Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (37 page)

“I threw up when I watched the video. I fucking puked all over his desk. I still taste it in my mouth every fucking day of my life. I taste that day over and over. You’re wrong. It was my fault…some of it. A lot of it. I could have stopped it. I could have made him pay. I chose to be a coward instead.”

I cupped his face and gave him the thing he most wanted from me. The thing he’d been asking from me since we’d met. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, yaar.”

Liam

I couldn’t breathe. Tiny knives pierced my flesh. I jumped off the couch, ready to choke him. He threw a fucking bucket of cold water on me.

“What the fuck, Stephen!”

“Look at you. You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’m on a liquid diet these days,” I said, grabbing the bottle of rum.

He threw the bucket. Then he swiped the coffee table of all the wrappers and garbage. “Happy New Year, buddy. It’s time to pull yourself together.”

“What’s your issue? I come to the important meetings. I still do my job. I’m functioning fine.”

“This isn’t about work.”

“Don’t pretend you care.”

He shook his head. “I do care.”

“Get the fuck out of my life.”

He grabbed my shoulder and hoisted me up. I swung my fist but it missed. Hell, I was still half-drunk. He dragged me down the hall and threw me into the bathroom. “Take a shower. And while you’re at it, shave off the beard. You look like a fucking British mountain man.”

“Get the hell out of my house, Stephen.”

“Listen, man, you may not like it, but you need me right now. I’m not very good at this, but I am all you have, so get in the fucking shower.”

Somehow, that made sense. I got in the shower.

When I came out, he’d cleaned up the living room. Two cardboard boxes sat on the coffee table. “What’s that?”

“Something to take your mind off it.” He took out the video game console and hooked it up to the television. “You remember how to play?” he asked when the green and black graphics came up.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Fine. I’ll play by myself,” he said with the haughty flourish of a spoiled teenager.

He sat on the floor, his back to the couch.

“We’re not kids.”

“Definitely not.”

I joined him on the floor, drank my rum, and sulked. “Is she all right?”

“You ask me that every day. The answer is still the same. I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to her.”

“Tell me where she is.”

“I told you, I don’t know that either.”

The doorbell rang. He paused the game to answer. My stomach grumbled as the aroma of hot, fresh pizza filled the room.

He pushed the box toward me. “Eat some pizza. I’m going to make coffee. We’ll play a few games.”

“I’m only going to ask you this one time. Did you do anything to her?” The ice in my voice was enough to make him shiver.

His jaw stiffened. “You think I hurt her?”

“The thought crossed my mind. You drove her to the airport, and she didn’t sound like herself. So I repeat, did you fucking do anything to her?”

“I took her to the airport. That’s all.”

I let out a breath I’d been holding for a while. I didn’t think he had, but I needed to ask the question just the same. I still couldn’t come to terms with the fact she’d left me. It was so sudden and didn’t make sense. No matter how much I questioned Stephen, he never gave me any concrete answers. Mary and I were happy together, weren’t we?

“Why did she leave me?”

“Ask me a question I can answer, bro.”

“What’s in the other box?”

“Mom sold the house. It’s your stuff that was still in the attic. She was going to throw it out, but I stopped her. I figured you’d want it. Nothing can make up for what I did to your books, but it’s something.”

“You should have let her throw it out. It’s junk.”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s some old jewelry. It must have meant something to you if you lugged it here all the way from England.”

“There wasn’t time to pack. I just threw a bunch of stuff in suitcases. I probably threw in some of my mum’s things by accident.”

“Well, I tried.” He held a controller out to me. “Want to play now? I have two controllers.”

I stared at the screen with its brilliant details. “They’ve made a lot of improvements.”

I snatched the controller from him. We played. We stopped talking. What use was it?

* * * *

He came over every night for a week. We played
Call of Duty
, ate pizza, and drank a few beers. I suppose it was some fucked-up version of male bonding.

“Why did she leave me?” I asked as I did every night, more to myself than him now.

Stephen turned off the game.

“I was winning.”

“You won, Liam. I’m going to tell you. She asked me not to, but I can’t keep doing this. I’ve held on to evil secrets for many years. They’ve ripped me apart from the inside out. I think they exploded inside me, and I became evil myself. But this one…this one I can’t hold anymore. I’ll warn you, once you know, you’ll wish you didn’t.”

I wanted to break his jaw again. He’d been keeping things from me. I calmed myself with deep breaths. After all, if I broke his jaw, how could he speak? “Say it.”

“You think I hated you because you took my inheritance.”

“What other reason did you have?” I wanted to ask him why we were talking about us and not Mary, but I held it in. Stephen had paled a few shades since we began the conversation. He kept swallowing, so whatever this was, it wasn’t easy for him.

“You didn’t pay your dues. Our father was a sick man. You were too old when you came to our house to pique his interests.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I was his favorite boy. He did things to me.”

“Our dad molested you?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I had no idea.”

“He did stuff to you, too, Liam. You just don’t know it.”

“What stuff? Just say it, man.”

“Your exhibition? You were set up to fail. Dad had a lot of contacts. He made that happen because he wanted you in the family business. He’d lost faith in me and needed a backup.”

I laughed, because what the fuck else was there to do? “I sort of suspected. But the whole idea was so Machiavellian, I thought it was too dramatic to be real.”

“You were right to suspect. You’re a good artist, Liam.”

“What does this have to do with Mary?”

“I’m getting to it. Just give me some slack.” He chugged his beer, maybe to give him a break from the revelations. “Did you ever wonder why your mom never told you who your father was?”

“I asked him once. He said something about her being selfish and wanting to keep me to herself. I found it difficult to believe.”

“A few years ago, I started researching into anything and everything to do with Robert Wilshire Senior. Your mother filed an accusation of rape.”

“He raped my mother?” I was a product of rape?

“Nothing ever came of it. He had it covered up, Liam.”

I always knew something was wrong, very wrong about my life, but I had never imagined this. Of course, I’d never imagined it. My mum had never shown any hatred or animosity toward me. Only love. My God…my poor mum. And Mary.

Mary!

I felt sick.

“Mary…”

The beer can crushed in my hand.

“Calm down, Liam.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. Say it. Say it right now.”

“Our father was a pedophile. He did things, things that were easier to do abroad, like buy children for his disgusting personal amusement.”

“Jesus Christ. He raped her? Why did you keep this from me? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She didn’t have his name and never his saw his face. She only knew him by his voice and manners. And that he’d be in Jaipur every few years. That’s why she was there. She wanted revenge.” He told me some other things about how he’d come across the knowledge, but blood rushed into my ears, drowning out the rest.

I replayed everything. All the pieces made sense. All I wanted to do was destroy the puzzle. “So did he…rape her?”

“Not just her.” He gripped the sofa. “Her sister, too.”

Oh, God.

I threw the controller across the room. Something snapped inside me. I thought I’d felt rage once before in my life, but it was nothing like this. I didn’t remember destroying the room. When it was over, I stood amidst a rubble of broken furniture, a ripped painting, and a cracked big screen. There were cuts in my hands, a gash on my foot, and I was gasping for breath. It wasn’t enough. My father had destroyed everything she loved. His blood ran though my veins.

Mary, I’m so sorry.

“Feel better?” Stephen asked.

I leapt to the bathroom. I vomited a week’s worth of pizza.

He handed me a wash cloth. I sat on the floor and closed my eyes. Repulsive images kept replaying themselves like a silent movie. Was this what Mary saw when she closed her eyes?

“I need you to leave, Stephen. I have to process this.”

“But…”

“Please leave.”

He did.

Liam

Stephen peeked into my office. “Hey.”

“What can I do for you?” I asked, not looking up from my computer.

He strolled inside and took a seat. “Just wanted to check in. You doing okay?”

“Fine. Busy gearing up for the IPO. Did you review the new contracts?”

He sat down. “Liam, you know what I mean. I’ve left you alone for a month now. We need to talk about this.”

I leaned back in my chair. “I’m really sorry for what happened to you, Stephen. I understand some things better now. You’ve had a hard life.”

“I’m not here to discuss me, Liam.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“Is there anything else? Because we really need to get those contracts out. We’re ringing the Wall Street bell in less than a month after all.”

“I hired a private detective to find her. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

“And?”

“He couldn’t find her. He did confirm she arrived safely, but I guess it’s easy to get lost in a crowded country where cash is the primary method of payment.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Stephen.”

“I’m not trying to overstep, but I had to make sure she was all right. The way she left. I couldn’t talk her out of it.”

“That’s not what I mean. You didn’t have to do it because I already know where she is.”

He sat up. “She called you?”

“I haven’t heard from her at all.” It stung me to even say it. “But I had to know, too. I called her friends. They confirmed she’d been in touch but wouldn’t give me any more information. I checked a few other things, too. I almost gave up. Then about a week after our little chat, Dorothy Seville asked me to tea. They had gotten a package from Mary. Mary posted a dress back to them. Although she asked them not to tell me, Dorothy said she couldn’t stand the idea of it. The package was from Goa. I did some more checking. She’s working in a restaurant there.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, she always enjoyed cooking. I’m sure she’ll do well.”

“What the fuck, Liam? You’re not going after her?”

“She doesn’t want me. She made that clear. I can’t blame her.”

“Then change her mind. You were so good together. What happened was a tragedy, but this…this just makes it worse.”

“She made her decision. I’m going to respect it. I’m letting her go.” I vowed to her that I would, and in a church no less.
How could I break my word?

He leaned forward, pounded his fist into the desk, his face animated. “Bullshit. If you love someone, you fight for them. You know where I heard that?”

“Dr. Phil?”

“I heard it from Mary. Go fight for her.”

Didn’t he realize I wanted to make her mine again more than anything else in the world? I’d give up everything for her. But I had promised her I would make her happy. Maybe the only way I could was to leave her alone. So I would. In this way, I could pray for her happiness, even when it didn’t include me.

“Read the contract, Stephen. We have a board meeting in twenty minutes. I have to get back to work.”

Liam

I hadn’t slept in our bedroom since she’d left. I hated being in there even to change my clothes. There was a huge party tonight at the Wilshire Times Square to celebrate our successful public offering. It was the first social event I’d attend since that God-awful night she left me.

Instead of reaching for my suit, I grabbed Mary’s wool scarf. I could picture her wrapping it over her neck and smiling at me before we went out for brunch. I bunched it up in my hands and held it to my face. Her scent no longer lingered. Still, it made me feel closer to her to hold it.

God, I missed her every single day. I still painted, but the images were poor imitations of the vivid colors I once knew.
Do you miss me, Lotus Girl?
Maybe we were never meant for each other, but she had given me a peace and strength and serenity I’d never imagined.

I tossed the scarf back on the shelf. Then I decided it should be folded the way I’d found it. So I reached for it again. It hitched onto something. When I tugged, a box fell at my feet, the content spilling out. The box Stephen had brought of my mum’s things. I had shoved it in the closet and forgotten about it.

Kneeling on the floor, I gathered up strands of broken necklaces, random beads, and wire, throwing them back inside. Something sharp pricked me.

Shite.

I dislodged the pin.

I blinked, realizing it was the lotus flower pin I’d helped my mum make all those years ago. All the silver wires were shaped into petals, and a milky stone sat in the center. There was something about that stone. I held it up to the light. It had flecks of green and yellow in it.

Fuck.

It was a moonstone.

My mind spun back to that rainy afternoon in our Luton flat when Mum had told me how she found it at a thrift store.

Impossible.

I rifled through a drawer until I found a flat-head screwdriver. I pried the stone loose. It popped out, bouncing under a bureau. I almost slid on the floor chasing after it. My hand wouldn’t reach. Shoving the bureau aside, I found the smooth flat stone with the veins of subtle color. I gripped it and rushed to the window.