Trent shrugged, and when he finally spoke, I could tell he was remembering his old friend. His voice sounded dangerously husky, like he was holding back a sob. “He died doing what he loved.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am too.”
Trent fell into an exhausted sleep while he lay in my arms. I knew what it cost him to admit he had a problem, and he probably felt diminished because of it. I had to make sure I never brought it up again. On the other hand, I wasn’t about to let his anxiety derail me. I was a persistent fucker, and I had every intention of proving anal sex could be an enjoyable experience. Even if it took every ounce of patience in my body, I’d pursue this goal, relishing every moment of the chase. I loved Trent, and now that there was something tangible I could provide, I was hell-bent on finding a way to overcome his fear. It was only a question of time.
Chapter 23
My formerly peaceful apartment was now a chaotic mishmash of acoustics. The mewling of hungry newborns awaiting their turn at the breast grated on my already-jangling nerves. Noriko’s normally pleasant voice, soothing the twins with a Japanese lullaby, sounded foreign and out of place in this setting. Freddie joined in the melee, barking unexpectedly when the house phone rang and I didn’t answer fast enough. Hardly anyone ever called our landline, so I knew it had to be Joe.
I had been expecting him to call me back after I’d asked him to investigate Sloan’s bloody shoulder. He was someone I’d known most of my life, my father’s good friend, and my almost father-in-law. Joe had never been harsh or rude in the past, but tonight he was not only angry, he was insulting.
“Cole, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’ll thank you to mind your own business and concentrate on your wife and children. Stop putting ideas in my head about Sloan. He’s not cutting again, and all you’ve succeeded in doing is getting everyone riled up. Was it part of your plan all along? Sloan is happy with Trent who, incidentally, has made a commitment beyond anything you’ve ever offered.”
“What commitment?”
“They’re getting married.”
I staggered, holding onto Freddie’s harness to keep myself from falling. A death sentence couldn’t have sparked a worst reaction. “When did he propose?”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. You lost that right when you chose Noriko over Sloan.”
“Thank you for calling,” I said, abruptly disconnecting. I didn’t want to hear one more word. My head felt like it was going to explode with the angry voices in my brain, taunting me for having fucked up at every turn. All our friends would hear about Sloan’s engagement and my humiliation would become the next juicy scandal circulated on social media.
I ignored Noriko’s plea to stay in the living room to discuss the details of the party she had planned after the miyamairi ceremony. It was the impromptu gathering that had started this entire chain of events. Suggesting I proposition Sloan to become my lover had come in the aftermath of our discussion on remaining together as a married couple. I should have known this would blow up in my face. Sloan had rejected the idea of sharing me from the very first moment he’d heard Noriko’s name. To think I had deluded myself into believing he’d feel differently just because we’d had sex. Trent was probably a thousand times better in bed than I’d ever be. Why would Sloan choose me over Trent when all I had offered was the inglorious title of mistress?
A migraine was in the offing. The usual signs were there: the nausea, the pain behind my eyeballs, and the pressing vise around my skull. Being incapacitated by another one of my killer headaches was not unusual. What was different was the frequency―I was getting them more and more often. Fumbling around on my nightstand, I latched on to the opioids seeking relief. I dry swallowed two and lay on the bed waiting for the drugs to kick in. While I counted each second, I grew more and more agitated. If I had been a naturally violent person, I’d go on a rampage, lashing out at anything in my path. But that wasn’t my style, and furthermore, how much damage could a sightless man actually inflict on anything?
The relief brought on by the drugs was creeping up my neck, and soon my head felt a million times better. I was encased in a ball of cotton, padded from outside forces threatening to hurt me. The idea of floating around on this cloud indefinitely was suddenly very appealing. My last coherent thought before I fell asleep was to make sure I got a refill of my prescription.
The next day, I went through the motions. Bowing at the Shinto priest when it was appropriate and responding to the chants as I’d been instructed. Afterward, at the apartment, I spent the necessary amount of time greeting our guests and graciously accepting the gifts they’d brought for the boys. They were treating this event like a christening party, which it was―Japanese style. Everyone gushed over the twins, telling me how much they favored my side of the family. I felt detached and moved about like a sleepwalker, aided in large part by the pills I continued to take with or without a migraine.
I didn’t know half the people who’d shown up. Noriko had made new friends over the course of nine months who were virtual strangers to me. She’d been perfecting her English by attending a class at NYU and had also become part of a group of young married women she’d met at the childbirth classes. Although they seemed nice, I had nothing in common with them. I resented the invasion of my space and their curiosity. None of these people knew Sloan or anything about my life prior to Noriko. All they saw was a blind man who’d fathered two sons and who was doing his best to cope. As they left in trickles, I excused myself and headed for the kitchen. I was having a cup of tea when Mom walked in and began doing the dishes. “Is everyone gone?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I thought I’d help clear up this mess before I take off.”
“Don’t bother. Noriko will attend to it later.”
“She can’t do everything, Cole.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Mother. She manages just fine.”
I had my head turned toward her voice, and I sensed the disapproval immediately.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “You seem to be in a trance.”
“I had a terrible migraine yesterday, so I took some pills that are making me loopy.”
“You can’t afford to be drugged around the babies. Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Do you know anyone with newborns who’s not sleep deprived? I’ve been getting by on five hours.”
“Do you catch up during the day?”
“Take naps? Mom, the reason I took a leave from work was so I could help Noriko. She wouldn’t appreciate me sleeping on the job.”
“How much longer will you be home?”
“Until next semester.”
“Why don’t you hire a nanny to help out?”
“She doesn’t want one.”
“Noriko’s a very good mother, but she does need to rest occasionally. You should insist.”
“Drop it, Mom.”
“I don’t want her to be overwhelmed by the children while caring for you as well.”
“I don’t need Noriko for anything personal.”
“I’ve seen her put your needs ahead of anyone else’s, which is admirable considering your arrangement.”
“She’s been very kind.”
“She loves you, Cole. You do realize that, don’t you?”
Ignoring her comment, I walked out of the room. What did it matter if the entire world loved me when the only person I wanted was beyond my reach? I heard the kids crying again, and then Noriko and Mom’s voices soothing them in a low murmur. It didn’t occur to me to go and find out if my presence was required. All I could think of doing was taking another pill, lying down, and floating away.
Closing my eyes, I drifted off to happier times when Sloan and I were in perfect harmony. The picture splintered when I remembered our argument in Montauk, the first week Noriko came into our lives. Just because we can doesn’t mean we should. Why didn’t I listen? Why did I discard every sensible
argument Sloan had broached to embrace my father’s needs instead? Where was Dad now that I was saddled with the wife and children he’d planned? Who would keep me sane when the love of my life married another man―the usurper who’d only been given a chance because I’d fallen asleep on my watch?
I reached over and shook another pill out of the bottle. I had to stop thinking about this because it was driving me insane. I’d never be able to recreate my former existence. The key ingredient was missing. All I had to look forward to was a future surrounded by the people I’d longed for with a single-mindedness bordering on obsession. I’d hoped they would provide all the answers, but they’d been my downfall. I didn’t want this anymore than Sloan did. Or did I? What happened to my dreams of being a doting father and teaching my boys baseball? Right… the blind man showing a kid how to catch a ball was as realistic as the vision of Sloan and I standing in front of a judge and getting married. Too little too late… story of my life.
Since I’d never get back together with Sloan, I didn’t care if Noriko and I were ever divorced. She could hang around indefinitely, or at least until the boys started school and didn’t need her constant attention. I’d tell her later, after my nap. Maybe then she’d stop worrying about the future. The sound of her voice irritated me anyhow. I’d much rather hear Sloan singing a Queen medley.
The next few weeks dragged on. Each day was the same mindless routine involving children. Noriko was patient as I continued to fumble around diapers and bottles but didn’t trust me to bathe the twins after Keni slipped in my soapy hands and almost drowned. She handled bath time after the incident. We discussed nannies at length and she reluctantly agreed to hire part-time help. The chores were multiplying, and when she realized I was an encumbrance, rather than an asset, she admitted another set of hands and, more importantly, eyes would be nice. We hired a young Japanese woman she’d met at school, and soon the apartment resounded with the unfamiliar tittering of women speaking Nihongo.
“You ladies will never learn English properly if you revert back to your language whenever you’re together,” I said disapprovingly. Although I wanted the kids to grow up bilingual, the reality of being surrounded by foreigners 24/7 was grating on my nerves. Actually, everything in my life was growing intolerable. I felt emotionally withdrawn and retreated to my bedroom as often as possible. Noriko had the cribs in her room for convenience, which gave me a little breathing space, and I found myself pulling the covers over my head during the day, seeking the solace of sleep to escape this nightmare. The migraine pills became my panacea. I started out taking two a day, but soon I was taking four and even six when the noises in my head grew too loud. The same voices that were calling me a fool were now compelling me to end it all.
Thoughts of suicide drove me outdoors. I’d purposely cross heavily trafficked streets, even as poor Freddie whined and held me back. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t paying attention to his signals. I kept hoping a bus would run me over and take the decision out of my hands. But nothing went as planned because vehicles came to a screeching halt inches away from me. The shrieks of outrage from angry motorists and horrified bystanders were nothing compared to what was going on in my head. I couldn’t believe it was so fucking difficult to get hit by a car in New York City, of all places.
Increasingly despondent, I decided to go with Plan B. I was a historian after all, and it would be far better to die like a samurai. It would be an honorable act Noriko might understand. She’d be devastated, of course, but eventually realize I’d done the right thing. If I exited this marriage properly, she would be able to remain in America as my widow, retaining the privileges of wife, as well as mother. Everything she wanted and deserved. The boys’ financial future was secure, and my mother and sisters could provide whatever family they would require beyond what Noriko had to offer. There was no need for my children to be burdened with a blind parent. I would only hinder their progress and make them feel guilty whenever I couldn’t participate in an activity with them. Better to just disappear from their lives altogether, so they could realize their full potential.
I made my way over to my bookshelf and pulled out a thick volume containing all the information I required. I had everything a samurai would need by way of clothing, but I needed the tantō, the deadly weapon that would see this time-honored method of suicide to fruition. Certain antique shops specialized in Asian art and they should have a good selection of knives. I’d have to forgo an attendant, a kaishakunin, to help with the daunting task of committing seppuku in the ancient manner. There wouldn’t be anyone to decapitate me following the plunge of my blade, so the first incision had to be on the mark. Disemboweling oneself was a daunting task, but leaving honorably was imperative. I refused to end up in a psyche ward and bring further shame to my family. Even in this final act, my sense of duty was firmly embedded by a culture I’d studied over the years. I would shuffle off this mortal coil with dignity, instead of being scraped off the road like a squashed bug.
Chapter 24
After Trent’s big reveal, our relationship moved to another level. We had purged most of our doubts through mutual forgiveness. He’d acknowledged my indiscretion with Cole had been impulsive and innocent, and I realized my master was not the indestructible superhero I’d made him out to be. He had fears and insecurities that were just as debilitating as mine, only his were masked behind the cool façade of competence and strength. The prospect of spending the rest of my life under his wing was no longer as daunting. Whatever parameters we imposed on each other would be well thought out and mutually beneficial. I had no problem admitting I was his submissive, and I was willing and able to accommodate his needs, so long as he continued to demonstrate equal amounts of trust and a desire to make me happy.
The dreaded cock cage and other methods of deprivation were no longer in use, and I was thriving in this new atmosphere. It was like our honeymoon before the marriage. Now that Trent was willing to make the big commitment, I wasn’t in a rush to stand in front of the judge. I’d waited a lifetime for my happy ending, and I wanted to enjoy every blissful moment.
Tin was back in town and assumed the official title of wedding planner. Trent and I happily handed over the time-consuming chore, leaving the trivia in his capable hands. We’d decided on a garden wedding at Max’s property in Montauk since it was there that I’d opened my mind to the prospect of another man taking Cole’s place in my life.
It was early March, and spring was right around the corner. Temperatures were starting to rise, and Trent had convinced me to go jogging with him every morning after our meditation. He said it would strengthen my legs and keep me fit, plus it would increase my appetite. He’d gradually come to realize the difficulty in getting me to eat three meals a day. I would have been happy surviving on coffee and cigarettes, but I was losing weight, and both Max and Trent weren’t about to let it continue.
We usually ran along the Hudson at seven in the morning, with the rest of the crazies who jogged in any kind of weather. We’d complete our three-mile run in under forty minutes, and that was because I held Trent back. He would have been done in less than thirty minutes, but he’d adjusted his pace to accommodate me. It was typical of him to do these little things to make me happy. And he reaped the benefits of my good humor because I let him have his way with me as soon as we crossed over the threshold. Our sex life continued to improve, and although his problem was at the back of my mind, I was biding my time. Breaching Trent would take a lot of patience and cunning. After all, the man was a trained soldier, and anytime I got a few inches away from my target, he’d change position. It was a game we played without discussing a strategy.
This morning, we’d just completed our run and were debating the merits of showering together or separately when my phone chimed. I ignored it, preferring to nuzzle Trent’s neck.
“Aren’t you going to get the call?”
“It’s probably Tin asking more questions. I swear, all he cares about are color schemes
and flavors for our wedding cake. It can wait.”
“You should answer it. I hate white cake, by the way.”
“Do you? What about chocolate?”
“Do we have to have a cake?”
“It’s tradition,” I said, pouting a little. “You promised we’d do this my way.”
“Fine,” Trent acquiesced. “What about a nice lemon cake?”
“That would be refreshing since we’re getting married on a beach at the height of summer.”
“We could have an ice cream cake?”
“Trent, the logistics of keeping the cake from melting all over the table would be a nightmare Tin can do without.”
“How about forgoing the cake altogether and just serving champagne and cupcakes?”
“Cupcakes? Can we still feed each other for our photo op?”
“Absolutely. This way everyone gets what they want. We’ll have thirty-one flavors.”
“You definitely have ice cream on your mind.”
“I know, but I’ll bet a baker could come up with just as many flavors.”
“I can only think of five―chocolate, vanilla, mocha, red velvet, and strawberry.”
Trent added his choices. “There’s lemon, carrot cake, dulce de leche, almond, pistachio, raspberry, apricot―”
“Stop,” I interrupted, laughing. “You’ve made your point.”
Trent grinned. “Cupcakes it is.”
The phone chimed again, and I reached over and cussed when I saw who was on caller ID.
“What is it?” Trent asked, instantly on the alert.
“A 911 message from Cole. I’m so not in the mood to deal with his bullshit. You take it.”
“Me? I’m not talking to that asshole.”
“Maybe he needs another lecture on boundaries and butting out of my life.”
“He’ll only call back. Talk to him and see what’s so urgent.”
I punched Accept and barked, “What do you want?” I waited, bracing for another fight. The man was relentless and didn’t know when to quit. After his “concerned” phone call to my father accusing me of cutting again, he’d been read the riot act, and Dad had told him in no uncertain terms to leave me alone. And here he was, not a month later, calling again.
Cleave (Cutting Cords Series Book 3) Page 14