Crimson Footprints (34 page)

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Authors: Shewanda Pugh

Tags: #drama, #interracial romance, #family, #womens fiction, #urban, #literary fiction, #black author, #african american romance, #ethnic romance, #ethnic conflict

BOOK: Crimson Footprints
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You’re not being fair,
Daichi. Yoshi did what he thought was best, given the
circumstances. Both your father and I were proud of him for the
tough decisions he’s made.”

Daichi stared at his mother.
“I see.”


Musuko
, don’t say it like that.”


Like what?”


Like nothing. Just try to
treat your brother better.”

Daichi nodded. “Fine. Are we
done here?”

Yukiko sighed. “I suppose
so.”


Good. Now please excuse
me, mother. I have…culinary duties to attend to.”

 

Forced indoors by the rain,
Deena and the Tanakas took their meal and settled in at the dining
room table. They drew her into their conversations effortlessly,
interspersing talk of sports and food and travel destinations with
questions about her. When Daichi presented her with a Christmas
gift afterwards, she was grateful for Tak’s warning that he might
do just that. He gave Christmas presents to Christian colleagues,
he said, as a matter of good business practice. It wasn’t a far cry
from Tak, who’d given her diamond studs that morning and insisted
he wanted nothing in return. Still, Deena was glad that she’d taken
the time to find a gift for Daichi.

Daichi unwrapped the paper
carefully, folded it and set it aside, before opening the box.
Deena watched cautiously, nerves erratic, as he lifted the first
book.


Structure and
Nature
,” he read. “
Finding Harmony in Discordance
.” He
chuckled.

He dug for the next
treat.


Organic Architecture:
Molding Earth and Form
.” And finally,

Nature and the Artificial: Man’s
Arrogance in Architecture.


The lady doth protest too
much,” Daichi teased.

She smiled. “Until I have my
way.”


Your way,” Daichi laughed,
“would be an onslaught of low income housing, all with beachfront
access, fitness centers, and the latest in architectural
innovation.”


Affordability and
innovation aren’t necessarily divorced.”

Daichi grinned. He found her
youth and compassion refreshing.


No,” he agreed. “But
affordability and the wealthy architect are.”

Daichi tipped his glass to
her and took a drink.


Well done! Bravo!” Yoshi
clapped. “The sooner you abandon your principles the sooner you can
be rich. My brother here can offer you all the guidance you need on
that.”


Yoshi,” June said. “It’s a
holiday. And we’re all having such a good time.”


Yoshi is welcome to air
his grievances holiday or otherwise. He’s certainly entitled to a
few, considering the substandard life he’s forced to
endure.”

Daichi sipped his
tea.


Daichi. Yoshiaki. That’s
quite enough,” Yukiko warned.


Yes, yes, remind us again
of how important you are. My brother on the cover of
Time
and

People
and
Newsweek.
Daichi Tanaka, the most important Tanaka. Everyone take
note!”


The most important
Tanaka?” Daichi laughed. “And what does that distinction require? A
university degree?”

Tak sighed. John rubbed his
face tiredly.


Daichi!” Yukiko cried.
“You’ve gone far enough!”

Daichi shrugged
indifferently. “Perhaps.”

Deena looked from Daichi, in
his white button up and navy slacks, legs crossed and sipping iced
tea as though he were bored, to Yoshi, his face bloated and red,
mouth working without speaking, food forgotten.

*

Michael sat on Kenji’s bed,
surveying the spread of comic books. Each one seemed to
impress
more than the last, and he lifted
them with the respect and admiration of a long-time fan.


You’ve got a few vintage
here, Kenji.
DC Marvel vintage.
How’d you ever get this stuff?”

Kenji shrugged.
The DC Marvel stuff was for bragging rights only.
He still preferred his graphic novels.
“Got it on eBay. How else?”


Having a rich dad must be
awesome,” Mike picked up yet another book.

Kenji thought about his
uncle’s job as a used car salesman. “At least your dad was home a
lot.”

Michael laughed. “Too much
if you ask me.”

He paused. “Can I ask you
something, Kenji?”

Kenji glanced at him. “Yeah,
sure. What is it?” He began stacking his comics in order of
release,

making neat piles on his
nightstand.


Deena’s beautiful, isn’t
she?”

Kenji froze.
“What?”


That girl, Deena. The one
that works for your dad.”

Beads of sweat peppered
Kenji’s forehead.


Yeah. What about her?” He
was having trouble

breathing.


I saw you with her today.
On the beach. You must’ve spent hours with her. And you
guys

went for ice cream
afterwards, didn’t you?”

Kenji swallowed.
“Yeah.”


Well, tell me about her.
What’s she like?”

Kenji stared at him. “I—I
don’t know.” He lowered his gaze. “I don’t really know
her.”


Kenji, come on. You’re
with her all the time. Today you were with her forever. What did
you talk about? What did you learn? What did she laugh
at?”

Kenji shook his head. “I
don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what she likes. And we
just talked about stuff. Baseball. Comic books.”

He was lying of course.
They’d talked about him screwing up and greeting her like an
old
friend on the staircase. They’d talked
about the way he dusted the opposition in last year’s state
championship. And they’d laughed about Michael
not being able to take a hint.


So she likes comic books?
I knew it!” he leapt to his feet, thrilled. “I knew I’d have so
much in common with her. I just felt it. This meant-to-be
thing.”

He began to pace. “I’m
putting everything I’ve got into winning her over. And
I want you to help me.”

Kenji wiped his forehead.
It was damp. Really damp.
“But
why?”
he whined inadvertently.


Why what? Why do I want to
win her over?”


Yea—yeah. I mean why do
you have to want her so bad?”

Michael shook his head.
“Because she’s beautiful, Kenji! That hair. And those eyes.
And

she’s smart. I’m willing to
bet she’s brilliant. And that’s the sort of woman I was meant to
be

with.”

He stopped pacing. “You know
what, Kenji? I think I’m in love with her.”


What? No! You can’t be,”
disbelief marred his face.

Michael stopped and gave him
a once over, as if seeing him for the first time. “Ohhh. I get it.
You like her too, huh? A little boyhood crush? ”


No! God no. She’s like a
sis—” Kenji bit down. “Listen, I don’t like her. Not the way you
think.”

Hurriedly, he lowered his
gaze to the stack of comics. God, where was Tak when he needed him.
Or a flight to Miami. “Besides,” Kenji muttered disagreeably. “You
barely even know her.”

Michael shrugged at the
minor inconvenience. “That’s why I need your help. Help me get to
know her. Everything I try seems wrong. I can’t make any progress.
Find out what she likes, for me. You’re a kid. She’ll trust you.
She’ll think you’re adorable.”

Kenji shook his head. “I
can’t help you, Michael. I can’t talk to her, I can’t—”


What do you mean you can’t
talk to her? You just spent the whole afternoon with her!
Make

her laugh again, then slip
in a good word about me.”

Kenji closed his eyes. What
could he say? Denying Michael this would cause him to wonder. Yet,
helping him would be betraying his brother. He needed a compromise.
Or at

least, the appearance of a
compromise.

Kenji sighed. “Alright,
Michael, alright. I’ll help you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER
FIFTY-ONE

 

After a robust breakfast of
steak and eggs, Daichi and Deena retreated not to the study as
she’d expected, but to the terrace to work. Donning a floppy straw
hat, sundress and sandals, she followed Daichi out, amused once
again by his casual attire. On this day, it was a crisp oxford,
sleeves rolled up, tan chinos and a pair of Italian leather
loafers. Daichi minus a jacket still looked strange.

He led her to what was
undoubtedly the most impressive patio furniture she’d ever seen.
Curved wicker benches of a deep espresso, padded with thick couture
cushions, surrounded a round glass table adorned with bone china
settings for four. An oversized umbrella in a soft cream shaded
them. They had prime viewing of the private stretch of beach and
the volleyball game Tak and John, Kenji and Mike were about to
start.

Tak was shirtless, his
bronzed chest sweat-glistened under the morning sun. He ran a hand
through his hair, saturated and falling into his eyes. Deena
exhaled.


Are you fan?”

Deena blinked. “A
what?”


A fan. Are you a fan of
volleyball?”

He opened his briefcase,
never taking his eyes off her.


No. Well, not
really.”


Yet they seem to have your
attention.”


No, I was just…thinking
that…someone should tell them not to…play so soon after eating,”
she finished lamely.


I see. Would you like to
take a moment to do so?”

Deena blushed. “Of course
not. We have work to do. And in any case, they should know
better.”

Daichi nodded. “Agreed. Now
let us get to work.”

 

They labored through lunch,
triple checking their work as they snacked on finger sandwiches and
sipped iced tea. Deena ignored her cell phone as it vibrated,
certain it was her grandmother yet again. She had this well
developed habit now of making frantic calls when Deena was out of
town.

Deena turned her phone off
and pushed through the sludge that was their work. And when Daichi
set aside their stacks of paper and eyed Deena with interest, she
stared back warily.


Something on your mind,
Daichi?”


A curiosity. Unrelated to
work.”

Now she really was
nervous.


Okay,” she said with
forced evenness.

He cleared his throat. “I
find you to be a capable architect, Deena---more than capable even.
Talented, astute, driven. So, my question to you is this. What has
consumed you so singularly?”


Sir?”

Daichi nodded as if her
hesitation were due to something reasonable and other than
confusion.


I should hardly expect
your candor without offering you such accessibility.” He leaned
back in his seat.


My success as an architect
was at the expense of my wife and children. There are times when
the reality of that consumes me. It prompts me to toil, to
accomplish more, as if said accomplishments can assuage the
bitterness of sacrifice. So, I’ll ask you again. What has consumed
you? What sacrifice have you made in the name of architecture that
now requires such relentless commitment?”

She lowered her gaze. “Maybe
I’m just ambitious.”


You are,” he conceded.
“But burdened, as well.”

She swallowed. When she
spoke next, her eyes were on the crumb-laden dish before her, and
not on her boss.


When I went away to
college my brother Anthony was eleven and my sister Lizzie, eight.
They did all the things kids at that age do. Anthony would draw and
do puzzles, and Lizzie, well; Lizzie was content with finger
painting and dolls.”

Deena shifted,
paused.


When I returned from
M.I.T. my brother was a drug dealer with two years left to live and
my sister, well, my sister was already quite adept at giving out
sexual favors.”

The words didn’t shock him
the way she thought. He nodded as if he’d expected something so
sordid. “And your parents? What of them?”


My father’s dead and my
mother’s in prison.”


Am I to presume they’re
related?”

Deena nodded, suddenly
feeling tired.


And…you blame her? For the
fate of your brother and sister?”

Deena sighed. “I blame her.
I blame me. I don’t know.”

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