When I started with my current company, Cipher Systems, I had lived in a company-owned condo by Millennium Park. It had been the fanciest place that I had ever lived in, but it hadn’t been mine. Being a homeowner meant far more.
Inside my not-so-fancy home, my mom pointed out how nice she thought my kitchen cabinets were, how lovely the gray couch was, how much she liked the nice plaid of my oven mitts. When she started commenting on the neatness of the apples and bananas in a bowl on my kitchen island, I cut her off. There was only so much one could talk about interior design, or rather my lack thereof.
“Mom, I know you’re not actually impressed with this chair or that pot—”
“Oh, Andrew, I am. You picked such a lovely color scheme. All of these variations of gray—so modern.” A master hand-wringing class was being taught right in front of me.
Part of me was amused. Part of me was impatient to hear more about Tia. “Hey, Mom, you mentioned in the car that you still keep in touch with folks in Colorado. Did the Wangs ever say anything about our breakup or what happened afterward?”
Her eyebrows rose as she studied me. “There were rumors that something had happened, though no one was sure what. Her parents tried to hide it, but when the Wangs’ star daughter defers Harvard for a year, disappears for a couple months, and reappears looking deflated, people talk.”
Those knife-wielding tentacles were stabbing at me again, as an image of a haggard-looking Tia took up residence in my brain. Fuck, I should have been there. I should have listened for news of her, instead of burying my head in the sand like a fucking idiot.
“I don’t think people knew you two got married, so no one blamed you. You don’t have to worry about that,” my mom reassured me.
Ouch. Though my mom had meant to calm me, her words served to remind me that Tia and her parents had been too embarrassed to tell their friends about our marriage. Dumb piece of shit who’ll never amount to anything.
In a small voice, my mom asked, “So are you two friends again?”
Restless and frustrated, I stood up and walked over to the bay windows overlooking the little patio and lawn in the back. It had been one of the features that sold me on this townhouse. I’d wanted to have a little piece of greenery in the city, but now the fence surrounding the little ten-by-eight yard felt constricting. Away from Tia, my brain worked against me.
Because I knew the real answer. I didn’t even have to look that deeply within me to know that I didn’t want to be friends with Tia. Not just friends. I could never be just friends with her again. I would always crave more, so much more. So much more than she could ever give.
“Andrew”—a note of warning sounded in mom’s voice—“a friendship can be enough. Sometimes, it has to be enough.”
Turning, I looked at my mom. For once, her hands were still, and she looked back at me with her patient eyes. A strong breeze could have blown her sideways, yet her message was strong.
Just because I understood didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Andrew,” she warned again, her voice louder this time. “If she’s getting married, then let her be. It’s for the best.”
“What if she’s not getting married?” I asked harshly.
“Oh, Andrew, let the past stay in the past and move on. Let both of you move on.”
I hated the pity in her eyes, so I turned away from her. A month ago, I would have been happy to let the past lie.
Now? Two weeks with Tia showed me just how much I needed her in my life. It was a raw-boned, seeping-into-my-every-cell kind of need. A craving for her smile, her laughter, her warmth. The mix of modern, intelligent, professional woman with her clumsy, weird, goofball side.
Could I find someone else who checked off smart and quirky? Sure. I’d bet that there were thousands of women who might describe themselves that way. But there was also this indescribable factor about Tia, or maybe it was when we were together. Some elemental pull that tied my heart to hers. And that, I knew without a doubt couldn’t be replicated.
For that indescribable emotional connection, I couldn’t give up.
Yet, my mom’s words reverberated within me, because they were echoes of my own doubts. Tia might be the best thing ever for me, but was I the right choice for her? Was I being a shitty person for breaking up Tia and Clayton?
Yes, most definitely. I was a fucking asshole for causing this upheaval in her life.
Chapter Eighteen
Andrew
April 7, 2009
Ting Ting,
I have a question for you. Do you want to be my girlfriend officially?
Don’t tell me now. Tell me when you’re here this weekend. Actually, tell me if the answer is yes. Pretend you never received this if the answer is no.
Yours (if you want me to be),
Andrew
Promptly at three p.m. on Saturday, I stood outside the entrance to Pennypack Park, in Breckenridge, Colorado. I hadn’t been back to Colorado since I transferred out of CU Boulder my sophomore year. There was a surreal feeling in returning, as if I expected to find my younger self slouching around. Instead of feeling trapped and judged by this town, I saw it now as tourists must: an upscale ski and vacation town, nestled in the beautiful Rocky Mountains. A place where folks living in bigger cities could take a breather and slow down.
A BMW honked at me from the road, slowing down as it nearer. Tia opened the passenger side window and leaned over. Her smile shone like sunlight on this cloud-heavy day, catching me by surprise and making my breath hitch. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey, you.”
We smiled at each other like we had been feeling unsettled until this moment when we saw each other. Like we knew any amount of time together was better than time spent apart. At least, that’s how I smiled at her. Tia was probably just being her normal friendly self.
“How’d you get here? Did you take a taxi?”
“No, I rented a car from the airport.” I pointed toward the state park’s parking lot down the road.
“Oh, okay. Do you want to get in? It’ll be easier if I drive than explain the location.”
Tia waited for me to buckle up before pulling back to the main road. Reaching into her coat pocket, she waved a bag at me. “Gummies? I’ve got some granola in the glove compartment too and water in the back if you’re hungry or thirsty.”
Smiling, I shook my head. Tia’s hospitality was one of my favorite traits about her. If she offered food, you knew that you were on her good side. “No, thanks, I grabbed something at Luke’s Diner before I headed over here.”
“Hey, by the way, thanks for sending me snacks. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to see chips and sugar! I was getting so restless with eating healthy food all the time. There’s only so much broccoli I can eat without wanting chocolate, you know?” Eyes scanning the side of the road, she wrinkled her nose to show her disdain.
“No problem. I figured your parents would still be health-conscious.” I chuckled at the image of Tia sneaking chocolate in her room in the dark, as she used to do when she was younger.
Tia rolled her eyes and said, “They’re worse than before. Every day, they’re after me about how important it is to eat healthy and exercise when you’re young.”
“How dare they want you to be healthy,” I mocked.
Her laughter reverberated. “How dare they, indeed. But oh, the snacks, you even included lemon squares. It was very sweet of you, Andrew. You definitely earned brownie points in my book.”
I wanted all of the brownie points in her book to have my name on them.
As we approached a half-hidden dirt road across from the state park, Tia’s laughter stopped abruptly. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I knew instinctively that this place was tied to Joy somehow.
The road curved around until we got to a small clearing. At the top of the hill, Tia parked the car, grabbed a bag from the back seat, and hopped out. She walked quickly, practically running, toward some trees in the distanc
e.
Trees rose high around us, giving a sense that we were in a cocoon. It didn’t look as if anyone had lived here for years. The place had an untamed beauty, made stark by the almost-bare trees against the gray skies. I strode after Tia, catching up with her before she reached the forest. She was out of breath, and that confused me because the clearing wasn’t that big. She stopped abruptly and bent over, heaving with exertion.
“Are you okay, Tia? Do you want me to get you some water?” Just in case, I pulled out my phone to look up the nearest urgent care center. No signal. I had taken for granted the omnipresence of Wi-Fi in large cities.
Dropping my phone back into my pocket, I awkwardly patted Tia’s back. Startled as if she had forgotten that I was there, she jumped up.
Tia’s face was ashen, as her eyes stared at me wildly. In the worst way, I lost my breath as my lungs stopped working. Gingerly, almost reverently, she placed her palm on a tree to her right.
Sensing my confusion, Tia took my hand and placed it on the same spot on the tree. Her voice breaking in the middle of the word, she whispered, “Here.”
Underneath my gloveless hand, I felt cool metal. With dread, I lifted my hand. A silver plaque showed a simple inscription, “Joy Wang Parker, 2009.”
For the second time that day, I lost my breath. I sank down to the ground on my knees. My vision narrowed on the plaque, as if I could will my daughter to be alive.
This tree was symbolic, I knew that. Yet, I couldn’t help feeling a connection to her here. I was aware of the hardness and dampness of the ground underneath my knees, of the wind chilling my ears, of my fingers gripping my thigh to brace myself. I hoped, with every part of me, that my daughter was feeling the wind, watching the seasons, experiencing life somewhere, somehow.
As if from far away, I heard Tia rustling around her bag. She placed a small bouquet of sweet-smelling pink flowers by the tree.
The picture that I carry of Tia is an image of someone who is optimistic, vivacious, and strong. Yet in front of me was someone frail, her face mirroring the anguish that I felt in my heart. Probably more so, since she had carried this baby within herself.
Sitting cross-legged on the cold ground, with her knees touching me and one arm on my back offering me what little remained of her strength, Tia said softly, “One day, I walked over here—”
“All the way from your parents’ house? It’s got to be at least five miles.” A picture of Tia wandering by herself, vulnerable and hurting only served to underline how not there I was for her. I didn’t take care of my family, just like my dad. It was a sobering realization.
Wincing self-consciously, she said, “I was not in a good head space at the time. My parents were ready to call the police by the time I went home. They had been driving all over town trying to look for me. It had started snowing—just a little bit—and well, they were worried about what I was going to do. For a supposedly obedient daughter, I put them through hell.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Sure, some things weren’t my fault, but I definitely made mistakes.”
The words hung in the air between us, separating us, poking me with their spears. She didn’t say it directly, but I knew that I was the mistake. I was the decision that caused a rift between her and her parents.
Scooching closer, Tia continued, “One good thing came out of that walk. I happened to pass by this place, and there was a for sale sign by the street. I don’t think I ever noticed this place when we used to hang out around here, so I was curious and went to take a look. If we stand up, you can see the state park, and if you squint a bit, you can see the playground. When I went home and my parents stopped fussing, I asked my dad if I could use some of my college funds to buy this land. He didn’t even negotiate with the buyer. You know him—negotiations are his jam. I think he was happy to see me care about something.”
Looking back at the silver plaque, she said self-consciously, “I planted a little tree here to commemorate her and so I could have a place to visit. In a weird way, I had this idea that as the tree grew, she could, somehow, see the park and playground.”
“I don’t think that’s weird. I like the thought of her being symbolically close to where we used to hang out.” Needing to feel her even closer, I pulled Tia onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her. As if I weren’t her biggest mistake, she nestled in closer to my heart.
Softly, she whispered against my neck, so close that I could almost feel the shape of her lips against my skin. “Outside of my parents, I’ve never brought anyone here. Or even told anyone about this place. Pippa guessed, but we’ve never really talked about it. So thank you. For listening to me, for letting me cry, and for visiting her with me.”
I pulled back a little so I could see Tia. Her eyes were focused, and while she still looked sad, I could feel her vitality returning. I wanted to kiss her so badly—and not in that way—just to be closer and to offer comfort. Instead, I settled for holding her even tighter. Which didn’t feel like settling, when her arms came around to squeeze me back.
I searched for the right words. “Ting Ting—Tia … I—” There was something in my throat, preventing words from getting out. Something foreign and unwieldy.
Strong and vulnerable brown eyes peered at me, patiently waiting. Her hands came up to rub my shoulders.
What could I say in this moment? How could I articulate what I was feeling when I didn’t understand them myself. I started again. “Um. Tia. Thank you for bringing me here.” Pause. There was that foreign thing in my throat.
Her face fell at my formal tone.
Ah, fuck it, eloquent I was not going to be. Taking a deep breath, I started again, “I don’t know what to say or feel. I’m stumped and overwhelmed and sad. I think you’re amazing for surviving this. And don’t shake your head at me, I know you’re not the only one who has had a miscarriage, but nonetheless, I think you’re amazing. I’m glad you told me, because you didn’t have to, and I would have never found out. I’m not sure what to do. Do I offer you condolences, or make jokes? Should I suggest that we have therapy together and talk more about this? I don’t have a manual for this. Tell me what I can do.”
“Hold me, Andrew.”
I waited for more.
She looked at me hopefully.
My arms hugged her tighter to me. We sat there in silence, holding each other, supporting each other. It felt like a giant step forward for us to be able to sit here and share grief as parents to a little soul who never had a chance.
Something had fundamentally shifted to both strengthen our relationship and put us on an unknown footing. For the first time since Tia entered my life again, I was a hundred percent sure that she was going to stay in my life. As what, I didn’t know.
After a while, the peaceful silence was broken by the chattering of Tia’s teeth. Her only reaction was to burrow further into me, as I rubbed her back, her arms, her legs to try to warm her up. I hated having to break this moment, but frostbite was not on my list of goals for us.
Reluctantly, I said, “Hey, Tia, it’s too cold to be out here. Let’s get inside the car.”
As if in slow motion, she nodded and stood up, groaning as her body stretched. Immediately, I missed the warmth and weight of her on me.
Tia said, “Why don’t you go ahead to the car? I’d like another couple of minutes here by myself.”
I nodded. Once back in the car, I turned around to look back at Tia. She was sitting again, and it looked as if she was talking, her hands gesturing. I could picture Tia sitting on a grassy lawn with a little ten-year-old girl with black hair and eyes as warm as hers, as they chatted about their day, their hands extensions of their words.
Because that image made me sad, I pushed it firmly to the back of my mind. Alone for the first time since “meeting” my daughter, I let out a big breath and let my head drop between my legs.
It was too much.
I couldn’t turn off my brain. The thought of being a father was scary
. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to ever have kids. What sort of dad would I be when I had the worst model of what a dad could be?
But the thought of being a deadbeat dad terrified me more. My mind was inundated with images, real and imaginary. Images of Tia in a hospital, of going through this without me, of what our daughter could have looked like. They magnified my sadness and underscored my regret that I wasn’t there for her. For them. I wasn’t there for them.
It was too fucking much.
The door on the driver side opened, and Tia slid in. Sounding concerned, she asked, “Are you okay? I know it was a lot today.”
Straightening to look at her, I chased back the intensity of what I was feeling, not wanting her to worry about me. “I’m glad you brought me here. Really.”
I took a deep breath. “So, where should we go now?”
“I’m supposed to fly back to Boston tonight at eight.”
“Oh.”
Damn. I thought I had more time. I didn’t know what I was expecting, since we had never discussed what would happen after our two-week arrangement. Outside of the divorce papers. My heart hand planned on spending more time with Tia. Clearly, my heart was stupid.
And also dense apparently. “So I guess we’re done with the two weeks, huh?”
“Yes, I’d like to be done with this arrangement.”
Fuck. Did she have to sound so normal? Couldn’t she sound a little sad? Especially when I was panicking.
I had been stupid to resist sex in the beginning, and stupid not to push for it later. I would have completely respected her if she said no, but I was beating myself up for not even trying. Screw building an emotional relationship first. I should have done something. Something else, something more, anything to hold her to me. Because clearly, having friendly hangouts did not cut it.
Was it too late to strip and hope she would be wowed? And what? Fall on my dick? Stupid idea.
Way too soon, Tia pulled up to my rental car. After carefully parking, she looked at me, eyes wide. Expectantly.
Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2) Page 16