My mom is dead. How could Elle say it out loud, when all this time she had pretended it didn’t need to be acknowledged?
“She was, um . . . killed in a motorcycle accident.” Tears swelled in Elle’s eyes and her shoulders began to shake. She couldn’t bear to look at Win’s parents and focused her attention down on her plate. Teardrops formed in a small puddle on the bright-orange fish-shaped dish. Win draped his arm around her, but she didn’t dare look up. Elle grabbed the napkin off her lap and tried to graciously excuse herself. “I’m sorry. I . . . um, excuse me for just a minute.”
Elle stood and clumsily left the table. She needed to get away before she completely broke down. As she hurried toward the bathroom, Win caught up with her. He gently held his fingers under her eyes, drying her tears. “Hey, are you okay?”
Elle rubbed the napkin across her eyes and nose. She was embarrassed. Humiliated, really. How had she let herself lose control? “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I—”
“Look, you have nothing to apologize for. I had no idea about your mom. I’m so sorry.” Win put his arm around her shoulders. “I can’t imagine how horrible that would be.”
Elle sniffled. What had happened to her mom was horrible; she just hadn’t really internalized it until now. It took being with Win and his Leave It to Beaver family for Elle to realize not only what she didn’t have, but also what she had lost.
Bobbie might not have been the kind of mother she had wanted or needed, but she had done the best she could. Losing a child was the cruelest of punishments. That her mom had gotten up and out of bed everyday was enough. It had been unfair of Elle to fault her for not knowing, not understanding, not being tormented by the need for more, the way she was. Bobbie didn’t question, didn’t yearn, didn’t feel sorry for herself. She simply got on with it and expected Elle to do the same.
Why can’t I?
Elle took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, although she implicitly understood she didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of Win. She trusted him. “I just haven’t talked about it too much, I guess. I’m okay.”
Win cupped his hands around Elle’s face, the way Tak used to, the way Gustavo had. She didn’t feel the same intense physical attraction to Win as she had with those two, but it didn’t matter. What Elle had experienced with Tak and Gustavo wasn’t authentic—she had been someone entirely different then. Someone living a make-belief life, in a make-believe place, fueled by drugs, alcohol, and pretense. It felt better with Win; it was safer. It was real.
“It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” Win kissed Elle on the lips. Gently. Sweetly.
Elle kissed him back, wallowing in his warm, kind lips. Could he be right? Despite all the ways she had fucked up, could Elle still find redemption? Could she be like the Martins? Elle wanted what they had. She wanted Win. She wanted this.
Win wouldn’t leave. He would be the dad playing with his children in the park.
Elle was desperate for a sign. All she could hear in the background was the soft ukulele music of the luau. What else could she use as a sign, an indication it was going to be okay?
The date. It was June 21st—the summer solstice. The summer solstice was a day of new beginnings. Surely that was a good sign. Elle would take it.
Win was her chance at normalcy. At happiness. Elle would do anything to make it work.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sara Bareilles: “Brave”
June 5, 2017
12:09 a.m.
Elle finished her martini, satisfied. Message received. She would no longer hide her past. She would be more honest with herself and her family. Then, like Princess Elsa in Frozen, Elle would get her happy ending.
Win returned from the men’s room and took a sip of Glenfiddich from the highball glass on the table in front of him. The strong, pungent smell of Scotch reminded Elle of the Big YAC and how she had encouraged clients to order the most expensive bottles available.
“Aah . . .” Win set down his glass and leaned back with his hands interlaced behind his head. “Karaoke was fun!”
“Yeah, it was,” Elle agreed. “We need to spend more time together like that.”
“You’re right.” Win nodded and then sat up straight, noticing Elle’s hand around her martini glass. “You’re wearing your old wedding ring?”
Elle looked down at the simple gold band on her finger, the ring Win had proposed with. It was unusual for her to wear it. For their tenth anniversary, Win had upgraded it to a platinum one with a five-carat asscher cut diamond. “Yeah, it seemed safer to travel wearing this one.” Elle considered the ring. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the other one you got me—it’s beautiful—but I think I might actually like this one more.”
Elle did prefer the simple gold band. When it came right down to it, she didn’t want or need the private plane, the suite at the Four Seasons, the $2,500-a-plate dinners. It was days at the park as a normal family that she had longed for.
“I always loved it on you.” Win scrunched his eyes slightly and looked playfully at Elle. “I like seeing you here. You’re in your element.”
He was right. Away from the constant anxiety over whether she was doing, and saying, and wearing, the right thing, Elle was at ease. She hadn’t been concerned about what Aubrey was or wasn’t saying or anything else for that matter. Her dreams had been gloriously free of cats and dogs gnawing on feminine hygiene products. “You know, it’s strange. Being back here has been so . . . I don’t know . . . cathartic, in a way. It’s like being away from everything back home makes me realize none of it is important. Except Duke, of course. I miss him desperately.”
“Has Angela been sending daily reports and pictures?”
“She has! Believe it or not, though, I haven’t been that worried about him.”
Win turned serious. “It’s good to see you so happy.”
Elle panicked. What does he mean? Did Win suspect the truth? She thought she had been convincing in her portrayal of a perfectly content person.
Elle considered her resolution—here was her chance to follow the signs and be honest. She took a large sip of her martini for courage. “Do you ever wonder how we got to this place?”
“Well, if I remember correctly, I think it was on an airplane.”
“Exactly. Not just an airplane—a private jet. How did that happen?”
Win shrugged his shoulders. “There are worse things.”
“I know. It’s not that, it’s . . .” Elle didn’t know where to begin. She wasn’t accustomed to expressing her true feelings. She decided it would be best to be direct—ripping a Band-Aid off in one swift movement was always less agonizing than the alternative. “Why did you want to marry me?”
Win jerked his head back in confusion. “What do you mean, why did I want to marry you?”
“I don’t know—what was it about me, about us, that made you think this was it?” Elle sat back, nervous. What would he say? Was she ready to hear it?
“Your succulent ass might have had something to do with it.”
“Very funny! I’m serious, Win. Why me?” Elle was resolute. She needed answers.
Win regarded her question for a few moments. “Well, there were lots of things. You were so different from any of the other women I had dated, so independent and strong. Determined.”
Independent, strong, determined? Elle thought back to the time they met and didn’t think she had been any of those things. Quite the opposite, she remembered being scared, confused, and uncertain about her future. “You thought I was strong? I remember feeling rather unsure of myself back then.”
“Well, that’s what was so attractive. You obviously had guts. Not many college coeds pack up and head off to Japan by themselves. I admired that about you. At the same time, having lost your mom and all, you were sort of vulnerable and not afraid to show it. It was endearing.”
Elle’s heart sank. This was precisely what she had always deep down been afraid of. Aft
er Win’s long tour away he was anxious for female companionship, and she had been like a mutt at the pound, sweet and doe-eyed and orphaned. Win had wanted to rescue her. It was only after he took her home that Elle’s true nature was revealed. She was damaged. Broken beyond repair. But by then, it was too late. The pound had a no-return policy. Win was stuck. He saw the real Elle and knew he had been duped, but he was too good of a person to admit his disappointment. He’d had no choice but to carry on. To make the best of it, knowing deep down he shouldn’t have made the rash decision to bring home the mutt. He should have waited for the show dog with superior breeding.
“And of course, you were smart. Smarter than me, that’s for sure. And so funny. We had so much fun together. Remember?”
Elle nodded, trying not to cry. They had had fun together. That was real.
Win took another drink. “Where is this coming from?”
Elle looked down to hide the tears welling in her eyes. How could she admit the truth to Win? That maybe he fell in love with a girl who didn’t exist. That she had lacked the courage to show him her true self because she feared he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, love that person, flawed as she was. Elle had never even had her own mother’s love. How could she deserve his?
Win reached his hand across the table and touched Elle’s arm. “I also knew you would be an incredible mom, which you are.”
This was classic Win. Always finding the best in everyone—even her. Elle couldn’t stop the tears. She looked up at him, her lips trembling.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What is it?” Win slowly stroked her hand with his.
“It’s—” Elle couldn’t get the words out.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Win stood, reached into his pocket, pulled out several 10,000-yen notes, and left them on the table. He gently grabbed Elle’s hand and led her out of the bar.
Win placed his arm protectively around Elle as they stood in silence in the elevator. She struggled to maintain her composure and wished she hadn’t drank the martini. There was a reason she had quit drinking; Elle didn’t like not being in control.
The elevator moved rhythmically, past one floor after the next, as it made its way to the penthouse suite. Somewhere between floors 39 and 42, Win looked down at Elle, held her chin in one hand, and kissed her. It was a gentle, tentative kiss. Elle received it hungrily. She didn’t flinch, nor recoil.
By the time the elevator doors opened to the penthouse, they were locked into each other, kissing passionately. Win reached into his pocket for the suite key as Elle unbuttoned his shirt. Still kissing, they stumbled into the suite and their bedroom where their frantically made love on the king size bed.
12:51 a.m.
Elle rubbed her fingers along Win’s chest. Being with him felt natural and easy in a way it hadn’t in a long time—too long of a time. She felt safe and was ashamed of being so afraid of sharing a bed with her husband.
Elle had spent the last few years so consumed by her own insecurities, she hadn’t considered Win’s feelings. It occurred to her that perhaps he was experiencing the same weariness about their lives as she was. That Win, too, was trapped in a role he wasn’t sure he wanted.
“Are you happy, Win?”
“Are you kidding me? Yes! That was awesome.”
Elle punched him affectionately in the stomach. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, are you happy? Does all this deal-making bring you fulfillment?”
“I suppose so, but maybe not as much as it used to.”
“You’ve done enough, you know. More than enough. You’ve given me a life I never dreamed of.” Elle meant it. She hadn’t expected all this. She was lucky.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Win turned toward her. “What about you? Are you happy?”
Elle’s instinct was to answer, “Yes, of course I’m happy.” Why ruin this perfect moment? But she remembered the signs, the indications to let it go, to shake the devil off her back. Elle needed to be more truthful.
“Yes, and no.” Elle paused. What could she say? That she was exhausted from all the pretending? That she wasn’t the person he thought she was? How could she explain those things? Elle started again slowly, “I’m lucky, I know I am. I love our family, it’s just . . .” Elle worried she might cry, but she had to continue, “I don’t know. I feel . . . tired.”
Win pulled Elle close to him, lifted her head, and kissed her slowly and deliberately. It was a kiss of understanding and compassion. He moved on top of Elle and they made love again, this time more carefully and patiently, as if they wanted the moment to last.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Journey: “Don’t Stop Believin’”
June 5, 2017
8:11 a.m.
“Good morning.” Win woke Elle with a kiss on the cheek. He was already dressed for his day of meetings in a smart navy bespoke suit and the simple red tie Elle had packed for him.
“Mmm . . . morning.” Elle stretched out lazily and turned in bed toward her husband. His kiss had sent a warm and exquisite tingle down her spine.
Sex with Win after the elevator ride had been amazing, more passionate than it had been in years. Elle worried it was a result of her lack of inhibition from the alcohol. What would happen when she was sober? Would she tense up and recoil from his touch again? But when they had made love again later, it had been even better. Perhaps it hadn’t been quite as fervent, but it was powerful and wonderful all the same. Elle felt an undeniable connection to Win, maybe because in being honest she had allowed herself to be vulnerable, to feel something real and true.
Elle and Win had stayed up late the night before, their sexual intimacy opening the door for a more candid conversation than they had had in years. They discussed their children, agreeing it was important for Brynnie to know that they supported her, regardless of her sexual orientation. They promised to be harder on Four, acknowledging that they had spoiled him. Elle even admitted to questioning the integrity of her so-called friends, and Win surprised her by responding that he was glad to hear it—he found them vapid and their husbands flaccid. He had tolerated them only because he thought they made her happy; he much preferred the company of his old Navy buddies.
Encouraged by Win’s responses, Elle had opened up to him more truthfully about her life in Japan, sharing stories about Mitch and how anxious she was to find her old friend. She briefly even considered confessing to her guilt over Jimmy’s death, but it was still too painful to admit to. Baby steps. It could wait.
Win sat on the side of the bed and ran his fingers through Elle’s hair. “I was thinking about what you said last night, about the private jet, about how we got to this place.”
“Yeah?” Elle sat up and leaned against the pillows.
“What is it you would want to do, if you could do anything, anything at all?”
“Are you happy, Mom? Are you living your dream?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. I’m not sure . . . I should probably do more for the SIDS Alliance. Beyond that, I don’t really know. I liked being a social worker, so probably something helping others. I’d like to give back.”
Win nodded. He was in work mode now, presented with a problem and thinking of a solution. “Ok. What kind of help, specifically, and to whom?”
“Well, my favorite clients were always young women at risk. Maybe I should go back to work at a shelter full-time, but I don’t know if it’s enough.”
Win rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Enough for you or enough for those who need help?”
“Both, I suppose.”
“Okay. You want to help young women at risk, and you want it to be meaningful. What about opening a shelter for at-risk female teens?”
“That’s a great idea, but I don’t think I’m qualified to do that.”
“Well, what if we did it together?”
Elle was taken aback by Win’s use of “we” and skeptical of its meaning. She knew how hard he worked at Martin Global, how little free time he had. “Th
at would be a huge commitment. How could you possibly fit it in?”
Win answered quickly, like he had already thought about it. “The way I see it, I need to give this deal the next six months. It’s gonna take at least three months to get everything in place and then another three for me to transition into a smaller role. If you got things started on your own, by spring of next year I could be all yours.”
“What are you saying? You would do this with me?” Elle hadn’t expected this.
“Absolutely! Look, I thought a lot about what you were trying to get at last night. You’re right. We should spend more time together. Do something that matters.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. How many more deals can I broker?”
“Oh, my gosh, yes, Win!” Elle gushed. If her heart could smile, it would be beaming.
Win kissed her on the lips. “We’ll talk more about it later. I should get to my meeting.”
“Okay. Good luck with your negotiations.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it. This Akimoto can be a real stubborn S.O.B.” Win was frustrated with the Tsugunai president. The previous day, his lawyers had presented Martin Global with a new contract, different in its terms than those originally agreed upon. Last minute changes like these were unprecedented and difficult to negotiate through.
Elle rubbed her husband’s back. “I have no doubt in your ability to win him over.”
“Actually, I’m counting on you to use your charm on him at the party tonight.”
“I’ll do my best.” Elle smiled wanly. She didn’t want to think about charming Japanese men; it was a little too close to the part of her life in Japan she didn’t want to remember.
Never mind that. Elle wouldn’t let anything ruin this moment for her.
“I love you.” Elle had never meant it more. She did love Win and hadn’t been fair to him. She had expected him to save her, to bring her happiness, to give her life meaning. When he couldn’t, she had become resentful, hence the physical coldness.
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