The Bride Test(30)

Shit, he must be getting used to her. He didn’t want to get used to her.

He shoved his feet into his shoes and walked out onto the front porch to look for her. It was warm and sunny, but too early in the day to be humid. Those birds were tweeting, probably laughing because they’d left something new for him on his windshield. The lawn was only partially cleared, but it was already a great improvement. He grimaced. Ruthie had to be ecstatic.

Pink and peach begonias bloomed from neat bushes in the manicured lawn across the street. Ruthie gave those to the neighbors sometimes. He’d seen her do it. None for him, but that was fine. He didn’t want her damned begonias.

No Esme in sight. He stepped down from the porch to see if she was hidden between his house and the neighbor’s, and that was when he saw it.

The garage door was open.

A sick sensation surged through him, shortening his breath and making his palms sweat. Why was the garage door open?

He ran into the empty musty space, and reality hit him like a punch to the gut.

It was gone.

And Esme was gone.

When he did the math, a horrible certainty dawned upon him.

Esme was going to die.

? ? ?

Esme loved the Asian grocery store 99 Ranch. It was like they’d scooped up a bit of home and planted it on the other side of the ocean. The workers were all Chinese, but the food items were familiar. She knew this fishy smell. She was excited to eat the spicy tamarind candy she’d found in the checkout aisle. At the cash register, the process was quick and painless. She handed the cashier a twenty, and he gave her the change without saying a single thing. No translation needed. Everyone belonged here.

She carried her plastic grocery bags outside and admired the blue motorcycle parked close to the store’s front doors. She’d squealed with joy when she’d found it earlier today. All last week, she’d passed by that door in Kh?i’s kitchen without checking what was on the other side. She’d been too busy cleaning and plotting ways to get into Kh?i’s heart and pants.

This morning, she’d turned the door handle by accident when she mistook it for the pantry door and come up short when it was locked. After unbolting it, she’d flipped the light on and discovered a spacious garage empty of anything save a tarp-covered something in the middle. From the size and shape of it, she’d suspected it was a motorcycle, and when she lifted the tarp, she hadn’t been disappointed.

Transportation. Because she didn’t like having to beg rides off people anytime she wanted to go somewhere, she’d stayed at home, but she didn’t like being trapped and abandoned whenever Kh?i needed to go somewhere without her. There was a local bus system, but that was intimidating and likely to be slow with the different bus routes and connections. A motorcycle, on the other hand, could take her anywhere she wanted directly.

It didn’t matter that it was a little scratched and banged up. When she’d turned the keys sitting conveniently in the ignition, it’d started right up. She’d hurried to grab her purse and shut the door, and then she’d headed out as possibilities raced in her mind, ways she could surprise Kh?i and make him addicted to her. The first thing to occur to her had been food. She could make him something fresh and nutritious like swim bladder soup.

Feeling hopeful and cautiously happy, she packed her purse and newly purchased groceries—including the swim bladders of twenty fish—onto the back of the motorcycle, pulled on the helmet, and headed out. There was something special in the air as she drove home. The houses and shops looked prettier, and the grass greener.

When she turned onto Central Expressway and headed west, soaring pines hugged either side of the street and occupied the center divide, which separated the traffic into coming and going lanes. Funny how the trees were so tall but they made her feel bigger—inside, where it counted. She smiled as she passed exit after exit. She’d be home soon, and then she’d make Kh?i lunch. After that, she was going to finish clearing his front yard. Now that she had a motorcycle, she could go to the store and get things like grass seed and fresh flowers. She could make his yard really nice.

When Kh?i’s exit approached, she turned on her right blinker, but before she could switch lanes, a silver car coming from the other direction skidded to a halt on the shoulder. Tires squealed and smoke rose off the blacktop. It looked alarmingly like Kh?i’s car, and when the door opened, a man shot out who couldn’t be anyone but Kh?i himself.

Over the roar of the motorcycle engine, she heard him shout, “Stop. Get off. Get off right now.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, and her mouth went cotton dry. Was it the police? What kind of trouble could she be in? She slowed down and pulled over next to the center divide like he’d done.

He sprinted toward her. “Get off the bike. Hurry.”

As soon as he came close enough for her to register the terror on his usually calm face, she started shaking. There had to be something wrong with the motorcycle. Was it going to explode?

She worked at the kickstand with a trembling foot, but before she’d managed to prop the bike up, Kh?i grabbed her by her upper arms and manually lifted her off the seat. The motorcycle crashed to its side, sending her things all over the rocks and scraggly grass.

His hair stood up in wild patches, and his face was a mask of fury. She’d never imagined he could be this angry. Without pausing to take breaths, he said, “Why did you take the bike why did you ride it I never said you could ride it.”