Girl in a Box (33 page)

I must have been too obvious in my inspection, because Michael made a move toward an undershirt lying folded on the room's bureau.

“Don't get dressed on account of me,” I said quickly.

Michael frowned and put on the undershirt anyway, plus a bathrobe, for good measure. Then he sat down on the edge of his bed, and motioned for me to take the room's only chair.

He was sending me obvious signals to stay away, so I asked something slightly different from what I'd intended. “Michael, I was wondering why you chose the nickname Sis for me?”

“Did you come to me at this hour to talk about code names?” Now he sounded exasperated.

“Well, it's bothered me. You clearly understand why I call you Brooks, but I don't know if you're calling me Sis because you think I'm a narcissist or a coward or some kind of sibling—”

“Definitely not the first two reasons,” Michael said. “I suppose I fixed on Sis because I was trying to think of you as a sister.”

“Trying?” I asked, seizing on a small word that might mean everything in the world, if Michael would only admit it.

Michael smiled wryly. “I'm not successful every minute of the day, but yes, I do try.”

Taking a deep breath, I let the robe slip off my shoulders, so I stood before him in just the nightgown that was so transparent that it was almost like wearing nothing at all. I said, “Michael, I don't feel like you're my brother. Or my boss.”

Michael looked at the nightgown, then back into my eyes. “Rei, why is sex so damned important to you?”

“Because—because it's the life force! It's healthy. It's something…I've been thinking about lately! You may not be aware of it, but a woman's peak is in her thirties—”

“I've heard that, though unfortunately I haven't any experience to vouch for it,” Michael said quietly.

Perhaps that was true; Jennifer had died in her twenties. That had been seven years ago, though. Michael had sealed himself off into a private, lonely hell. He deserved the love and companionship of a living, breathing person—just as I did. Rather shakily, I continued. “Michael, at night I dream about you. I feel so much for you, whether or not we ever do anything.”

Michael moved farther onto the bed, so he was sitting against the headboard. He said, “Your timing is really terrible.”

“You mean—because it's so late at night? Or because your arm is broken?”

Michael shook his head. “I mean that it's too early for you to be getting involved with someone—and at the same time, it's too late for me.”

“I can see your point about my seeming to be on the rebound, but Michael—nobody has ever listened to me, or valued my ideas, the way you have. You're the kindest, most intelligent, most trustworthy man I've ever known. Maybe at twenty-seven I couldn't have handled you, but now I know that you're exactly what I need.”

Michael's voice was subdued. “Those are wonderful things to hear from you, Rei, but I'm sorry. What are people going to think if I sleep with a woman I've hired? And can you imagine what it's going to be like, as you rise through OCI, to be labeled my mistress?”

“What if I were to leave OCI?”

“But—don't!” Michael looked alarmed. “You're at the start of a very promising career. You can't give up intel. You're a natural.”

“Well, the truth is, I sort of miss life in the antiques world.”

“Really,” Michael said. His expression had grown downcast. “So, you're going to leave?”

“I'm not sure.” I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling naked. “Anyway, I sincerely apologize for embarrassing you with my—emotions. I will rein myself in, for the future, whether or not we continue to work together.”

Michael studied me, and then said, “May I explain something to you?”

I nodded.

“When you came to work in my office—it was incredible. Not only did I have this brilliant and beautiful woman to work with, I had a real—friend. Of course I'm crazy about you. How could you doubt that?”

I didn't answer, because it was becoming clear to me that Michael was someone who was torn up by a combination of duty and memory—forces that I couldn't compete with.

“You've made me so happy,” Michael continued. “Happier than I ever thought I could be, after Jenny's death. Not to mention safer. I will never forget the way that you risked your life to save mine.”

Will never forget
. It sounded like a brush-off. I nodded and went to the side of the bed, reaching for a tissue. Michael caught my arm on the way back.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Well, I actually think I'm going back to my room to have a good cry. Then I suppose I'll fall asleep.”

“Please stay.”

“I don't think I heard you correctly,” I said.

Michael looked down at the sheets for a moment, then back at me. “I can't stand to be alone the rest of the night. We could sleep together. I mean, just rest.”

I looked at him, considering whether I could afford to put myself through this kind of nonsense. It would be painful, but being in such intimate contact, even just once, would be something I could always treasure.

Michael spoke again. “I've had a lot of insomnia during this trip. It's more than jet lag, it's anxiety: a lot of stuff I just can't tell you about yet. I was only able to sleep through two nights this trip: the first one at the hotel and then at the hospital. Both of these were times you were in the same room.”

“That's nice of you to tell me,” I said cautiously. “But I'm not sure things would go well between us in a room with just one bed—”

“If you stayed with me, I feel like it would—fix things. Please, Rei.” There was a catch in his voice.

“All right,” I said, because I didn't want to leave him, either. I slid between the sheets and lay with my arms around him, and my face against his back, feeling it gently relax into the rhythm of sleep.

I must have drifted off as well, because I had a strange dream. I was waiting for an elevator at Mitsutan; finally, it arrived and the doors opened. Inside, instead of the usual crowd of customers, there were just two men: young men, wearing beautiful hand-tailored suits, with their collars open. They were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice me as they stepped out of the elevator. But as they ambled past, the shorter, darker guy looked directly at me and smiled. It was Ravi, and I realized, a beat later, that his companion was Tyler Farraday.

I woke up and found tears in the corners of my eyes. I was weeping despite the fact that the two men had seemed serene, as if they were headed for someplace they didn't mind going.

It was all so poignant, I thought, as I reached out for Michael, and discovered that he was not there. I sat up and looked at the clock.

It was nine in the morning and Michael was gone—not just the man but his luggage, and every other personal item I'd seen in the room eight hours earlier. Trying not to become too depressed, I climbed out of bed and went into the tiny bathroom. I planned to splash water on my face to help me wake up to the fact that I was nothing more than a temporary security blanket. I'd served my purpose, and that was the end of it.

But as I reached for the taps, I noticed a note on the bathroom sink, clearly left for me to read. It was a spy joke just like the ones he used to send when we were on opposite coasts.

How many spies does it take to fall in love?

This was all that he'd written. I turned the paper over in my hand, looking for a clever answer, but nothing was there. Clearly, I was supposed to come up with it myself.

But as I folded the note to keep forever, I realized that I didn't know any words, Japanese or English, that could express how joyful I felt.