He watched the way the short skirt of her yellow dress whipped around her much thinner legs in the evening breeze. And something in his stomach burned, green and hot, as he watched her lean through the front passenger window to hand the driver the bowl of food.
Their voices floated back to him on the same wind playing with the skirt of her dress.
“Here you go!” she said. “Sorry I can’t keep you company tonight.”
“That’s okay. Was he mad about me not being at the house when he got here?” the driver inquired.
“Why would he be mad?” she asked. “He’s the one who showed up out the blue. Seriously, don’t worry about it. How was Yara’s pre-school graduation ceremony?”
“Cute. Long though. Her teacher could’ve lopped a good half hour off.”
She laughed. And they talked over a few more subjects. His guard actually had to be the one to say, “You better get back over there. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Rage burned inside of Victor, hot enough to reheat the food she was letting get cold while she chatted.
But if she noticed his mood change when she returned, she didn’t acknowledge it.
“Ready?” She asked, her voice even more cheery and bright than it had been before.
Yes, he was ready, Victor decided, his black heart hardening as he took his own seat.
Ready to teach her a lesson.
8
DAWN
Yes! Operation Good As New was working! I just might get through this anniversary without losing my mind.
I peeked across the table at Victor. He still looked so unbelievably handsome. It was hard to look at him directly without missing a few breaths. He wore one of those looks that were so popular these days, a short-sleeved black collared shirt with a dove-gray button-up vest. His tattoo sleeve made the outfit especially on-trend. Replace the ruthlessly sculpted hair with a man bun, and he’d be a shoo-in for the cover of Hipster Hottie magazine.
I guessed that this was as close as a guy like Victor got to a springtime look. But it was still sinister as hell. Which was why I could barely believe my plan was working.
When I’d come up with the plan to simply treat Victor like he was still the boy I knew in Japan as we were taking that death march out of the Young Souls daycare, I wasn’t sure it would work.
He’d been so cold when he showed up out of the blue. So bent on punishment, I wasn’t sure he’d let me joke my way into making us dinner. And don’t even get me started on him throwing away my expensive bottle of wine. I wouldn’t call alcohol a crutch exactly. But I’d been depending on it to get me through dinner with my openly hostile guest.
Luckily, Victor had finally relaxed, and now here we were, eating dinner across from each other, perfectly cozy.
Yes, sure, I was doing most of the talking. And, okay, he was barely responding when I asked him questions. So dinner conversation wasn’t exactly scintillating.
“How do you like living in the States?” I asked him between bites of bulgogi.
“Fine.”
“Are Han and Phantom over here with you, too?”
“Sometimes.”
“Where are you living in New York? The state or the city?”
Long pause as if I’d asked him a complicated math question. “The city,” he finally replied.
Seriously, it was like pulling teeth. But I took another glug of water that I wished was wine and kept on trying. “Cool, how do you like living there?”
“Same. Tokyo. Hong Kong.”
Wow, he’d gotten good at answering with just a minimum of signs. It made me want to ask him more complicated questions just to see if he could keep it going.
But I told myself to be grateful. At this point, I was pathetically happy that he was conversing with me and even sharing a meal. I knew eating in front of other people was a whole thing for him.
That had started out as an issue for us back when we were a couple. I’d noticed once that he never ate in front of me. And when he did, it was usually something like ice cream or soup—even when we went out for breakfast.
When I asked him to split an appetizer with me once during one of our secret dates, he’d agreed but had seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed. Like eating tako wasabi was a huge ordeal.
He’d chewed on the raw octopus covered in wasabi for so long. I’d been afraid that he actually hated the dish and had only agreed to order it because I’d asked.
The whole story came out when I told him he didn’t have to keep eating if he disliked tako wasabi that much.
“I have to be careful when eating this kind of food,” he’d confessed, his expression ashamed and embarrassed. Apparently, the chance of choking and/or gagging went up a whole lot of percentage points when you didn’t have most of your tongue.
He’d sheepishly apologized for how long it took him to chew each bite. “I hope this doesn’t disgust you.”
“Are you kidding?” I’d answered. “My mom would love you. She’s always telling me to chew my food more.”
We had laughed, the awkward moment navigated. It didn’t matter, I told myself. And after that, whenever Victor and I ate together, I tried to chew as many times as he did. I’d trained myself not to swallow until I saw his Adam’s apple bob. That was how crazy I’d been for him.
I was all grown up now, no longer a ridiculous high schooler swept up in first love. But sitting across from him, I fell into that learned habit. And as we chewed together, it almost felt like my plan was working. Like we were different, for sure, but close to good as new.
I found myself weirdly glad that Victor had decided to drop by for our first anniversary. His presence was a lot. I mean, it didn’t matter if he could talk or not. He filled my head with so much noise. I could barely concentrate on anything else, including that weird restless feeling that still hadn’t gone away. It was like an engine, constantly revving somewhere in my distance.
Having him here to fill up my evening instead of the usual post-dinner despondency almost made up for the bottle of wine he’d chucked.
Plus, it was really lovely to eat at a table, sitting across from someone as opposed to standing in the carport with Yaron, who’d insisted he wasn’t allowed to leave his post.
“Tell me about your job.”
I blinked. Whoa, was the silent beast starting a new topic of conversation himself? He still wasn’t using a whole lot of signs, and his face was mad cold and impassive. But hey, he was communicating. I’d take it.
“You know, it’s a job,” I answered and signed at the same time. “I like it. The kids are fun. And they let me teach them sign language twice a week—that’s why I’m not as rusty as I was a year ago. I’m also teaching the nursery kids baby sign language, and a few of them are actually using it. Especially when they’re hungry, oh, you should see it. It’s so crazy cute!”
He seemed to be listening intently to every word I said, just like when we were in high school. But then he asked, “What do your parents think of your new job?”
My heart stilled in my chest. And my signs were much less enthusiastic when I answered, “I um… haven’t told them I’m not in New York yet.”