The Solitude of Passion (54 page)

Max comes over and gives him a man hug. “I meant it about those firecrackers.”

“I’m sure you did. You think I’ll have a hard time getting explosives through customs?”

“Not if you swallow them first.” He offers up a knuckle bump. “Take care man.”

I don’t hang out for the love fest. I just get in the car and wonder how the hell we landed in this scary place once again.

I’m not sure if Mitch chose midnight because he hoped Max would be asleep, or he was hoping the moon coupled with my fatigue would romanticize the situation. I make my way onto the back porch just as Mitch comes up through the dark. The moon captures his hair and outlines him in a phosphorescent glow. It illuminates him like a thing of beauty, like a being from another world.

He gives a slow spreading smile as he takes me by the fingers and lures me onto the sand.

We walk for a while, ignoring the chill, and amble close enough to the water until our feet sink into the cold, wet shoreline.

“Max okay?”

“He’s fine—sleeping in our bed.” I hope it stings.

He dips into a reluctant nod. “All right.”

“I find it strange you find anything all right with that.”

“Don’t. I’m over hating him. When I come back, we’ll fix this mess.” He jostles my hand.

“Maybe there won’t be a mess to fix. Maybe I don’t want you back if you leave.”

“Don’t do this, Lee.”

“I’m doing it.” I pull him to an abrupt stop. “Get on that plane tomorrow, but know if you do, it’s over. You tore me to pieces the first time, and now you want to play Russian roulette like you’re begging for it to happen again.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Is it working?”

“No. I’ll be there three days, five with travel. You won’t miss me. You’ll be too busy being mad, and, trust me, anger makes the time fly by real fast. I know.”

“You don’t care what this is doing to me. You don’t care that I’m carrying
your
baby. What if you miss this child’s delivery—hell, miss its life? Or
mine
or
Stella’s!
Where’s the fire, Mitch? Who’s pushing you to hop back on that plane?”

“You’re having my baby?” A grin slides up his face.

“Yes.” I can barely breathe the word. I leave out the fact it could belong to Max—that it probably does.

“I’m thrilled.” He stares at me lovingly before digging into his pocket and plucking something out. “Made this for you,” he whispers.

He hands me a small paper flower like the one he made for Stella. “I don’t want it.” I shove it back at him. “Keep your stupid roses. I want
you,
Mitch. What don’t you get about that? I’m your wife, damn it! Listen to me. Do not go. I
forbid
it!” The wind steals my voice, and all of my aggression is lost in its soft roar.

He tries pulling me in but I give a hard push, accidentally knocking into his left arm.

Mitch lets out a groan that could be heard for miles.

“Is that what would make you stay?” I shout. “If I hurt you?
Shoot
you?” I give another hard shove to his bad shoulder, and he explodes in a dull scream before dropping to his knees. He staggers back up again and charges at me. With one swoop he restrains my wrists behind my back and pushes his lips against mine, hard and aggressive.

It all melts away. We shared our first kiss here. I told him I was having Stella under a paper moon just like this one. This is where he proposed. I dig my toes into the sand as I pull him down and lose myself in these black magic kisses.

We watch the moon round out over the sky as the hours tick by. Colt eventually appears.

“Love you, Lee.” Mitch pulls me into a one-armed embrace.

“Love you, too.” I press my lips to his.

“I’m coming back to you,” he whispers. His eyes lock over mine like a vice. “I promise.”

I watch as the two of them grow small as ants, never taking my eyes off Mitch until he disappears into a blip on the horizon.

That paper rose catches my eye and I pick it up, unfold it to see what it might say.

I love you deeper than the ocean, Lee Townsend
.

Remember that always
.

Mitch

Mitch

Colton hasn’t been on a plane since our dad took us salmon fishing in Alaska. I’m reminded of this as the plane thunders into the air.

He squeezes his eyes shut and clutches onto the armrests until his fingernails are pressed white. I wait until we hit a decent altitude before jabbing him in the chest, startling the crap out of him.

“Relax, would you?”

“Can’t.” He grits it through clenched teeth as he looks cautiously out the window. “You can see everything up here.”

“Yeah, well, soon you’ll just see clouds. Home will be a memory.”

“No angels with harps?”

“Not where you’re going.” I close my eyes and try to remember details from last night on the sand with Lee.

“So why are we doing this again?”

“Just want some closure. Maybe figure out if there was a purpose in all this. I can’t explain it. I need to do it.” I need to know every move I make doesn’t turn to shit.

“Is this you getting back on the horse?” Colt doesn’t look too impressed with the idea.

“That’s it.”

“So what’s it like there?” He settles his head into his seat. “Chinese food on every corner?”

“Don’t know. All I ever saw was the inside of a detention center.” That’s not entirely true, but that last day with Kyle was a blur. My eyes spring open.

“What?” Colton hones in on my panic.

“Nothing.” I burrow my head into the seat. Shit. I forgot to tell Kyle I was headed back—meant to have him on standby in the event circumstances boiled down to the worst-case scenario. Life has a way of doing that—especially mine. Which reminds me, “You have any money saved?”

“Some. Why? You want that, too? Taking my life in your hands isn’t enough?”

“I talked to Max. He said the business is broke. I don’t think you’ll be getting a draw for a while.”

“Really? I talked to Lee about finances a couple weeks ago. She said things were stable.”

“They’re not.”

“And you think Max is telling the truth because?”

“Why would he lie?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

The plane jostles for the next fifteen seconds. Colton expels a string of expletives while writhing like he’s about to have a baby.

“You’re bad luck, Mitch, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What’s on the itinerary? You book a hotel?”

“I’m not worried about the hotel. I’m sure they’ll have room.” I don’t fill Colt in on the fact I plan on making a beeline to the detention center to talk to Gao and Mei if she’s still working. Tie up my loose ends then scoot out of China my way. I want to let it culminate the way it should have the first time, nothing to fear, no scars, no dramatic lapse in time, no children born without me front and center to witness the event.

“Lee’s pregnant.” The words feel foreign on my lips.

“You the daddy?”

“Maybe.”

“Awesome. You know I never thought your life would turn out this way, Mitch.”

“Me either. You know that old saying we make plans, and God laughs?”

“Yup.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate things anymore. Just let them happen and trust that the chips will fall where they’re supposed to.”

“What if they fall where you don’t want them to?”

“It’s happened before.”

Turns out the hotel I stayed in with Kyle is booked six weeks in advance. The manager gives me a list of other prospects, and one of them is a youth hostel, which Colt refuses right out the gate.

Outside the air is humid, smells like gasoline and bad engines, the whole city seems to have a bad case of exhaust pipe breath. I manage to get a taxi, and both Colt and I file inside.

“Where to now, genius?” Colt stopped panting like a woman in labor once we touched down.

“Reeducation for labor center.” I instruct the driver. Colt’s face bleeds out, pale as rice paper.

It’s strange to observe the scenery from this vantage point. Small pushed together shacks, long colorful strands of laundry hanging by a wire, a business district that looks metropolitan in nature, streets brimming with merchandise. A rainbow of kimonos drape an entire city block as far as the eye can see.

We pull up to a tall looming building and slow to a halt. The cab driver doesn’t bother warning us not to go in there, instead he extends his hand for payment and I hand over U.S. currency. He doesn’t mind, but offers no change.

“So they gonna let us out?” Colt hesitates before stepping out of the cab. “Is it even legal for us to go inside?”

I’m too stunned to answer.

Here it is. The place that still holds me caged within its walls even though I was thousands of miles away. It’s time to say goodbye once and for all, leave all of my tragic yesterdays behind so I might be able to enjoy every one of my tomorrows.

I hold the large glass door open for Colt. I don’t know the answers, but I don’t plan on spooking him either.

A young woman at the desk glances up. “No tourists.” She doesn’t bother to smile as she nods toward the exit.

“I’m here to visit one of your prisoners. His name is Gao.” I knock my knuckles against the counter. It occurs to me I have no idea what his last name might be.

“You family?” She picks up the phone and punches a number.

“No.”

“Then you cannot visit.” She replaces the receiver.

“How about Mei? She’s on staff.”

“You know Mei?” She hoods her eyes at me suspiciously.

“Yes. I know her very well.”

“What is your name?” She picks up the phone again.

“Mitch Townsend.”

“Crazy Mitch!” Mei wraps her arms around me.

“She does know you.” Colton offers his hand and introduces himself.

“You fat now!” She pats my belly as we stand in the lobby of the glorified torture chamber.

“Thank you, I think. How’s Gao?”

“Gao not here.” Her expression darkens.

“What happened?” My chest pinches. I’m not sure I want to know. That last day crops back into my mind. He tried slipping me a “Master Work” which equates to the book ban of the century in some of these parts. Maybe they found it on him? People left this place in body bags for far lesser offenses. It was the fastest route out of here and often taken by choice.

“He go home. He finish.”

“That’s great!” I’m filled with relief. “Where can I find him?”

She gives rudimentary direction to the harbor. Then it all comes back to me, the story of how he shared a junk boat with his ailing grandfather, how he was imprisoned for trying to feed him.

“How’s everything else?” I ask her.

Mei eyes the girl at the desk and pulls us toward the exit. “You remember Tosa and Jun? Brothers.”

“The little boys.” I nod. Ironic, I spent day after day elbow-to-elbow with them and I’m not sure I ever knew their names. The vocal cord ban had been pretty effective.

“Yes,” she nods. “They make paper flower and shapes from book Gao leave. But now different, you need be careful. After read paper…” She motions with her hand as though crumbling a piece of paper and eating it. Wipes her hands of it. “Gone.”