The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (54 page)

Sensing his authority, the waiter nodded and left.

Adriana glared at him. "You had no right—"

"At least try it. Why are you so afraid of trying?"

"Who are you to talk about fears? You can't even—" She met his eyes and stopped. No, she wouldn't throw his fear of heights in his face. Fine, he wanted to humiliate her, she'd do it and never see him again. This was why she never went out with intellectuals. She always had to prove herself, to perform.

When the food came, she sat and looked at it. She was prepared to starve until she was able to take it home and eat it properly.

Eric had other ideas. "Let's try this." He came around the table to stand behind her.

"Sit down," she ordered in a whisper. "People are looking."

"Nobody is looking. Now pay attention."

It was difficult to pay attention when her eyes kept noticing how huge his hands were as he tried to guide her movements. "Keep the bottom one still while you move the top one against it," he said.

Nina spoke up. "Like this." She picked up her rice.

Adriana tried and splashed herself; rice landed on her blouse and in her lap.

Eric said, "Try again."

She glared at him.

"Just do the movements first before trying to pick up anything. You'll be a little sloppy, but it's your first time."

He helped her through the movements until she seemed to capture them. He nodded, pleased. "Very good."

She looked to see if he was teasing but his praise was genuine. She amazed herself by how quickly she got the gist. The rest of the meal went well. Although there was one moment when she lost grip of her broccoli and it sailed across the table into Nina's plate. Another time a shrimp kept slipping from her grasp and she speared it instead. She glanced at Eric; he pretended not to notice.

Nina and Eric talked about their first experiences with chopsticks and the messes they'd made, and then they all discussed their favorite foods. The evening ended sooner than Adriana had expected. She took her chopsticks home as a souvenir, pleased Eric had forced her new skill. Though she would never tell him so.

* * *

"Are you going to marry Mr. Henson?" Nina asked as she brushed her teeth.

Adriana stopped herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. "No, we're just... friends."

Nina rinsed her mouth. "He's nice."

"You get used to him."

Nina looked suddenly concerned. "Do you think he minded me having to come?"

"No. He likes kids."

"If... he comes again, do you think you could take me too?"

The end of their affair. "I'll ask him. I'm sure he won't mind."

Nina flashed one of her rare, brief smiles and went to bed.

Adriana went into the kitchen and saw Eric with two mugs. He held out one to her.

She frowned at it.

"It's tea," he said.

"Oh."

"Why are you so tense?"

"I'm not tense." She took a sip and gagged. "Did you melt an entire sugarcane in this?"

"Too sweet?"

She dumped the tea in the sink.

He came up behind her. "You haven't answered my question."

"I'm not tense."

He wrapped his arm around her waist.

Her body responded like a light switch. "Eric, you promised."

"I promised not to sleep with you. You said nothing against this." His lips brushed against her neck. She leaned against him, too tired and too comfortable to argue.

"Why does Nina make you nervous?"

She inwardly winced. It was that obvious? "I'm not a good mother."

He paused. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. I can't relate to her. I don't know what to do or say. She probably knows more than me anyway. She's traveled, she's socialized. Her father could give her everything. All I have is a three-bedroom apartment and Lean Cuisine."

He turned her around to face him. "You have more than that."

"Such as?"

"You have a home."

She sniffed. "A home is the smell of baked cookies, ironed clothes, clean carpets. My mother could do it all."

His eyes fell, his voice grew soft. "After our parents died, Drake found a place in an old drafty building, with rodents, old boards, broken windows, and trash outside. Winter was settling in and the cold slipped in through every crevice." He looked up at her. "But we called it home."

She looked at him, wishing she knew the right thing to say. She didn't know much about his past. Cassie had glossed over how Drake had taken care of his younger brother and sister when their parents had died, but in the face of their current success, she'd forgotten about the struggle they'd gone through.

"How old were you?"

There was a ghost of a smile. "In years or experience?"

"Years."

"Thirteen."

"Must have been awful."

"I survived."

For a moment she saw the man behind the shield, saw a glimpse of the young boy whose faith in the goodness of the universe was shattered. She knew he didn't share much, making his story a gift. "Why did you call it home?"

"Because a home is where the people you love live."

A simple concept, but she wasn't sure it was true. She loved her family, but could never call their grand English Tudor
home.
She thought about the rooms she could never enter, the dining table that was always set. Her mother happily cooking in the kitchen while her brothers studied or played football in the backyard. Her father's heavy footsteps and his scowl when he saw her dismal report card. She watched her mother fawn over her father and brothers while working part-time as a nurse. Always cheerful and happy with the many roles she played. Adriana watched her privately, knowing she could never be like that.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Stop worrying about how you think the relationship should be and let it be what it is." He kissed her briefly, tenderly. "I'd like to say the same about us. Are you willing to take the risk?"

Adriana shook her head.

Eric pulled away, his voice deepened. "Why not?"

"Because I can't figure you out."

He held his arms out. "There's nothing to figure out. You date guys who could bend steel with their pinkies. What's so threatening about me?"

She shook her head, unable to put her thoughts into words.

"Let's not talk about this anymore."

"Yes."

At least she would have said yes, if his mouth hadn't reached hers first. His kiss was more persuasive than words. He was a definite threat, making her feel things he had no right to.

"I can't handle this," she admitted when he pulled away.

"You don't have to handle me." He headed for the closet. "Trust me." He opened it and glanced down.

Adriana softly swore.

He lifted a shopping bag. "What's this?"

She shrugged, feigning innocence.

He dug to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the receipt. He read the date, then looked at her. "Did you write down these purchases?"

"No. At least not yet."

He scanned the items and then dropped the receipt in the bag. "Take them back."

"What?"

"You don't need them. They haven't been worn and you haven't missed the return date."

"I can't return them."

"Why not?"

She held up her hands. "Listen, I know I ruined your birthday, but your constant humiliations have more than made up for it."

He looked at her, amazed. "Humiliations?"

"You made me look stupid at the Hirshhorn."

"How?"

"You said Hofmann was Rothko. You could have at least pretended not to know."

"I didn't know. I read the label."

"And you embarrassed me in front of Nina at the restaurant. Now you want me to add to my disgrace by returning these clothes."

"How can that be humiliating?"

"It will look like I can't afford them."

Eric sighed, exasperated. "But you can't. Do you have the money to cover these charges?"

"That's not the point."

He shut the closet. "We'll return them tomorrow."

Adriana narrowed her eyes. "I'm not returning them."

He only smiled.

* * *

She hated him. With every ring on the register she hated him more. Each deduction echoing in the air added to her shame. Nina watched in the background. She'd probably never seen such a thing before. Each deduction said:
Your mother's pathetic. She has no money. She has no willpower.
And this latest humiliation was all his fault. She stared at the culprit.

Eric leaned against the counter studying the screen. She hated his face, his eyes, his voice. She hoped he fell through a manhole. She resisted the urge to stab him with the pen the clerk handed her. She signed the receipt and left the store, ignoring his presence for several blocks.

"Adriana," he said.

She sidestepped a wino.

"I'm proud of you."

She stopped and glared at him. "No, you're only proud of yourself. Congratulations, you made a complete fool out of me."

"Impossible."

She walked again. "You don't understand how it feels, the snickers, the whispers. The clerk sent me a knowing look. She
knew."

"I know how you feel," he said quietly.

"How?" she asked, doubtful.

"I used to take a brown bag to lunch."

"So?"

"There was nothing in it. Everybody knew there was nothing in it, but I still carried the bag."

"Why?"

"Image. I didn't want people to know I didn't have lunch. I soon learned to stop pretending."

It wasn't the same. He had been a little boy. She was a grown woman, which made it that much worse. She was still pretending to be something she wasn't and her daughter had been there to witness it. The rush of an October wind stung her eyes.

"Why don't we all go to the movies?" Eric suggested.

"Yeah," Nina said.

Adriana wanted to go home. "You two have fun. I have things to do."

If Eric or Nina was disappointed, neither showed it.

"Next time," he said.

"Bye, Mom."

She watched them leave. It wasn't the first time in her life she'd felt the odd one out.

She didn't go home. She went to the mall. A shopaholic's ultimate high. She bought a brown, suede jacket and a red, silk blouse. Eric wanted to tame her. He lectured her as if she were a little girl, but she would remain free. From him and any man that tried to control her. She wrote down her purchases in large red ink.

Once home the euphoria wore off. She looked at her bag in disgust. No wonder Eric treated her like a child since she acted like one, hurting herself just to spite him. She wouldn't return the items though. She'd figure out a way to pay for them. She always did. She took off the tags and hung the things in her bedroom closet.

She was reading the Style section when they returned home. Nina told her about the movie like a trailer announcer, then went to her room. Adriana expected Eric to leave also, but he hung up his jacket and sat on the couch.

"So what did you buy?" he asked.

Heat stained her cheeks. She turned the page.

"I don't know why you act like I'm the enemy. It's your habit that's gotten you into trouble."

"I know that," she said in a tight voice. If he began to lecture her, she would hurt him.

"Then stop acting like a child and face it. Admit you have a problem and we can fix it."

She fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm in complete denial. Perhaps you could schedule an intervention."

He drummed his fingers on his knee, then said, "Open your palm."

"Why?"

"Just open it."

She did.

He placed a five-dollar bill in it. "This is called money."

She tore it in half. "And now it's called paper."

He stared at her, stunned. "You ripped it up."

"I know."

He fell on his knees and gazed down at the ruined dollar. "I can't believe you ripped it up."

"Just tape it. Sorry, but I've never felt the need to worship money."

He took the two halves of the bill and tried to align them on the coffee table. "I don't worship money. I respect it." He shook his head. "I can't believe she ripped it up," he mumbled to no one in particular.

She grabbed her purse and handed him five dollars. "There. Does that make you feel better?"

"No. Do you use fifty-dollar bills as confetti?"

"Eric. Stop making this a tragedy. It's no big deal." She fetched tape from her office and quickly repaired the damage. She held up the bill. "See? Good as new. Do you wish to bow or just salute?"

He didn't reply; she didn't expect him to. She returned to her paper.

He watched her. She could feel his eyes. After a few moments, her patience snapped. She threw her paper at him. "Stop studying me like a scientist! I'm not some mathematical equation that needs to be solved or a system that needs to be fixed. Your impenetrable dark eyes are irritating!"

He pushed up his glasses. "I'm trying to think of something to say."

"How about good-bye?"

He glanced away and muttered something under his breath. "Nina and I had a great time," he said finally. "We—"

Adriana grabbed a magazine, determined to ignore him. "I'm not interested."

"Stop being afraid."

"Listen here, Mr. Courage. If you go out on my balcony and touch the railing, then I'll have an affair."

His jaw twitched. "I don't do ultimatums."

"Then you know where the door is."

Eric stretched out his legs.
Calm,
he reminded himself. He had to be calm. He wasn't upset. If he wasn't careful he was going to lose her. He didn't plan to do that. He made his voice casual. "You want me to go onto the balcony?"

"Yes."

"You think I'm a coward?"

"Yes."

He relaxed his grip on the couch. "You're right," he agreed smoothly. "It's ridiculous for a grown man to have such a fear, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"Free Friday?"

"Yes."

He stood.

She blinked as he opened the door. "Wait a minute!" He placed a finger over her lips. "I'm saying good-bye. Happy now?"