Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Now I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I pretend to be calm as I drink the beer I don’t really want. “What’s with the suitcase? Business trip? How long will you be gone?”
His gaze slides away, breaking the contact. That bastard. He won’t even look me in the eye as he exiles me.
“You’re taking a vacation.” He rises and pulls something out of his back pocket.
I turn away. I don’t want to see it. If I ignore the paper, the suitcase, the grim expression on his face, then I can go on living my life here with him.
As I drain the rest of the beer, a single piece of paper appears in front of me. My name is on it along with a barcode. It’s a ticket of some sort.
“It’s a two-week trip to Tokyo. I booked you a tour guide so you can visit all the famous ramen shops.”
My fingers curl around the marble counter. The edge cuts into the skin, but all I can feel is the heat radiating from his body. Yesterday, before the nightmare at Marjory’s, he took me from behind. His arm dug into my waist and the other pressed my shoulder into the mattress, punctuating each thrust with a promise that he’d love me forever.
That’s the kind of memory I want. Not this one.
“I hope you enjoy it.” I pull open the sink cabinet and hurl the can into the recycling bin.
“Bitsy. Listen—”
I turn on him. “Did the last month mean nothing to you? Do you only keep the promises you want to keep? You promised that you wouldn’t send me away again. You swore that we’d be together forever.”
His face grows pained. “This is for two weeks, Bit. It’s to keep you safe.”
“I’m sorry I went to Marjory’s. That was a mistake, but people know I exist. I was there when Mary knifed your chef, Gerry. That scarecrow man knew me instantly. I can’t be your big, bad secret, and you can’t send me away every time there’s the slightest scent of danger!”
“You think this is easy? You think that me sending you away is easy?”
“Yeah! I do. It’s a helluva lot easier than being abandoned. I can forgive you for leaving me when I was fourteen. I was a burden then. Dead weight. But I’m not now. I can drive. I can handle a gun.” I weighed the risks. I’d rather stay with Leka and take my chances with whatever’s out there than be constantly sent away whenever there’s danger. Life’s full of danger.
“You can kill, too?” he cuts in.
“If I have to.” I stare back at him, trying to appear steady despite my internal flailing.
“I didn’t take you off the street all those years ago so you could grow up to kill people.” His face twists up in pain that I don’t want to acknowledge because I’m hurting, too. We’re both dying inside at the idea of being apart, but this won’t be the last time. I know I’m right. He will send me away again and again unless I take a stand.
“Are you saying it would’ve been better if you left me? What were my other choices? Starvation on the street? Being raped by old dirty men when I was barely old enough to pee on my own? You saved me.”
“And I’m going to keep saving you or that one act all those years ago don’t mean shit.”
“I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to keep around.”
He flinches at that one, but it’s not enough. No weapon in my arsenal is going to move him from his position. Helplessly, I realize this. I could be the most gifted orator, come up with the best arguments, and I will still lose. He’s convinced himself that there’s only one solution.
My heart is cracking. It’s so loud it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. Maybe he can and he’s ignoring that, too.
It’s for my own protection because I can’t keep loving Leka and be abandoned in return. I barely recovered when I was fourteen. There’s still an echo of that heartache that rings whenever we’re separated from each other for any period of time. It’s why I went to Marjory’s tonight. I missed him. I was afraid and so I went to him. Now, he wants me to live with the terrible anticipation that we could be separated at any time and that kind of awful uncertainty would wreck me. I don’t want to be ruined. I want to be happy. I want to be happy with him.
“If you do this,” I say quietly because it’s hard to speak through the giant rock in my throat. “If you do this, I won’t come back. I forgave you once. I forgave you because it made sense when I was fourteen, but it doesn’t make sense now. If you do this, we’re done forever.”