Fish out of Water Page 21

  “Hmm … ”

  Mom stands, heading for the door. “I’ll get the boys.”

  “I want to eat. The food here is terrible.” She pats her hair, as if she’s unsure about how it looks. “It will be nice to have dinner together again.”

  I smile. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Oatmeal.”

  I cram my lips together so I won’t laugh. Her and oatmeal. There has to be something behind it. “Why do you like oatmeal so much?”

  “Oh, my sister Grace makes the best oatmeal.” She licks her lips just thinking about it, and everyone else comes in while she imagines whatever this amazing oatmeal was. “She would cook it on the stove and mix in nuts, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Then she’d stir in a handful of raisins. Mmm, it was heaven in a bowl.”

  “I remember that,” Dad says softly. “Aunt Grace would make that for me when I visited her. No wonder you always complain about ours not tasting good.”

  “We’ll have to try making it that way,” I say.

  A nurse comes in to take us through the checkout process. She gives my parents several forms to fill out, and then says she’ll be back soon to talk about specific care needs. I sit on the small bench while we wait, and Dylan takes the spot next to me.

  “You look tired,” he says. “And nervous.”

  “Yes to both.” I let out a long sigh. “But it’s almost over. I’ll finally be able to relax soon.”

  “You do need a break.” He places his hand over mine, squeezes once, and then whispers, “I know a way I can help you chill out.”

  I try not to smile, but fail miserably. “And what would that be?”

  “What are you doing?” Grandma’s voice is stern, and when I look up so is her face. Her eyes are on our clasped hands.

  I pull my hand away and stand. No, no, no. “It’s nothing, Gran—”

  She’s not looking at me, but at Dylan. “Why are you holding hands with a girl like that? Did you go blind, son?”

  Dylan balls his fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I wish I could telepathically beg Dylan to let it slide just this once. If she gets mad now … My grandma steps in closer. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I told you a thousand times that mixing with other races is unnatural. You won’t be seeing that girl ever again.”

  “That girl?” Dylan sounds as if he’s about to burst. “You mean your own granddaughter?”

  She looks horrified. “I don’t have a granddaughter, and if I did she wouldn’t be an ugly Jap like that.”

  I cringe at the words.

  Dylan stands. “Don’t call her that!”

  I stand between them, my heart pounding a thousand times a second. This can’t be happening. Not now. She needs to stay calm. “Dylan, now is not the time.”

  Mom and Dad try to get my grandma’s attention, but her eyes are trained on us. Dad attempts to pull her away—she slaps him back.

  Dylan grabs my shoulders, so angry I can feel him shaking. “Did you not hear what she just called you? That doesn’t bother you?”

  “It does! But—”

  “No, don’t say it’s okay because she doesn’t know, because she’s sick. That’s not right.”

  “You shouldn’t touch her,” Betty says. “That’s what’s not right.”

  I gulp, trying to hold back the tears and silently pleading with him to let it go. She’ll freak out any second, I know it. And who knows what will happen in her condition? “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

  “It’s not.” Dylan spins me around and keeps me next to him with a firm arm. “Mika is the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I refuse to let you talk about her like that. You should apologize.”

  Betty’s eyes go wide, and she points at Dylan. “How dare you disobey me! How dare you choose that … that whore over your own mother!”

  “Mom! We’re not reliving this memory anymore.” Dad grabs her by the shoulders, and that’s when all hell breaks loose. My grandma screams and flails like a wild animal. Mom runs for the bed and hits the emergency button, while Dylan pushes me towards the door.

  As Mom ushers us outside, Grandma’s screaming continues. Nurses rush down the hall while Mom says, “Dylan, if you’d take Mika home. I’ll call you when we find out what the doctor decides based on this.”

  “I don’t want to go,” I cry.

  Mom puts her hand on my cheek, her eyes haunted. “I know, but I think you also understand you have to. Today you two are your father and me—I prayed you would never have to hear such horrible things, Mi-chan.” She looks to Dylan. “Thank you for defending her like you should.”

  He nods once. “C’mon, Mika. We need to go.”

  I let him take me, though inside I can’t stop seething about how he treated my grandma.

  Chapter 39

  I stare out the window as Dylan drives me home, because if I look at him I’ll lose it. My anger bubbles and boils, threatening to spill over any moment. He parks in front of my house, and when he goes to unbuckle his seatbelt I say, “You’re not coming in.”

  “Mika … ”

  I open the door and shove it closed as hard as I can. His door opens and closes, but I don’t turn back. “Leave me alone!”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  I can feel him behind me as I fumble over my keys. Finally, I get the right one and unlock it. I try to shut the door on him, but he pushes back. I dig in my feet. “I really don’t want to look at your face right now. I’m so mad I could hit something, and it might be you.”

  “Get mad. That’s fine,” he says with a growl. “I’m plenty mad myself, but you’re not running away from me. I won’t let you.”

  I give a frustrated grunt, letting the door open. He stumbles in as I stomp to the living room. I’m half tempted to throw something like my grandma did the day she almost died. “How could you do that to her? I told you she needs to be calm. You knew how fragile she was, and you went off like it didn’t matter if she died or not!”

  He throws his arms up. “What was I supposed to do? Let her call you horrible names and not defend you in the slightest?”

  “Yes! That is exactly what you should have done.”

  He gives me a look that clearly says he thinks I’m crazy. “How can you say that? I don’t care who’s calling you names—you should never have to just take it.”

  “She is sick, Dylan.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to cry at the thought. “She didn’t even know who she was talking to—she thought we were my parents.”

  “That makes it okay? You don’t find it disturbing that she said those same things to your mom and dad?”

  “I do!” I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep it together. Part of me knows he’s right, but I’m so worried about my grandma nothing else matters. “I know she’s not a perfect person. I know what she did to my family with her crazy beliefs—trust me, I know.”

  He puts his hands on his hips, my words seeming to frustrate him more. “Then why do you let her get away with it?”

  “Because … look, I tried to be mean to her, but it made me feel like a shitty person. I swore to myself to treat her better.” I close my eyes. I refuse to cry, not right now. Crying during a fight means you lose. “She’s my grandma—she’s part of who I am whether I want it or not. What she did, who she is … her actions made some of me. And as much as I hate lots of the things she does, I still love her.

  “She’s had a hard life, and now she’s dying of an incurable disease that will slowly rot her mind until she can’t function at all. There’s no cure for Alzheimer’s—there’s nothing I can do but watch.” I put my hand over my mouth, the thought of losing her raw as ever.

  “So excuse me if I want to keep her as long as I can, if I want to learn as much as possible about her before she forgets it all, if I want to make the rest of her life comfortable and happy and full of the love she never had. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it, but does that give me a pass t
o be cruel to her?”

  Dylan’s shoulders slump, and the fight in his eyes fades. “Why do I care so much about someone who makes me feel like a horrible person constantly?”

  I roll my eyes. “You aren’t.”

  He sighs. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. I promise. But you have to understand my side, too. Because I don’t think I did the wrong thing, and neither did your mom.”

  “You’re really gonna start that way?”

  He holds up his hands. “Wait, okay?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He takes a deep breath. “I know you love your grandma and won’t do anything to harm her. Even when it hurts you. But to me, all I see is someone I care about being called horrible names, and a woman I barely know telling me I shouldn’t be with you.

  “Mika … ” His eyes meet mine, and they are sad and full of longing all at once. “You know how I used to be. You get that I didn’t give a shit about anyone but myself. It sounds cheesy, but you’re the first person I’ve ever really cared about. You make me so happy I want to spend every second with you. There’s no way I could have let her think I agreed with her.

  “I’m sorry, but I will always stand up for you, especially when you can’t stand up for yourself. I have to—you mean everything to me.”

  I scrunch my lips together to stop them from quivering, because he means more to me than any guy ever has. “Why do you have to do that?”

  “What?” His voice is quiet.

  “Why do you have to make me want you so much, even when I’m mad as hell?”

  He smirks. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

  “Yes.”

  He strides over and grabs me, picking me up as our lips meet. His kisses are hot and urgent, but mine are even more so. This summer has brought me so many things, and Dylan might be the best of them all. As scared as I am to admit it, I’ve fallen for him. Deeply.

  I entwine my fingers in his hair, wrap my legs around his waist, allow myself to let go of everything else but him. His hands run up and down my back, hover at my bra strap as if he’s thinking about unhooking it. I want him to, think about whispering for him to just do it already because I can’t imagine wanting anyone as much as I want him.

  He moves to my neck, and I breathe in his ear, “You’re so hot.”

  “Mika, I’m about to lose it.” His fingers slip under my shirt. “You better get off me if you don’t want that to happen.”

  “My room.” I kiss his earlobe, so far gone he doesn’t even know. “Now.”

  He doesn’t waste any time carrying me through the hall. He sets me down just inside, and I reach past him to shut the door. And lock it. He breathes hard, his eyes all desire as they run over me. It makes me adore him even more, knowing how much he wants me back.

  I need to take his clothes off right now.

  “I don’t have any … ” he says as I go for his shirt.

  “I do. In my nightstand.” I pull it over his head, and when I take in his bare chest I can hardly get air. I put my hands on his stomach and kiss him again.

  He guides me to the bed and stops just short, looking me straight in the eye. “Are you sure?”

  “Have I not made myself clear enough?” I take off my own shirt. “Yes, I am sure. Very, very sure. Thanks for being such a gentleman, but let’s do this.”

  He laughs, low and soft. It’s so hot I can barely function. “Okay, then.”

  Dylan pushes me onto my bed, and it’s over. His weight on me feels more right than anything in the world. His fingers on my skin are magic. This has never felt so good, and in that moment I know we’re not ending this anytime soon.

  And I’m totally okay with that.

  Chapter 40

  I slip back into my clothes while Dylan is in the bathroom, though part of me wishes we could do this for the rest of the night. Sure takes my mind off all the other crap I’m dealing with. When he comes back—strutting around in his boxer briefs like he owns the place—I can’t help but smile. “You look ridiculous.”

  “I do not care.” He gets back in my bed, pulling me close. “You were right. It’s way better when you’re crazy about the person you’re with.”

  “Feel free to say I’m right as much as you want.”

  He laughs. “As long as we do that every day.”

  I scoff. “We’re lucky my house was empty for this long.”

  “I know, I know.” He kisses my forehead, and I want to stay like this forever and ever. “Wishful think—”

  My phone rings, and I scramble for it. The second I see my mom’s number in the window, my heart starts pounding. Please don’t tell me they’re on the way home right now. I hit “accept.” “Hi, Mom.”

  Dylan hops up and grabs his pants.

  “How are you doing, sweetie?” she asks.

  “Better.” I hope she can’t tell why over the phone, though she does have an incredible radar for this stuff.

  There’s a long pause. “You were responsible, right?”

  I sigh. How does she do that? “Of course.”

  Dylan gives me a curious look.

  “Good.” She clears her throat, and I hear Dad in the background asking her something. “Nothing, hon. Anyway, Mika, the doctors finished their tests, and it looks like Betty didn’t damage anything during her episode. They’re going to monitor her for another hour, and then we should be able to bring her home.”

  “Really?” I ask, surprised. After all that screaming I thought for sure Grandma would be stuck there for at least a few more days. Maybe the nurses are tired of her.

  Mom laughs. “Yeah, they said this last week she did well, so things have healed faster. I think that’s thanks to your visits.”

  “Psh.”

  “It’s true. You’ve really been there for her. I’m proud of you for taking care of her, despite how hard it’s been. You’re a wonderful daughter. I’m lucky to have you.” She sniffles, and it shocks me because Mom is not a crier.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I’m not sure what else to say, so I change the subject. “So you’ll be home in a couple hours?”

  “Probably. And, Mika … ” Her voice gets quieter. “I’d make sure Dylan is gone by then, otherwise your father might pick up on things.”

  “Good point. See ya.” I hang up. “They’ll be home with her in a couple hours.”

  His face lights up. “That’s good, right? She’s okay?”

  I nod. “But you better go so I have time to clean and calm myself down. My mom totally knew. She tolerates it pretty well, but my dad will get weird.”

  He frowns.

  “Don’t give me that face.” I give him one more hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I was just hoping you’d say we had time to make out more before they got home.”

  I shove him away. “Get out of here, dork.”

  He laughs as he grabs his shirt, and watching him put it on almost makes me reconsider.

  As I sweep the floor and do the dishes, I’m keenly aware that I grin at random times. This will be a dead giveaway, especially since I’m supposed to be upset over what my grandma said to us. So I pull out my phone and text Olivia. What r u doing?

  Her reply is immediate. Drowning myself in reality TV. Why?

  Wanna come over?

  Ur not w/Dylan?

  He just left. Need to talk this out before the fam gets home.

  Ooo! Coming!

  I can always count on Olivia in these situations. When she arrives, her smile is blinding. “Does this mean I can finally tell you about all my exploits in Tahiti?”

  I laugh. “Yes.”

  “Good.” She drops her bag by the front door, slips off her shoes, and heads for the living room. “I’ve been dying to talk, but Shreya goes pale if I even hint at it. So how was it? I’m betting he’s amazing—he has ‘experienced’ written all over him.”

  I bite my lip. “Help me clean while we discuss the details.”

  “Fine. As long as I get to tell you about Wak
a.”

  I hand her cleaning spray and paper towels. “You first then.”

  And off she goes, regaling me with tales of warm nights on the beach making out with hot Waka, while her mom had her own fling with a wealthy businessman. Those two—talk about the apple not falling far from the tree. I think that’s why Olivia’s never had an ounce of shame when it comes to intimacy. A lot of girls at school call her names, but she just feels bad for them because “they don’t know what they’re missing.”

  Once we can’t talk guys or clean anymore, we plop on the couch and turn on the TV. It’s been about two hours, so my family will be home soon. Olivia picks a vampire drama, and we watch in tired silence.

  “We need Shrey,” I say after a few minutes. “I don’t like her being in Salinas. Feels like we’re missing something.”

  Olivia sighs. “I know, but she seems excited about starting a restaurant with Pavan. It’s nice to see her happy about something, don’t you think?”

  “I guess.” I stretch my legs out on the coffee table. “Though it’d be nicer if her parents would get over the whole thing and stop being stupid.”

  She smirks. “If only.”

  That day at the beach, when Shreya first told me her parents didn’t want her marrying certain people, comes rushing back. She said this stuff should be simple, but it isn’t. I think I get that now, having dealt with my grandma almost all summer. There’s nothing simple about how it feels to love someone who directly opposes who you are or what you believe.

  “Olivia?” I say.

  She turns her attention to me, seeming cautious. “What?”

  “Is Shrey really okay? It seems like she’s not telling me stuff, like with the restaurant they’re starting. You knew about that, didn’t you?”

  Olivia cringes, and that’s all I need to know I was right. “Yeah, it happened the day her phone got cut off. She really freaked out, Mika. I think before that she hoped her parents would come around, because they were keeping a method of getting in contact, you know?”

  I nod slowly. “Why hasn’t she told me any of this?”

  “I don’t know … ” Olivia bites her lip, which means even now she knows more than she’s saying. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you. I think you need to talk to her about—”