The Solitude of Passion

by Addison Moore

I never said the pain would disappear.

  Mitch

  It takes an entire day to readjust to the light—start seeing people and things without spots or lines running through them. Just three days this time in solitary. I think they’re going soft.

  I spot Gao in the dining hall just before lunch. Sometimes they shift the population, and people float into the sea of humanity. It takes a while to relocate them once you’ve lost touch.

  “Paper book,” he says. “Wear nice shoes. I give you tomorrow.”

  Nice shoes—as in contraband receptacle. There are only flip-flops and slippers here. You need the slippers to do the transport. If the authorities come by and you freak, you can easily kick it out and look the other way. I’ve seen enough of my origami floating around to figure this out. You have to request the shoes. You need to convince them that your feet hurt so damn much they’re about to fall off. The shoes aren’t impressive—not much more than corrugated cardboard, but they work.

  “I’ll dress for the occasion.”

  A strangled vibe takes over the hall. One by one, all eyes turn toward the back as a small band of guards walk shoulder to shoulder up and down the aisle ways.

  Strange.

  They’re looking for something—someone. All suited up in fatigues, each hugging their long, slender weapons as if it were a woman. Something big is about to go down—a beating, a hanging. They don’t dress to impress unless there’s some form of torment at the other end of the necrotic rainbow.

  You could hear a pin drop as the tension chews through the air. It’s not until they enter the aisle across from me that I note a small, dark head bobbing in their midst with sunglasses set neatly on top. He pauses to scrutinize every being at the table, advancing at a decent clip until I recognize him, and my heart stops.

  “Kyle.” My voice reverberates off the walls like a gong.

  His expression brightens as he cuts through the tables, landing just feet away. “Mitch Townsend?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been dead for the last five years.”

  It’s hard to focus in on anything once you hear the words you’re free to go.

  I told Gao to keep the paper book. Officiated him as the keeper of the pearly gates, and follow Kyle downstairs to something I never thought I’d see while still in my body—the fucking beautiful exit.

  The guard at the gate opens it with such passive disregard I’m almost disappointed. I sort of envisioned going out in a blaze of glory—a twenty-one gun salute while absorbing the bullets right into my back, but there’s nothing. They let me out as if I were a visitor, a Westerner who just toured the facility.

  I take three steps outside the building before the humidity hits my skin. The foreign orb in the sky blesses me with its glory as I hold out my arms, soaking it all in. A fresh blast of air washes over me like a baptism—like a birthright, and I lose myself in a vat of tears.

  Kyle speaks in a low hushed tone, but his voice gets lost in the rush of the city blooming in my ears.

  Everything is new. It’s as if the world refined itself in the time I was gone and now its sharper, crisper, more stunning than ever before. Just having this kind of space—this kind of freedom to move paralyzes me on some level. To know that somewhere on this planet is beautiful, beautiful Lee scares me to death.

  A parade of people congests the sidewalk and mow us over to the edge. I watch the wall of humanity, the dark carpet of hair bobbing up and down the street, and for a moment I’m lost in the tide with panic railing through me. There are so many damn people on the planet. How could I have left Lee for a moment? And all these years she had to learn to survive, to fend for herself because I was too incompetent to get back to her. I pause a moment and try to let life catch up with me as my newfound attorney pats me on the back.

  “Let’s get you some clothes. You hungry? Hope you like Chinese.”

  Kyle Wong fills me in on the world events of the last five years, smaller phones, social media, battery-operated cars. The only thing I remember were women and wine, and, at that, there was only one woman for me.

  I soak it all in over a plateful of delicious food that redefines the less than palatable crap I’ve been forcing into my stomach since I’ve been here. Kyle bought me a brand new pair of Levis, a pair of Nike Air sneakers, and a T-shirt with the Chinese flag emblazoned across the front as a souvenir. He’s got a dry sense of humor I’ve come to appreciate the last twenty minutes, and to tell the truth he could have dressed me like a duck, and I would still appreciate him.

  “So I’m going to do a press release when we get back to L.A.” He blots his mouth. “You just tell them you’d like some privacy. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll field a great book deal as soon as I get back to my office. We’re talking six figures to begin with, but easily the numbers can skyrocket.”

  “I need to call my wife.”

  His chest pumps with a laugh. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. After five years I suspect she’s moved on.” He glances to the ceiling. “If you’re lucky she’s just coming off a divorce.”

  A stilted smile wobbles on my lips. This is life through the myopic eye of an attorney. A dark well of an eye with tendrils that chase dollars, but a beautiful eye that plucked me from the hands of my misery nevertheless.

  “Maybe I will get lucky.” I smear it with a wry smile. “Anyway, I’d better call my wife. My mom might have a heart attack if she hears my voice.”

  “She might.” He nods appreciatively. “All hell is going to break loose once word gets back that you’re alive. Just wait and see.”

  Once Kyle settles me into a hotel room, I try calling Lee, but keep getting a man who claims he’s never heard of her. Memorizing phone numbers was one thing I made a point to do religiously. Obviously the false doctrine of rote number memorization wasn’t my strong suit. I can’t remember Colt’s number either, so I dial the house, the one number my mother hasn’t changed since I was seven—at least I hope not.

  The phone rings, and I try to make myself comfortable on the enormous bed in an effort to calm my nerves. Kyle put me up in a room next to his. I told him I’d meet him for dinner, although I haven’t eaten this much in the last two months—hell, maybe the last five years.

  “Hello?” A male voice grumbles from the other end.

  It’s Colton.

  My throat locks off, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

  “Hello?” His voice grows cold in agitation, and for a moment I’m paralyzed by the thought he might hang up. I close my eyes and thank God it wasn’t my mother. Killing people with the sound of my voice isn’t the way I’m hoping to reintegrate myself into society.

  “Colt?” I press out his name—try it out on my lips for the first time in half a decade.

  “Speaking.”

  “It’s me, Mitch.”

  Silence clots up the line.

  “Don’t hang up.” He probably thinks it’s some sick joke. I rattle off what happened, quicker than a shotgun blast—how I came to the reeducation center, how I got to the phone.

  I can hear him breathing—staccato intakes of air, jagged heaves that indicate he might be sobbing, inebriated—both. A thin veil of tears masks my face, but I manage to sniff back the trauma and continue.

  “I need a ride home from the airport. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes. Of course.” His voice cracks when he says it. “I’ll bring Mom. Hell, I’ll bring Lee.”

  Lee.

  A release—a whole fountain of tears flows from me. I wasn’t going to ask—afraid mostly she might have died, my biggest fear, second only to marrying someone else, although I haven’t taken that off the table just yet.

  I give Colton the flight number and time of arrival and ask him not to tell me anything else about Lee or the baby. I want to see my child, or hear about her or him for the first time through Lee’s beautiful lips. And for sure I don’t want to torture myself for the next twenty-four hours regarding the private details of Lee’s li
fe—the ones that might make me wish I were back in the armpit of isolation. I need to keep hope alive, learn as I go, not expect too much.

  “She look the same?” It’s the one luxury I figure I can afford.

  “Stunning.” He doesn’t say anything else, so I don’t push it. Stunning is more than good enough. I’d love Lee no matter what she looked like, and personally I wish she wasn’t so stunning while I was away, but now that I’m headed home, I’m pretty damn glad.

  “See you on the flip side,” I say. “Love you, man.”

  “Love you too, Mitch.”

  Hong Kong International airport is polished—cosmopolitan, and a far cry from the barbarism of the detention center I was imprisoned in. The first hellhole was flat out barbaric, strongly capable of evoking the envy of any medieval tormentor worth his salt. The second, prison just the same, but with palatable living conditions if you happen to be a rodent or a roach. I push both out of my mind as I try to keep up with Kyle who walks at a frenetic pace. I don’t bother telling him I’m weak, that I haven’t walked this distance since I got off the plane five years ago.

  Five years. It felt like ten, felt like a lifetime—like it happened to another person entirely.

  The flight attendant asks for the passport I don’t have. Instead I provide the paperwork Kyle squeezed out of the U.S. consulate’s ass like a dime store magician. My stomach turns as she calls for reinforcement by way of a supervisor. Together they sit and scrutinize my flimsy paperwork as visions of Lee warble in and out of my mind. She’s so damn close I could feel her. Please God don’t take this away. Spending another minute here—one fucking layover, might actually kill me.

  They mumble into one another swift and pressured like a pair of nonplused humming birds before nodding me through.

  It’s happening.

  I’m walking on air. Not sure my feet ever touch the ground as I follow Kyle into the long, snakelike terminal. I can see the crack of daylight that splits the distance between the plane and the boarding bridge. Made it.

  Baby steps to Lee.

  I hold onto Kyle’s shoulder all the way to first class.

  A stewardess appears with a beverage cart and a basket filled with fruit and candy before I can buckle my seatbelt. So much luxury, so much attention to superfluous detail—everything in excess, and all I want, all I need is Lee—Lee in all her beautiful simplicity—Lee and our baby.

  A seam of tears seals over my lids as I try to imagine how it will all unfold.

  The plane takes off, filling my ears with a violent rush, metal fighting gravity, pulling me to Lee like a missile. China descends, and I wipe the dust off the soles of my feet and curse it as we thrust into the virginal sky.

  I did what I could, littered their world with paper roses, and now I was free to go.

  Lee and all her glory.

  I wonder how she’ll greet me? I’ll know by how she kisses me whether or not she’s married. Maybe I’ll get a peck on the cheek? Worse, maybe she’ll stand at arms length while pushing flowers in my direction, shaking my hand as if I had just championed a cause in honor of our country. Definitely not what I want, but I’ll take it. I’ll take anything she wants to give as long as I’m near her again. Then there’s my favorite scenario—Lee diving down on top of me with unbridled passion—security alerted to wrestle us apart.

  Tears spiral down my face, quick and furious.

  I’m coming home, Lee.

  Finally.

  I am coming home.

  Max

  The sun presses down over Townsend field like a penalty. It rains white-hot machetes, feels like it’s splicing my skin open with every stinging ray. I pluck off my baseball hat and put a call into Colton.

  “You coming?” I snipe at him because I damn well know he’s not. His useless ass was supposed to help me dig out the line an hour ago to keep the plumbing cost down by doing half the work. I’m not even sure why I bother. If Colt shows it’ll be a bona fide miracle. I’ll have to call the fucking Vatican.

  “Nah, man, sorry,” he rasps into the phone. “I forgot I have to pick up a friend down at LAX. I just asked Lee to come with, you mind?”

  “Nope.” I give a hard exhale. “I don’t mind.” Knew I couldn’t count on Colt. I hang up and call Lee.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, trying not to sound as irritated as I am.

  “Colt begged me to drive down to L.A. with him. He’s probably picking up some mail order bride. I just dropped Stella off at school. Eli’s with your mom.”

  “L.A.’s pretty far. What time do you think you’ll get back?” It’s a good three-hour drive—each way. “You know he’s using you for the fast lane.” I give a half-hearted smile. I should be the one stealing my wife away on a day trip. Looks like Colton Townsend outsmarted me for once.

  She clicks her tongue. “He says the flight comes in at one. By the time we turn around—let’s say six with traffic? Look, I’ll be home for dinner. How about you and me sneak out tonight? I’ll have your mom pick up Stella. I’ll roll around in the fields with you if you want. We can get down and dirty just the way you like it.”

  A dull laugh escapes me. “Get home in one piece. I’ll take you out to dinner. No rolling in the fields. I’ll find somewhere much more desirable to roll around with you. I’m all for getting down and dirty.”

  “Deal. Don’t work too hard. We’re still on baby time.”

  “Looking forward to it. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  What I’m not looking forward to is the scalding shower that she believes magically produces baby girls. I swear I think she gets a thrill out of pushing me into that incinerator. It makes the hostile efforts of the sun feel like a cool spring shower.

  Not that I mind.

  I’d step into a thousand ovens for Lee.

  8

  The Reunion

  Lee

  “Mom?” I’m a bit surprised to see Janice in Colt’s oversized SUV. “You don’t need me, Colt.” I can stay in town and get important stuff done like bribing Max to come home for lunch—having him in every room in the house before dinner.

  “Get in,” Janice insists. “It’ll be fun. When was the last time we did a road trip? You want the front?” She starts to get out of the car.

  “No, no. I’ll hop in back.” I crawl in, and Colton hits the gas before I can properly shut the door. “Careful, cowboy. Max wants me home in one piece.”

  Colton catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Well, if Max said it, I guess I’d better do it.”

  “Stop.” Janice taps his arm. She looks frayed, aged and this unsettles me.

  “Like it or not, he’s here to stay.” I lean in toward Janice. “And, by the way, we’re trying again.” I sing the words like a dream. Janice wants another baby in the family as much as I do.

  They exchange looks, and Colton keeps driving.

  “I said, I’m trying to give you another grandchild.” I place my head near her shoulder. Janice has been after me for months to expand the family.

  “Terrific.” She doesn’t turn around, just keeps her gaze locked on the road.

  She probably didn’t hear me over the radio, probably thinks I’m talking about a manicure.

  “It’s finally cooling off,” I say, relaxing into my seat.

  Neither Colton nor Janice say a word, each lost in their own haze of silence.

  It’s early. I doubt they’ve ingested the required amount of caffeine to kick-start the engine. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be much of a road trip.

  I get comfortable, using my purse as a pillow and drift off to sleep before we ever get out of town.

  “Lee.” Colton shakes me until I snap out of my dreamlike stupor. “Get up, we’re here.”

  “Really?” I slip my seatbelt off and take in the shock of light pouring in from the window. A steady stream of traffic bustles around us. “I can’t believe I slept all the way,” I say, giving a few hard blinks with my eyelids as coarse as sandp
aper. All of these baby-making sessions have kept me up until two and three in the morning this past week. Making love to Max has finally caught up with me. Who knew the drive to pick up one of Colt’s floozies would prove to be medicinal.

  Janice wipes her eyes, probably slept all the way down, too. Poor Colt—must have felt like he was transporting corpses.

  “You awake?” I rub her back.

  “Damn allergies.” She pushes a tissue into her eyes.

  Looks like she’s been crying, though—bawling, if you ask me. Figures. Colt probably confessed to picking up a prostitute and shattered her dreams of him ever becoming a decent member of society—a good boy. Poor Janice lost the only good boy she’d ever have in Mitch. She has Max, though, and Max has proved to be nothing but a prize.

  “Take a swig.” Colton shoves a water bottle in my face like I just ran a marathon. “Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

  I don’t fight it, just down a good third and hand it back.

  “Hydrating me?” A dull smile hedges on my lips. “How much luggage am I going to be hauling?”

  He cuts a look across the street. “I’d venture to guess, none.”

  Los Angeles International Airport is thick with jostling crowds. People buzz in dizzying circles. Suitcases are dragged at intolerable speeds—stacked and loaded onto cumbersome carts. Every third person is shouting into their phone. It feels as if the entire world is trying to outpace itself while bodies stride off in twelve different directions.

  I miss the hustle and bustle of travel. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a plane. It’s hard with the kids, but Eli is older now. I should mention it to Max. We could spend Christmas in Hawaii and make our baby in paradise. Then again, every day with Max is paradise. Wherever he is, that’s where paradise is.

  Colt takes me by the hand as if I were a child that’s prone to wander and leads me into the cavernous Bradley terminal. A crowd swells around the arrival gate as passengers trickle out.