nodded.
Deena opened her mouth and snapped it closed. There was something she wanted to say only it was the worst possible time for her to say it. Hence the dismissal of the words.
Except Crystal saw it and urged her to speak. It made Deena cringe.
“I thought that,” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I thought you and Tyson lived together.”
“Yeah?”
“Okay. And his friend Ash, he lived with you, too?”
A nod.
“So, the three of you lived together,” Deena said. “And there was never any…?”
She shut her mouth. Why did she care? She didn’t care. It was only the disbelief in her that propelled her to speak.
Lovers did things without thinking—lingering stares, a touch of the hands, all told the tale of what they were to each other. How had Crystal never felt like the third wheel?
Crystal looked at her.
“What do you want me to say, Deena? That I dated a gay guy on purpose? I didn’t.”
“Yes, but in five years time you didn’t…” She caught herself. “Never mind. This is so insensitive of me to bring this up.”
Crystal opened her mouth only to hesitate when Lauren hacked out a cough. Dragging minutes passed before she spoke again.
“He didn’t like certain things. Things that it would seem a man should. But then, I didn’t question it because… I had my own quirks.”
“Well, you can’t leave it at that,” Deena said.
Crystal scanned her cousin as if trying to determine her allegiance.
“He was a neat freak.” She frowned. “My God, I’m referring to him in the past tense.”
Deena squeezed her hand. Crystal flinched but bore it. When Deena retracted, she remembered her earlier words. She remembered how it was before.
Crystal didn’t like being touched.
Ever.
A thousand memories clamored for domination in Deena’s mind. Her cousin melting from embraces, stiffening under the simplest of touches and feigning illness whenever relatives paid a visit. Why hadn’t she seen it and questioned it sooner? What kept her from questioning it now?
“Why do you do that?” Deena said and surprised herself with the sharpness in her voice.
“Do what?” Crystal said, though her hesitancy meant the question was unnecessary.
Deena slapped a hand on top of hers. Crystal jerked away.
“That.”
“Deena—”
“No B.S. Just tell me what—”
Clarity snapped into place and she gasped with the realization.
“You and Tyson,” she whispered. “You’ve never had sex.”
Crystal shot up like a dart. Her gaze swept the room in a single frightened motion. When she turned to Deena again, it was with a forbidding look.
And then the second revelation came down on top of the first, leaving Deena in staggered disbelief.
“You’ve never had sex, have you?”
Was that even possible? Crystal was her older cousin.
But color leaked into her cheeks, flooding it, meaning it was not only possible, but true.
“Deena, I don’t want to—”
“Crystal, you can’t be a virgin. You’re gorgeous. You’re—you’re 42.”
“This conversation is over.”
Crystal collapsed onto her back.
“But you’re 42!”
“Will you shut up? I’d talk to you if you’d only shut up.”
Deena’s mouth clamped shut, tucking away her latest protest.
Her cousin let out a gust of air.
“I’ve always been this way. Always straining just to tolerate what other people enjoyed. Grazes grate my teeth. Hugs churn my stomach. Anything more…” she shook her head. “I can’t stand anymore. I live in fear that someone will touch me and I won’t be able to stop them.”
“Has that ever happened before? Has someone ever—”
“No,” Crystal said. “And I’m not a virgin either.”
She wore a smile devoid of any humor.
“Can you remember Corey Rhodes? He was in my grade growing up.”
A dark and rawboned boy came to mind. He had the face of a rodent. Not particularly handsome, of course, but warm enough that kindness shined in his smile.
“He was your best friend, wasn’t he?” Deena said.
Crystal nodded.
“We tried to fix this thing that’s wrong with me. This thing that…curdles my insides.”
Deena knew what she would say, sensed it and wanted to cover her ears in anticipation.
“We figured that the person I cared about most would be the one whose touch I could bear the easiest. We thought that sex would cure me. So we tried it.”
“In high school?”
“In college. He came to FAMU with me.”
The story had the weight of bad news on its back; she sat in expectation of its fall.
“I let him do it. I let him do it because we
were so convinced that it would fix me, that if I could get past my hang ups, I would actually enjoy it. Enjoy with him. But I didn’t. The second Corey climbed on me this wave of revulsion consumed me. At the end, I vomited. I knew I never could do it again.”
Deena’s magic bag had no words. No amount of bumbling and fumbling could turn up a response to that.
Crystal sighed. “I might as well tell you the rest of the story.”
“There’s more?” Wasn’t the rest that Crystal made up her mind never to let another human being touch her again, thereby creating the ideal relationship for Mr. Tyson Down Low?
“We have a daughter.”
“Who has a daughter?”
Crystal gave her a long look. It was a deciding one, with trust and distrust battling for domination on her face.
“Me and Corey. Her name is Hannah. She’s 22 and goes to Duke.”
Deena blinked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said that—”
“I know what you said, damn you! But you can’t have a child. I’d know. I’m your cousin. How could I not know?”
Except she wasn’t listening. She was looking. Crystal was looking at Caroline, her mother, who stared right back at her.
Apparently, Deena wasn’t the only one who’d just found out.
Chapter Fifty-Four
No matter how Caroline baited her, Crystal refused to say another word. She laid there in the dark feigning sleep, until sobs racked her body and silenced her mother. Aruba had been a nightmare for Crystal. A dead gay boyfriend, a secret child, and a chance of dying before sunrise. The evening was rich, even by Hammond standards.
Deena stared blindly at the ceiling, heart like a brick in her chest. For the rest of the night she kept company with Crystal’s tears, aware that with Tony, Noah, and Mia between her and Tak, they would lay no closer. Ever again.
Morning brought the ceasing of the rain.
Tak sat up. Black hair tousled, gray tee rumpled, he had the look of a man who’d just left a woman’s bed. He had the look of never ending desirability.
“Do you think…”
This question was meant for her. It was obvious, not because he looked at her, but because the uncertainty in his eyes was so clear.
She shoved back the desire to embrace him.
He hovered, searching her face, before his shoulders slumped, defeated.
“I’ll check the water level,” he said and rose up on two sneakered feet.
Three strides had his lean physique in the door, with a hand on each side of the frame, muscles flexing in his back as he leaned out. Half a head separated him from the top, maybe less with his hair looking like that. With a cursory look Deena’s way, Tak stepped out and started down the hall. Already she knew where he went.
“The house is a nightmare,” Tak said on return. “The water’s at the top stairs, half the windows are smashed out and there’s hardly a place to walk without breaking something or getting tangled.”
“At least our water worries are over,” Crystal said.
“They’re probably just beginning,” Deena said. “It’s not just the interior of the house that’s brimming with water. Outside could look just as bad.”
Tak waded through the tangled web of bodies, most still sleeping, until he found his way to the window.
“Yeah. Either we moved,” Tak said. “Or the sea did.”
Deena slipped in beside him for a view and the bottom fell out of her belly. Ocean waves beneath her feet, lapping at the second floor window.
****
Tak strode for the corner of the room that held their meager supplies—bottled water purified with nine drops of bleach, a handful of candles, matches, a few plastic utensils, and a mountain of canned meats, vegetables and fruits.
Soon, he had the order he needed. John came to his side and they divvied up the food so that everyone had, at the very least, a bit of potted meat and fruit for breakfast.
It was disgusting. Vile cold sludge sloshed around in Deena’s mouth until she swallowed it with the aid of held breath. Brandon refused to eat his, as did Noah, until Kenji admitted that such food was the secret to his performance on the field. Noah scoffed it down then, which made Brandon do the same, both clamoring for seconds.
“It’s like Hurricane Katrina,” Tariq said. “Trapped in a house with rising water, hoping somebody will rescue us. And we all know how that turned out.”
“Right,” Lauren snapped. “Why didn’t we evacuate again?”
“Because we didn’t know to,” Deena said.
“Well, it’s official. Worst vacation ever.” Lauren hugged her legs to her chest, chin pressing knees. Her food sat uneaten.
“Next time try paying for your own,” Deena said.
Lauren choked out a bitter laugh.
“You don’t actually expect us to be grateful do you?”
“Quiet, Lauren,” June warned.
“Do you?” she pressed.
Her eyes stood wide in expectation and challenge. Were Deena not in a broken relationship with Tak and facing the distinct possibility of death should the waters not recede, she might have been more tolerant of Lauren’s frustrations. She might have even expressed some sympathy. But she’d had bullets of sorrow lodged in her heart. There was no room for other’s pain.
“I expect you, Lauren Tanaka, to be as ungrateful, argumentative, obnoxious, and self-serving as you’ve always been,” Deena said. “I expect you to continue masking self-loathing in an outward disdain for everyone and everything around you, including the parents that love and care for you even when you treat them poorly. And I expect you to keep pretending you’re not pregnant.”
Bull’s eye.
Lauren gasped. Every head snapped to face her.
“What are you talking about?” June whispered. “If my daughter were pregnant, I’d know.”
“PharmaCare,” Deena said. “Is a prenatal vitamin. I took it with Noah. That’s why she was so bent on having it. That’s why she looks so plump.”
“You bitch!” Lauren scrambled to her feet. “You had no right to open your mouth.”
She strode for Deena, only to be cut off by Tak, arms spread wide.
“Shut your mouth Lauren and go have a seat.”
“No! You sit here and let your—kakujin—”
“Careful now,” Deena said, also on her feet. “People will think you mean it.”
“What’s a kakujin?” Tariq mused.
“It means a ‘black,’” Mia spat and shoved a Vienna sausage into her mouth, gray eyes narrowed on her cousin.
“Funny,” Jayden said. “She wasn’t minding kakujins last night.”
“The consensus in this house is that she prefers ‘em,” Lloyd said.
Yoshi sat in the corner, weak as a wad of wet tissue, slumped like a man who’d bled too much.
June stared at her daughter.
“Is it true, Lauren? Are you really—”
Lauren threw up her arms. “Oh don’t look at me like that! Like you weren’t practically a child when you had Michael.”
June stood, green eyes wide and wild.
“So, you are pregnant?”
Lauren’s dark eyes searched her mother’s face, contempt spreading with each sweep of the gaze.
“I am so not having this conversation.”
“Uh yeah,” June said. “You are. It should be easy enough.”
Anger held onto Lauren as she stood her ground, seeping out with each passing second that her mother did the same. Finally, the daughter exhaled.
“Yeah.”
“And do you know whose it is?”
It should have been an insulting question. It should have earned all the fire and rancor Lauren had in her soul. Instead, the girl dropped her gaze.
“No,” she said. “You know I don’t.”
“Lauren, I told you the last time—”
“The last time?” Yoshi echoed.
Deena wanted to burn the house to the g
round. She wanted whatever madness had crept in to be eviscerated, purged.
Yoshi rose and faced his wife, fever in his face.
“The last time, June?”
Yoshi Tanaka had half a head’s height on his wife. Broad shouldered and pot bellied, he dwarfed the slight yet wide-hipped woman. She looked up at him with the uncertainty of one handling damage control by wielding a single pistol in the face of a mob.
“Yoshiaki, you know how free spirited our daughter is.”
“It’s not the word I’d use,” Yoshi muttered.
June nodded in the way people did when they were hurrying on to something else.
“It was a long time ago. And it was…handled.”
“Handled?” Yoshi cried. “What the hell does that mean?”
“This conversation belongs in the hallway,” Daichi said. He rose and placed a hand on the shoulder of his younger brother and another on his sister-in-law, before leading them and Lauren out.
Shouting exploded from the corridor. Yoshi blaming June for lax rules, June blaming Yoshi for the need to keep secrets, Lauren screaming that both of them needed to get out of her life. Daichi’s attempts to referee and reprimand went so poorly that soon he was neck deep in the shouting, with June sobbing and accusing him of never thinking she was good enough for his brother. Meanwhile, Yoshi demanded to know what he’d done so wrong that Lauren had become a whore.
Deena sat, eyes wide, and eventually realized that John was staring. At her.
“Happy?” he snapped and fixed her with a grim smile.
He stalked out of the room, only to fall headlong into the argument with his parents, sister and uncle.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Deena disappeared down the hall. Tak watched her go, watched her walk that same Deena walk, as doubt, determination, and want fought a bloodless battle to dominate him. How many times since she said she was leaving him had he opened his mouth only to choke on concern, clamp down on despair, bottle up the mounting need to touch her? She was there, always there with him, and yet so far away. Raw emotion ate at him, smothering from the inside out. He’d had enough. Never had he wanted out. He needed a way back to before. Misery scorched like the desert sun, taunting him with the mirage of the wife that wouldn’t have him again.
Crimson Footprints lll: The Finale Page 21
