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I should be impressed with the scenery around me. I should marvel at it. But I have grown used to it, that now it feels bland.
“What are you looking at, Phoebe?” Chandler comes up from behind me as my fingers skim over my flat belly.
My shorts are high, and my chest is nude. Chandler snakes it to the front and down between my legs with one hand.
My thoughts are interrupted, and I allow the infusion because I don’t want to tell the truth now.
Instead, I lean into his grip. I push forward and put my hands above the mirror, and he is violent in his passion for getting my pants off.
I widen my legs as he does, and he bends me to fit his angle.
There is a strange surge as he enters me a thrust deep. It makes the static silent for a bit. Again, he pumps into me, and all the while, I stare at myself in the mirror, being fucked by a stranger. And I tell myself how good it feels to be anonymous. How fucking incredible it is to leave tomorrow morning and not be accountable for his feelings or how to make him happy.
I throw my head back, sweaty with exhausted breath. Yes... I breathe into the cramped room. Yes. That is all I dream about.
I don’t love him, but I don’t regret the way he shredded layers of my skin so he could see my soul so quickly I couldn’t cover up. I am naked, and nothing feels better than being left to be read.
Chapter 19
Kenzo
41.2808° N, 81.5678° W Cuyahoga Valley National Park
MamaalwayssaidIcould fall in love with a rock. It didn’t matter what or who it was. If I thought about it enough, I gave my attention to it. There was love that grew from me for it. I never knew why it was a bad thing until I met Kassidy.
I wondered if Phoebe ever had someone take the soul out of them and break their heart into a million pieces, making them believe they were worthless just like they had always been told. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if that person to her was me.
“Mama? Are the gyozas ready?” I stick my fingers in the bowl of cucumbers bathing in soy sauce and vinegar. When the sour hits my tongue, I relax; it tastes like home. It smells like comfort and love.
“In a minute, my son.” Mama comes back into the kitchen, wrapping an apron around her waist. She pulls a tray from the oven to keep them warm. My two sisters fold the gyoza skins over the meat and veggie combination. “Here, try these; fresh batch just came out.”
“Wow, when did you get these pictures printed?” I pick up the wooden frame. My face is severe and strict. A few others of the ceremony and one of us as a family after the graduation. I am impressed they got all of these done so well. I can’t remember who took the pictures. There were so many people that day. It is hard to keep the facts straight.
“I didn’t. Someone sent the pictures to me.”
“What do you mean someone sent them to you? Like from the academy?” But the more I stare at them, the editing style is one I know. “Mama?”
Phoebe is there, but now just a ghost. My mother nods her head, letting me know the pictures were from Phoebe. I place them back down on the shelf, not wanting to be any part of the man in the picture.
“Why don’t you just call her? Make up. I know you love her.” As if it were that simple now with so many months between us.
“Tried to, Mama. It’s been over two three years since we’ve been together. Things change; I’ve changed.” I knock my fingers against the counter. “We keep in touch. We’re still friends.” I would like to believe we are. It is hard to tell some days.
“Is that good enough for you?” But her question isn’t one I can answer, so I don’t.
I grab two hot gyozas from my mom’s pan and kiss her on the head. Dipping it in soy sauce, I bring it to my mouth and bite back the heat but push through to my prize. They have to be my favorite food ever. Not the restaurant steamed ones. But the homemade fried ones, with a smell that sticks to my clothes and skin and hair for days after.
My dad hates how his wife’s cooking fills the house with smells of a country he doesn’t understand.
“Top notch, Mama.” I throw the other in my mouth and head into the living room, where my brother and dad watch the news.
“They do this every year; some country threatens war, and America is there putting on a brave face, saying do it, I dare you.” My brother, Kage, followed in my father’s footsteps without being asked. He was a carbon copy of my dad. Even I could tell my father loved him more because he could understand him better than he could ever understand me.
Kage and I are two years apart. I am the oldest brother. But my two sisters rank above us. If I were to tell you the truth, I would say my father thinks my mother loves me too much. He said it made me softer than I needed to be. And from his perspective, I didn’t need to be at all.
This is where I am.
Standing between helping the women in my family make dinner or being a part of the military group in the front of the TV.
