Burn (Indigo) Read online

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” He was genuinely bewildered. “I’m an equal-opportunity employer.”

  “Have you tried recruiting female instructors?”

  “Are you conducting an investigation of my hiring practices?”

  “No.” She giggled.

  “Then can I finish my story?”

  “Please do.”

  “The after-school programs opened the floodgates,” he said. “Overnight I went from twenty percent enrollment to one hundred percent. I had to turn students away. When Zae suggested I develop a self-defense class for housewives, I didn’t think anyone would be interested. But I ended up having to schedule two more sessions to keep up with the demand.”

  “Zae is the best friend I’ve ever had,” Cinder said. “She’s a blessing.”

  “When Colin died, I tried to be the kind of friend to her that she had been to me,” Gian said. “She and the kids kind of closed ranks. Sheng Li was the last loan Colin approved before he got sick. When he died, I think Zae invested in Sheng Li’s success because it was something Colin wanted to see do well. Either that, or she just wanted free classes for the rest of her life.”

  “Is that how you repaid her?”

  “She wouldn’t take money, and I had to offer her something.” He laughed. “About a year after Colin passed away, I tried to fix her up with a couple of different guys I knew in the service. She scared off one of them, and she challenged the other to an arm wrestling match. He lost, so she wouldn’t go out with him. This guy was a serious jarhead. I think he bench pressed two-ten, and she beat him.”

  “That’s one of her favorite tricks.” Cinder laughed. “She’s got long forearms, and she’s freakishly strong. It’s physics. Chances are good she can beat most guys.”

  “You’ve known her a long time?”

  “She was taking a few classes at Boston University when I was there,” Cinder said. “We had modern communication together. I didn’t know she was ten years older than me until I met her kids. The twins were almost eight then, and C.J. was three. Colin was working at Fleet Bank. When Fleet was bought out, Colin took a job with Heartland Bank in St. Louis, and they moved to Missouri. Zae and I kept in touch. I saw the Richardsons every time they went back to Massachusetts to visit Colin’s family.”

  “I remember a trip Zae made alone about a year and a half ago,” Gian said. “She told me she was going to . . .” He thought a moment. “I think she said Lancaster-onthe-Sea, something like that?”

  Cinder dropped her eyes. “Manchester-by-the-Sea,” she whispered.

  “Then about six months later, you moved here. Zae didn’t say a thing about you, other than that she had a friend staying at her house.”

  Cinder twisted the tiny gold post earring in her left earlobe. Her gaze never left Gian. “We should go.”

  “Why?” Sure that he’d pressed her one time too many, Gian wanted to kick himself. “If I’ve said something inappropriate, or—”

  “I think they want us to leave,” she said simply.

  Gian finally noticed that the sun had left their side of the building, and the overhead fluorescents had been turned on. Every gurney in the canteen was empty, but for his and Cinder’s, and the volunteers were bagging up leftover cookies and taking out the trash. The American Red Cross workers and their refrigerated cases of blood were gone.

  “We closed the joint,” Cinder said. “Are you hungry?”

  “God, yes.” He patted his belly and hopped off the gurney. “May I?” He offered his hand to Cinder to help her down.

  In the course of their private lessons, his hands had been all over her. But slipping her hand in his in response to his gesture of gentlemanly courtesy opened a new possibility for intimacy, one Gian hoped Cinder wanted to explore as much as he did.

  * * *

  “We were in line at Michael’s Arts & Crafts in Saugus,” Cinder said through her giggles, “and there was this guy in front of us. He was young, probably about twenty-five or so. Blond hair, blue eyes, kinda muscular. The frat boy type, but a little older.” She used her chopsticks to swirl a piece of spider maki roll in a tiny white dish where Gian had mixed a pinch of wasabi into a small quantity of soy sauce. “He’s buying this big ol’ poster-sized frame. Zae looks at it and says, ‘You have a lovely family.’ The guy eyeballs her like she’s got horns, and he says, ‘This isn’t my family. This picture comes with the frame.’ ” Cinder laughed and tucked her sushi into her mouth. Shoving it into her cheek, she continued her story. “Zae waits a second or two, then points to the woman in the frame and goes, ‘Your wife is beautiful.’ ”

  Gian covered his mouth with his loosely curled fist to avoid spraying Cinder with partially chewed seaweed salad.

  “The poor kid says, ‘Lady, this isn’t my wife.’ He taps the photo and goes, ‘These aren’t my kids. This guy isn’t me. He doesn’t even look like me. I’ve got blond hair, this guy’s dark-haired.’ ” Cinder finished chewing her sushi and took a sip of warm sake. “Zae stands there, nodding in total understanding, and the guy turns around and sets his frame on the counter to pay for it. Zae taps him on the shoulder, points to the photo again, and says, ‘What’s your dog’s name?’ I thought I was going to pee my pants, I was trying so hard not to crack up!”

  “Zae’s antics are so funny when they’re aimed at someone else. That poor guy . . .”

  “He loved it,” Cinder said. “When we left the store, he was waiting in the parking lot to ask Zae for her phone number. She didn’t break stride when she told him she was married and had three kids.”

  “Ruthless.” Gian shook his head. “Colin probably never had a dull moment with her.”

  Cinder’s mirth faded. “She loved him so much. She still loves him. It’s easy to be alone, but loneliness can eat you up. I’ve tried to tell her that she needs to move on, and she knows that, but . . .” She sighed.

  “The heart can’t exactly be reasoned with,” Gian finished. “None of Zae can be reasoned with, once she makes up her mind about something.”

  “You seem to know her as well as I do. She’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have her, too,” Gian said. “She saved my life.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Weeknights were slow for Sansai. Cinder and Gian sat alone in their candlelit corner of the Japanese restaurant. The muted gold and amber color palette complemented Cinder, the décor emphasizing the dark coffee of her eyes and putting a glow in her warm complexion. She wore a light, off-white cardigan, a matching linen blouse and white capri pants, an ideal ensemble for a late summer night in Missouri.

  Gian set down his chopsticks and took her hand, clasping it near the votives flickering in the center of their table. “Could I ask you what you mean by that?”

  Her free hand went to her hair. Out of nervous habit more than necessity, she smoothed her short locks behind her ear. “I was married. His name is Sumchai Wyatt.”

  Gian leaned farther over the table to better hear her. “Interesting name.” He slightly tightened his hand around hers to still the tremble in it.

  “His mother is from Thailand,” Cinder explained. “His parents met when his father was a U.S. Army engineer with the 44th Engineer Group in Korat during the wars in Vietnam and Laos.”

  “The Korat,” Gian repeated. “That’s central Thailand. It’s brutal terrain, even now, after decades of development.”

  “Sumchai idolized his father, but he never thought he could live up to him. His mother’s English was never very good, and Sumchai was her translator until he left home. She kept him isolated from other kids, supposedly because she thought American children were too spoiled and inferior in intellect. She ruled with an iron hand, which she used upside Sumchai’s head whenever she thought he wasn’t living up to her expectations. He tried to join the Army, but he didn’t pass the psychological evaluation.” She smiled sadly. “I wish I’d known that before we got married.”

  Gian held his to
ngue. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he knew it was best to follow her lead.

  “He swept me off my feet.” She smiled, her unshed tears sparkling in the candlelight. “I’d just finished my master’s degree in graphic design at Boston University. Sumchai was still working on his master’s in education. We’d gone back to our old high school to participate in a career day for the students, and we saw each other. From that day on, we were always together.” She wiped her eyes, cleared her throat and continued. “He said all the right things. He did all the right things. He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. I was so caught up in the illusion he created, I didn’t notice that the closer I got to him, the further I got from my friends and family.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “We were married for three years.” Her hand seemed to convulse, closing hard around Gian’s fingers. “But according to him, we’ll always be together . . .”

  Chapter 5

  Like a pair of dead snakes, two black seamed stockings lay coiled on the ivory tile of the master bathroom floor. A ragged thumbnail had ruined one and Cinder had snagged the other on the door of the under sink cabinet on her first attempt to leave the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the deep bathtub and slowly, carefully, rolled a new stocking onto her right leg.

  Once done, she stood and slipped her feet into the scandalously high black patent-leather heels she had purchased that afternoon at Shock & Ahh!, an adult toy and fashion store in Cambridge. She’d gone in for the stockings, but the mohawk-wearing grandmother who owned the shop had convinced her that the stilts, seamed stockings, a sheer black mini slip dress and a matching satin G-string comprised a tastefully sexy ensemble no man could resist.

  She studied her reflection in the triple-paned mirror mounted above the his-and-hers sinks. This Bizarro Cinder was the complete opposite of the advertising graphics manager whose typical wardrobe consisted of pleated slacks and modest, long-sleeved blouses.

  Her freshly styled sable hair fell past her shoulders in soft, full waves that gave her a sexy, kittenish appearance. She had heavily lined her eyes and made them up in smoky plums and earth tones that accentuated their color and shape. The silky dress covered her while completely exposing her. The G-string was so negligible, she wouldn’t have known it was back there if she hadn’t seen the front of the underwear, which was only slightly larger than a Doritos chip.

  The ruined stockings went into the waste bin between the sinks and the toilet, and then Cinder hurried into the bedroom. She fussed over her arrangements: fresh rose petals sprinkled on the new white satin duvet; sparkling grape juice—Welch’s, always Welch’s—that Sumchai preferred to actual champagne, stood in a silver ice bucket dotted with condensation; hazelnut chocolate truffles Sumchai ordered from a little shop in Paris; and the finishing touch, dabs of Bulgari Blu Notte, the one scent Sumchai allowed her to wear, behind each ear and knee. Observing another one of her husband’s preferences, she had drawn the sheers and drapes over the tall, wide windows even though doing so closed out the beauty of the sun setting over Singing Beach.

  Downstairs in their freshly remodeled kitchen, Sumchai’s favorites sat in the warming oven—rice cooked with lemongrass and wood ear alongside chicken stir fried with straw mushrooms, egg, tomato, bean sprouts, onion, and sprinkled with diced cucumber and chopped peanuts. For dessert, she’d driven all the way into Brookline for sweet bean paste buns from Japonais, the bakery he’d taken her to on their first date.

  Her heart lurched with excitement when she heard her husband’s key in the backdoor. Giddy, she positioned herself at the head of the bed, careful not to disturb the petals any more than necessary.

  “Cin!” His voice echoed in the mud room.

  “I’m up here!”

  His footsteps on the stairs harmonized with the eager beat of her heart, which leaped the moment her husband filled the doorway.

  Sumchai Wyatt was a beautiful man who had inherited his mother’s black eyes and his Irish father’s prominent square jaw. He also had his father’s imposing height and lean, muscular build. Even though he had never been a soldier as he had wanted, the hours he’d spent at the gym had given him a soldier’s physique. His straight black hair was the same color as his slightly angled eyes, and he had his mother’s olive complexion. His temperament was all his own.

  “What did you do?” Sumchai’s deep voice dropped an octave in suspicion as he stared at her.

  “Nothing.” Cinder laughed. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I’m surprised,” he said, slowly approaching her.

  It was hard to tell if he was pleased or . . . not. His expression remained blank, his eyes unreadable. Cinder reclined on the pillows, one arm draped over her head, the other across her torso. “Come over here and tell me about your day,” she invited.

  He approached the big sleigh bed but bypassed it to go to the dresser. “My day was great,” he remarked, his tone belying his words. “It started off with my interview at Winchester Prep. That turned out to be a total waste because the salary the principal was offering was a third lower than what the employment agency told me it was. Then I had to rush south to Randolph for a meeting with the board of administrators at Williams-Coe.” He took off his watch and tossed it onto the silver jewelry tray on his side of the dresser. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his striped business shirt, he said, “They had their minds made up about me before I sat down. Another waste of time.”

  He hadn’t come to her, so Cinder went to him. “They wouldn’t have had you in for an interview if they had already made up their minds about you.” She slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his broad back.

  In a quick, smooth move, Sumchai turned, took her by her shoulders, and shoved her onto the bed. “They called my old school for a reference and spoke to the principal,” he sneered. “He wasn’t listed as my reference! Why didn’t they just talk to the vice-principal? She was the one named on my resumé!”

  “Chai, it’s just one school,” she tried to reassure him. She went to him again and hugged him from behind. “Did you really want to commute all the way into Randolph every day? It’s so far away from Manchesterby-the-Sea.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I got a flat on the way home, so I had to change it while pricks are whizzing by me at eighty miles an hour on I-95. I ruined these pants.”

  Cinder noticed the streak of road grime on the left leg of his khaki slacks. “I’ll take those to the dry cleaners tomorrow. Don’t worry about them.” Peeking around him, she started unfastening his belt. When she went for his zipper, he took her wrists and threw off her hands. He stared at her reflection in the mirror mounted at the back of the dresser. “And the cherry on the top of this crappy day is that I come home to find my wife dressed like a slut.”

  Stung, Cinder backed away. “It’s been a long time since we made love,” she started. “I wanted to try—” “Whose fault is that?” he muttered, yanking at his tie. “Yours.”

  Sumchai turned. In her “slut” heels, she was eye to eye with him. Her hands on the hips of her “slut” dress, she elaborated. “I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure since you got fired, and I’ve been understanding. I’ve supported you. But you’ve been bringing your stress into this bedroom, and I don’t like it. Every time we have sex, you’re cold and distant. The last time, you were so rough and—”

  “I got the job done, if I recall correctly,” he said slowly, quietly.

  “Actually, you didn’t.” Cinder deliberately ignored his lethal calm and the flat shine in his dark eyes, the early warning signs that a storm was dangerously close. “I was responsible for my own. You just happened to be there.”

  “I see.” His hands clenched into fists.

  “No, you don’t.” She took his stiffened jaw in her hands, hoping to diffuse his mounting anger. “I miss the way we were before we got married. Do you remember the time you took me to Stowe, and you cried after we mad
e love in front of the fire? I want that back. I want you to relax and let me show you how—”

  He roughly shoved her, his movement so sudden that Cinder had no time to prepare herself for the spill. She stumbled off her shoes and landed in an ungainly heap at the side of the bed. Sumchai yanked her back to her feet by her right arm. “What? You think I need a lesson in fu—”

  “Chai, stop it, that’s not what I meant,” she cried. She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he was too strong.

  “You want to seduce me, slut?” he spat, his spittle speckling her face. “You think I need to be taught how to screw my wife?” He let her go and she fell to the bed. “I come home after a crappy day and all I get is more criticism and disapproval?”

  He paced the side and foot of the bed, ranting. “I didn’t deserve to get fired,” he muttered.

  Cinder squinted her eyes tight. Every argument, every disagreement always returned to Sumchai’s greatest disappointment. His greatest failing.

  “The only reason I hit that kid is because he deserved it,” Sumchai ranted. “He disrespected me, but no one cares about that, not even you!” He slammed his fists on the top edge of the footboard, scaring Cinder into crawling down the bed to get to him, to see if he was injured. Sumchai snatched his hands out of her reach, continuing his tirade. “You don’t think I know that you’ve had to support me? That I don’t know that makes me less of a man?”

  “No, it doesn’t, and you know it,” she said. “Everything happens for a reason, Chai. If you hadn’t lost your job, I would never have worked up the courage to ask for a promotion. I’m proud of myself for being able to support us. You should be, too, because now you can take the time to find a position that will make you happy. You don’t have to take the first thing you’re offered just so we can make the mortgage.”

  He stood at the foot of the bed, breathing heavily, rage still hardening his features. “In Thailand, women never forget that they exist to serve their husbands and sons,” he said darkly. “I should have married a woman like my mother.”