Insipid (16 page)

“Mmm. God, Jae, I know what I’d rather be doing right now.” His voice was muffled in my hair as he stepped effortlessly towards the canopy bed and gently set me down. He sat next to me while I placed my head on his lap and lay on my stomach. His hands snaked up my dress and rested on the back of my thighs. “Your dress is too short.” He smiled impishly, lifting his head up and turning his attention to the wall next to the windows. “Wait, I’ve been looking for that one!” he teased as he pointed to the blue and gold jersey neatly posted on the wooden board. “You’ve had it all this time?”

“What can I say? I stole it. I needed to stink up my room so it smelled like you when I missed you,” I taunted back.

“I still can’t get over the fact that this bedroom is twice the size of my apartment.” His eyes roamed the room for a few seconds until they rested on a pile of shopping bags on the floor by the walk in closet. “When did you go shopping?”

“The other day when you were out job hunting. Wanna see what I bought?” I pushed myself up off the bed and crawled on the floor towards the bags. “This.” I held up a pink halter top blouse with a bow on the front.

“Sexy. And your favorite color.”

“Yup. And this.” I held up a printed black and white checkered pair of slim pants.

“Sexier. When are you going to wear that?”

“Maybe when we go to the Smashing Pumpkins concert?” I fished another item from a different bag. “What about this?” I held up a pair of red lace underwear.

“Sexiest!” he affirmed, laughing lightly. “Why don’t you model it for me now?”

“Because we’re in my mother’s house and Concha has cameras all over the place,” I joked.

“True,” he agreed. “But we’re leaving here right after dinner!”

As if she really
did
have cameras everywhere, the annoying beep of the intercom system penetrated the room and Concha’s stern voice rang through the speakers. “Jade! The guests are gathering for supper. Come downstairs now!”

Two hours later, we found ourselves sitting at the incredibly long dining room table having dessert while everyone was immersed in their own side dialogues. The coral-colored solid jade dining room table continued to be a central topic of everyone’s conversation. It was custom-made and shipped here from Hong Kong, lifted by a crane and installed by forty carpenters, etc., etc., etc. This expectedly blossomed into a conversation about the hand-carved crown molding and the original Picasso mural that was installed on all four walls.

It made me happy to see my mother being complimented on her exemplary taste. My father was a self-made businessman who needed my mother’s support and confidence to help steer him in the right direction as a young immigrant from another country. Sometimes I wished I was more like her. She said that she married him because she recognized his potential, but I know she married him because she fell deeply in love. She was his partner, his lover, and his wife. My parents still held hands whenever they strolled together, still whispered secrets into each other’s ears, and still shared their own private jokes, oblivious to whatever else was going on around them.

Chris and I were seated across from each other, with Joshua next to me on my right, Someone else’s daughter, named Millie, was busy chatting Chris up with stories about herself. He stared straight at me, making sure that I noticed how his eyes never left my face. I smiled warmly at him and licked my lips, sending him our very own code that we would have our time together afterwards. Soon. From the corner of my eye, I saw my father stand up to begin thanking everyone for their company this evening. He lifted up his glass in a few toasts to his business partners and friends, the same speeches he always gave. I managed to catch the last one only because everyone turned their heads to look at me.

“And last but not least, to our daughter, Jade. The light of my life, who never fails to make me a proud man. Jade has been accepted at the Stanford School of Business and her mother and I are filled with pride at how this young woman has just blossomed on her own. To you, Jade. Congratulations!”

“Cheers!” everyone responded, clinking their glasses together.

It happened in slow motion. Everything else faded out and I sat frozen in place as Joshua leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek. He moved in way too quickly for me to react. “Congratulations, Jade,” he murmured. Panic overtook me as I turned my head over to Chris, who was no longer in his chair but standing right behind mine.

I pushed my seat back and stood up slowly, calmly. “Excuse us, please, everyone. Thank you all for your well wishes.”

“WILL YOU SLOW
down, please?” I yelped, yanking Chris’ arm back to stop him from pulling me across the garden. “Let me take my shoes off first. The heels are digging into the grass and I’m going to leave my ankles behind if you pull me any harder!”

He finally stopped without letting go of my hand. “Sorry. I’m so fucking upset right now, I’m going to explode!”

This time, I took the lead. With my shoes in my left hand, we slowly walked down the stone path on the way to the wooded area behind the swimming pool. My childhood playhouse came into view and immediately, I felt both relieved and relaxed. Chris pushed the old wooden door open and I stepped in first, trying to deflect his mood by pasting a sly smile on my face. He followed me inside, watching as I lifted my skirt up to allow my legs the freedom to climb the ladder to the second level where a built-in bed was nestled directly under an elevated roof with a skylight. Chris was so tall that he had to crouch down and remain seated in order to fit into this little loft. His legs dangled down as he sat at the edge of the bed next to me.

“Okay. Talk,” I ordered, taking his hand in mine.

“Who the fuck made those seating arrangements? Was it your mother?”

“No, her secretary does all that. I’m sure she got instructions from my mother to alternate us like they always do in all these events.”

“I swear, Jae, he’s posed to take you away from me. I watched him all evening. He wouldn’t stop looking at you.”

“He’s your friend, Chris. Your close friend. Maybe he thinks he’s doing it for you.”

“Doing what for me? Angling for my girl?”

“No, no. Trying to make sure that he’s around us all the time. Like watching over me when you’re not there.”

“That’s bullshit. When you think about it, he has more of a future than I do. I bet everyone wishes you would end up with him.”

“Stop that crazy talk.” I scooted my backside further up the mattress and lay down on the bed, pulling him towards me at the same time. “Come here.”

He complied obediently by moving himself upwards until his face was two inches away from mine. He propped himself up on his left elbow while his right hand caressed my face. “I think your mother is playing right into it,” he breathed, right before planting tiny little kisses down my nose.

“I seriously think she’s trying to challenge you. She’s just looking out for me.”

“No, she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you. And she may be right. You were born into all this,” he said, waving his free hand in the air, “and I have nothing but a semi-okay athletic ability that isn’t even getting me anywhere at this point.”

“You, Chris Wilmot, have a super duper athletic ability that recruiters are going to recognize anytime now. And your love,” I said, running my fingers along the side of his face, “is the only thing that will ever be good enough for me. I would give up everything I have to be with you.”

“I love you, Jae.” His thumb lightly brushed over my eyelids as I closed them momentarily to savor his touch. “Please be patient with me. I want to be able to give you what you’re used to. Once I’ve got my future all figured out, I want to marry you, start a family with you. Will you stay with me, Jae? Please don’t leave me. You’re my home.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris bent his head down to kiss me, slowly at first, nipping at my lips until I opened up my mouth to taste him. I enclosed him in my arms and pulled him close to me, running my fingers down his back. We spent a few minutes kissing until his lips left mine and started to inch down my neck towards my breasts.

“Baby, wait. Let’s go back to your place. We have no protection here.” I gasped, reproaching every single lapse of time without his skin on mine.

He responded by removing his shirt and gently pulling my straps down to expose me. No words, just his hands on my breasts, his lips trailing a path, alternating between the downward pull of the fabric and the scintillating touch of his tongue. We smiled at each other as we heard the plop of my dress hitting the floor below us. My eyes were lost in his as I eased myself slowly out of my panties. I gently took hold of his face and guided it back up towards me, wrapping my legs around him so that I could feel him through his jeans. He sat up for a few seconds, only to undress himself completely. He spread my legs with his knee and with one gentle push, he filled me.

“You’re mine, Jae. Only mine. Say it,” he commanded, and his thrusts became rougher, stronger, more intense.

I was at a loss for words. Not because I didn’t mean it or because I wasn’t sure of it. I was buried in my ecstasy, focused on his movements, his roughness, his severity.

“Jae, Jae, say it,” he panted as he grabbed my breast and squeezed it sharply.

My thoughts snapped back to hear his voice as I was wracked by my own convulsion. “Yes! Yes! I’m yours!” I cried.

And just like that, he released all his doubts inside me, trusting me, giving me everything of himself, his heart, his soul.
His life.

SUMMER IN SAN
FRANCISCO
is one of the best in the whole world. The weather is warm, but not humid, and the cool breezes are a welcome relief from the rays of the hot sun. My days were spent preparing for the time when I would leave the city to go back to school. Chris had taken a summer job in construction for a company that owned a number of buildings in the downtown area. Surprisingly, not for my father, who still controlled most of the buildings in the vicinity. There were times when I didn’t get to see him for days and tried not to go crazy missing him. My mother made it her main objective to keep me busy, first with apartment hunting in the Stanford area and next with shopping and furnishing what’s going to be my home at least for the next few years while I’m in school.

I also took an internship at my father’s company, doing the books for him three days a week. We spoke every day and stole quiet moments together either at his place when he wasn’t on call or at my apartment when he had time to swing by while on the road. He still didn’t own a car, but drove a company truck that broke down every so often. I had accepted the fact Chris wasn’t going to be recruited to play professional basketball anytime soon. He had two or three offers to play pro ball outside of the country, but his disappointment at the opportunities hindered his ability to decide fast enough. Pretty soon, the offers dried up. This had made him resentful and angry, and all the more insecure about the differences between our financial situations. I tried to assure him that I didn’t care, and that he could move in with me in the meantime, but he didn’t want to commit. He rarely talked about the future with me; his emphatic blue eyes were often distant and empty. But he told me that we would figure it all out and that he loved me. I believed him. I didn’t know anything else in my life except for the love of my family and the love of Chris.

On the afternoon of our fourth anniversary, I let myself into his apartment and tidied up, knowing that he would be off from work in a few hours. He still lived in the same place, with one old bed in the middle of the room and a lamp on a makeshift desk. Nothing had changed, but that’s why I loved him so much. He stayed true to himself. If only he would stop trying too hard to prove himself to me. The apartment was warmed considerably by the open window that allowed the bright sun in. The first thing I noticed was his unmade bed, but I thought nothing of the two pillows that lay side by side, hinting at the unthinkable, the impossible. I hustled about the place, making the bed, straightening up and organizing some ingredients on the kitchen counter. I was going to make his favorite spaghetti, complete with garlic bread and a salad and a bottle of his favorite Cabernet, straight from my father’s wine cellar. With two more hours to kill, I decided to go for a quick run.