Chapter 32: Red Thorns: Chapter 31

I foolishly believed in something.

The fact that I’m strong.

That’s nowhere near the truth. Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be crying hours after I learned the biggest lie of my life.

It’s a pain I’ve never felt before, not even during the red night.

It’s like free falling to the sun and burning before hitting the bottom.

It’s like dying while being unable to express any pain.

As I sit in my unmoving car, hugging the steering wheel, I mourn a part of me that only saw the light for a while before it was snuffed out.

A part that wasn’t even supposed to see the light. Sebastian wrenched it out just so he could burn its wings and leave it to drop to its death.

But what I mourn the most is my naivety. Since I was a kid, I’ve made it my mission to build a wall between me and the world. And yet, I let him sneak in ever so easily.

I didn’t fight him enough.

But it’s not because I didn’t want to. It was more because I couldn’t. We share a twisted relationship, after all, and not in my wildest dreams did I ever think that type of connection could be faked.

Apparently, it can.

And I’m a fool for believing otherwise.

By the time the afternoon rolls by, I’m done having a pity party on one of the forest’s secluded roads.

I’ll have to get past this somehow.

I need to. Otherwise, it’ll break me beyond the point of no return.

After cleaning my face with some wipes, I hit the gas and head home.

Every time I think of the scene in the cafeteria, a fresh wave of tears assaults me, and I have to take deep breaths to stop them from flooding my face.

Maybe I was only ever meant to be alone and I’m just fighting a losing battle.

When I take the road to my house, I notice a black van behind me.

My heart thumps as I squint, but I still can’t make out any faces through their tinted window.

The memory of the two men from this morning rushes back in. I wish I’d memorized their plate so I’d know if it was the same people.

I step harder on the gas and speed around some other cars. But I don’t lose them.

In fact, they become more insistent about staying in the same lane as me, right behind me.

Oh, God.

They are after me.

My throat closes and my heart beats faster until all I can hear is a low buzzing. My fingers shake around the steering wheel and I keep attempting to escape them. I’m contemplating calling 911 as I’m nearing the exit that leads to my house, but they speed past me.

I release a long, tortured breath even as I watch my rearview mirror all the way home. I stop in our driveway and retrieve my phone. Despite everything that’s happened, the pieces of my broken heart jolt when I find several missed calls from Sebastian over the past couple of hours.

It’s useless to think of myself above this if my heart is yearning for a word from him.

Anything.

But I’m not that idiot. I never will be.

Ignoring his calls and also several from Lucy, I opt to turn off my phone. Just as I’m about to, my screen lights up with another one.

Kai.

After what he told me about the possibility of my father’s death, we’ve barely talked. I assumed he didn’t want to tell me more bad news.

In return, I didn’t push; therefore, I didn’t receive any further news.

Clearing my throat, I answer, “Hello.”

“Hey, Naomi.” His voice is light, not as serious as the last time.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Actually, I might have some good news for you.”

I perk up in my seat, my throat dry with the tangible taste of excitement. “What?”

“I had a meeting with a few other people who were present the night that picture was taken. Apparently, your mother left the club with a different man than the one who owned the car we previously identified.”

“And…do you know who he is?”

“I’m getting there. Give me some time and I’ll be able to locate him.”

My chest feels lighter, even if all of this could be smoke and mirrors. After all, Kai could locate this man and find out he’s dead, too. Or maybe my father is, in fact, the man who already passed away and I’m just chasing an illusion.

But I don’t care.

As long as there’s hope to reunite with Dad, I’ll hold on to it with both hands.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“Don’t thank me until I bring him to you. Or maybe I’ll take you to him if the circumstances allow for it.”

“That would be great.” I swallow as I stare through the rearview mirror to make sure no one is there. “Kai…”

“Yes?”

“I have a friend who thinks she’s being followed by a car, should she call the police?”

He pauses, no sound coming for several seconds until I think he’s no longer there, but then he asks in his serious tone, “Did she see the face of who’s following her?”

“No.”

“A license plate?”

“No…” I was too nervous to focus on that.

“Anything specific?”

“It was just a black van. It’s the second or third time she’s seen it around.”

“Calling the police is pointless unless she has something to back her claim. A license plate number is the very least she has to provide.”

“I see.”

“Is your friend scared? Feeling threatened?”

“A little.” A lot.

“Does she suspect anyone?”

“It could be people from her parents’ past.”

“Maybe you should distance yourself from her then.”

“I…will.” I scoff internally at the thought of distancing myself from myself. I’d love that option more than anything right now.

After I finish the call with Kai, I step out of my car and drag my feet to the house.

I want to collapse and sleep until tomorrow.

Or next week, if that’s possible.

Then I recall Mom’s dark circles and I jog back to the car, get the sleep aid I bought this morning, and go inside.

I head to her room, which is rare as hell for me to do. But I guess I just need my mom right now.

Just like that red night.

It’s ironic how we’re not really that close, but she’s the one person I turn to in my darkest moments.

Her bedroom is filled with model sketches and she has a mannequin in the middle that’s wearing half-black and half-white like the evil guy in Batman.

Countless copies of her couture house’s brochures are spread out on the coffee table and I can’t help my smile as I reminiscence about how far she’s come.

She started with nothing and built her way to the top by the sheer force of her determination and ambition. And that alone is awe-inspiring.

A few wedding dresses lie on the bed as part of her new collection, I assume. Chester Couture has the most sought after wedding dresses and not just anyone can afford them. Mom pays special attention to their design more than anything else.

I pause when I see red droplets on one of them.

Please tell me she didn’t prick her fingers again. Or worse, she overworked herself until she had a nosebleed.

I head to the bathroom and raise my hand, about to knock. The sound of heaving stops me in my tracks. It’s so raw and haunting that my ears prickle.

My unsteady palm pushes the door open and the scene in front of me cuts me in half.

Mom is crouching in front of the toilet, vomiting. But that’s not the part that causes my fingers to unclench, letting the bottle crash to the floor.

It’s the blood marring her hands while she grips the toilet. It’s the trails of crimson on her cheeks as she vomits blood.

“Mom!” I run toward her and crouch beside her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

She heaves a few more times, the sound getting louder and uglier with each passing second.

I place a shaking palm on her back, unsure how I’m supposed to react in such a situation. She’s vomiting straight out blood and it splashes all over the white ceramic toilet.

I retrieve my phone with a shaky hand. “I’m…I’m going to call an ambulance.”

She shakes her head once and motions at a towel. I drop my phone before I grab it and give it to her. She slowly wipes her face, her trembling hand barely holding the towel.

I help her get up, and she leans on me to reach the sink. She washes her face and brushes her teeth clean while I stand there watching her close as if I’m seeing her for the first time.

Since when did my mom become so thin that her collarbone is protruding through her tank top?

Since when were her dark circles so prominent that there’s a shadow beneath her eyes?

Also, why is she so pale and her lips chapped?

A gloomy halo falls over the bathroom, festering in the corners and triggering an ominous sensation inside me.

“Mom… Should I take you to a doctor?”

“No. I’m fine.” Her voice is low, exhausted, like her appearance.

“But you were vomiting blood just now. That doesn’t look fine to me.”

She wipes her face, and even though the blood is gone, it doesn’t look healthy.

It’s wrong.

Everything is.

“Come with me.” She motions at the room with her head and I follow after, my steps hesitant and my limbs barely keeping me standing. Why do I feel like I’m a death-row inmate being led to the guillotine?

Mom sits me down on the sofa beside her and grabs both of my hands in hers. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way, Nao-chan. I wanted you and myself more prepared.”

“More prepared for what?” I can hardly speak past the lump in my throat.

“I have stomach cancer. Late-stage. The doctors said I have a few months at best. A few weeks at worst.”

My lips part and I want to laugh.

I want this to be a distasteful joke so I can laugh, but the sound doesn’t come. My vision becomes blurry and Mom turns into a shadow as I stare at her through my tears. “Please tell me you’re kidding, Mom.”

“I’m so sorry, Nao-chan. I found out recently, and I didn’t want to worry you, but maybe I was just being selfish. You were finally having fun and living and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. But you were right, this is your life and you should know what’s going on in it.”

I shake my head frantically, causing the tears to cascade down my cheeks. When I was five years old, I had my first experience with death when one of our neighbors in Chicago, Mr. Preston, passed away in his sleep.

I asked Mom what it means to die and she said it’s when people go to the sky and no one can see them again. She said she will die, too. We all will. I remember crying and screaming at her to take it back, because Mom’s words were law in my head. She never lied to me and never gave me misguided truths. She didn’t even let me believe in Santa, the boogeyman, or the tooth fairy. She never painted the world in bright pink colors for me.

So when she said that she would eventually die, I believed it and I hated it. I spent days crying in my sleep, thinking about how she would die like Mr. Preston from next door.

I’m that little girl now as I shake my head over and over again, not wanting her words to be true. “Take it back, Mom.”

“Nao-chan…”

“Please, please, take it back. Please don’t say that you’re leaving. Please tell me it’s not your time yet and that the doctor made a mistake.”

“Honey…” She wraps her arms around me, her voice brittle. “I’m so sorry.”

My head lies on her chest and she’s trembling. Or maybe I am. Maybe it’s the both of us.

I don’t even know whose sniffles are echoing in the air or whose salty tears I’m tasting.

All I know is that I can’t stop the wave of grief that confiscates me until it’s the only thing I can breathe.

Sebastian’s betrayal mixes with the news of Mom’s illness and drags me under. The sound of my breaking insides echoes so loudly in my ears that I’m momentarily deafened. Noises and motions blur in the background and it’s hard to focus.

The pain slashing through my chest is so strong, my bleeding heart is unable to take it all in and shatters into a million irreparable pieces.

Mom strokes my back like she did during the red night. She whispers soothing words in Japanese and tells me she loves me. Just like that night.

And I want to scream.

I want to stab fate in the face for being this cruel.

“I already notarized my will,” she speaks softly, though her voice is a little bit broken, a little bit tired, a little bit…dead. “You’ll inherit the couture house, my properties, and any stocks I purchased over the years. I asked Amanda to help you if you want to lead Chester Couture, but if you don’t, you can appoint an acting CEO and just judge them by their performance. But no matter what you do, don’t disappear from the executive board, they will think of you as weak and clueless. Some of those directors know nothing about art and fashion, so don’t let them have a say in any creative decisions. Believe me, they would try to intimidate you and—”

“Mom…” I pull back to stare at her. She’s having her serious mask on, the business one that’s always thinking one hundred years into the future.

“What is it, Nao?”

“I don’t care about any of that. Can’t we…can’t we get a second opinion?”

“I had a third and my options keep diminishing.”

“Can’t you have surgery or something?”

“The tumor can’t be operated on due to the low survival rates associated with it.”

“How about chemo?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, too.”

A sob tears from my throat. “How…how can you be so calm about this? How can you talk about the will and the business and fuck knows what?”

“Because you’re staying, Nao. And I want to make sure you have everything you need.”

“Everything I need to live without you?”

She strokes my hair behind my ear and smiles a little. “You’re old enough.”

“I’m never old enough to be without you, Mom.”

“I used to think that, too. When I was pregnant, you were this naughty fetus who kicked me day and night to make yourself noticeable. One time, a bunch of strangers surrounded me in the supermarket just to see the entertaining ways you moved in my belly and I wanted to ward them off you, to take you and run away. And I did. I tried my best to protect you from the world. It might have to do with being an immigrant and having to adapt to a culture so much different than mine, but I found it hard to trust anyone, even your babysitters. After what happened with Sam, I decided that I couldn’t be parted from you, and that might have turned a tad too suffocating for you. It’s because I thought you would be too vulnerable in the world without me, and in a way, I still believe that. But I also see how fiercely independent you are. How genuinely you love and care, even if you don’t show it much. You remind me of myself when I was younger and if that’s of any indication, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

An onslaught of tears covers my cheeks. “I don’t want to, Mom. Please…please don’t go…you’re all I have.”

Her lips thin before she releases a long breath. “There’s also the father you’ve been searching for since you were a little girl.”

“You…knew?”

“Of course, I did. You put it in a lantern when we went to China last year.”

“I…don’t need him if you stay. I’ll stop looking for him, I promise.”

“You don’t need him even if I don’t stay.”

“Is he alive?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Because he’s a dangerous man. Nao-chan, the reason I relocated from Japan to the States isn’t because of social circumstances. I did it to escape him and his influence. If I’d stayed, you would’ve been brought up in a corrupted way where you have to fight for your life every day.”

“Then why were you with him? Why did you give birth to me?”

“Back then, I was this simple girl from a conservative family. My parents had me at an old age and worked tirelessly in their small convenience store to make ends meet. Then your father walked in, threatening their business and their poor old hearts. My parents weren’t his only targets. Everyone in our neighborhood was. I was so sheltered and oblivious to the world that I had a false sense of grandiosity and thought I could stand up to him and his tyranny. I believed in the stupid myth that the good always outweighs the bad, but I was in for a life lesson. People like your father only know how to take and take until nothing is left behind. But he knew how to play with my young and foolish emotions, I’ll give him that.

“Thankfully, I was beginning to learn his ways and I realized I wasn’t safe with him. As soon as I knew I was pregnant with you, I didn’t think twice before I left. Not only Japan and my elderly parents, who couldn’t handle what I became, but also him. You gave me my fresh start, Nao. I regained the strength he’d slowly purged out of me. I stood above his gaslighting and abusive behavior, thanks to you. Keeping you was a no-brainer. After all, you’re the only thing I can call mine.”

The tears don’t stop as I listen to her nostalgic retelling of the old days. I wish I could reach out to her younger self and hug her, but since I can’t, I wrap my arms tighter around her in a silent show of support.

Normal people don’t survive what my mom did. They don’t use it as a strength to climb to the top, despite many odds being against them.

A sense of guilt hooks with my grief and drags me under. If I’d known my father was her nightmare and that he hurt her, I wouldn’t have searched for him. I wouldn’t have hurt her by constantly asking about him.

“Point is, your father is not a good man, Nao, and he’s nowhere near the perfect image you built of him in your head. If you ever loved me, you’ll forget about him and stop searching for him.”

“Do…those men from this morning have something to do with him?”

She hesitates before making an affirmative sound.

“Why were they here?”

“They’re your father’s men.”

“He has men?”

“Lots of them, and those two might have been the most sophisticated of the bunch.”

“Did they come to bother you?”

“To intimidate me so I’ll admit you’re his.”

“He doesn’t know about me?”

“I lied to him and faked a DNA test that shows you’re not his daughter, but he still suspects me, even after all these years. He still wants to get his filthy hands on you, but I will fight until the day I die.”

“Do you hate him so much because he’s dangerous or because he…hurt you?”

“Both.”

“How badly did he hurt you?” My voice breaks with crashing guilt.

“Badly. He didn’t do it physically, but he destroyed my naive heart. Though I guess I should be thankful for that. If it weren’t for his emotional abuse, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today. Still, I would never allow him near you. That’s why I moved us all the time and even suggested going to California next. I tried to escape his clutches, but he always found you.”

“But he doesn’t think I’m his daughter.”

“Oh, he does. I don’t know why, but the more I deny it, the more he’s hellbent on having you. Especially these last couple of months.”

“He…he wants to meet me?”

“He already did, Nao-chan. You just don’t remember him.”