Face Time

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Face Time Page 24

by S. J. Pajonas


  “He is. We can go back and see him.”

  Nari edges out from behind Jin, and her usual severe face is drawn and sad, her eyes filled with tears. She’s been letting her hair grow long and the ends are wet with rain. “Lee…” She raises her arms for a hug, and I cautiously hold her. I don’t think I’ve hugged Nari in ten years.

  “Where’s Daniel?” I ask.

  “He’s at home with the kids. You’ll see him tomorrow.”

  I stoop down to give my mom a kiss on the cheek. She sits stonily, not touching me. “Lee, go with Jin to see your father. Make sure he’s well taken care of. We will talk when you come back.” She lifts her chin, her eyes cold. The top of her head is wet, darkening her gray bun.

  I don’t have a good feeling about this.

  Since my father died in his car at the golf club, they called an ambulance, and he was taken to the hospital before he was transferred to the police for an autopsy. But they didn’t find any cause to think his death wasn’t his own fault. His arteries were clogged, and his liver had completely given up. Add to that the stress he was constantly under with work, and it’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did.

  The funeral home already dressed him in a suit and placed him in a coffin. I stand over his body instead of sitting next to him at our kitchen table to chat about law or the environment. I feel he could easily sit up and talk to me, ask me about my work, where I’m off to next, and if I’m still seeing Laura, just like our last conversation, but he’s dead, motionless, deflated like a five-day-old balloon, with none of the usual ticks or sighs or smiles he had for me. Every line, every wrinkle in his face is exaggerated by the absence of life. He looks ten years older than he was.

  A man from the funeral parlor approaches and shakes our hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss. All the arrangements are made for tomorrow’s wake including the photo and offering table. At your mother’s request, we’ve added a third session in the morning to accommodate the extra crowds. So the schedule will be ten to twelve in the morning, two to four in the afternoon, and six to eight in the evening. The cremation will be at 8:30, and his ashes will be sent home with you.”

  Jin and I both nod as we all shake hands again, and the man leaves.

  “Extra crowds? What’s that about?” I ask, turning away from Dad.

  “He just won that huge case. There’s an entire neighborhood north of here mourning his loss. We’re expecting at least seven hundred people tomorrow.”

  I take a deep breath and stop myself half-way. It smells of chemicals in here, dank with the hint of cloying flowers. My father, the environmental hero. All I can think about is how he used to throw a baseball for me when I was a kid and take me to Mariner’s games though I was much more into soccer like my second cousins in Korea.

  “Speaking of which,” Jin says, pulling me away from the coffin, “you’re about to get an earful from Mom about bringing your girlfriend to Seattle. Tomorrow will be fine with so many strangers in and out of here, but dinner at the house will be difficult.”

  “Laura shouldn’t be an issue,” I growl at him. “Why must everything be a confrontation with her?”

  Jin shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. “She loves Sandra’s family, and I agree, this is a non-issue for us, even Nari. But Mom won’t let this go. Be careful. She’s been steaming about your breakup all day.”

  I close my eyes and think non-hateful, non-murderous thoughts, in a funeral home, in front of my dead father.

  “Mimi thinks Mom feels out of control with Dad dying so suddenly, and we all know who’s been in charge of this family from the beginning.”

  We both turn to glance at Dad. My mother controlled him for years, and I was the only child who dared to defy her.

  “Now, she wants to bring me back to Seattle and settle me with Sandra.” I cross my arms. “It’s not the time nor place for this, Jin.”

  He flattens his lips in a straight line and shrugs his shoulders again. “She does what she wants. Good luck.”

  I don’t need luck. Instead, I stay silent for hours, through the proceedings and arrangements with the funeral home and dinner out at a five-star Italian restaurant. I leave the table several times to stand in the front vestibule and text with Laura, and these are the only moments I’m calm. I can text her now, whenever I want, because she’s only a few miles away, not twelve time zones.

  Every time I come back to the table, my mother narrows her eyes at me, and when I leave for the night, she turns from my kiss and walks away.

  I return to the hotel around 10:00pm exhausted. I haven’t slept a full night in three days. Being as quiet as possible, I inch open the door and hold it so the mechanism clicks closed silently behind me. The suite is dark but for the bedside lamp spilling light over sleeping Laura. Half-propped up to read with her glasses on, she fell asleep with her fingers in a book. One foot is sticking out from beneath the covers, her long leg revealed up to a pair of tiny shorts. I approach her slowly, not wanting to wake her, and take the book from her hands. Her nails and toes are both newly painted dark red, within the last few hours. She must have treated herself to some spa time before shopping and eating.

  I hold onto her left hand for a moment, kneeling at the bedside so I can rest my head next to her. This is another thing lacking from my life: having someone to come home to. She had her own evening without me, and if the situation were different, we’d have met up for dinner or drinks and shared our days before going home together.

  That’s what I want, and no one’s going to take that away from me.

  I watch her chest rise and fall a few times before standing back up, but a pile of papers next to the bed catches my eye. I recognize them as the handwritten pages I ripped from her journal. “Warm, soft nights, pink with the last kiss of sunset, just sitting quietly on the beach. Here the waves are babies, this cove situated in the bay, so they lap smoothly in and seep back out again. I can’t even remember how long I’ve been living in this beach hut. Has it been a week? Or a month? The staff that runs this hostel by the bay turns on the generator each evening from 8pm to midnight, and the bugs scatter in my bathroom until it’s safe to come out. When is life safe? When will it be safe for me to go home? My feet are wet. The tide is in. The moon is rising. I’m alone.”

  I look from the page to my girlfriend, asleep in bed. You’re not alone anymore.

  I get undressed to my boxers, brush my teeth, and climb into bed next to her. She’s still out, so I gently lift the glasses from her face, but it causes her to wake.

  “Lee, I’m sorry I fell asleep…” She’s groggy, unable to open her eyes for more than a moment.

  “Shhh,” I whisper, setting her glasses on the table next to a glass of water already there. “Go back to sleep.”

  Leaning past her, I switch off the light and pull her close to me again. I fall asleep fast to the rhythm of her feet rubbing together.

  (>’o’)> ♥ <(‘o’<)

  Laura got out of bed a while ago. She tried to be easy about it, but, once I have a hold on something in my sleep, it’s hard for me to let it go. I was so tired I rolled over and went straight back to sleep. Now I hear steady breathing coming from somewhere south of the bed. I peel my eyes open and spy two of the most perfect legs sticking straight up in the air. Her toes are pointed and then relaxed, her legs separating in a split to one side and then the other, slowly, with the kind of precise control that comes from years worth of daily practice. Deep belly breaths cave her abdomen and blow it back up again as her shoulders shake with the intense energy it must take to hold a forearm stand like that.

  I sit up in bed to get a better view. Laura’s face is pointed away from me so I can see all the muscles in her back and her tattoo, the lovely jasmine flower I’m dying to kiss again. Red heat covers her neck, a product of both the work and inversion. I’ve seen other people practice advanced yoga like this but never, ever thought I’d date someone so flexible and strong. It is a major turn-on.

  She arch
es her back and lets her legs dangle over her head, her body forming almost a perfect circle in Scorpion. Carefully, she brings her legs back over, plants them on the ground and stretches up into Downward Dog then Child’s Pose, her arms and fingers spread wide, just grazing the top edge of her mat. She’s wearing headphones, distracted, and still doesn’t see me, so I lay back down and watch her entire practice until she’s meditating on the floor.

  I was hoping we’d exercise together on this trip, and if Laura had brought running shoes, where would we go? Funny she’s already beat me to it and it’s not even 7:00am yet.

  “Morning, Lee. I didn’t wake you, did I? I was wondering if my headphones were too loud.”

  I know I’m staring. I’m glued to her black tank top and boy shorts, the dark red nails, and the sweat on her collarbone.

  “What were you listening to?” My morning hard-on is not going away.

  “An advanced yoga podcast. When I don’t go to a studio, I practice on my own.”

  “How often? You’re really good.”

  “Oh, you know,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “Four or five times per week. Sometimes I do it before I run, too.” Squatting down, she folds up her travel mat and tosses it in her suitcase. “Well…” She looks down at her feet for a moment, spreading her toes wide, gripping the floor and letting go. “I’ll get cleaned up, and we can have breakfast.”

  Hmmm. She shuts the bathroom door behind her, and I lay back in the bed. She wants to have sex. I can feel the tension in her body from across the room. And I know circumstances are strange, but I want it too.

  I get up from the bed and rearrange myself before opening the bathroom door. She’s bent over the sink brushing her teeth and starts, jumping a few inches when my hand glides across her ass. “Shit, Lee. You scared me,” she mumbles around her toothbrush.

  I smile back at her, grab my toothbrush and stand with her at the sink. My hair’s a mess as usual, standing up in places that indicate I slept hard last night — like a rock. Laura’s hair is in a ponytail, fly-aways frame her reddened face, devoid of makeup. I love how naturally beautiful she is. Without fancy clothes, makeup, or perfect hair, she’s still gorgeous, befitting of her nickname.

  She finishes, wipes her face, and perches herself on the long counter. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Mmmhmmm.” I hurry up and finish before she’s forced to make any more small talk. “I slept great.”

  I place my hand on her knee and face her, sliding her other knee to the side and stepping in between her legs.

  “Lee…” A hint of warning is in her voice, but a smile graces her lips. “Do you really want this on the morning of your father’s wake?”

  I freeze, the word “wake” catching me off-guard. She brings her hands up to hold my face.

  “I know what you must be going through. It’s so hard, excruciatingly hard, to lose someone you love.” I can’t look at the hurt on her face, so I close my eyes. “You haven’t cried. You’ve barely even acknowledged he’s passed.”

  “It doesn’t feel real.”

  “I know, my love.”

  “I’m numb, Laura… except that I feel so much love for you. And I just want to feel it. I want to be with you before I deal with everything else. Please don’t push me away.”

  “I will never push you away, Lee.”

  “You did,” I reply. She pulls back, gasping as all the heat drains from her face. What am I doing? “You ended that phone call so swiftly. ‘Don’t call. Don’t come.’ Remember?”

  She drops her hands to her lap and lowers her head. “I was afraid of your reaction, afraid of being hurt, Lee.”

  “Didn’t you trust me?”

  “Yes, but I trusted Rene too. I trusted my parents. I trust everyone. Very few people don’t break my heart.” She swings her feet on either side of my body, a little girl move that warms my frozen insides. I’ve been frigid since we came to Seattle, cold and unfeeling. “Are you going to break my heart, Lee? Because I’m not scared anymore. I gave you my whole trust when I gave you the journal. I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me.”

  “No.” I shake my head. If I ever broke her heart, I might die.

  “Then I’ll never push you away. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, you can have it from me.”

  “I need some balance in my life. Everything is sad and disheartening and frustrating except for you.” We went through all that the last few weeks. I want to tip the scales back in my favor before seeing my family later and having my happiness drained away.

  She leans in and initiates the kiss, her fingers lightly touching my arms and moving onto my back. I grab her hips and pull her against me, right at the edge of the counter, but she inhales sharply and pulls away with a laugh.

  “I want you to know, Lee, that I was going to be a good girl and not pressure you into sex with all that’s happening.”

  “Uh huh.” I grab the bottom edge of her tank top and peel the fabric up, but it’s one of those exercise tanks with a bra attached, and I don’t get enough momentum going to lift the elastic over her breasts. “Curse these things.”

  “Let me,” she whispers, reaching down and pulling it out and away, over her head to the ground. Now, we’re both naked from the waist up. God, I love women and their breasts. I lean her away from me and run my hand up from her flat stomach to her left breast, pinch and roll the nipple, watching it swell beneath my fingers.

  “Mmmm,” she moans, leaning back to me and putting her arms around my neck. Her skin is flushed again, and I rest my forehead against her clavicle and gaze down at her body. Mine. “Take me to the bed, Lee.”

  I get a grip around her waist and kiss her. “What? You won’t have sex with me in the bathroom?”

  “Lee, I’ll have sex whenever and wherever you want it. In the bathroom, in the backseat of a car, outside, inside, doesn’t matter.” She bites her lip and pulls her hair from the ponytail. I’m a goner. “But have mercy on me. I just did an hour’s worth of yoga, and I’m completely jet lagged. I’d like to be somewhat comfortable.”

  “Right.” I kiss her again and lifting her up notice her shaking legs and arms.

  This woman would do anything for me, I know it. She’d give up everything, and I wouldn’t even need to ask. Not that I would ever ask, but I can feel it in her kiss. She loves me unconditionally, not like every other woman I’ve been with who would love me only if I met her rules. I’d give up anything to keep her too, though she’s never asked for anything from me.

  I get her out of the bathroom and lie down on top of her on the bed, my chest pressed against hers, her legs wrapped around my waist. The kiss she takes from me is hungry, almost desperate, so I slow things down. I look into her eyes and brush back her hair. I tease a kiss across her lips and make her moan as I work my way down her neck to her chest.

  I’m not big on kinky sex though I do love some things more than others, but foreplay is my favorite. I want to get Laura going until she’s delirious, until she’s a puddle melting in my hands. I want to concentrate on her.

  Seems only fair for a sexy woman who stayed celibate for years.

  I’m so lucky to love her and have her love me back, and I adore everything about her: her body, her smile, her laugh. Mmmm, I lick her nipples and kiss her navel, then pull off her underwear. I want to press down on top of her, know I have her, that she’s mine. Inching my hand down along her ribs to her stomach, I reach down and slip my fingers into her, pressing up and forward.

  I had a girlfriend in law school who was extremely good at tantric sex, and, though it turned out she was into my roommate, she taught me a lot about women and what makes them happy in bed. She used to tell me, “Always make her come first because most women can orgasm more than once, sometimes a dozen times, and still get up and take care of you when she’s done.” What she meant was, once a man is done, he’s done. And it’s mostly true, too, I’ll admit.

  So I enjoy working Laura up until she arches her back, grabs
onto my hair, and groans, her body letting go and contracting around my fingers. That’s the absolute best part, the physical response. It’s not faked or false.

  “Oh god, Lee.” She pulls my face to hers and kisses me hard, opening her mouth. I thrust my tongue in, tasting her.

  “Number one.” Her eyes widen before she smiles and bites her lip. I remember, Laura. Always three times.

  I keep my fingers where they are and build up another rhythm. Laura’s white skin flushes, her eyes roll back, and she breathes, “Yes, baby, yes,” over and over. This time, the orgasm I reap from her lasts twice as long, and it leaves her like jelly, unable to move, her chest heaving and hands shaking.

  She laughs, happy and satisfied with tears in her eyes. Mission accomplished. Making a woman cry from an orgasm means I did it right.

  “Number two,” I whisper in her ear. Laura giggles, still panting, before her lips are on my ear, kissing me from there to my chin.

  I grab a condom from the side table and slip it on. I’m dying to take her from behind, flip her over and let my hands wander all over her ass, back, and in her hair. But I want to kiss her. I want to hold her face. I want to look into her eyes, and I tell her I love her.

  She reaches out for me, pulling my chest forward and over her, bringing her legs up, perfect for missionary position, like she can read my mind. Sex between us, so far, doesn’t last long but it’s been good. Overwhelmingly good. I enter her and lift up her hips to get the angle I want, deep and rubbing the head of my dick against her. Her third orgasm comes fast, so I hold her hips up with one arm and lean over her with the other, thrusting in until I feel the contractions again, and she bursts into tears. Clamping my mouth over hers, I come, losing all sense of time and space, just thankful there’s a release to this day.

  I wrap my arms around Laura and hug her hard to my chest. I do want this everyday. It’s the biggest relief in the world to know she’s here with me.

  I set her back down on the bed and bring my forehead to hers. “I love you, Laura. Whatever happens with my family today, remember that.” I’m weakened just imagining what they’re going to say or do to her today and tomorrow. Relaxing down to my elbows so I’m closer to her, I whisper, “Please don’t leave me.” My heart aches in my chest. It was the one thing I feared most with Sarah, bringing her home and having my family rip her to shreds. She still left me, though, because I didn’t trust her to be strong enough.

 

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