by Starr, Faith
“A Japanese tea ceremony is known as Chanoyu, Sado, or Ocha.”
She went on to prepare and serve us green tea, which she called Macha, or powdered green tea, using a tea bowl, tea whisk, and tea scoop. The entire process was done using slow, deliberate movements.
She folded a cloth napkin with precision and used it to wipe and lift her other supplies.
The woman picked up a pot and poured hot water into a bowl. Slowly, she whisked the hot water, only to dump it out. That action struck me as being odd. The rationale I came up with was that the water cleaned the bowl. I wouldn’t find out because I couldn’t ask. The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.
Her delicate hands picked up the white folded towel. She used it to wipe the edges of the bowl then dabbed inside it. Again, I didn’t understand the purpose and would have to remain in the dark about it.
Woo-hoo! We were finally getting somewhere.
Our hostess added powdered green tea to the bowl she had “sterilized,” so to speak, then a scoop of fresh hot water. The whisk was used to mix the concoction.
Another woman approached her and filled small teacups with the freshly brewed tea. We were each given one so we could taste a sample.
Ryan tried his first. “Shit, that’s tart.” He scrunched his face. “Hot too. Make sure to blow on it before you drink it.”
The Asian woman’s gaze shot to Ryan. Obviously, curse words were a no-no during a proper tea ceremony.
“Sorry.” His cheeks became pink.
I stifled a laugh. But he was right. The tea was tart, as in, undrinkable. It needed Stevia or sugar, anything to sweeten it. I wouldn’t dare tell the woman who had done such a brilliant job of preparing it for us that her tea tasted like crap.
Following the tea ceremony, Ryan and I lazily strolled through more of the gardens and ended our exploration in the gift shop.
“Aww. These rice bowls are so cute.” All the stuff for sale was dainty and delicate—each item more beautiful than the other.
Ryan didn’t seem as impressed with the rice bowls, or anything else in the small boutique. I couldn’t blame him. He had patiently done everything I requested at the garden. Poor guy must have been bored out of his mind.
“I have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back. Hang tight in here and browse,” he said.
“Will do.”
He left me alone to continue shopping. Rather, browsing.
Some journals caught my eye. I found one I thought would be perfect for Ryan. I hurriedly brought it to the cashier and paid for it. I shoved the thin package inside my purse.
“I’m back.”
Whew. That was a close call!
“Great. Are you ready to take off?”
“Yup. I want to give you this first, though.” He handed me a bag, similar in color to the one I had hidden inside my purse. How ironic. We both had the same idea about buying gifts for each other.
“What is it?”
“Check it out and see for yourself.”
Without wasting a minute, I did so. My mouth fell open when I saw what he had purchased. “Ryan, how thoughtful.”
“It’s a Zen Garden. You mentioned earlier you wanted one. I spotted them when we entered the gift shop and knew I had to get you one. I’m glad you didn’t find them yourself, or you’d have two.”
“It was so sweet of you to buy this for me. And you’re right. If I had seen them, I would’ve bought myself one.” I had totally forgotten I’d mentioned wanting a Zen garden to him. “I hope you don’t think I was hinting for you to buy me one.”
“Not at all. Seeing it made me think of you and I knew you’d be happy receiving it.”
“More than happy. Thank you again. I feel bad that you keep buying me presents. The clothes, the bracelet, now the garden.”
“Let me spoil you a little. It makes me happy to see you smile.”
“I appreciate it. I’m not used to people doing nice things for me just because. It’s new for me.”
“Then you better get used to it because I plan on doing more of it. Now do me a favor and make sure I picked a good one. They had several to choose from. If not, we can exchange it.”
“Not a chance. I love this one because you picked it.”
“You haven’t even looked at the front of the box yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. The thought makes it the perfect choice.”
He planted a soft kiss on my lips.
During the car ride back to the resort, I read the description on the Zen garden’s box. The item was small, made to sit on a desk or table. So cute! I couldn’t wait to play with it.
“It comes with sand and a mini rake. And I love the Yin Yang design. It also comes with succulents. How awesome. Thanks, Ryan. I really mean it.”
“You’re welcome and easy to please. A cheap date.”
“Hey!”
He laughed. “What? First you wanted clothes from Fields when I offered to take you anywhere, the beach bracelet I bought for you will probably fall apart, and now you’re ecstatic about a mini garden. You don’t hear me complaining one bit.”
“And let’s not leave out that we saved a lot using the Fields’ app.”
“Oh, right. How could I forget about the extra discount?”
“Stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you a thing or two about couponing.” I winked at him. He took hold of my hand.
“My mother will love you.” He chuckled. “She’s a coupon junkie.”
“Then we’ll get along splendidly.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Have you ever introduced her to any of your female friends?”
“I don’t consider the women I’ve been with friends.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not in the last few years. I was seeing a woman a few years back that she met, but the relationship fell apart when the guys and I took our music to the next level. We were traveling around playing gigs wherever we could. It was too difficult to focus on a relationship and my budding career at the same time.”
His words had more truth to them than I think he realized when he said them. I didn’t reply.
He glanced at me. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“We agreed on one day at a time. Remember?”
“I remember.” Yet I didn’t agree. There was no way this thing between us could extend beyond his tour break. He’d be busy once he left town, and it was unfair and selfish of me to expect him to change his lifestyle for me. I would never ask that of him. Besides, we’d only met recently. We didn’t have a long history of dating.
When we got back to the hotel, the valet attendant parked the car while Ryan and I went upstairs.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” I set my garden on the bar along with my purse. I pulled his surprise out of it first, though. Holding it in front of me, I approached him.
His eyes shot to the bag. “What’s that?”
“Open it and see.”
He pulled the brown journal out of the bag and read the words inscribed on the cover. “Kindness will never be wasted in any way. Japanese proverb.”
“I thought you could take it with you on the bus to write lyrics in.”
He held up the book. “When did you buy this?”
“When you went to the bathroom at the gift shop.”
“Interesting.” He studied the cover and glided his finger over the words. “That’s when I bought your Zen garden.”
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. I can’t believe you bought me something.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged.
I nudged him. “Why?”
“It’s nice is all. You’re very thoughtful, Lizzie.”
“As are you, which is why when I saw it, I had to buy it for you. I want you to know your kindness toward me is appreciated.”
“Fuck.” He swiped his hand through his hair, his b
rows furrowed. He set the book on the bar.
My muscles tensed. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought him the book, especially with the lost vibe he was projecting.
“Please excuse me. I have to use the bathroom.” I needed a quick escape.
Securely locked in the confines of the small but fancy room—with glass doors, mind you—I washed my hands and face. When I exited, I found Ryan sitting on the leather couch holding the journal.
“Hey.” A surge of insecurity swept over me. He had suddenly become aloof and closed off.
“Hey.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Sit.”
I kicked off my sneakers and sat next to him. I hiked my leg up and tucked it underneath the other one. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Liar.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary by buying you the journal. I thought you’d like it.” I rolled my fingers over each other, nervous beyond belief, my heart beating fast.
He surprised me by pushing me down on the couch. He didn’t speak. Merely acted. He kissed me hard. Maybe this was another coping mechanism he used to deal with his feelings. It would definitely explain all the women in his past.
With rough hands, he raised my shirt. Using his teeth, he plucked my nipples over my lace bra. He popped open the clasp and palmed my breasts.
His behavior took me by surprise. I wanted to talk. He wanted to fuck. Was this how he treated the groupies he slept with? Aggressive and harsh?
With deft skill, he unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts. He tugged them off, almost ripping them in the process.
“Ryan, stop!” I sat up and pushed him off me.
His blue eyes widened. Horror overtook them. “Shit. Did I hurt you?”
“No. You didn’t. But something is going on with you. What is it?”
“I want to fuck you. That’s what’s going on with me.”
“That’s not what I mean. I gave you the journal, and you vanished. Where have you gone?”
He rose and paced in front of the couch. “I’m right here.” He tapped his chest. “I gotta tell you. It hurts a guy’s ego to stop him in the middle of the act.”
“And it hurts a woman’s when a guy takes out his frustration on her body as a means to avoid having a conversation and release tension.”
“I’ve learned that fucking can be a great stress reliever.”
“You’re right. It can be. But right now you’re hiding behind it.”
“Christ. You too?”
Huh? “Me too what?”
“The guys pester me nonstop. And now you’re on my ass?”
“Excuse me? I’m lost as to what you’re talking about. But I can tell you I know firsthand what it’s like to have someone take his frustration and anger out on my body. My father did it to me for years. I won’t let you. Sexual. Physical. Verbal. It’s all the same shit to me. When you want to talk, I’m here. But you’re mistaken if you think for one minute that I’ll let you use my body to escape your feelings.”
He stood still. The shield that had covered his eyes quickly vanished. “Oh my God, Lizzie. I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you physically, sexually. None of that.” He gripped his hair. “I… I just lose it sometimes.”
“I have no issue with that. Trust me, I get it. We all have triggers that set us off. I used to drink. That option isn’t available to me anymore.”
He breathed heavily. “I need some air.”
He opened the French doors and went outside on the balcony. He sat on a lounge chair and stared at the ocean. I gave him space. He knew where to find me if and when he wanted to talk about whatever was going on with him.
As a result, he did his thing, I did mine, which included taking a hot shower. Maybe it would wash off that last exchange between us.
23
Ryan
What was wrong with me? I had an unbelievable woman inside the suite, and here I was, trying to deal with the panic overtaking me. Lizzie was right. It made me sick to think I behaved so pushy sexually, especially after she told me about her past, gave me the journal, and told me how nice I was.
Shit!
I sank my teeth into my clenched fist, not hard enough to cause pain or leave a mark, but enough to release some tension.
Lizzie deserved an apology. The reality was, I was scared. I had never felt so strongly about a woman before. And developing these feelings in such a short period of time blew my mind. I knew lust. I acted out on it every chance I got. This thing with Lizzie was the total opposite. That I was sure of. What baffled me the most was these types of feelings didn’t develop overnight, yet, here I sat, full of them. I wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation because each day we spent together was another one checked off the calendar. There weren’t many left before the guys and I went back on tour.
My cell rang. I jogged inside the suite to get it. I didn’t see Lizzie but heard the shower on. The caller ID informed me it was the center calling. Crap! They only reached out when something was wrong.
“Hello.”
“Hi, is this Ryan Allen?”
I had told the center I shared my grandfather’s last name to protect both my privacy and phone number.
“Yes. Is my grandfather okay?”
“I’m calling to notify you that Morris had a fall. The paramedics were called. They came and took him to the hospital.”
All the blood in my body rushed south. My head felt light, and my legs felt weak. I dropped onto the sofa. “Is he okay?”
“I’m not sure. We’re advised to call emergency services if a resident gets hurt or injured.”
“Where did it happen?”
“In his room. All of the residents were sleeping. When I did my rounds and checked on him, I found him on the floor. He might have gotten up to go to the bathroom and slipped. I think he may have hit his head because there was a little blood on his scalp and some on the floor next to him.”
Double crap!
“Have you called his daughter yet?” My hands trembled as I continued with the conversation—hyperventilating, mind you. I jumped up and paced in front of the couch. Spots danced in front of me. My eyes took a slight pause because the last thing I wanted was to faint and hit my head. Fuckin’ A!
“She’s the first name on our list. We couldn’t get hold of her. You’re the second contact to call for emergencies.”
“Which hospital is he in?”
“Fairmont.”
Fairmont… Fairmont…
Oh yeah. I remembered the place.
“I’m heading there now. I’ll get in touch with his daughter and let her know.”
Sometimes it was hard to keep my name hidden, especially during situations such as this.
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. I hope he recovers quickly.”
Yeah. Me too.
The woman disconnected the call.
“Fuck!” I slammed my hand on the bar.
Lizzie stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. “What’s wrong?”
“The center called. My grandfather fell in his room and hit his head. He’s in the hospital. We have to leave.”
“Oh my gosh. Of course.”
She threw on shorts, almost tripping over herself because she was moving so fast. Her eyes found mine.
“You okay?” I asked.
She gave me a thumbs up and pulled on a T-shirt.
I gathered my stuff. She did the same with hers.
My backpack got slung over my shoulder while she zipped hers closed.
“Do you know which hospital he’s in? There are two of them near the center.”
“Fairmont.”
She nodded. “That one’s closer.”
There was barely any conversation between us in the elevator. My thoughts were going in a million different directions, the what-if’s running rampant in my mind.
Once in my car, I contacted my parents.
“What do you mean he’s in the hospital?” My mother’s voice was
loud over the line.
“He fell in his room. The nurse thinks he might have hit his head because she saw some blood. An ambulance took him to Fairmont Hospital. I should be there in about forty-five minutes, barring traffic.”
“Drive safely. Your father and I will head there now. I wonder why the center didn’t call me.”
“They tried but couldn’t reach you.”
“Darn it! We were in a movie and had our phones silenced. I literally turned my ringer on right when your call came through.”
“It doesn’t matter. You know now. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and acknowledged Lizzie, who sat quietly in her seat. “I’ll drop you off at home. Sorry about all this.”
“Don’t be. This is an emergency. I sure hope he’s okay.”
“So do I.”
My nerves were past fried, and I didn’t even know how bad the situation was. My grandfather had to be okay. He just had to be.
When we got to Lizzie’s house, I practically ran her to the door and kissed her goodbye. “I’m sorry again. For everything.”
“Go.” She encouraged me. “Let me know how he is.”
I jogged back to my car and drove to the hospital. My parents were there when I arrived, sitting in a waiting room.
“What’s the story?”
My mother patted the chair next to her for me to sit in. I chose to stand, too much nervous energy filling me.
“He’s having a CT Scan.”
“Was he alert? Did they tell you anything?”
My father shook his head. “Nothing. We’re in the waiting stage.”
“When I saw him he was fine. Well, as fine as he could be, but he was smiling. He seemed perfectly content.”
“I know. Accidents happen.”
My mom’s attempt to try to pacify me did jack shit. And she was wrong. This accident shouldn’t have happened. I should’ve hired someone to watch over my grandfather during the night hours when it was a skeleton crew at the center. Guilt ate at my insides.
“Why don’t you sit down? There’s nothing we can do but wait.”
“No thanks, Dad. I’d rather stand.”
Stand. Pace. Stand. Pace. Repeat. It took for fucking ever until a doctor finally gave us an update.
“How is he?” My mother asked.