No Ordinary Love (33 page)

That wasn’t me anymore.

Black glasses covered my eyes. I checked the time. Nyomi was ten minutes late. Sighing, I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets and walked around the entrance again.

Be careful, Tora. No. Not Tora. Nyomi. I can’t forget that she doesn’t fit in my life anymore.

This was dangerous, being around Tokyo right before televisions all over the country announced the news of my father’s death. Poor man, they would say, died from a collapsed lung or heart injury or anything that the doctor would come up with. A moment crashed into my head, one I’d been trying to push away all day.

The doctor walked in, right as I tightened my hands around my father’s frail neck and squeezed the life out of him.

Gripping Father’s neck harder, I looked over my shoulder and the Dragon glared back at the doctor.

“Close the door,” I said.

The old doctor obliged and shifted his gaze to the ground. He’d treated my family before, generations of the Sato family had been healed by him, in and out of the hospital, sometimes in mud-puddled alleys late at night.

No doubt he’d seen many people kill others around him.

“Lock the door.” I returned to my father. The bed shifted under us both as the old man struggled to get free. Those weak hands scratched at my arms. Lines of red streaked my tan skin and face. Beads of blood dotted some of the wounds. He wouldn’t just die; instead, he fought like a madman to live.

I leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “All these times you’ve choked women, bringing them to their deaths, you’ve never considered the fact that you would die this way?”

His eyes widened as he opened his mouth and tried to scream.

“No.” I shook my head. “You’ve said enough.”

“I
…
I could give him something that will make this
…
less painful for him as he passes.” The doctor ran his fingers through graying hair. His fingers didn’t even shake.

“No. This is fine.” I peered at my father’s gaze, smiling as that wisp of life behind his eyes, that confirmation of humanity, second by second, evaporated into nothing but death within an empty shell.

Tears blurred my view, and still I held on to his neck. Bone seemed to crack under my fingertips. Father’s arms fell to his sides. His lifeless eyes remained open, glaring back at me.

“It is done,” the doctor said.

“Is it?”

Father was dead, but still I choked him, for several more minutes at least.

I squeezed that neck for the little boy he’d raised into a monster, and for all the women and men who’d died by not only his hands, but his commands.

And this time, no one roared “Dragon,” but me.

The only other thing that rushed to my mind was the fact that I should've killed my father long ago. Whether Tora wanted me to do it or not wasn’t the point, she'd helped me see that killing him was my only solution. No one else could do it but me. Everyone else would be murdered for even a thought of hurting him, but not me. With him gone, I was the only leader left. It had to be my hands around his neck, my ears hearing his last breath as he wheezed within my grip.

It had to be me. I'd known it for years. I’d just never been ready to face that fact until Tora's courageous spirit came into my life and cleared my head of all that fog.

I sighed.

Not Tora. Nyomi.

Standing in front of the Tower Restaurant, I checked my watch again. “Thirty minutes late. It’s not a good idea to play with me today.”

I wanted to be out of Tokyo when the news hit. It would be the only thing that anyone would report for the rest of the week. However, there would be no mention of his connections to the Yamaguchi. No one really needed to say it. The country knew his face.

And they would know mine, even better than before.

The government would never question his death. There was no need. Authorities despised him. He’d terrorized half of the country for many years. Even some of their family members were harmed by his hands.

No one would investigate.

My men, on the other hand, were a different story. All knew what really happened.

Father, you were cocky even in your bed. You should’ve never told your men to leave the room and give us privacy. Did you think you could bully me still?

“No. All of that ended yesterday,” I said to his ghost. He’d been following me all day. It was all in my head, of course. The guilt made him appear in my dreams last night and gave him breath to walk around today. And without Nyomi, I’d slept less. The nightmares returned.

“You know why I killed you, right?” I asked my father's ghost. Its blurring image wavered in front of me. He never talked, just sort of got in front of me with a gaping mouth. “You shouldn’t have had those pictures of Tora, shouldn’t have even figured that the way to get me to listen to you was by threatening to kill her.”

Father flung those photos of Tora and I on the ground and placed his hand back to his oxygen mask. “I call you, and you walk around the city with this woman? How long do you think she will be breathing if you decide to ignore me again?” He turned to his men, all shifting uncomfortably in the room around us. “Go. I want to talk to my son in private. Leave, until we’re done.”

I forced the grin to stay off of my face, and as soon as the door slammed closed, I dove for his bed and strangled that raging emperor.

Growling to myself, I typed a text message to Tora.

No. Nyomi. She’s not Tora anymore. There will be no more of that, or any others. This legacy of sickness ends with me. I won’t have kids or marry. I won’t even
…
live.

Father had threatened her. More would do the same thing, make her my weakness. It was the same old story, but this wasn’t fiction. It was cold reality. She could die just by being with me.

Just like Mom.

Me: Where are you? I’m here.

But nothing came. Not even an hour later or hours after that, as I finally gave up and headed to the train.

Chapter 37

NYOMI

A week later
…

Dear Dad,

I hate you.

I stopped typing and erased those three words.

Dear Dad,

Why did you
…

Sighing, I looked out the window and tried to figure out the right words to go in the letter.

Since I'd returned to the States, it had stormed in Brooklyn every day. Drops slammed against my window, drenching the glass and threatening to crack the frame. Dark storm clouds hovered over New York and vomited cold water onto the battered pavements, flooding the streets and forcing everyone to stay inside.

Dear Dad,

Even though you hurt me so much, I
…
still miss you sometimes, and it hurts
…

I erased that letter and blew out a long breath. Lightning streaked the sky. Thunder rattled the walls. I loved the rain. It gave me an excuse to sit on my behind and write. Sunshine always triggered guilt inside of me.

“Why aren’t you out and about?” the annoying sun said. “It’s such a great day for a stroll. You’re so lazy. Get outside.”

Not the rain. It screamed, “Go inside, wrap yourself in a blanket, turn on a movie, grab a book, and eat badly, to your heart’s content. But most of all, do not get your lazy behind up to shower and leave. Today, you can sit in the same jogging pants from last night with the stained, holey top and no bra and proclaim, ‘It’s raining. I’ll just stay in.’”

Dear Dad,

When you left me, I felt like I was falling, and sometimes, I still don't think I've ever reached the ground to get back up and walk away. I'm sorry, but the book was about me trying to regain my footing. It didn't work, but it helped Mom and me at the time. If it hurt you even further, then I'm sorry.

I think we both have been hurt over these past years, so much that we might have forgotten all the love that we felt for each other.

I still have your tape recorder
…

Tears fell from my eyes, but I typed some more.

I keep that little machine with me because it's all I have left of you. I hold on to it like it's the most important thing in the world. To me, it's priceless. One look at the ragged tape and scratched up metal, and I see your smile—those perfect teeth shining as you told me how much you loved me. When I look at it, I see your love, and for those minutes, I let it all cover me.

I'm sorry.

Nyomi.

I tapped my mouse for a few seconds.

P.S.

You're still a lying and conniving douche bag though.

“No. No.” I sighed. “That's not the proper path, Nyomi. All the self-help books say to not use ‘you’ too much and just freaking self-reflect and apologize.”

I tapped the backspace button several times to get rid of the last sentence.

“I'll see what he replies and maybe call him a douche bag if he forces me. For now, I'll try it this way for once. Someone has to be the first to say sorry.”

Shoveling Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream into my mouth, I saved the letter to my computer to be printed out and mailed off tomorrow.

“Now back to the book.” I clapped my hands and read over the tenth chapter of my draft.

The whole story was coming along well. I still didn’t have a name, but wasn’t worried. Titles always came to me once all the writing was done. Music boomed out of my headphones and into my ears—a decent playlist of jazz. Lyrics messed up my concentration when I wrote. I needed a light buzz of harmony in the background, but nothing more.

Kenji’s face flashed in my head and jumbled the words that I’d been about to type.

“Just leave me alone.” I filled my mouth with some more of my unhealthiest lunch yet. Cold, sweet, banana ice cream lathered my tongue. The yummy bite of chocolate chunks hit my mouth next, then came the crunch of the walnuts.

Who needs a dragon when I have Ben and motherfucking Jerry? I could have a threesome with you guys any day. Bring it.

I licked the spoon and checked my phone for the fifth time that afternoon. No one had called—not Mom or Zo or even …

Focus on the book. That’s all that matters. We’ve done this before. Men come a dime a dozen. If I can get over Dad when I was a kid, sort of, I can get over anything.

“Fuck them!” I set the carton of ice cream down on my battered coffee table, placed the spoon next to it, and dove into my work.

The moment Zo had told me to leave, I’d had enough with the whole damn country. Plus, hadn’t I wanted to get out of there anyway? I left that night, hopped on the first flight I could get, and drank myself into a foggy oblivion the whole flight. I didn’t even get Kenji’s text message until I got off the plane. By then, it wasn’t even necessary to reply. He’d only gone to the Tower due to my threat, and even I had to agree with Zo, intimidating him was a bad idea, especially when I did it just because I wanted …

What? Who cares? Not me. All I care about is ice cream.

But then, my phone rang. All left me—the rain, book, ice cream, and even the fact that the headphones were still plugged in my ears. I dove for the phone. The headphones’ cord lifted up and dragged my laptop forward, knocking over a pile of notebooks. They fell to the floor.

“Fuck.” I took the headphones off and snatched up my phone. “Hello?”

Please don’t let it be Mom.

“Hey, Nyomi,” Zo said.

My stomach tightened into anxious knots. I’d been dreading this conversation, but knew it would be a step toward him returning to me. He never stayed away too long, just when I went too far. And he’d had a point about my trip to Tokyo. I’d gone too far. Not that he hadn't gone too far the last evening, but I'd possibly crossed the line a few times with him.

So before he could mutter another word, I said, “I’m so sorry. Really. So sorry.”

“Nyomi, don’t worry—”

“No, Zo. Let me say this.” I breathed in and then exhaled. “I was wrong on so many levels, and you were right. I acted like a child, a reckless one. And I put you in danger when you were only trying to help me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, Nyomi. Part of the reason I love you is because you’re a free spirit that truly lives. And what the hell was I thinking, coming on to you like that, pushing you down on the couch, and … if that guy had killed me then it would have served me right. I'm so sorry, Nyomi. So fucking sorry.”

“No worries.”

“No. Lots of worries. I'm checking myself into a clinic next week. I just have to get some things in order, but … I have a problem when it comes to sex.”

I didn't know what to say.

“And your behavior, Nyomi, was—”

“I know. I'm sorry. I’m going to calm down now and start acting my age.”

“That would truly disappoint me. Don't change.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

“Be who you are, and who you are just happens to be … a bit much for the normal person. The good thing about me is that I’m not exactly normal, either. But I can say this about you: any time I’ve needed you, to call after a girlfriend has hurt my heart or just to bitch about my parents and whatever craziness they’ve put me through for the week, whether asking for money or telling me to seek the wisdom of God … well … you’ve been there.”

“O-kay.”

“I don’t want to change you, Nyomi.”

I scanned the area around my sloppy bedroom.

Damn. Too bad there are no witnesses. He’ll never remember he said this.

“I would hate it if you changed. I guess … all I want is for you to stop … ”

“Almost getting you killed?” I suggested.