Girl Wife Prisoner

by Hanna Peach

  He swore. “Look what I’ve done. I’ve soiled you.”

  I stared down at my dress. There were a few dirt marks transferred from his hand on my shoulder and on my skirt from his shorts. I wasn’t sure why he was so upset. It was just dirt. It’d wash out.

  I was about to tell him this when I caught the flash of pain mixed with disgust on his face. It reminded me of the pain I saw in him when his father spoke to him on the terrace in front of me like he meant nothing. Remember your place, son.

  I realized something. It wasn’t about the dirt. He was angry because a part of him didn’t think he deserved to touch me.

  I grabbed his hands in both of mine. “I don’t care if your hands are dirty,” I said fiercely. “They are the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen.”

  “Beautiful?” he scoffed. “They are calloused and scratched and−”

  “Strong and hard-working yet deliberate and tender. I’ve seen the way you care for your plants. You touch them like…” Like I want you to touch me… “Like they’re precious, delicate pieces of clay, unformed at first but so full of potential. With your hands you coax them and refine them into their greatest beauty like an artist.” These words rushed out of me before I could stop them.

  He stared at me, his mouth slightly parted; the only sound coming from him was his breath drawing in and out of his lungs.

  “What? No veiled insult, no smirk or scowl for me?” I said. I was trying to pick a fight. I was suddenly terrified of the cloak that seemed to have fallen around us both, shielding us from the world and pulling our bodies, our eyes, lips, everything, closer together.

  He looked down at our hands, still joined, our fingers laced. I hadn’t pulled them away. He wouldn’t be deterred by my cheap tricks.

  He looked back up to me and I was caught in the pull of his gaze again. “Noriko, if I ever say anything to try to repulse you it’s only because…I’m scared of you.”

  “Scared of me?”

  “Yes.” His eyes burned into mine, begging me to understand. “Scared of how you make me feel things that I know I shouldn’t feel.” His eyes flicked down to my lips. Suddenly my mouth felt full of cotton. He leaned into me until his mouth hovered inches from mine. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. “And you make me want to do…” his words came out in a hush, “things I shouldn’t do.” He closed the gap−

  “Keir?” A male voice called out through the bird sanctuary making the birds flutter above us in shock. Keir dropped my hands, his face snapping towards the voice.

  It was his father. His father was here in the sanctuary.

  “I’m coming,” Keir yelled back. He stood and rushed off through the bushes without saying a word to me.

  No goodbye. No asking me to see him again. Without even a look back. Rejection burned through my veins.

  It wasn’t a rejection. He ran off to stop his father from coming any farther and finding us together, I told myself.

  Just as well his father called out. He stopped you from making a huge mistake. Kissing Keir… You’re married, Noriko. You have a husband. You are not a cheater.

  But that’s not what this was…

  What was it, then?

  I was so confused. What was I doing?

  My head spun. I couldn’t think about this now. I focused instead on making sure I wasn’t seen as I crept through the birdhouse before slinking back through the garden to the mansion like a criminal.

  * * *

  That night Drake appeared late in my bedroom. He apologized for missing out on our sunset outing. “Did you like the necklace I bought you?” he asked.

  “I would have preferred to have gone to the ocean.”

  “There are a total of 36 pear-shaped and princess-cut blue diamonds in it from the Argyle mine in Australia. Blue diamonds are extremely rare.”

  “It’s lovely. Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what any of what he said meant. “When will we go?”

  “Where is it? I want to see it on you.”

  “Drake, when will we go to the ocean?”

  He let out a long sigh. “Not right now, okay? Things have gotten really busy at work again.”

  “Oh, of course. But we’ll go soon, right?”

  “We’ll see.”

  I tried to accept his answer. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t help but sense that he would stall it indefinitely.

  Stop being so morose, Noriko. He’s just busy. You just have to be understanding of him.

  He’s always busy. And Drake would never understand me. He couldn’t see me. Not like Keir could. I shoved these thoughts away.

  11

  By the next afternoon, I had almost convinced myself that I should just forget about Keir, when I found this on my window:

  I cut myself on

  The glassy sea and spill my

  Heart onto your sky.

  K

  I couldn’t see the sunset so Keir had written one for me. He risked exposing himself by writing such a thoughtful gesture and his life by climbing the three stories to my window to deliver his note.

  I should stay away from him. I had a husband. I knew this; I could intellectualize it.

  But when Keir looked inside me yesterday he left something behind. He tied a string inside me and he held the other end tight.

  I needed to see him.

  I searched for Keir in the gardens. As I passed the entrance to the rose garden, I heard the sound of snipping coming from somewhere inside it. I entered it, a circular maze made of gluttonous rose bushes, proud petal-stuffed faces filling the air with their honey scent. I hurried through the circular paths that wound tighter and tighter before finally spilling into a circular lawn and a covered pergola of wood and ornate iron pillars.

  Keir was tending to the bushes fringing the center. As soon as I saw him − his beautiful yet humble face, his golden skin glistening in the sun, his hard-working hands − my heart lifted.

  I cut myself on the glassy sea and spill my heart onto your sky. I feel the same way, Keir.

  He spotted me when I was only meters away. His eyes widened and he dropped his shears as he straightened. “Stop right there,” he said.

  I froze, glancing around me for the source of his concern. I saw nothing. “Keir, what’s wrong?”

  “You can’t be here.”

  “I know. But I’m here.” Despite everything, I was there.

  “Noriko…I don’t want to be your friend.”

  “I know. I don’t want to be friends either. I want−”

  “No, you don’t understand. We can’t be anything to each other.”

  “What?”

  “What happened…what almost happened the other day…it can never happen.”

  “But your haiku−”

  “It was a mistake.”

  My jaw stung. “You…You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. We can’t even be friends.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t,” I snapped. Anger was a better reaction than tears. “Enlighten me.”

  “You have to leave.”

  “Tell me why or I’m not leaving.” I took a threatening step towards to him.

  His face pained. “Don’t come any closer.”

  I took another defiant step towards him, the distance between us diminishing.

  He said, “If we spend any more time together, I won’t be able to… It’s only a matter of time before…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat. “I can’t even begin to list all the reasons why I need to stay away from you.”

  He felt it too. This…thing between us was a small fire, growing and threatening to burn wild and engulf everything around us.

  If I reached out I could touch him. “Would it…” I lifted my hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Would it be so bad if we…”

  “Noriko, please…”

  I slipped my hand onto his chest and closed the gap between us. His heart
thumped like a drum under my palm. “I want you, Keir.”

  His face twisted. “You selfish little girl.” He shoved my hand off him and I stumbled back. “You think you can just play down here in my world and run back to your ivory tower when you get bored? Your husband would have my head if he knew that I…” he stopped, his eyes widening. He was about to say something he shouldn’t. “Please,” now he was begging, “don’t cause any trouble for me. I need this job.”

  I am a stupid selfish little girl.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I stumbled back. “I didn’t think…I’m sorry.”

  His eyes softened. I could see the indecision in them. “Hime…” Princess. This time it wasn’t an insult. That one word he infused with longing. It struck me right in my throbbing heart.

  He took a step towards me. If he caught me, I wouldn’t be able to resist him. We would both be damned.

  So I turned and ran.

  He didn’t call for to me to stop. We both knew this was best.

  12

  The next morning I stayed in bed. I couldn’t bring myself to get up. What did I have to get up for? I wasn’t even sure what day it was. I had lost track of time in this mansion, the days just slipping by, fading into each other like colors in a rippled lake, and I was stuck between an old life I couldn’t have and a new one I couldn’t seem to want.

  I claimed a headache when Loretta came into my bedroom demanding to know why I hadn’t been down to breakfast yet. She turned into a clucking hen, fussing at my sheets, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead and tugging closed the curtains. It brought tears to my eyes. Mama would have done the same thing. I almost forgot that Loretta wasn’t on my side; she was on Drake’s.

  After Loretta left I forced myself back to sleep. Sleep, it seemed, was the only time I was free.

  * * *

  The bastard was doing it deliberately. The next day Keir was cutting branches off the tree right under my window, the noise drilling into my brain. Even after I moved my chair to the other side of my bedroom I could hear him.

  Well, I wouldn’t demand that he stop it. It would mean that I had to acknowledge him. And I wouldn’t acknowledge him. I ignored him and set about enjoying my book called…whatever it was called.

  The buzzing stopped. Why did it stop? Did he leave or was he just taking a break?

  Why would I care? I didn’t care.

  Like an idiot, I snuck across my room and knelt on the window seat. Slowly, I lifted my head to peer out.

  Keir was standing at the base of the tree. He had the nerve to be shirtless again, his white shirt hanging out the back of his shorts. The sweat and dirt on his sculpted perfection just made him ooze raw masculinity.

  He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his side muscles rippling down to a perfectly cut and symmetrical set of abdominal muscles, all undulating like water as he moved. Songs could be written about the glory of his body. Essays could be written over my stupidity. Why did I still want him? Even after he had made it clear that he didn’t even want to be friends. Why did I still ache for him?

  The next thing I saw made my fingers grip like claws on the sill. Keir wasn’t alone.

  Celeste was with him. She was standing close to him, very close, too close. She held a tray, the silver tray she served me with, and on it was a jug of pale yellow liquid, lemonade, I guessed, and two glasses. Two glasses. Their fingers brushed as she handed him a full glass.

  I hoped it tasted awful. He sipped and smiled. She said something and he laughed. A bitter ripping, tearing feeling went through my body and I almost banged on the glass. Get away from him. His hands were my hands, his laugh was my laugh.

  But these possessive thoughts had nothing solid to cling on to − he wasn’t mine. I wasn’t his. And will never be.

  I shouldn’t stay here watching them, my blood heating with every flick of her hair and every glance they made towards each other. I should go back to my book. I should stop torturing myself.

  But it would be worse if I slunk back to my chair. I knew I would just imagine things instead; like him throwing down his glass of lemonade and kissing her, them tumbling onto the grass together, clothes flying.

  Stop being so dramatic, Noriko. This isn’t some tacky porno.

  I was a helpless voyeurist as I watched them standing side by side, talking, sharing her lemonade, my thoughts growing more and more bitter. They looked good together; her dark skin, his chocolate. She was closer to his height so she wouldn’t have to be on tiptoes to reach his lips, not like I would.

  Please, let me swap lives with Celeste.

  You ungrateful child, Loretta’s voice nagged in my ear. Celeste was a servant girl, with nothing, no status, no money, and you want to swap your life − your beautiful home, your fancy clothes, your jewelry bought for you by your successful husband − for hers?

  Celeste might seem to have nothing, but she was free to go where she wanted, be who she wanted and love who she wanted. She was free to be with Keir. I only had everything, except for what I wanted.

  I should wish them happiness. I should allow them to have found each other amidst the ungenerous lot of their lives, but for once I was wishing selfishly and I couldn’t seem to stop it.

  I could find a way to have Celeste fired. She would have to go away from here, but more importantly, away from Keir.

  I shoved this thought aside. What was I even thinking?

  I hated him. I hated her. I hated myself for hating them both.

  13

  That evening was the first time Drake and I ate dinner together. Usually he worked late or didn’t come home at all. In the dining room I sat in the chair to his side wearing a long green gown. Drake wore a black shirt tucked into tailored cream pants. He insisted that both of us dressed for dinner. I just hoped I didn’t get anything on my dress.

  Celeste arrived carrying a silver tray. Even in her conservative black uniform, she looked stunning. Her dark, exotic eyes were highlighted by such thick lashes that she would never need mascara. The short sleeves showed off her slim but firm arms and her shapely calves showed from under her knee-length hem. No wonder Keir liked her. I could barely stand the sight of her anymore.

  I turned my head and caught Drake looking at me. From his expectant look I realized he must have just asked me something.

  “Sorry,” I said, “what did you say?”

  “I said, ‘What did you do today?’”

  I tortured myself by imagining your gardener with your maid. “Nothing. Just read.”

  Celeste placed down my domed plate, then Drake’s. She removed the silver covers at the same time with a whoosh of steam.

  I frowned. Our meals were different. Completely different. His main meal was a thick, juicy-looking steak and roast potatoes. My dinner was a small grilled chicken breast, a cluster of steamed vegetables and a wedge of lemon as garnish.

  “Can I have some butter, please?” I asked Celeste before she could disappear.

  “Butter isn’t good for you, Riko,” Drake responded instead. “She won’t have butter.”

  Celeste bowed her head to him and backed away.

  I was so stunned that I couldn’t speak. When I found my voice I asked, “What’s wrong with butter?”

  “It’s pure fat. You shouldn’t eat it.”

  I picked up my fork and stabbed at one of his potatoes. My anger made me stab too hard and it slid out from underneath my fork prongs.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I tried again but he blocked me.

  “Riko, what’s gotten into you?”

  I slumped in my chair. “I want to try some of yours.”

  Drake gave me a look. “You have your own dinner.”

  “Why is mine different from yours?”

  He lowered his knife and fork, staring at me as he finished chewing a piece of meat. He patted his mouth with his napkin. “Your dinners are calorie controlled.”

  “My…what?”

  “Women of LA
pay for their meals to be nutritionally balanced and calorie controlled.” He cut into his steak. “It’s why LA women are slim while the rest of this country grows fatter and fatter. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  Appreciate having my dinners controlled for me? Why, Drake, wouldn’t I be as valuable to you if I got fat? What if I wanted to choose my own goddamn dinner?

  Getting angry isn’t going to help, Noriko. Getting angry is not how you get your way.

  I repressed my urge to yell back. “Maybe,” I said as calmly as I could, “we can go out for dinner in LA together one night?”

  “Don’t you like what the chef prepared for you?”

  “I do, but−”

  “Miguel is a Michelin star chef. You can’t get food better than this anywhere. We don’t ever need to eat out.”

  “You eat out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The nights you don’t come home for dinner, you must eat out.”

  “That’s because of work. I don’t eat out because I want to.”

  I knew I should bow my head and back down, but I just couldn’t stand to right now. I couldn’t stand to pretend to be this passive Asian wife, consequences be damned. “What if I want to go out?”

  “You want…” Drake’s fork clattered to the table. A cold look crept into his eyes. “And where is it that you’re thinking of going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you want to leave this beautiful house that I provide for you, you must have an idea that there’s somewhere better that you want to be.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “How about the seaside?”

  “I told you why I couldn’t take you that day. I apologized. I sent you an expensive necklace to more than make up for it, which I haven’t actually seen you wear, might I add.”

  “It doesn’t have to be the seaside. That’s not the point.” My voice rose. “It can be any-fucking-where.”

  “Don’t swear. It’s disgusting on a lady.”