by Roxy Harte
Geri: “That first message didn’t come out exactly the way I wanted. I’m sorry. I was scared. I’m sorry for letting my fears keep us apart. Can you call me? I’m horrible with messages, but I want you to know how I feel. How I really feel. And if you give me another chance, I won’t ruin it by running away again.”
Geri: “I know you’re thinking you’d be stupid for giving me another chance and I probably don’t deserve one. Saying I’m sorry isn’t good enough for all the pain I’ve caused you. I wish I had another language to say it in…say it better…say it so that you will believe me. I want you to call me back, but I’m smart enough to know that you probably need some space. So I won’t call again. I’ll wait for you to call me, even if it’s a day, or a week, or years. I’ll wait.”
I’ll wait? I close the phone. I don’t delete any of Geri’s messages, thinking she is right about one thing. I need some space. And time. I guess that’s two things. I don’t believe for a second that she will wait years, but they were nice words.
My apartment is everything Cho promised and more, the view of the harbor defies description. I can’t believe I am going to live here, but as I take a day unpacking, hanging my artwork, arranging knickknacks, it starts to sink in and now that I know that I am pregnant for certain, I think I’m going to be happy here too. My mind turns to hiring a housekeeper and interviewing nannies. Isn’t that ridiculous, I’m not even a full month pregnant…anything could happen.
That’s the scariest thought. I have an entire first trimester to survive before I can rule out a faulty pregnancy.
And I’m already attached to this baby.
I take a full week getting my apartment set up and a housekeeper hired. Cho located her. Iwa Yamaguchi. Cho assures me that her name means rock and that I will be able to count on her for her solid strength. I’m not certain how much faith I put in the meanings of names or how those meanings might influence character, but her resume is very impressive, leading me to believe she will be able to hold down my fort while I am working. I wasn’t optimistic about hiring someone without meeting her first, she will be spending a lot of time under my roof, but it turns out that she is a lovely older woman who I take to instantly.
When I finally face the craziness of the Tokyo studio, it is with dread, because my apartment made me so happy, and honestly, after the last trip to Tokyo, I don’t see how it could be much better. I am surprised when my office is completely put together when I arrive, a real office, a room with a view, a big desk, executive chair, and all of my porn career memorabilia—photos, awards, and pictures of friends I will miss. Thank you, Simon. There is even a stack of books on my desk, all of it classic Japanese erotica translations and a note from Simon. “Understand where they’ve been. You’ll know where to take them. I trust your artistic eye.”
I smile.
I don’t waste time, I get to work.
Twelve weeks later, I am happy, settled, and the studio is garnering more success than I ever expected. I am also relieved, having made it through my first trimester complication-free. There is only one thing that is not perfect…I hate myself for driving away Geri the way I did. I dwell on it. I was cold and calculating, and despite the number of times she did the same thing to me, I still feel like she deserved to be treated better.
I’ve kept her messages and listen to them every day. I tell myself it is just to hear her voice, to remind myself that something did happen between us…even though I haven’t defined what exactly.
“I miss you. Please call me, Simone. We need to talk.” I sigh, because hearing Geri’s voice in the recording doesn’t hurt as much as it did two months ago. I disconnect from my archived voicemail when Ken knocks on my door. It is ajar, but he knocks anyway, bowing when I lift my eyes from the papers I shuffle quickly, hoping he will buy into the lie that I was reading them. “First proofs ready.”
“Already?” I really am surprised.
I watch a five-minute segment, mostly interaction between the actress and actor, gauging their chemistry. It’s good. I’m surprised, but then not too surprised, because I spent weeks in interviews getting the people I wanted and those weeks were grueling, hours finding the right directors and actors. I delegated the stage crew interviews to Ken, wanting him to be comfortable with the people who work for him.
“This is excellent, Ken. Tell them to keep up the good work. I’ll take the finals home tonight to preview, but we should be good to go.” I purposely stay away from the action, staying instead in my office. I stand, handing him a stack of new scripts, and he lifts his brow, seeing me. His eyes twinkle and his cheeks turn pink, embarrassed. Today is my first day wearing a maternity top. I was trying to hide that I am showing, but have instead only emphasized the fact. “I know…it’s horrible.”
“Not most beautiful, Barbie. Yesterday was a better choice.”
“Yesterday—” I start to refute him, because catching my reflection in a mirror yesterday was what led to the tent top. The swelling round of my lower abdomen was obvious, and even though I felt beautiful, I thought I should hide it away. “—was better.”
He pulls on the tail of my shirt. “Throw this away?”
I nod and laugh.
“You should call her,” he says in a soft whisper. I think he shocked himself as much as he shocked me by offering an opinion into something so personal, because he hurries from the room without any further comment. How many times has he caught me listening to Geri’s voice?
Too many.
I sigh, hearing his hurried steps pad down the carpeted hallway. I don’t know what I would do without him.
I feel guilty about not calling her. She hasn’t called in six weeks. The last call was to give me her new phone number, she said it would make international calls easier, and though she didn’t say it, I have to assume she’s spending more time in Canada than in the States. I sit, replaying her messages…often enough for it to be some weird compulsion…often enough that I am finally strong enough not to cry every time I hear her voice. I decide Ken is right and dial her number before I can convince myself what a mistake I’m making, immediately regretting the call, but knowing I can’t hang up now that I’ve taken the first step. My heart pounds wildly as I listen to her phone ring. I think for a moment I will get her voicemail, but I don’t, I get her, and then I feel shy and unsure, saying stupidly, “Hi, how are you?”
I think I feel her shock at hearing my voice, but she had to know it was me, I reason. Wouldn’t her cell show an international call? But then, I think, maybe not, maybe I blindsided her.
“Simone.”
Oh shit. Is that an I’m-happy-you-called tone of voice or a Why-in-the-fuck-are-you-calling-me-four-months-after-I-poured-my-soul-out-to-you voice? I don’t bother saying that I should have called sooner. Obviously. And I always hate that when someone says that to me.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
This time I do hear the hurt in her voice. Meg or Tina must have told her. I wish I had called her myself. Shit.
“Thanks.”
“When are you due?”
“April twenty-second.”
Oh God, why did I call? This is painful.
After a long silence, I ask, “Did you mean what you said in the messages you left?”
“Did I mean that I love you? Yes. I love you. Am I willing to be a grown up and accept that you are who you are and it’s my personal issues I need to deal with when I confront why your career upsets me so much? You bet. Do I want to see you? Desperately.”
“Oh.”
“Are you calling because you want to see me again, Simone?”
“Desperately,” I say and then I start crying. “I’ve missed you. That’s why I haven’t called. I knew if I heard your voice I’d want to come back to Seattle. I had to wait. I had to get on my feet here.”
“You definitely waited,” she says and the way she says it makes me feel like I’m too late. I waited too long. Maybe she even found someone new. Oh hell. My ey
es fill with tears, but I say what I was going to say anyway. “I was thinking I might come home for the holidays.” I walk over to the wide window that looks over the city, nervous movement to make it easier to say what I need to say. “We’re taking a break for the month of December. Can I call you when I get into town?”
“I’m not in Seattle.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised, but then not really. “Are you still wrapping up in British Columbia then?”
She laughs. “No, they wrapped themselves up quite nicely. Once the company was turning a profit, I allowed myself to be bought out…for about three times what I paid for it.”
“Wow,” I say. “Good investment move then.”
“Very. So I’ve expanded. I’ve decided to take Gaia Eco-Tours global, and so far so good. Right now I’m in Shanghai.”
My heart stills. She’s so close. Three hours away, four tops.
“I’ll actually be in Hiroshima in three days.”
I may actually hyperventilate. I could see her in three days.
“I’d like to see you. I’m going to be reviewing a back-country-shrine hike. That will take about seven days, but after…I could come to Tokyo…if you want.” There is a long pause between us. I don’t know what to say. I want to see her more badly than I want to admit. Damn.
She speaks first. “I know that it’s the worst thing to say, but I was planning on calling you.”
“No,” I say. “Not the worst. The worst is saying that I wish I hadn’t waited so long to call you. It’s nice to hear your voice. Can I meet you in Hiroshima?”
God, why did I say that? I sound desperate. I do not want to sound desperate!
“Or you could meet me in Hiroshima. That would be very nice.”
Whew. Three days…I’m going to see Geri in three days!
On a path that runs alongside the Aioi River, I stand facing the Gembaku Domu. With tears running down my cheeks, I wonder why on earth Geri wanted to meet here. Seeing the skeleton of one the few buildings to survive the atomic bomb, I am enveloped in sadness.
“That’s how I felt when you left.” I startle, turning to find her standing behind me. “Destroyed, barely there, but still standing. I knew I had to go on. I had to come out the other side better somehow.”
I never thought of Geri as bitter. I begin to question my sanity in coming here, but then she smiles and it is the hundred-watt smile that she was wearing the fist time I ever laid eyes on her.
“Better, stronger…faster.” She holds out her arms and I walk into her hug.
“Should I call you the Bionic Woman?”
“Nah,” she snorts. “I’m not made of metal.” She backs away, looking down at my belly, which is half-hidden by a black pea coat. “Is that a baby bump?”
I open my coat and show her my very obvious baby bump. I wore black stretch pants and a spandex short-sleeved turtleneck. The effect is stunning…showing every girly curve…breasts, hips, and baby bump. I feel sexier than I ever did naked and on camera.
She bites her lip. Reaching out her hand, she hesitantly touches her fingertips over the slight swell of evidence. “Wow…there’s a little baby in there.”
“Two,” I correct. “There are two babies in there, which makes it very difficult to hide them.”
Geri shakes her head, “Don’t hide this. You are so beautiful. Radiant.”
I look up and her eyes are glistening. I look away, saying, “I’m sorry about the way I left things between us.”
She wraps her hand around my upper arm, turning me to face her. I don’t want to see the tears falling down her cheeks. Still holding my arm, she wraps her other hand around the nape of my neck and pulls me roughly to her, kissing me with a fierce passion. I don’t resist her force and respond with an equal passion. Our tongues duel, our teeth clash…and I feel the toughness I built around my heart shatter. I feel my own tears welling as a bubble of tight emotion swells in my throat. “Oh God, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you,” I say, wanting to say I love you…again…but knowing my heart won’t be able to take it if she doesn’t respond in kind. And even though she said it on the phone, I need to hear her say it to me first, face-to-face, before I will ever say those words to her again.
“How long can I have you?” she asks.
Forever. I shrug, I’m not expected back at the office for a few days. She nods and grabs my hand. “I want to take you someplace.”
She leads, I follow. She holds my hand on the train and on the ferry. I don’t ask where she is taking me, I don’t think it matters, because I don’t know how I will be able to take my eyes off her to see anything else she would want to show me. Stepping off the ferry, I do take my eyes off Geri because I can feel she has brought me someplace very special.
“The Island of the Gods,” she tells me and, facing the mist-surrounded mountains with the glimmering sea behind me, I understand how the island came to be known by that name. We walk, holding hands through the streets, around shrines. We eat, but I couldn’t say what it is, noodles with vegetables that are unimportant in light of the fact that I am sitting with Geri in the middle of paradise. Our eyes catch over the top of the table and I am overcome with emotion. I need her in my life.
She takes me by the hand and leads me along a secluded boardwalk. Tucked between pines, she pulls me into her arms and I sob against her mouth, “I want you.”
She steps back from me. “I want you.”
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to go back to Tokyo without you.”
“Don’t go without me,” she says. “Take me with you.”
My lips part, but I can’t form a single thought, let alone words.
“I love you, Simone Sinclair. I want to be part of your life, I want to be part of your children’s lives. No more running.”
I back away, not ready to trust words. How many times have we done this dance? One step forward, two steps back? I put my back to her, looking out over the trail, still not believing that she is here, let alone what she just said. I can’t believe it. Won’t believe it. She’s left me too many times…we’ve had too many false starts.
Just like with Simon.
At least I’ve made peace with my relationship with Simon now. Friends. Partners. Not friends with benefits. Not any more. I said no to that. And survived. Maybe Geri and I can work on being just friends again.
She touches my arm before molding in behind me, her arms going around my baby bump. “I said too much, didn’t I? I’ve scared you off.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “I don’t want to scare you off. We can take our time. Start out slow.”
My mind spins. I want her, as much now as ever before. I whisper, “Slow would be good.”
“Maybe we can start with dinner tonight?”
I nod, holding my breath, dizzy and scared. “How long can you stay?”
She turns me to face her. “As long as you want.”
I smile doubtfully. “Gaia Eco-tours can do without you that long?”
“As a matter of fact, Gaia Eco-tours North America has a very capable staff overseeing operations while I am touring Asia and setting up my Gaia international headquarters. I’ve been scoping out Hong Kong real estate, but Japan is growing on me.”
I’m shocked and I’m certain my expression relays that, because she chuckles. I manage to say, “Wow,” but then I’m left speechless.
“I’ve missed you,” she says. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win your trust.”
I notice that she doesn’t say love. She doesn’t have to. Love is a foregone conclusion. I love her. She loves me. We just both come with a lot of emotional baggage that has made the moments up until now…messy.
She kneels in front of me, putting her hands around my baby bump. “Twins.” She looks at me with wonder before kissing my belly. She takes my left hand and kisses it. “I know it’s too early for a ring. I know it’s too early to tell you that I want you to be my wife. But I want you to know that that is the level
of commitment I am willing to give you.”
She bows her head. “I’ve been such a jerk to you.”
Standing, still holding my hand, she promises, “I know it is going to take time for you to actually start believing that I want a life with you, but that really is what I want more than anything else in the world. That includes celebrity appearances, because you are the woman I want to spend my life with. Simone Sinclair. I’ve just been too big of an idiot to admit it.”
I start to cry, silent tears sliding over my cheeks. Damn hormones.
“I don’t want the word forever to scare you, but that’s what I’m thinking.”
I nod, crying. “I think forever sounds about perfect, but right this second, I’ll be happy with dinner.”
“I love you, Simone Sinclair.”
About the Author
To learn more about Roxy Harte, please visit www.roxyharte.com or her blog at www.roxyharte.blogspot.com. Send an email to Roxy Harte at [email protected].
A young woman from the mean streets of modern Europe finds true love in the ranks of the aristocracy…in the most untraditional way.
La Bonne
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