“So, do you have family here in Richmond?” he asked between bites.
I shook my head. “No. Well, Lily and Tom are practically family to me. But no, my dad and stepmom live in Tyson’s Corner. No grandparents or aunts and uncles or anything. What about you? Any family?”
He nodded, “Yeah. My foster parents live here. And James, the guy who answered the door that day we were moving?”
I blushed with embarrassment, remembering my rudeness.
“Yeah, he’s my foster brother.”
“So you were in foster care?” Since he opened the door, I figured I would inquire.
He nodded again. “Yep. I bounced around a lot in the beginning. I was a pretty tough kid. Then I found Amy and Dave and they were great. I lived there for all four years of high school and during my first two years of college.”
“So you didn’t have to move out when you turned eighteen?”
He shook his head. “No. They wanted to adopt me, I was family. I am family to them. Like I said, though, I was a really tough kid. I told the judge I didn’t want to be adopted, and I did everything under the sun for them to kick me out, trying to prove that they were just like everyone else. Sort of ironic isn’t it? Push away the only people you care about to try and prove that they don’t really care?”
I smiled an understanding smile. “I know all about it. I did the same thing to my dad for the entire first year home. Calling me a tough kid would be an understatement for what my dad went through with me until I went to college.”
“Your dad sounds like a good guy,” he said as more of a statement than a question.
“He is,” I answered. “When people hear my story they’re always shocked that my dad just came and rescued me. In reality, he could have left me in that orphanage in India. But that’s not who my dad is.”
“You were in an orphanage?” he asked, taking his last bite of pancake.
I pushed my food around some. “Yeah. For a few months after my mom died. It was a nice enough place, which I now now is because of my dad. Before my mom died he had already started the paperwork process to come over to see me, so when he got the call that she died he made sure I went somewhere nice. They had to do a DNA test to confirm that he was my father and then a whole mess of paperwork, expedited, to get my dual citizenship instated so that he could bring me home. I didn’t know that any of this went on, obviously. Not until he told me.”
He pushed his plate to the side, took my hand, and searched my face until our eyes met.
“Well I’m glad that you have him.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb across the top of my hand.
“Well I’m glad you have Amy and Dave. They sound like good people, too. Everybody needs somebody.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” he said, grinning.
I blushed.
We finished up with our pancakes and made our way back to the street towards Blake’s car.
I saw a homeless man sitting near his car on the ground. This wasn’t an unusual site in Richmond. The homeless population was getting bigger and bigger and without vagrancy laws, it wasn’t going to diminish anytime soon.
He stood when he saw us and began walking towards us. His hair was stuck to his head; he had cracked lips and no teeth.
This was an all too familiar and memorable site for me. I took a step back, breaking contact with Blake.
Blake cocked his head and looked at me confused, holding his hand out for me again.
I shook my head and took another step back.
“Spare any change?” the homeless man inquired, stepping closer to us.
I took another step back and hit the wall of the building next to us.
Blake looked between the homeless man and me and then walked towards me, but not before the homeless man took an even closer step to me, and was only a foot or so away.
“Miss, could you spare some change?” he said holding out his hand.
His grubby, greasy, calloused hand.
I started to shake my head vigorously, having flashbacks of those hands. Those hands making their way up my thigh, inside my sari. Those hands that punched me in the nose when I tried to scream and covered my mouth when he forced himself inside me.
“Atkaav!” (Stop!) I screamed in Hindi.
Blake pushed the homeless man out of the way and held me.
I slapped his chest and pulled away and screamed in Hindi again, shaking my head vigorously.
“Shhh, Asha. I’m right here,” he said, pulling me into him again.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the dampness on his chest.
I jerked away, coming out of the episode and realizing what had happened. “Oh my God. Oh, shit... I’m so sorry.”
He pulled me in again. “Why the hell are you sorry? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him get so close to you. I’m sorry.”
I was shaking but tried to compose myself. I pulled back and roughly wiped away my tears, pissed that my makeup was ruined, and shook my head.
“Blake, you don’t have to do this,” I said defiantly.
He put his hand on my chin and raised my head so that we were looking at each other. Another rogue tear made its way down my cheek.
“Really, Blake. I’m messed up. You don’t need to do this,” I said, quieter this time.
“You are not messed up. Your past is messed up. Your past does not define you. You are not messed up,” he said confidently, looking at me in that soul-searching way.
The air between us shifted. There was a physical pull between us, bringing us closer until he was holding me again. I closed my eyes and accepted his comfort, letting the feel of him be the thing to keep me grounded.
I’m not even sure how long we stood there, because in that moment, time didn’t matter. Time was an irrelevant force; the only force that mattered was the two of us.
I stood there in his arms, continuing to shake, an occasional sob rising from my throat, and he didn’t falter.
Chapter Eight
We walked up the stairs towards our shared porch hand in hand. When we reached the top, he pulled me in for another embrace.
He pulled back and leaned in, holding my face in his hands.
“You possess charms that you know not of “he whispered.
I kept my eyes locked onto his but smiled and breathed back, “Quoting Edmond Rostand...are you real?”
He chuckled softly. “I’ve been asking myself for days if you are really real. I have a way to find out.”
Then he did it. He kissed me. Chastely, softly, lips upon lips. But oh boy, he kissed me.
My entire body was on fire from the chemistry flowing freely between the two of us.
I exhaled slowly, eyes still closed, savoring every moment of the aftershock of his kiss.
I opened my eyes as he put a hand on my hip and pulled me in again.
This kiss was more passionate, but was still soft.
I closed my eyes and fell into his embrace. I’m not sure how long the second kiss lasted; again it seemed like time did not exist when our bodies connected.
When he pulled back we were both a little breathless. We gazed at each other for a moment before he kissed the top of my head.
“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he whispered.
“Goodnight,” I whispered back.
I opened my door and turned, waving one last time before closing it and leaning against the back of it.
Lily shrieked and skipped to where I was standing, grabbing both of my hands with hers.
“I saw! I saw! Oh my God Asha, I am so happy for you!” she exclaimed while hopping up and down.
I grinned, both in the aftershock of my evening and at my friend’s excitement.
She pulled me to the sofa and we sat down.
“Tell me everything!” she demanded.
We sat there for about an hour while I told her everything, except the part about the homeless man. She didn’t need to know that. That was crossing into “whole truth” department an
d as much as I loved Lily, she couldn’t handle all of that.
I looked at the clock and realized it was past 1am.
“Oh shit, Lily. I’ve got to get to bed.”
We both went upstairs to our respective rooms. I went to the bathroom and wiped off my eye makeup, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. Then I grabbed some comfy fleece pajamas and went to climb into bed.
I heard music playing and let a small smile form on my face.
Everything Changed by Farewell Flight.
I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter.
Asha Harris
@AshaGirlRVA
Everything has definitely changed.
#GoodnightMrGreenEyes
Within seconds there was a reply.
Blake Daley
@Blake_RVA
@AshaGirl If this is change, then I want it all :)
#GoodnightMsBlueEyes
He followed that with a text. I grinned like a fool reading it.
There are really no words that could express how much I enjoyed tonight. Hoping it is the first of many amazing nights. Coffee in the morning? :)
I quickly replied.
Minus the ugly crying, I agree. :) Coffee sounds good...hanging with you sounds better. Buzzy’s at 9am? :)
I bit my thumb waiting on his reply.
Sweet girl, you could never be ugly. And if crying is all I get, I’ll take it. See you in the morning. Sweet dreams. :)
I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned.
What had I gotten myself into?
He had seen the tip of the iceberg of my whole truth, and he hadn’t run. He didn’t falter or show pity. He did exactly what I needed in that moment, and doing what I needed seemed to be what he needed.
Chapter Nine
I slipped on my running shoes and started walking down the stairs, setting my playlist to play Cashmere Cat.
I stretched for a few minutes on the sidewalk and then took off. I always started with a slow jog, slowly picking up pace until I was at a steady run. I dodged people walking their dogs, focusing on my breathing and paying attention to the beat of the song.
I rounded the corner, ran in place while I waited to cross the street, then dodged across and down two more streets before getting to Jefferson park.
My iPod switched to MIA and I kept my pace running laps around the sidewalk surrounding the park. Couples sat in benches, kids played in the playground, but they were invisible to me. The only thing visible was what was directly in front of me.
Breathing in and out, I cleared my mind.
This is why I needed my run. It kept me grounded and kept my mind from going foggy.
After finishing my ten laps, I stopped to put my hands on my knees and catch a breath. I hadn’t realized how much faster I was running until I stopped.
I checked my pulse and then decided to slow myself down and walk to Buzzy’s.
I saw Blake parking as I got towards the front of the coffee shop. I smiled and waited on him to join me.
He smiled shyly when he saw me, then walked over and leaned in to give me a soft kiss.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said softly.
“Good morning,” I breathed.
We smiled at each other and walked in, hand in hand.
After we ordered and got our coffee, I added my cream and sugar and we took a seat by the window.
“So, what’s on your agenda today, Mr. Venue Owner?” I asked coyly.
He snickered. “Well, when I’m done having coffee with this beautiful lady I’m seeing, I’m heading to Shine to get some work done and meet with a new band. And when I’m done I’m hoping I can take said beautiful lady out to dinner.”
I smiled as I sipped my coffee. “She sounds like a lucky girl. She’d be pretty dumb to turn down a dinner invitation.”
He ran his thumb along my knuckles and smiled. “So what’s on your agenda today?”
“Well, when I’m done having coffee with this handsome fellow I’m seeing, I’m going to go work on some designs for his business. Then I’m going to blog for a while, and have an interesting afternoon planned that includes a riveting biography on Louis Pasteur. Apparently my guy wants to take me to dinner so I suppose I can squeeze him in there somewhere.” I winked at him playfully.
His eyes sparkled. “Sounds like a lucky guy.”
“Mmm, I definitely think that I’m the lucky one in this situation,” I responded coyly.
We talked and sipped coffee for about an hour before walking outside so Blake could head to Shine and I could go home to get my work done.
He ran his thumb along my bottom lip before swooping in for a quick kiss.
“Bye, beautiful girl. I’ll text you when I wrap up at work.”
I nodded, eyes still closed, “Mmhm. I’ll email you my designs as soon as I finish up.”
We said our final goodbyes before he got in his car to leave. I stuck my headphones back in my ears, letting Sia get me through the rest of my run home.
I opened the door and dropped my shoes in the basket and glanced around, realizing that Lily wasn’t home. I checked the mail on the side table, plucked out a few bills, and then made my way upstairs.
I walked in the bathroom to turn on the water for my shower, opened up my wardrobe to pull out a maxi dress, then proceeded to take off my running clothes and step into the shower.
I put my hands on the wall of the shower and let the hot water run down my back. I started contemplating my flashback episode last night and remembered the first time that happened after coming home to my dad.
It had been my dad’s gardner. He didn’t even really look that much like my attacker. The only thing they had in common was that his hair was stuck to the side of his face.
I had a total blackout breakdown. When my dad found me I was hiding in the corner of the storage shed outside, rocking back and forth and chanting in Hindi. When he had reached his hand out for me, I slapped his hand away and screamed.
He finally picked me up and carried me in the house and I went into shock. He had the maid give me a bath because I wouldn’t let him help me with my clothes, so he thought if he had tried to bathe me I would lose it. He was probably right.
For two days after that I just sat perched in my rocking chair by my window and stared outside.
The third day I finally came out of it and was able to go on as if nothing had happened.
I shook my head thinking about it, and remembering Blake’s words.
“Your dad sounds like a good guy. ”
Oh, Blake had no idea.
I finished scrubbing off all the sweat and grime from my run, washed and conditioned my hair, and then turned off the water and climbed out.
I sighed, knowing what I needed to do next. I brushed my hair and slipped on my dress before walking over to my desk. I picked up my phone and sat on my chair, swiveling back and forth while I dialed her number.
“Asha, dear! What can I do for you?” Katherine asked.
“Katherine...” I said simply.
“Uh oh. What’s going on?” She could tell by my tone that something had happened.
“I had a flashback last night,” I said quietly.
I heard her blow out a breath. “Uh oh. Ok, tell me what happened.”
I went over the story of the homeless man with her, including Blake’s response to the whole situation.
“Ok. So how do you feel today?” she asked.
“Well, that’s the weird part, Katherine. I feel fine. I mean, I remember what happened, but today I’m okay.”
“Mmm,” she said, rather cryptically.
“Why the ‘mmm’? What are you thinking?”
“Well, it sounds like Blake interceded before you got to the point of no return, and it sounds like he brought you out of the episode fairly quickly. It also sounds like you’ve come a long way, because a few years ago, with or without help, you would be a mess right now. This is tremendous growth, Asha,” she said proudly.
I bit
the tip of my thumb, still swiveling from side to side in my chair.
She took my silence as permission to continue. “Are you worried that this opens the door to more brutal honesty?”
Not that she could see me, but I nodded and my lip quivered. I sniffed as a single tear fell down my cheek.
“It’s too much,” I responded.
“What is too much, dear? The truth?”
“Yeah. It’s too much for anybody to deal with.”
“Asha, you deal with your history every day. Was it too much for me? Did it change the way I behaved towards you?” her voice was firmer now, as if she were chastising me.
“That’s your job, Katherine. And I would hardly say that I’m dealing. I would say I’m surviving, at best.” I said, wiping my nose.
“Dear girl, I think we surpassed our relationship as a job status a long time ago, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.”
“And you are doing far more than surviving.”
Chapter Ten
Jane Austen says in Persuasion that “She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the natural sequence of an unnatural beginning.”
Why is this relevant to me? Well, romance was not only something I avoided to the point of complete social rejection, but it was and is something I don’t have a clue about. I have repelled any form of it for so long that other than parental love and the love I have for my friends, I didn’t and still don’t understand it.
Then, out of freaking nowhere, in walks “Mr. Green Eyes.”
Complicating things.
Forcing me to feel things.
Forcing me to face things, in some ways.
Is it fate? Is it just good, or bad, timing? Or is it simply the natural order of things?
Are we predesigned for love, even when we spend our lives running from it? Is it something in all of us, on the basest of levels that we can’t escape even if we want to?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying “I love Mr. Green Eyes.”
I would call it a strong like.
When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1) Page 6