Insipid (22 page)

“And you have to help him get that peace. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you need to reach out to him and help him with his pain. Healing him will heal you too.”

“I know, Father. You’re right.”

“What about Lucas? What’s going on with him? Did you tell him about Felicia?”

“No. Not yet.” I laugh wickedly at the statement. “He’s only 14 years older than her. Closer to her age than mine.”

“Jade.” He shakes his head at me. He doesn’t find me funny, this friend of mine.

“Sorry.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I thought I was. Yes. Until Chris two days ago.”

“You saved Joshua with what you thought was your love. Don’t do this again with Chris. You can’t fix everyone. You need to be selfish enough to want to fix yourself. If Lucas is your heart, give in to it. You don’t have to force Chris’ love on you, or your love on him, just because you want to help him to know your daughter.”

I take his hand in mine and move close enough for him to drape his arm around my shoulder. I lean on his chest, feeling the soft cloth of his robes on my cheeks.

“I love you, Father Mike.”

“I love you too, Jade. God loves you more than you will ever know. Accept his love. Know that His peace will come to you soon. You are a remarkable woman and you deserve to be loved.”

“HI, CONCHA! IS
Mama here?” I hug her tightly as I walk into my parents’ home. Danilo the chauffer has taken my bags from the car and handed them to her. I don’t really wait to hear her answer, I proceed towards my parents’ bedroom to find my mother in the dressing room.

“Hi, Mama!”

“Jade!” She turns around to enfold me in her arms. “I’m so happy to see you! Daddy will be home in a couple of hours. Are you here to meet with him? He’s out golfing with the Mercers.”

I don’t answer her question, but walk around the living area connected to their bedroom, familiarizing myself with the new renovations that were done a few months ago. A warm feeling of contentment takes me by surprise as I fix my eyes on a life-sized painting of Felicia on the hallway wall leading to the other bedrooms. My mother’s dressing table is filled with pictures of her; suddenly, I am filled with deep love and admiration for the way that she weathered through our loss in a manner more dignified than mine. I know it wasn’t easier for her, but someone had to stay strong. She did it for me.

I feel ashamed and selfish to have these thoughts at all. Everywhere I turn there are freshly cut flowers in vases and in pots, in and around her bedroom. I feel claustrophobic, suffocated; the feelings of that day still surface so easily. Another panic attack washes over me, only to be soothed by the sound of her voice.

“Hija? Come sit down with me for a while. Have you had lunch? Let me ask Concha to bring us some cold cuts.” Slowly, she goes from table to table, removing the flower vases and placing them on the floor outside of her bedroom door. She clears the room in minutes.

“Remove the traces of her trauma and give her time to accept them again,” the therapist advised my parents.

“Thank you for doing that,” I say as I lean over to kiss her on the cheek.

We sit next to each other on the couch, face to face, my hand in hers. She knows why I’m here.

“Chris came to see me last week,” she starts out.

“What? He did? Why?”

“He wanted to know about Cia.”

“It was time to tell him, Mama.”

“I know, Jadey. I know. And I’m so sorry for the way I acted towards him before.” She starts to cry. “He would have been such a good father to her.”

“Don’t cry, Mama. Twenty years is too long for this ruse to continue. I want Chris to regain his spirit. I want Joshua to find his happiness. I want to clean up this tangled mess so we can all live what’s left of our lives in peace.”

“It’s time to add some color into your life. The brightness of your eyes doesn’t match the sadness in your soul. When you were born, I wanted to name you Jade because all I could see were those big green eyes from where I was on the hospital bed as they took you away to clean you up. And your dad. Do you know why he agreed with your name? Because he said that Jade also means tranquility. Years later, he told me that your presence in his life gave him the serenity he longed for at the end of every struggle he went through, moving to this country, trying to make a name for himself…” She daintily dabs her eyes with a tissue. “You are our peace.”

“Oh, Mama.”

She straightens up and looks at me pointedly. “What does this mean for you and Chris?”

“I don’t know yet. These past few months… this self-destructive behavior… no one can stop the cycle but me. I alienated my husband and hurt him, I risked my job and career, I disregarded my health and well-being.” I laugh half-heartedly. “Cia wouldn’t be very happy about this right now.”

“She would tell you off and cuss you out,” my mother agrees.

“I’m so sorry I disappointed you, Mama!” I cry, seeking penitence for the past twenty years. “Not just for what has happened in the last two years, after Cia, but for luring you into believing that everything was fine with my life.”

“Oh, Jade. I only wish that I knew how you were feeling. I would have been there for you. You’re my daughter, and I love you. You have never ever done anything to let us down. You have always made being your parents such a privilege for us.”

“Thank you.” I shake my head slightly, knowing that nothing more needs to be said. I need to accomplish what I came here to do. I allow her to cuddle me for a few minutes before kissing her forehead and getting ready to leave.

“Go,” she encourages me. “Take whatever car you want. I’ll let your father know that you’ll be out for the evening.”

THE GPS ON
my mother’s car leads me to a newer neighborhood called Crescent Park in Palo Alto. I drive cautiously, looking from side to side to find the house number that’s scribbled on a Post-it note. I find myself parking in front of a simple yellow brick home. Its rather new exterior boasts bay windows and a wrap-around balcony on the second floor. As I make my way up the brick-paved driveway, I admonish myself for showing up at his house unannounced. The neatly manicured front yard and the tidily planted flowers immediately give me the indication that he’s not living here alone.
It’s spring, after all, people do that with their yards.

I stop in my tracks for a few seconds, deciding what to do. And as I turn around to run back to my car, he opens the door. He looks the same as the day I left him. Shirtless. Jeans. No shoes. In my mind and in reality, he will always be the only boy I ever loved.

“Jae?”

I turn back towards him, feeling displaced and unsure of myself. “Chris, I—”

He flings the door open and runs towards me, scooping me up in his arms and lifting me up from the bottom. I wrap my arms around him and allow him to carry me inside. He doesn’t hesitate as he kicks the door shut and carries me upstairs. I’m still wrapped in his arms as he settles me at the edge of his bed and kneels in front of me, holding my face in his hands. He kisses me slowly, cautiously, waiting for me to respond. “Jade.” He starts to unbutton my dress, but his impatience has him ripping it open with his bare hands. I don’t say a word as he cups my breasts and pulls my bra upwards so his mouth can touch my skin.

“Jade.” He says my name again as he lifts me up to pull the dress over my head. He pushes me down on the bed and in a few seconds, I am naked underneath him.

I can feel his love through his lips. Right then, I make a conscious decision to allow myself to be swept up with the tide, with the waves; I finally jump into the ocean. The anxiety that I had all these months over my work, my life, Joshua, Lucas—I let it all go with Chris. My Chris.

I smooth my fingers over his back and shoulders, looking for that familiarity I’ve been searching for over the past twenty years. It’s still there. The sound he makes as he enters me. The feel of him, the fit of him; he feels good and ever-so-safe. I spread my legs wider, making sure to take him all in, wanting to show him through actions, not words, how much this means to me.

“Jade, say my name, please,” he groans, pausing only to look into my eyes. “I want to hear you say my name.”

“Chris,” I whisper, “It’s me. Oh, Chris.”

“Oh, God, Jade!” he exclaims as we try to forget the tragedy that led us to rediscover each other. “Take your heart back, Jade!” he cries. “I still have it with me. I’ve kept it for you all these years.”

A FEW MINUTES
later, we’re snuggled together on his bed, face to face, whispering in the dim light of the setting sun. I’ve covered myself with his t-shirt while he’s wearing nothing but the sheet on top of him. Next to his bed are three ostentatious picture frames with images of our daughter. Cia as a baby, Cia at twelve, and Cia at seventeen. Not only do they look out of place, I know whose home they came from.

“Did Mama pick those pictures for you?” I ask, playing with the fingers that are clasped around mine.

“She did. She ran after me as I was walking down your driveway.” He chuckles, lovingly pulling my hand to his face.

“Which one is your favorite? I can tell you all about the picture, if you’d like.”

“Tell me about all three,” he requests. I notice that his eyes are bright blue again, the darkness temporarily cast away.

“Okay. Let’s see.” I point to the oldest photo. I pick it up in my hands and lightly touch her face with my finger. “This one is one of my favorites. She was obsessed with that basketball. She was two and could hardly keep her balance, but with that thing, she was able to roll it in front of her while riding her body on top of it. I remember Daddy telling me that she was really your daughter. I kept that close to me all these years. She was rambunctious as a baby. Always finding herself in little fixes. I caught her trying to climb into the dryer once. The other time, she fell down the stairs trying to make it to the kitchen on her own. She managed to climb over of the baby gates on the stairway.”

“This one.” I pick up the second picture frame. He moves his head close to mine as I hold it up in front of us. My heart stops when I hear her squeal of delight in my head. “She’s twelve. Do you see that purse she has on her? She was posing with her first ever Prada bag. Joshua finally caved in and bought her one. I thought she was too young to have something like that, but the look on her face when she got it was priceless. She kept that bag for years and years. In fact, she was—” I pause without warning to compose myself. “She was using that six-year-old bag on the day of her accident. Your daughter was very practical. She never asked for anything outrageous, never cared about name brands.”

Chris stops me for a moment and repositions our bodies so that my head is on his chest and both of his arms are around me. I lose myself in his scent. It feels like nothing has changed at all.

“Ah. This last one. You need to know the story behind this one. This was during our mother-daughter trip to New York. It was Fashion Week and we were there to see the new spring collections. Mama has the rest of the pictures, but this one was taken right when she was freaking out but trying to stay cool because her favorite guy from One Direction was speaking to her. She was that enthralling. Everywhere she went, people paid attention to her.”