I was the one out of place, searching for that conniving, sly face that resembled mine. I was officially losing it. My fear of my past taking over my present was making me see things. Sleep. I needed more sleep.
Feeling ridiculous, I walked back toward the lecture hall. My phone buzzed and I absentmindedly glanced at it. It was an unknown number, but the message left no doubts who had sent it. “It was easy finding your professor. I can visit again or not. It’s up to you.”
“Fuck!”
Heart pounding, I raced inside the lecture hall, only to find a few scattered students still debating model assumptions. Tia was nowhere to be seen. Practically shouting at the students, I demanded, “Where is she? Where is Tia?”
“You mean Professor Wang?”
“Dude, chill out.”
“She’s probably in her office.”
“Did she say you can call her Tia? She doesn’t allow us to call her that. Do you think it matters for grades?”
Barely hearing the trail of questions behind me, I made a beeline for Tia’s office, cursing the lax security on campus. My mind was filled with images of her hurt, her cornered, her scared. My long strides ate up the distance. Shit, shit, shit. She would be alone in her office. Unprotected.
Alarm sped up my feet, until I gave up all pretense and sprinted down the hallways toward her office. The door to Tia’s office was ajar. I could hear movements inside.
Prepared for the worst, I reached to push the door open, just as it swung wide, revealing a startled Tia. Her pink lips parted into an O, as she stared at me greedily.
I looked behind her, my shoulders drooping with relief at the empty chaos of her office. Not able to resist any longer, I pulled Tia into my arms, breathing in her scent.
Her heavy book bag dropped to the floor, as her arms slowly wound around my neck, stroking my hair as if she instinctively knew I needed comfort. Her comfort.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was a balm for my lonely soul.
I was ruined.
I needed her.
I needed to show her how much she meant to me, how critical she was to my existence. So I did, the only way I knew how.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Andrew
September 2, 2009 (torn, never sent)
Ting Ting,
I miss you. Don’t hate me. I promise it’s better that we’re not together. You can be more without me.
Still yours forever,
Andrew
My lips found Tia’s, desperate for her to respond, elated when she let out a tiny gasp before her hands yanked me by my jacket inside her office, slamming the door behind us. I turned us so Tia’s back was against the door, while I pressed my body against hers.
I told myself to slow down, to be gentle, to not scare her. But it was impossible when she moaned against my lips. That little sound scorched my skin. I was frantic for her.
More.
I could never get enough. My heart, my body, my soul were imprinted by her, and wherever she was, I was destined to chase after her.
Minutes, maybe hours later, I gentled the kiss, my initial urgency soothed by Tia’s responses. Pulling up for air, I gathered her close to me, holding her gently, a dichotomy to the violent beating of my heart.
Her light laugh sounded muffled against my neck. “This is a nice surprise. Making out isn’t very professor-like. My students might actually think that I have a life outside of their grades. Hopefully no one heard us.”
I kissed her temple, my lips curving up in a small smile. “You’ll know if sign-ups for your class skyrocket next semester.”
“Or I get put on probation for inappropriate behavior. Tia’s Smoky BBQ might have to become reality, if I get fired. Be prepared to eat all the burnt food and lie to me about how great it is.”
“I’d rather save my stomach from your cooking. If you get in trouble, you can blame me and my charm.”
“What? You mean the lack of it?”
I laughed. It felt so good to be with her. Kissing her was great, but beyond that, laughing and talking with her was balm for my heart.
Tia’s eyes softened as she looked me over, as if re-exploring me. “I’m glad you came to me. I missed you.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” My voice was teasing, even as my heart balanced on a precipice, waiting for her response.
“Waiting by the telephone anxiously, have you?”
“On pins and needles.”
Dropping her half-smile, she sobered. “I wasn’t ready. No, that’s not right. Actually, I wasn’t sure if you were ready, and I couldn’t bear it if you told me … Anyways, you’re here. I’m so happy you finally decided to come tell me the truth.”
There was a sense of expectancy in her tender gaze. I winced internally. I was an ass. Fully prepared for a slap in the face, I tried to put a positive spin on my words. “I’m sorry. I missed you and needed to see you. But I’m still trying to figure out something, and I think, I know I can get it under control. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
If someone had popped a balloon with the words “Tia’s hopes” written on it, it wouldn’t have been clearer how disappointed she was. Her voice was almost pleading. “Let me help. You don’t have to solve everything by yourself. I am strong enough to help you take on the burden.”
“No!”
Tia recoiled at the vehemence in my voice, looking hurt and small. I softened my voice. “Sorry. You don’t understand. I don’t want you involved in this shit.”
“Why?” she asked determinedly. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not physically.”
“Are you doing anything illegal?”
“I’m not planning to go to jail.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “That’s an evasive answer. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care if you like it or not.” I thought of the man in the lecture hall, my anger and fear rising. Not fear for me. I could take care of myself. “I care about keeping you away from this. It’s messy and sordid. You shouldn’t have to deal or be exposed to this. It’s enough that he showed up on campus. I—”
“Who is he? Wait, does this have to do with the guy you chased down? He’s just a parent whose kid is looking at MIT.”
“You talked to him?” My lungs felt too full.
Shrugging, Tia said, “Not really. I did an admissions panel earlier today for prospective students and their families, and he was there. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Forget about it. Trust me to—”
Bitter laughter welled up, as Tia nailed me in place with her disappointment. “Trust you. I do trust you, which is why I’m still talking to you. The problem is that you don’t trust me. You don’t trust me to know myself. You don’t trust me to make my own decisions about what I want and what I can handle. All my life, I’ve gone along with decisions other people have made for me because they thought they knew better. And I let them, because it was easier. Well, not anymore. Just like I won’t let my parents’ opinions of you dictate what I should do, I don’t want you to tell me what I should think or do, out of some unnecessary desire to protect me.”
Frustrated, Tia sighed. Glumly, she picked her bag from the floor and turned off the office lights. I forced myself to stay still, to let her go.
I was making the right decision. I had to believe that. Once this whole thing was over, Tia would be glad that I had kept her out of it. Then, we could make a proper start to our relationship.
I had never wanted anything more than Tia now, but seeing her disillusion weakened my resolve. Although she didn’t say it, she was disappointed in me. I hated letting her down.
However, I didn’t claw my way into a top law school and my current job without an eye on the future. And Tia was undeniably my future. Which meant that I had to put my past to rest, before I could present myself to her.
Deal with the mess first—don’t bring Tia into it. The refrain ricocheted around my brain, pounding the reminder when my hands started to reach for her.
Buttoned up in her puffy coat, Tia turned to me at the darkened entrance of her office. Looking wounded, her voice wavered as she said, “Andrew, I’m not giving up on us, you know? I’m not fragile. Whenever you’re ready to come to your senses, I’ll be ready. Until then, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other. Physical intimacy isn’t a replacement for trust in a relationship.”
Tia opened up the door and waved me through.
I was officially dismissed.
The next few days crawled by. I was now well-versed in the sketchy happenings of Des Moines and Chattanooga, after poring through newspaper wanted ads looking for a message from Alex. I found a man looking for a live-in masseuse with big assets, a couple trying to loan out their twin crying babies for anyone who wanted experience with parenthood, and way too many sketchy jobs that promised lifelong fulfillment and great pay.
Still, no message from Alex.
Charlie called daily, despite me telling her to wait. I couldn’t blame her. We were in this mess together, tied by our blood to our dad’s threats. There was a weird bond that existed between us from these secrets. We brainstormed ways to get out of this and discussed fall-out plans, usually until Charlie’s husband came home from work. Then, she would promptly whisper goodbyes and hang up.
These secrets and trying to get out of them unscathed were my obsessions during the day. At night while I slept, my brain forgot that I was trying not to think about Tia. At daybreak, I would wake up, disoriented from vivid dreams of her. Then I would remember that I was alone.
The smell of Tia’s fruity lip gloss lingered in bed. The scent lingered as I worked from the apartment, until I missed her so fucking much that I physically ached. To escape, I would flee to a nearby coffee shop to work. Then, I would miss her scent and scurry back to the apartment. It was a vicious, draining cycle.
My resolve to stay away from Tia was threadbare. Every day, the thought of lying at her feet, with my secrets exposed for her to stomp on, gained appeal. Assuming Tia stayed once she knew my secret.
Worthless piece of shit who’ll never amount to anything. Memories, I corrected myself. They were only memories. I wanted to hide in a dark corner, like I used to as a kid, instead of facing rejection.
Because that would hurt the most, wouldn’t it? It was one thing to have a relationship fall apart because you didn’t open up. It was a completely different thing to have your partner reject you for who you really are. Like a stamp that said, “Rotten Core.”
For most of my life, fear had driven my decisions. Fear of my father made me be quiet, stay out of sight. Fear of being poor and going without food made me work hard in school. Fear of commitment made me only date women whom I had already mentally crossed off as potential partners.
Fear was a good motivator and had served me well in life. But in this case, fear of Tia walking away kept me from picking up the phone. Fear of her rejection kept me from running to her, even as I was starting to see a glimpse of what a real future for us could be like.
By Friday, I was no longer sure why I had insisted on keeping the secret from Tia in the first place. The stress of the situation was getting to me. I wanted to share my stress and anxiety with my wife, and trust that she would stand by me. I wanted someone to lean on, and in return, I was warming up to the idea of being someone else’s rock.
Back in high school, I had once found what looked to me like a dead potted orchid in a dark coat closet in Tia’s house. Shrugging as if this was the most natural thing, Tia had explained that taking away sun for a short period was a last-resort way to shock the orchid’s system into blooming. I didn’t know if that was true or one of the random things that Mrs. Wang made up, but that story stuck with me.
I felt like the orchid that was being shocked. I was deprived of my light. In return, I was undergoing some type of brutal transformation, forced to deal with ugly truths.
I had been given a second chance with Tia, and I was wasting it. I thought keeping her away would protect her and save our relationship, but I was starting to realize what a shadow of a relationship we actually had. Tia had mentioned that she was ready to go all in, which meant that she wasn’t yet. Or maybe she was, and I wasn’t ready to accept everything she had to offer.
If experiencing only a part of her was the best thing in my life, what would the totality of her be like? What would the totality of us be like?
For the first time, I understood her frustrations. Like the smart person she was, Tia could see the potential for something even better. Me being in a figurative closet without the sun was forcing me to see above the “now” and grasp that there might be something even better if we both let ourselves fall.
I sunk down onto Tia’s bed and leaned over to smell her pillow. The one that was near the windows, because she wanted to wake up in the mornings with sun on her face. The scent of Lip Smackers and her lavender shampoo were still there. At some point, they would fade away. At some point, I would have to do laundry. But it lingered today.
“Fuck.” My curse rebounded, punching me in my senses.
I was a grown-ass man smelling pillows. “Pathetic fool.”
My fingers dialed Charlie’s number before fear stopped them. “Charlie? When can you get on the next flight?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tia
June 5, 2010 (never sent)
Andrew,
I found out that one of my friends from Beijing will be a sophomore at Harvard. I think you’d find Pippa fascinating. It’s funny how small the world is. We were best friends in elementary school across the world but lost touch when I moved to Colorado. Yesterday, out of the blue, she sends me a message on Facebook, and it turns out we’ll be at the same school again. So unexpected.
Maybe we’ll circle back to each other, even as friends. I miss your friendship.
Yours,
Tia
Andrew: I’m an idiot.
Me: Yup, certified idiot.
Andrew: Can I see you tonight?
Me: What is this, Tinder at midnight? I’m not a booty call. Don’t call or text me unless you’re ready. I don’t do games.
Andrew: No games. I’m ready.
Me: Pippa’s address is 351 Beacon Street. I’ll be back from dinner at 8.
Andrew: Ok
Andrew: Who are you going to dinner with?
Me: I’ll trade you. Your secret for my dinner date’s name. If you say sorry, I’ll even tell you what I’m eating.
The buzzer at the gate rang harshly in the empty house. Pippa’s parents typically kept a staff of five whenever someone was living here. As soon as Pippa had jetted off to Switzerland for the weekend, I had asked the housekeeper, maid, chef, gardener, and a modern-day version of a butler to take time off. I did not need extra eyes to watch me pace the marble floors, waiting for someone whose name rhymed with Handrew Barker to come to his senses.
The kiss in my office had nearly destroyed my self-control. For a moment, I thought about forgiving him. Wasn’t half of Andrew better than nothing?
So it was with great relief to get his texts earlier that day. More than relief, it was much welcomed confirmation that I had done the right thing to put my foot down.
I hadn’t lied when I told him that I had dinner plans. I also didn’t feel the need to mention that I immediately cancelled my very platonic dinner plans so I could try on Pippa’s entire closet. I was aiming for one that struck the right balance between “Andrew, you’re an idiot” and “Andrew, rip this dress off me.”
Surprisingly they all led to a simple red velvet dress that dipped into a V at the front to show my braless boobage. Because let’s face it, this night was ending up with me braless and him doing magical things inside of me.
That is, assuming Andrew confessed to whatever ridiculous thing he had felt the need to hide. I was one hundred percent sure he was blowing it out of proportion. I was fully prepared for him to confess to something like getting drunk one night in college, thinking
he was going to be like his dad, and consequently signing himself up for AA. It would explain the texting and secrecy.
In my slinky, red dress, I opened up the door, ready to hear Andrew’s confession and move on to fantastic make-up sex. Instead, I saw Andrew walking up with a petite woman, her face hidden by a hood. She was clearly not someone random he had run into at the gate.
Despite the questions pounding in my head, my heart leaped at the sight of Andrew’s tousled hair and gray, uncertain eyes. There would never be a day when this man didn’t have an effect on me.
At the foot of the steps leading up to the front door, Andrew stopped and looked at me warily. Hoping I wasn’t inviting a figurative vampire into the house and opening myself up for a blood and cry fest, I answered his unspoken question, “Come on in.”
As if just seeing my dress, Andrew stared at me as if I were water in a desert, his eyes smoldering as they leisurely looked me up and down. His eyes widening at the low V. Any other man, I would feel offended at being ogled. With him, it was hard to take offense, when my own eyes were busy checking him out.
Our mutual lusting was interrupted as the woman delicately cleared her throat and removed her trench coat. Long, red hair framed a beautiful, ethereal face, large blue eyes, a pert nose, and tiny freckles.
She reached out a dainty hand as confusion crowded my brain.
Automatically, I shook her soft hand and mentally reminded myself that I needed to be better about moisturizing my own. “Are you Andrew’s sobriety coach?”
Her delicate eyebrows arched up in surprise. “No.”
Fudge. Ugly jealousy wrapped its tentacles around my lungs, squeezing the air out in an epic letdown. There went my reasonable explanation for this whole situation. My brain was bulldozed by the single fact that this mysterious woman was beautiful.
Yes, she was in sweats and looked exhausted and I was all dolled up. Even in sweats, she looked like a porcelain doll that most men wanted to protect.
Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2) Page 22