Unbreak My Heart(15)

I miss him every damn day.

I set the photo on my dashboard and ball up the envelope. Something stops me midway through. I uncrinkle it and fish around inside. In the corner of the envelope is Trina’s parting gift.

It won’t get me far, but I won’t complain about a few more goodies. I peer around to see if she’s still in the parking lot, but she’s gone. She’s sticking her neck out for me.

I send a quick text to say thank you, stuff the pills in my wallet, and take off.

I have a trip to plan, a treasure map to follow.

There’s only one thing left to take care of.





11





Andrew



Two hours later, Holland’s at my door, holding cartons of Chinese food, her black canvas purse on her shoulder. “I don’t think the rice is sizzling anymore, but the pepper steak will taste good if we heat it up. Can I come in?”

“Anytime.”

Truer words . . .

She walks straight to my kitchen and takes out two ceramic bowls, pours the soup into one, and pops it into the microwave. She knows my house. It’s scary sometimes, how much she knows about me. She knows what foods I like, what books I read, what movies I’ll watch all the way through and which ones I’ve walked out on. I know little details about her too—she’s a card shark and wins at nearly every card game I’ve ever played with her, she likes simple clothes and simple styles, and she’d happily serve this dinner on her own, but she’ll be even happier if I help her.

I root around in the utensil drawer for spoons then grab plates. We quickly work together to heat and serve then sit down at the counter, a plate of Chinese food for each of us.

Like we used to do. There’s so much familiarity, and I don’t know how to separate the way I used to feel for her from the way I want her now. But those feelings—the past and the present ones—are a knot inside my chest I can’t untwist.

Getting away from here might help.

“I know how much you like Captain Wong’s,” she says.

“I do. But that name kills me every time. Why the hell is it Captain? Is he flying a ship full of Chinese food?” I affect a sci-fi voice. “Hello. I am Captain Wong.”

“I have come to take over your planet,” she adds. I laugh, and she does too, and then her laughter fades. We eat in silence for a minute.

“So are you going to Tokyo?” she asks.

I set down the spoon. “How did you figure it out?”

Her blue eyes pierce me. “I know you.”

The way she looks at me—my heart pounds against my skin, trying to make a mutinous escape to land in her hands.

“Yeah? What do you know?”

Does she know how much I want her? How much I never forgot us? How much I wanted to grab her all those nights she was at my house last month, press her to the wall, and kiss her till I forgot the world around me?

She has to know. I’m so transparent.

“You won’t rest till you understand.” A flicker of worry is in her tone.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.” Her eyes linger on me, soft and full of kindness.

Earlier, I didn’t want to show her the note, but that’s the part of me that’s prone to shutting down. I don’t have to with her. Hell, she didn’t even judge me for hitting the car. I’d rather let her in than keep her out.

“I need you to see this letter. I need to know what you think of it. Help me read between the lines.” I reach for the letter at the edge of the counter where I left it, and slide it to her. “What can you tell me about any of this? You know Kana—she’s your friend.”

She reads it, swiping at her cheek at one point, erasing a rebel tear. When she finishes, she looks up. “I didn’t go with him to the teahouse and the temple. I only saw him a few times when he was in Tokyo. He wasn’t there to see me—he was there to see her.”

“Do you think I’m grasping at straws? I read this, and I feel like I don’t know him.”

“It might feel that way now, but you knew him better than anyone.”

That’s what I want, and yet, this new wrinkle eludes me. Not the what, but the why. The trouble is I only possess the answer at the end of the equation—it looks like he stopped taking the meds. The law school part of me knows there are three options based on that evidence: either he ceased taking the meds in lieu of an alternative, or he wanted to get life over with, or he stopped for some other reason.

Whichever it is, I don’t know the why, and I need to know.

The need bangs insistently on the back of my brain, like a drip of the faucet that won’t turn off.

I take a deep breath and voice my hope. “I want to believe I knew him well.”

She tilts her head, studying my face. “But you don’t believe that?”

I don’t answer her directly. I’m not sure I’m ready to admit that fear—that I didn’t know him as well as I hope. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t go?” I ask, because the one reason I’d stay is if she asked me to.

She pushes her plate away. “You should go.”

Her command both emboldens me and crushes me.

Tell me you miss me. Tell me to spend the summer with you.

She inches her hand across the counter just a little bit closer, and that hand, I want to grab it and hold on. I glance at our fingers, so close all it would take is one of us giving an inch.