by Lia London
She bit her lip and tugged out her cell phone from the deep pocket of her jacket. “We won’t have bars up there, right?”
“Not unless you carry a small satellite dish on your head, and even then, your provider will probably think you’re calling from Canada half the time,” said Parker. “Make all your calls quick. We’ve got to clear the tower.”
“I’ll text.”
“Okay, then. We’ll be underway soon.” Guy pulled on earphones, and Parker did the same. Soon they were embroiled in talking through preflight procedures.
Over the rumbling of the motor, Chieko struggled to clear her thoughts. How could she communicate the mess of her life and feelings in a text to Barth? Did he even need that? After all, he hadn’t called her, either.
Finally, she settled on something simple. Heading up to Orcas with Parker and Guy. It won’t be the same without you. I will do what I can to get your job back. You’re the one with all the talent in this duo.
She hit send, then panicked. Duo. Was he okay with how she felt? But it didn’t matter anyway. She was stuck in the middle of the Charles Sato mess, and Barth wouldn’t want her mixed up emotions exploding all over him.
Maybe she needed to let this crazy crush die.
Her stomach lurched as the plane took on speed down the runway. Or maybe it lurched for another reason: the dread of leaving Barth behind.
Balancing the corner of the box springs on his knee, Barth grunted and snatched the phone from his back pocket. Notifications had been buzzing all morning, and he didn’t want to deal with them. He tossed the phone over to the couch and then shoved again.
“Easy, Barth!” groused Garold. “You nearly ran over my toes.”
A twist and a yank later, the bulky frame slid into his new bedroom. The twins let it drop to the ground beneath them while they caught their breath.
“Who keeps texting you, man?” Garold flipped his dreadlocks from his eyes and kicked the box springs into place with his foot.
“No idea.” Barth opted not to open the text from Chieko. Whatever she wanted to say couldn’t be good. Not after the picture Garold showed him.
“What if it’s Charlene?”
Barth rolled his eyes. “It’s not Charlene.”
“Maybe she changed her mind and got the hots for you.”
“Not a chance.”
Garold’s eyebrows bobbed as he shoved Barth back into the hall. “Maybe she’ll get the hots for me when she sees how much better looking I am than you.”
“We’re identical, man.”
“’Cept for you being bald.”
Barth frowned. “Clean-shaven, Garold. It’s called clean-shaven. It’s professional.” He went to the front door and peered down over the balcony at his truck bed full of his pitiful worldly possessions. “If I’m ever going to have furniture I didn’t get at a garage sale, I’ll need a good, paying job.”
“How much you get paid for the thing you were doing with Chieko?”
“Enough to get that bed.” Barth trudged down the stairs to the truck.
“Enough to patch up the hole in your head?” teased Garold, shouldering Barth towards the truck.
“No holes in my head,” said Barth, unable to join in the rough-housing mood. The hole in his heart had let out all his air and energy. “Let’s get the mattress up there, and then I can handle the rest on my own.”
“Nah, man. I’m staying to help in case I get to see Charlene.”
“She ain’t gonna want anything to do with you, Garold.” He hoisted the mattress over the side and it toppled on Garold. “She likes ’em skinny and smart. You’re the opposite of her type.”
Their smack-talking banter continued all the way up the stairs, muffled by the mattress. When they flung it into place, Barth let himself flop down to rest for a moment while Garold wandered out into the main room.
“Don’t be eating any of Charlene’s fancy food, Gar.”
“How’d you know?”
“I can hear a fridge door open a mile away.”
“That’s unnatural, man.” Garold reappeared in the doorway. “C’mon, lazy butt. We still have your stamp collection and Barbies to bring up!”
Barth bolted to his feet and tackled his twin playfully against the wall.
“Easy, easy now. Don’t go putting holes in these shiny walls. This ain’t our dorm room, you know.” Garold looked over Barth’s shoulder and smiled wide.
Barth narrowed his eyes, pinning him by the shoulders. “I’m not going to fall for that old trick.”
“What old trick?”
Barth spun to see Charlene walking in with two paper sacks of groceries.
“Oh hey, you’re back.”
“Got some stuff for a welcome-new-roomie dinner.” She smiled and set the sacks down on the counter. “Need help?”
Barth’s phone sounded from the couch, and Charlene groaned. “Oh my gosh, did Amaya forget to pack her phone? I swear!” Before Barth could stop her, she reached for his cell and swiped to answer it. “Hello, you have not reached the person you were hoping for, but if I can, I’ll get the message through.” She held her hand over the phone and rolled her eyes at Barth. “I am forever having to answer her phone.”
“That’s not…”
Charlene reacted to something she heard through the phone with a startled gasp, then dropped the phone back to the couch. “How rude. Some lady totally hung up on me after giving me a piece of her mind. I wonder what Amaya could have done to her.”
Barth inched forward and glanced with horror at the End Call message.
It had been Chieko.
Bile rose in Chieko’s throat. Could this day get any worse? Motion sickness from the plane ride left her weak. A barrage of questions about the segments accentuated the fact that Barth was the talent, not her. Voicemails from her mother and Charles about wedding plans pounded her with defeat.
And now this. She’d reached out to Barth and found out he’d already moved on to another woman. A sassy one. Probably some stupid, perky blonde.
She should’ve known better than to believe in love again and let her feelings out of the box. Rage and loss boiled inside of her, almost making her skin prickle with the energy. She looked around her apartment, so orderly in its black and white motif.
“Nothing in my life is orderly. It’s all out of control!” She shook with emotion, then stomped her foot trying to force the feelings back inside. This only hurt her ankle, and she cried out in pain, flopping onto the black leather couch.
Her phone buzzed, and she stared at it. Barth was calling back?!
Chieko ground her teeth. No doubt he wanted to make some awkward excuse for why a bimbo answered his phone and why he never called. Well, she’d give him a good reason to run away and leave her alone.
Snatching up the phone, she answered with a shout. “How could you do that to me?”
Her words came echoing back to her in Barth’s voice.
She squinted, confused. “What do you mean? You’re the one who went off with—”
“How could you play me like that when you knew all along you were getting married to that rich guy?” he demanded.
“Oh, don’t you dare turn this back on me. You’ve already got a girl lined up—”
“That’s nothing! She’s my new roommate—”
“Roommate? You’ve moved in with another woman after… Auugh!” Chieko collapsed into the armrest, sobbing. Why did this hurt so much? They’d only shared a few kisses. But how could he do that?
“Chieko, it’s Charlene! I’m at Amaya’s place. Chieko, are you listening to me?” His voice came tinny through the earpiece.
She sniffed and sat up with a glimmer of hope. “You live with Amaya now?”
“No, she moved out, but—”
“You lying, two-timing jerk!”
“Says the girl who went and got engaged the day after she kissed me and told me she really, really, really liked me. What game are you playing, Chieko? You can’t have it both way
s. You can’t get all the guys and say I can’t have a roomie—”
“I’m not playing any games, Barth!”
Silence followed her sharp tone, and then his voice came quietly. “Are you marrying Charles Sato, or not?”
Chieko choked on doubt. “I …” How would she get out of it? It’s what her family wanted. It would be emotionally safe because she’d be numb. She didn’t love Charles, but wasn’t she trapped? Her family’s expectations choked her.
“I see.”
“No, Barth. You don’t see. My family—”
“Don’t blame your choices on your family. You choose your own way.”
“I don’t know how. There’s too much conflict.”
Barth’s voice held an uncharacteristic bitterness. “You’re afraid of conflict but you’re shouting at me? Blaming me for this mess? You played me, Chieko. You hurt me!”
Grief encircled her heart like a vice. “I never meant …”
“I know how it is. Some girls think they’re in love, but they can’t accept an African-American man. A poor man. Even if he’s a good man, because that’s not good enough. Especially if Mommy and Daddy don’t like it.”
Chieko grasped the phone with both hands. “I can accept you!”
“But you can’t bring yourself to choose me if your daddy doesn’t approve.”
Breathing hard, Chieko swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Are you giving me that option? To choose you? Are you standing there offering me stability and a love that will last? What are you offering me, Barth? If I have to make a choice, I need to be informed, you know. Don’t they teach you that stuff in college? You’re the smart one, remember?”
She crumpled into a knot. How could she be so mean? But she needed to know if he wanted her—truly wanted her.
“I …” Barth fell silent, and the void of sound emptied Chieko’s heart. He didn’t love her enough to fight for her hand. No one wanted her as more than a pretty prize, temporary and disposable. Even Charles would surely drop her the moment he grew bored with her, with or without a divorce.
It was better not to feel. Not to love. Not to hurt.
“Good-bye, Barth.” She disconnected the call and stuffed the phone under the couch cushions. Curling into a ball, she cried until numbness set in and sleep claimed her.
Chapter 14 ~ A New Living Arrangement
Barth awoke face down on his undressed mattress. Sunlight crept through the blinds, casting slanted lines across the emptiness of his room. For a moment, the effect reminded him of a prison cell. He sighed, accepting the image. It fit his mood. Trapped.
“He lives!” Charlene appeared in the doorway with a glass of green sludge.
“If you say so.” He dropped his face back to the quilted surface of his mattress. In any other time of his life, he would wilt at the sight of Charlene’s pert figure draped in a tank and sweats, but she was a reminder of why Chieko was gone. Chieko thought he was having an affair or something.
“You might want to get your stuff out of the front room.”
Barth sat up. “Huh?”
She took a swig of the slime and pointed out to the main room. “After your little melt down, Garold and I brought up the rest of your junk and stuffed it in the living room. It was raining, after all.”
“Oh. Right.” Barth dragged his palms from his chin to the back of his head, stretching his features en route. “Thanks.”
“You going to be okay? You were pretty upset.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He yawned, his unfocused gaze falling on Charlene’s form in the doorway.
“You’re not getting any sympathy sex from me, you know.”
“I know.” Why would he want that?
“Good.” She strolled back out to the main room. “Because Garold wouldn’t like it.”
Barth blinked and followed her. “Garold wouldn’t—”
“Your brother is totally hot.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We are identical twins.” Barth padded into the bathroom and turned on the sink, letting it run for a moment before he remembered to move. No toothbrush. He hadn’t unpacked yet. With a sigh, he splashed the water onto his face and head and stared disapprovingly at his reflection.
Charlene’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “I never made the new roomie dinner, but if you get this crap out of the living room, I can mix you a smoothie or fry you an egg or something.”
“That’s real nice of you.”
“It’s also a one-time shot. I am not your mom, maid, or mistress.”
“Yes, boss.” Barth saluted, his senses dulled as he thudded into the living room and began lifting soggy cardboard boxes and plastic tubs full of his belongings. “Thanks again for rescuing my stuff from the rain.”
As he rounded the corner into his room with the first load, Charlene called out, “You want me to call Chieko back and explain what’s up? She probably didn’t even realize it was me.”
Barth thought about this, the weight of his sorrow pulling him down more than the boxes in his arms. “Nah, I think I blew it way beyond that. She wanted more from me than I can give.”
“A million bucks?”
Setting the boxes and tubs down, Barth frowned. Chieko hadn’t actually asked for wealth. But she wanted stability. Did that have to mean a marriage proposal just yet?
“Hey, Charlene?” His mind grew a little more alert. “Do all girls want marriage right off the bat? I mean, how fast do you think that’s all supposed to go?”
“Heck no,” said Charlene, dropping a small frying pan onto the electric burner. She peeked under the cabinet bar area at him. “No rush.”
“Oh.”
“Of course, it depends on the girl. Look at Amaya and Frank. That only took a few months.”
Barth nodded.
“It might depend on how traditional the girl is, you know? Chieko’s family is pretty tight, isn’t it?”
“Like a noose, the way I hear it.” He bent to pick up another tub. “But she’s scared of not getting married when her parents want her to.”
“And are you scared of getting married when she wants to?”
“It’s too soon, isn’t it?”
Charlene shrugged. “Probably. Some people are afraid to tie the knot, and others are afraid not to. Both are stupid to be afraid, if you ask me. When it’s the right person and the right time, it’ll work out.”
Barth heaved the tub onto his hip and grabbed a loaded hamper by the handle. Had his dad been afraid to ask his mom? Had she been afraid to say yes?
“I’m not ready to talk marriage,” said Barth thoughtfully. “But I’m ready to see if she’s the one I’d want to marry someday.” He groaned. “But it’s too late for that now. I could never explain it to her. And I’ve got nothing to offer so she’d want to stick around and test the waters with me.”
“I’d say the bigger problem is she’s engaged to someone else. Most girls are willing to test the waters if they think the guy is serious. I guess she figures this guy is super serious.”
“Yeah.” He carried his last items into his room and stood thinking slowly. If he hadn’t been so mad and hurt the night before, he might have made one of his usual jokes. Maybe he could have convinced her to give him another chance.
But he’d given up, forfeiting the game before he ever lined up for the scrimmage. Now he’d never know if he could have sacked Charles right off the playing field.
When Parker said she didn’t need to see Chieko for a couple of days, the break turned into drudgery. With no excuse to leave town, she couldn’t escape the inevitable duties of a bride-to-be. For hours, her mother pored over websites and magazines showing traditional Shinto weddings, periodically tapping Chieko’s shoulder.
“Prune the guest list, Chieko. But not too far. It should be intimate, but we will need to find gifts for each person who comes.”
Burdened by her own apathy, Chieko debated starting a fight. “In America, the guests do the giving, not th
e couple.”
Mayumi sighed heavily. “They’ll bring gifts, but you’re marrying Charles Sato. It would be an embarrassment if you did not show the generosity allowed by your new station in life.”
“My new station.” Chieko’s mind wandered to her work at KGW, and from there to the work she’d done with Barth.
No. That hurt too much.
How had she gone from No Way to No Way Out overnight? Had she really caved to the pressure of family and friends?
Was she crazy not to want Charles?
Chieko stared blankly at the potential guest list. Her American friends would want to bring toasters and crystal vases instead of the expected goshugi—crisp, high-denomination bills in decorative envelopes. How could she seriously ask them for cash when she was marrying a millionaire?
“Be very specific with the list for the invitations, Chieko,” admonished her mother. “There is no guest-plus-one in a traditional Japanese wedding. We need to know exactly how many people are coming to share in this joyous event.”
Chieko frowned. It wasn’t a joyous event. It was an emotional execution.
“Mom, I …” How could she tell her mother she’d never actually accepted Charles’ proposal? Would it even matter at this point?
She massaged her temples with her fingertips. This was all her fault. Her fear of love, of anger, of any volatile emotion sucked out all the meaning in her life. Who cared about white kimonos with fancy hats when she had found such happiness in driving an ATV over sand dunes with Down Syndrome riders, playing at a science museum, and talking to kids about dinosaur bones? What traditional feast could taste as good as a drive-through breakfast burrito or Grammy MarLee’s cherry pie? What wealthy mansion could make up for the comfort of Barth’s arms as she curled against him on an ugly old sectional couch?
Her new life would be beautiful like the pictures in these magazines, and when the floods of trials came as they do to everyone, she would dissolve just as quickly.
Unless she faced her fears. Unless she opened her heart one more time in desperation to see if she could fill it—just once—with something worth keeping. And though it made no sense on paper, Barth was worth keeping. She couldn’t pinpoint why yet, but she knew it was true.