Mind Over Mind

by Karina L. Fabian

  The dress ended just above the knee. Her silk stockings—the kind with the seam down the back—and the leather heels with the “alligator skin” accents on the toes, finished the ensemble. But tonight was for the dragon.

  It’d been a long time since she’d felt like this: daring, happy. Alive.

  The doorbell rang, and she shoved all the cosmetics into a drawer and hastened out of the bathroom to answer it.

  Despite her suggested “Newport casual,” Joshua was dressed to kill. Above subdued black pants that looked like some kind of soft suede and were cut a little baggier than his usual, he wore a dark, short-sleeved shirt with a reddish-bronze shimmer. Its priest-like collar wouldn’t take a tie; he wore a simple gold chain. He also had a small gold hoop earring in one ear. She could just smell his cologne, something spicy and musky that called her to lean closer.

  She wanted to lean closer. Instead, she said, “Joshua, you’re early.”

  Joshua leaned against the doorframe. He carried a black rectangular case in one hand, and held the other hand behind his back. “I left myself lots of time. Even so, I thought I might be late.”

  “Oh? My directions weren’t clear?”

  “Sure. Mostly. Your highways, on the other hand…”

  Sachiko laughed. “Oh, no! How far did you go?”

  “Not far. But I had to drive over the grass median to turn around, so I spent the next couple of miles watching my rear-view mirror, expecting a cop to flag me down. Speaking of cops, just how many Dunkin’ Donuts are there in Wakefield?”

  Her hands flew to her lips, but she stopped herself before she could touch them and smudge her lipstick. “I didn’t even think! There’s that new one at Tower Hill and Patton, but you were supposed to turn at the next one, on Old Tower Hill. I think Rhode Island has more Dunkin’ Donuts per square mile than any other state in the union. I should have drawn a map. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I stopped to check a map, and there’s a cool flower shop that just opened, so…” From behind his back, he pulled out a bouquet of oriental lilies, birds of paradise and red antriums.

  “Joshua, they’re beautiful!” She took them from him, ignoring the thrill that shot through her when their fingers briefly touched. The suspicious part of her said, He gets lost and thinks about buying you flowers? He’s either that sweet or that interested. Despite herself, she knew which option she wanted.

  “They reminded me of you.” He smiled shyly. “Graceful and exotic.”

  She looked at him over the flowers. Their gazes held. That interested. For a moment, she was very sorry she’d invited anyone else. “Come on in. I’ll just put these in some water.” She backed up to let him in, then turned toward the kitchen, giving him a full view of her back. She hadn’t taken a step when she heard a loud THUNK! She glanced coyly over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Joshua’s keyboard lay leaning against one of his legs. He was staring, open-mouthed. He closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it, then finally burst out, “Tell me it’s real!”

  She tried not to let her swell of satisfaction show. The dress had just paid for itself. “Every painfully inked inch. And?”

  She still had her back to him. His eyes moved over her with a mixture of awe and desire that seemed more suited for the bedroom. Maybe he realized what his face was revealing, for he smiled—an embarrassed, tight-lipped smile—and finally said, “You are full of the most incredible surprises.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Go put your keyboard in the living room and have something cool to drink! Want a Coke?”

  “Sure. Diet, if you have it. Do you want me to set it up?”

  “If it’ll tuck out of the way somewhere.”

  *

  A couple of minutes later, Joshua was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, a glass of soda in his hands. The flowers were in a crystal vase at the end of the counter, except for one bird of paradise, which Sachiko had cut and placed in her hair. He offered to help, but she refused—the kitchen was her domain. Besides, she decided she liked having the physical barrier of the counter between them until he’d calmed down some. She turned from the stove to catch his gaze flickering over her tattoo, and there was such fire in his eyes.

  She liked that fire, she decided, and the thought unnerved her, and she turned back to the meal until she felt herself calm down as well.

  After a few minutes of comfortable—if electric—silence, he asked, “So, why’d you do it?”

  “The tattoo?” She gave the fish one last turn, then set the pan on a back burner to warm. She’d rehearsed and used a dozen different answers to that question over the years, but she found herself wanting to be a little more honest with him. She wiped her hands with a towel, and pulled the antipasto out of the refrigerator. “I was at a low point in my life. Really low. I’d just gotten out of a horrible relationship with Ra—my ex-boyfriend. I’d done some horrible things, things I never thought I’d do, and I wasn’t even sure why. It was like I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wasn’t sure I ever knew; I was just drifting, doing what others expected of me, being the good nurse, the good student, the good girlfriend. Anyways, I decided it was time to do what I wanted, find out who I was. Explore a little, you know what I mean? See what I thought of my wild side.”

  She set the tray on the counter.

  “I like it.” He snagged an olive and popped it into his mouth.

  “Oh, yeah?” Suddenly, she leaned over the counter. “And just what’s your wild side?” she asked in a low, throaty voice.

  She’d expected to embarrass him. She had a brief image of him choking on his olive. Instead, he chewed slowly, swallowed, then leaned over the counter so that his face was only inches from hers.

  “I meant,” he replied in a similar purr that sent delicious shivers down her spine, “I like yours.”

  “Oh.”

  He leaned closer. She closed her eyes.

  The doorbell rang.

  CHAPTER 16

  They leaned forehead to forehead, both chuckling ruefully. Five seconds later, the doorbell rang again. Sachiko glanced at the clock, though she really didn’t need to. It was exactly 6:30. “That’ll be Randall.”

  “Dr. Malachai? How do you know?”

  Because after all these years, he has that same annoying way of ringing a door bell once every five seconds like he’s timing how long it takes you to open it. She remembered the times she’d rushed to the door: first in anticipation, then as a game, finally with resentment.

  “I told you he was a stickler for punctuality.”

  She thought she heard Joshua mutter, “His timing stinks, anyway,” as she hastened to the door, and she had to pause to wipe the smirk off her face before she opened it. “Good evening, Randall.”

  He wore an expensive white suit and carried a long box tied with a red ribbon. No one was bothering with casual tonight. “Good evening, Sachiko. Roses for a rose of a hostess.” He presented her with the box.

  “Well, this is my night for flowers. Come in.” She backed away and turned just as she had for Joshua, but if the dragon had any effect on Randall Malachai, he didn’t show it. Instead, he focused on Joshua. “Ah, our young intern, and early! Hoping to impress our hostess, are we?”

  Joshua didn’t rise to the bait. Or perhaps he did, for he glanced at the two-dozen long-stemmed roses in the box Sachiko had opened and set on the counter. “Nice flowers, sir.”

  Sachiko was glad she was busy pulling out her stepladder—it meant that she had her face in the closet. Now, boys…“Randall, there’s a bottle of Gemini chilling in the pail. If you’d like, do the honors and help yourself to a glass. I’ll just be a minute; I need to grab another vase.”

  “Want help?” Joshua asked.

  She was about to refuse when the doorbell rang. “All right, then. There’s a tall vase lying on its side in the cupboard above the fridge. If it needs dusting, give it a swipe with the dishrag?”

  “Will do.”

  She swept p
ast Malachai, pretending to be oblivious to the irritation she could tell he was pretending not to feel.

  Guests arrived quickly, and Sachiko set them to work bringing dishes of tantalizingly aromatic food to the table while she arranged the roses in a tall crystal vase. She’d prepared antipasto and bruschetta for appetizers, cabbage soup, roasted vegetables, eggplant stuffed with pine nuts, and two kinds of pasta—one with shrimp and one with a meat juice glaze. There were also two platters. One was tuna steaks with flavorful bread crust topping, and the other contained braised beef.

  She handed Joshua a long match to light the candles on the already-set table. Her table was an old, sturdy antique that, with all its leaves in, stretched from her dining area well into the living room and was set with full place settings for ten. The china was a simple design of white with a frosted green edge. The glasses, however, were a stunning combination of green glass with pewter handles carved in medieval and fantasy themes: kings and queens, dragons and fairies. Although no more than two seemed to match exactly, they did run in roughly three different sizes and one of each size stood guard at each plate. Each plate had a tag with a person’s name on it.

  Joshua found his and stared, bemused, at the complex table setting.

  “You do know which fork is for what?” Dr. Hoffman muttered teasingly to Joshua as he set a large steaming bowl of linguini on the table.

  Actually, the three different glasses had him a little baffled, and there was more silverware set out beside each plate than he had ever seen in his life. He whispered back. “Don’t worry. Just follow my lead.” Hoffman laughed.

  Edith went around the table filling the large goblets with water. That shed some light on the mystery of the glasses, at least. “Sachiko, the table settings are amazing,” she said.

  “Thanks.” Sachiko brought another bottle of wine from the refrigerator and motioned for everyone to find their seats. “The china and silverware are actually hand-me-downs from my dad’s restaurant, but the glasses I pick up at King’s Faire and Renaissance Festivals around the coast.”

  Randall sat at one end of the table, with Sachiko at the other. Joshua was to her right, with a lady he didn’t know on his right and her husband on her other side. They introduced themselves as Grace and Brent Fletcher, friends of Sachiko’s from their motorcycle club. Brent, a large, graying man with a huge handlebar mustache, was an orthodontist. Grace had blonde highlights in her brown hair, and sold real estate. She also had a tattoo: a double heart with their names and a date. Brent, she explained, had one as well; they’d done them together on their honeymoon to cement their vows.

  Across from Joshua sat Dr. Hoffman (Myles) and his wife Brenda. She was pouring soda into one of her husband’s glasses, teasing him that she drew the line at feeding him, so he’d better figure out which fork to use, and fast. Then she caught Joshua’s eye and winked.

  “So, did you get these glasses to match your tattoo, or visa-versa?” Hoffman asked archly. His wife smacked him with her napkin, but asked, “Dear, your tattoo is just so elaborate. If you don’t mind my asking, how much did it cost?”

  Sachiko ignored the first question, but grinned with mischief as she answered the second: “A tennis bracelet.”

  Several guests laughed, but Randall looked disgusted. “You mean you hocked your diamonds to purchase a tattoo?”

  “Oh, no. It was a straight-across trade. He also painted my Hawg, so it was a good deal. Everyone ready?”

  They began with a moment of silence for those who wished to pray, then Sachiko announced the rules: first names only, no discussing work. After the sodas finished their rounds, the wine was passed around; Joshua was offered and accepted a little in his glass. Everyone was praising it, and Sachiko explained that it came from Newport Vineyards. Apparently, the soil and climate of Newport was quite similar to Bordeaux, France. Joshua took a careful sip. It tasted strong and spicy, but overall he couldn’t tell much difference between it and the stuff they used in church. He set it aside in favor of a Diet Coke. The food, however, was incredible. He’d guessed she was a good cook by the lunches she brought in, but when faced with delectable dishes hot from the stove…It was several minutes before he joined in any conversation.

  “I remember when I used to eat like that,” Myles sighed theatrically.

  “You still do. You just show it now,” his wife retorted. “Joshua, did I hear correctly that you’re from Colorado? What a wonderful state. I’ve always wanted to visit. Do you ski?”

  “Umm-hmm.” He swallowed the last of his melanzane a beccafico and took a sip of water. “My dad has part of his practice up in Vail, so we do a lot of snowboarding there. And I cross-country ski on our ranch.”

  “You have a ranch? How exciting! Do you have a lot of cattle?”

  Joshua laughed. “Not really. We let it out to other ranchers in the area for their herds. In return, they take care of our horses and pay us enough to cover taxes. My great-great-grandfather and a couple of his buddies claimed it during the silver rush of the 1870s and 80s, but they never had much luck. He bought them out when they moved on north.”

  “So he never found anything?”

  “Just enough for this.” Joshua held up his hand. On his third finger, he wore a simple silver band.

  Sachiko took his hand and pulled it closer to look. The band was old, and thinned in some spots. Any pattern was long since rubbed off. “I’d wondered about this. That’s all he found?”

  “Yup. Just enough to make two rings. This one was his; the other he gave to my great-great-grandmother when he proposed.”

  “How romantic.” She smiled, and for a moment, that smile was just for him. He was very sorry when she pulled her hand away.

  “And how is it that a black man in the end of the nineteenth century would be able to purchase such a vast tract of land?” Randall asked with friendly interest.

  It was a question often asked of his great-great-grandfather, and later of his grandfather and father; Joshua had the story memorized. “Luck and brains.” He told how his great-great-grandfather, a cowboy for the Texas “beef barons,” herded cows from Young County, Texas, up to Cheyenne, Wyoming. He’d risen up in the ranks until he was entrusted with the company payroll, something that wasn’t all that unusual even for a black man of that time. A pretty barmaid caused him to stick around Pueblo one year after the company had done exceptionally well, and he won a worthless claim in Westcliffe in a game of poker, so he started a small homestead, where he searched for silver. Nonetheless, he kept “running the bulls” most of the year. Gradually, he was able to buy out his neighbors as they used up their resources in a futile search for wealth. When he found that little bit of silver, he took it as a sign he should settle down, so he had a couple of rings made, married the girl, and lived happier than he’d ever imagined.

  The conversation turned to other subjects then, and soon the food was eaten, and people were pushing away from the table with contented sighs. Sachiko quickly organized volunteers to clear and shorten the table and set out the desserts—biscotti regina, dolce delle Monache, and brownies—and plates, plus another bottle of wine, as well as carafes of coffee and hot water for tea. In the meantime, those who needed to set up props for their portion of the entertainment set to work doing so. A couple of people who protested that they didn’t have any talent were told, “You ate my food; you pay my price,” and directed to the long table behind the couch, where they would find a small stack of books of jokes and poetry and a list of karaoke songs.

  Everyone drew numbers to determine order of performance. Joshua was last, so he loaded up his plate with goodies, poured a cup of coffee, and found a spot on the floor near the pillow Sachiko had set down for herself. Since she would want easy access to the kitchen, she had picked a spot that was in the back of the room and to one side, which suited Joshua fine. When everyone was focused on the show in front of them, he might be able to lean back and casually touch her arm. Their legs had “accidentally” brushed a cou
ple of times during dinner, and the feeling had been electric. When Sachiko came in with her coffee cup, she slipped out of her shoes and sat gracefully on the cushion, her legs folded beneath her. She was obviously comfortable with sitting on the floor. She gave him the briefest of glances, but it was enough.

  Grace, who had protested her lack of talent and was subsequently drafted by Dr. Malachai to be his magician’s assistant, had drawn the first slot, so they opened the show. He turned out to be pretty adept at sleight-of-hand, though Joshua’s favorite “sleight-of-hand” came when Randall announced his “fiery finale” and had Grace dim the lights. Sachiko shifted position just enough that their fingers touched, and she spent the duration of the trick tracing lazy designs on his hand. Even though he was staring at the makeshift stage the entire time, he had no idea what the candle trick was and didn’t even realize it was over until Sachiko pulled her hand away to applaud and Grace turned the lights back on.

  Randall graciously directed applause toward Grace, took a bow himself, then quickly packed his gear and stowed it near the door. Then he pulled up a dining room chair right behind Joshua and Sachiko, forcing them to abandon their private entertainment and pay attention to the acts the others had prepared. A couple of people read poems. Dr. Jody Weaver claimed to be too awful at telling jokes or singing to take a turn, but was finally coaxed to the front. Embarrassment made her scar stand out fierce and red while she told a funny and touching story about how she had come to own a large orange tabby cat named Belle. Afterward she sat down, shaking but smiling. “I hate getting up in front of people,” she said.