Leon's Way Read online

  My mother and I have concluded our weeping fest by the time Leon knocks on the door. He’s taking a break from the club overhaul to lunch with me. My heart swells beneath my ribcage, not leaving room for doubt.

  I’m in deep, Mom. It’s too late.

  Mom gets up and opens the door. I hear pleasantries in the hallway, the silky sound of Leon’s voice as they approach. My pulse thickens, and as always I’m afraid for my blood pressure. Idly, I remind myself that I’ve got a physician in Talco too, someone who could probably see me if I need it. I took my pills this morning. I’m okay.

  Leon enters our kitchen. I see him for the first time in these familiar surroundings. My heart bounces at his eyes zooming in, the lightest of blue trapping me. That barely-there smirk…

  Leon’s face sets. Suddenly alert, his gaze flows to my chest, and I realize my hand is covering my heart. I let go, but he still prods, “Are you okay?”

  I rush out a giddy laugh that makes me sound like I’m thirteen. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  He lowers to his haunches, takes my face between his hands, and studies me. Then, he places a chaste kiss on my mouth. It’s not enough for either of us, so he gives me a second—a third dry lip-smack. The light air escaping his nostrils sends a jolt to my girly parts.

  Harnessed passion. I adore his harnessed passion.

  “When is your next checkup with Dr. Rosenthal?” he asks me. Mom crosses her arms behind him. She’s staring unabashedly, taking in everything Leon is with me. Discomfort creeps up my back and to my neck. Every move he makes is being judged.

  “Monday morning.” I lean out of his attention, flicking a glance at Mom. “Anyway, we should get going, Mom. You’ve got to head off to work, and somewhere downtown there are samosas with my name on them.”

  “Samosas, huh? Not pure lettuce?” Leon teases.

  “I eat real food too,” I say, and he hums in playful disagreement.

  As we step off the terrace, Mom’s voice reaches us from behind. “Leon,” she says, pitch low. My love turns and meets her gaze calmly.

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Take good care my daughter.”

  Am I dreaming? I’m all about letting go, accumulating good karma, seeing beyond the monster from my childhood, and achieving closure. But this?

  “Mom, what does John think about you coming here?” I enquire, reminding her of her husband of ten years back in San Francisco.

  I’m at the airport, picking her up. She called me at six a.m., not to ask my opinion but to tell me she was seconds from boarding a plane. She had to rush, she said, and we’d chat once she arrived.

  Once she arrived!

  And here she is. Ayako hasn’t been in Deepsilver since she fled from the sperm donor. Now she’s back to see the man she used to love… die. It’s what I gather, but Ayako being Ayako, she must want him to exhale in peace.

  “Oh, Katsu, John’s fine.” Mom lets out a tired breath. From the redness in her eyes, I’m guessing she hasn’t slept in a while. “He’s got work, but if I’m still here by the weekend, he’ll join me. I’ve got a room at the Hilton on Concord Street by the way,” she adds as I grab her single, elegant suitcase and unbuckle the pull-handle for a better grip.

  “I don’t get why you’re doing this, Mom.” She tends to mull things over for a long time before she acts, so her coming here isn’t an impulse. I need to learn where the heck this came from.

  Instead of enlightening me, her reply deflects and catches me off guard. “They’re moving him to hospice today.” Ayako’s lipstick glistens bright as always, but all I grasp is the sadness of the smile it accentuates.

  “What? They never told me. How did they tell you?”

  She lifts a small hand with the single gold band she wanted for a wedding ring from my stepfather. Does a ribbon-shaped swirl in the air, indicating with eyes and gestures how she’s not sure. “Since I learned about your father’s stroke, I’ve contacted Doctor Randall periodically. Yesterday, I had a gut feeling—I still have that for Marshall sometimes—and checked in with her.”

  The short drive downtown is quiet. I’m struggling with the thought of seeing my mother in the same room as the sperm donor. Drifting in and out of sleep, my father hasn’t been as responsive over the last days. He might not wake up, I soothe myself. Plus, I don’t even recall the two of them together–I have no reason to freak out.

  Shishi. He’ll remember. God, I wonder how he’ll react to Mom being here. “Did you tell my brother?”

  “No, I decided against calling him. I figured it’s better to deal with his reaction in person.”

  “He’s been… working himself up lately, with everything. Between the baby arriving any day now and Dad dying, I have no idea what he’ll say.”

  We both have a pretty good idea, though. He’s going to flip his lid and want to send her straight back home.

  My mother blinks fast, her signature effort when she tries to keep from crying. I pull into the hotel and park the car. She’s got her hand in her purse, searching for something, a handkerchief.

  “Mom, it’s okay. Leon will survive. You know how he is—he just hates not controlling everything. Your son’s a total control freak.”

  She laughs with glossy eyes, and I smile too. I’ve missed my sweet mother.

  “I talked with him,” she whispers.

  “With who? Shishi?”

  “No, your father.”

  I’m floored by the news. I had no idea she’d spoken with the sperm donor at all since she left Deepsilver. Why is she doing this to herself? And here I’d been surprised by her contact with his doctor!

  “About what?”

  “A week ago, his physician called me. I’m usually the one calling, Kat, reaching out to her, but your father had insisted on getting ahold of me to apologize.”

  Mom gets out of her seat before I do, before she finishes her story. Opening the back door, she yanks at her suitcase. She’s so small, though. My mother isn’t strong despite her appearance the way I am, so I haul it out for her, lock the car, and start dragging the thing toward the hotel entrance.

  “What did he say?” I prod.

  “Not a lot. Your father was in a drug haze. Since his liver is failing, he’s in so much pain. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that he’s not clearheaded anymore?”

  “He sleeps almost nonstop, ” I offer.

  “Well, he asked for and got my forgiveness, but he wasn’t satisfied. He pleaded for me to come so he could tell me in person, to be able to see that I really was accepting his remorse.”

  “He’s the king of the world, huh, bossing people around,” I say, laughing. “Thinks we’re his flipping chess pieces. And so you came?”

  Mine was a small barb, insinuating that she’s following his orders. By the glint in her eye, she’s fully aware. Ayako isn’t one to make excuses, though.

  “Yes. So I came.”

  My mother wastes no time. She unpacks, folding and putting away clothes and toiletries with an efficiency that rivals Shishi’s. Next, she snatches her purse from the table, and voilà, she’s ready.

  Mom tells me not to fret, that she’ll get around by hotel shuttle and taxi while she’s in town. I need to do my job, she reminds me, which is true, but I worry about her anyway.

  “Let me go with you this first time?” I plead, and thankfully, she concedes.

  It takes me a minute to find hospice. Situated in a lower building, it hides in a corner of the enormous hospital lot. Two stories tall and flanked by oak trees, it looks ancient and sort of pretty. Utilitarian in style, the house still boasts an old-fashioned elegance I can’t categorize until I read the plaque by the door. This is the original Parkwood Hospital built in the nineteen hundreds. It makes sense to me that this solemn, elegant place is the last stop for people.

  Once through the front doors, I notice how it has all the necessary amenities. It shouldn’t be a surprise, but the contrast between outdoors and indoors is stark. A nurse walks ahead of us, showing us
the way because my dad’s room is at the far bend. Overlooking a small patio in the back, the nurse says.

  It’s hushed here. I look at Ayako, who’s sunken into herself. My mind ruminates on her time with the man she’s about to visit. Her quiet-place must have been really important back then. Physically a lightweight in every sense, she was strong enough to survive such psychological and physical abuse.

  I’m in awe of my mother. She knocks on the door to her dying abuser’s room. Swings it open with steady hands.

  The bed isn’t the regular hospital kind. Sure, the contraptions and handles allowing staff to regulate him are there, but it’s got a wooden headboard. The room itself has two overstuffed La-Z-Boys next to each other in front of a small floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door.

  The walls play host to serene paintings with gulleys, mountaintops, birds that are free to soar, dip, and roam. I can’t look at the shrunken man in the middle of the bed yet. It’s the surroundings. The fact that they’re not so hospital-like twists my heart over opportunities lost. Over the person my father could have been back when he didn’t need hospitals.

  I stop in the doorway. Grasp onto Mom’s arm, hindering us both. I’m not ready to see her with him. “Are you calling Shishi soon?” My voice wavers as I buy precious time outside his sphere.

  She tips her face up, eyes on my father even though she focuses on my question. “I know, honey. I need to decide what to do. When does he return?”

  “He didn’t say. Arriane is visiting him, but she’s got a doctor’s appointment in Deepsilver tomorrow. Leon, though? Worst case, he doesn’t come back until she’s in the maternity ward.”

  My mother’s smooth forehead creases imperceptibly. “I should explain in person, Katsu. Maybe I’ll borrow your car and surprise him.”

  I feel my shoulders ease, muscles I didn’t know were tense loosen. “Yeah. I’ll be your driver.”

  Mom’s eyes aren’t on me anymore. She moves into the room, quiet, quiet, until fingers flutter across the blanket to my father’s hands. He’s asleep, transparent tube suspended from a nostril and needles slipped in through slack skin on a hand. A shivering sigh comes from my mother, and I go, grab her by the shoulders, and lean my cheek against her hair.

  “Mom?” I whisper, afraid of interrupting. Afraid I’ll wake him up too.

  She shakes her head, composing herself. For me, it’s easier, I’m sure. All I do is compare him to the fantasy picture of a dad he never was. Of my stepdad—of my friends’ dads. But my mother? The grief I see in her eyes must stem from different memories.

  “There were good times too.” Her fingers lift and tremble over her lips. She sniffs in a breath, gathering energy before she turns to me. “I’ll be sitting here for a while, honey. I brought a book. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

  Leon’s eyes remain on me while I back out of the parking spot, and my gaze stays locked in the rearview mirror until I dip onto the main road. It’s hard to leave him behind. As I stop at the red light he can see from where he stands, he sends me a single text.

  Put away the cell & drive safely.

  I smile a wobbly smile. Do you love me? I reply, because I am needy and miss him like crazy.

  Yes, I love you. Now, turn. Off. The cell.

  I love you too… What I haven’t dared to ask slips from my fingers and onto the phone keys. When are you coming home?

  My focus flicks between the mirror and the traffic light. Leon stands tall. Even at a distance, his stare pierces me with the demand to fucking obey and hit the off-switch. I stifle a snicker because he can’t reach me from where he is.

  Soon. OFF.

  The few hours’ drive to Deepsilver feels like ten. As I finally pull onto Noble Street, I wonder if the sensation I have is new. Maybe I just didn’t notice my body’s signals while I was with Leon? Sore muscles I understand. Thighs, butt, waist, hips, even shoulders burn from Leon’s fierce attention over the last couple of days. I purse my lips over a grin and squeeze my legs together, savoring the sweet ache after the two of us.

  But it’s the other stuff I’m wary of. My fingers around the steering wheel are thicker, my wrists growing puffier with water. I’m suddenly aware of my foot on the gas pedal where flesh strains against skin, wanting to break free.

  I park the car on the street; suddenly, I can’t bear the thought of getting out and opening the back gates only to lower myself back into the seat again to drive in. My pulse quickens, just reacting to Leon’s absence, I hope. This better not be physical. It would mean the preeclampsia is claiming me.

  I walk toward Smother’s entrance.

  Another water pill. Extra blood pressure meds.

  I’m slow, hesitant on strangely pillowy soles. For each step, my heart throbs whoo-whoosh, whoo-whoosh in my ears.

  Tom, the newish bouncer, guards the door alone. Christian runs the place with cool logic, and since it’s early and there’s usually no crowd on Sundays, Tom manages fine without Jason.

  “Hey, Boss Lady,” Tom calls from a distance. “How’s Leon? Choice shaping up?” He sets enormous fists on muscular hips while waiting for my reply.

  “Tom—yes, he says hi and keep up the good work,” I improvise. I draw in a deep breath, hoping the surplus of oxygen will lend relief to my struggling heart.

  I’m working myself up. Frightening myself. I need comfort, and Leon is far, far away. I can’t bother him unless this turns out to be more than just nerves.

  “Katsu here? Or Ingela?”

  “Ingela’s at the main bar, but Katsu’s at the hospital with her mom, visiting her dad.”

  “What?” I frown. “Her father’s girlfriend, right?”

  “No, ma’am. Christian called me in early—I saw Kat myself,” he says as if it’s rare to see her at Smother. “The brewery delivered a day early, and since their guys only load to the first floor—you know, because we don’t have an elevator—Christian needed someone strong to restock the storage room on the terrace. Which is why he gave me a ring.” Tom’s brown eyes glint with poorly disguised pride as he prattles on. “Yeah, so Kat left in her rent-a-car to fetch their mother from the airport.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I offer automatically.

  “Oh, no problem, Bossy-Lady—” He inhales swiftly. “Um, Boss Lady.”

  Leon talks about his mom with such love and respect, so it’s odd to me that he hasn’t informed me of her coming. She must have told him. Although, would he remain in Talco if he knew? Maybe she’s heading to Talco next, I think.

  On my way to Ingela, I unlock my cell. In the off chance that he’s unaware, I want to be the one to break good news for once. He hasn’t been to San Francisco in years, and I can’t imagine a better time for him to have his mother close. Man, this beats telling him I’m plunging into high-blood-pressure mode. I’m forgetting the discomfort I’m in for a moment. He’ll be so happy!

  Hi, hot stuff, I type out.

  Hey, sexy. You all right?

  Yep. & BS: I’m so not sexy.

  This morning didn’t convince you?

  My most private area contracts as I remember, and I smirk to myself. You’re “special” for finding me hot right now.

  Kinky you mean? You hurt my feelings. ;-)

  He just winky-faced me. Goodness! I’m lightheaded at Playful Leon. My heart sprints fast, fast… like it’s done for an hour now. At least I’m not about to plunge sanity-first into a breakdown.

  Can’t wait to meet your mom, I continue.

  My phone remains still for a moment. Yes, she’s sweet, he finally punches out.

  She wasn’t here when I arrived. She’s at the hospital w/Kat, I specify since he doesn’t text again. After a whole minute, I’m feeling stupid.

  Surprise visit? I add and regret that too.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve heard nothing more from Leon. I’ve speed-dialed him ten times, and every call clipped straight to voicemail. I’m worried. My heart thrashes in my chest, fighting with blood that needs to rush t
oo thick, too fast through my veins.

  Leon’s silence. My body. Nothing is right.

  The contraction across the air balloon of my belly sucks my breath away. When it lets go, I risk a glance in Ingela’s direction. She’s heading back from the office, where she’s probably been innuendo-bickering with Cameron. Sure enough, he slinks out behind her, lips curled in a low grin.

  Ingela whips out a glass and plops a Diet Pepsi in front of me on the bar. It’s a nice, big glass that fizzes and brims with ice. I wish I could enjoy it. Robin raises a finger from the DJ booth, indicating how he’ll play one of my faves. I’m battery-driven by now—I can smile and give him a thumbs up even if I don’t care which song it’ll be.

  A sting burns and spreads kerosene-lit fire below my baby. There’s nothing healthy about this feeling. Like it’s not the natural progress of anything. I catch Ingela’s eye. “What?” she bellows over the music as usual, and I just shake my head. Point to the ceiling and plead with my eyes.

  Ingela spins and barks at Cameron. “I’m taking Arria upstairs. Fend for yourself, dick.” Cameron swings blond bangs our way, really looks at me, and frowns.

  He’s in my face in seconds. “You okay? We should call Leon,” he adds, checking with Ingela for her agreement. Curious, blue-green eyes flicker over my features. “You’re all freaking puffy!”

  I panic. I finally panic. I turn and waddle as fast as I can toward the stairs to Leon’s apartment. Once there, I grab onto the banister and half haul, half walk myself up to the top. Ingela is right behind me. “I’ll call,” she says—quietly for the first time—and I reply, “His phone is off.”

  She pushes the door open. “How can it be off when you’re this fucking close to having the baby, Arriane? He’s a bucket of shit!”

  I don’t laugh—nothing is funny because something is happening inside me and my little one knows too. He’s not happy. He’s trying to turn, but he can’t.

  “I just texted with Leon.” I’m making up excuses. “So he thinks I’m fine, and he’s probably busy working. Call Kat.”