see me, so when he got the call that she died he made sure I went somewhere nice. They had to do a DNA test to confirm that he was my father and then a whole mess of paperwork, expedited, to get my dual citizenship instated so that he could bring me home. I didn’t know that any of this went on, obviously. Not until he told me.”
He pushed his plate to the side, took my hand, and searched my face until our eyes met.
“Well I’m glad that you have him.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb across the top of my hand.
“Well I’m glad you have Amy and Dave. They sound like good people, too. Everybody needs somebody.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” he said, grinning.
I blushed.
We finished up with our pancakes and made our way back to the street towards Blake’s car.
I saw a homeless man sitting near his car on the ground. This wasn’t an unusual site in Richmond. The homeless population was getting bigger and bigger and without vagrancy laws, it wasn’t going to diminish anytime soon.
He stood when he saw us and began walking towards us. His hair was stuck to his head; he had cracked lips and no teeth.
This was an all too familiar and memorable site for me. I took a step back, breaking contact with Blake.
Blake cocked his head and looked at me confused, holding hishand out for me again.
I shook my head and took another step back.
“Spare any change?” the homeless man inquired, stepping closer to us.
I took another step back and hit the wall of the building next to us.
Blake looked between the homeless man and me and then walked towards me, but not before the homeless man took an even closer step to me, and was only a foot or so away.
“Miss, could you spare some change?” he said holding out his hand.
His grubby, greasy, calloused hand
.
I started to shake my head vigorously, having flashbacks of those hands. Those hands making their way up my thigh, inside my sari. Those hands that punched me in the nose when I tried to scream and covered my mouth when he forced himself inside me.
“Atkaav!”
(Stop!)
I screamed in Hindi.
Blake pushed the homeless man out of the way and held me.
I slapped his chest and pulled away and screamed in Hindi again, shaking my head vigorously.
“Shhh, Asha. I’m right here,” he said, pulling me into him again.
I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt the dampness on his chest.
I jerked away, coming out of the episode and realizing what had happened. “Oh my God. Oh, shit... I’m so sorry.”
He pulled me in again. “Why the hell are you sorry?
I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have let him get so close to you. I’m sorry.”
I was shaking but tried to compose myself. I pulled back and roughly wiped away my tears, pissed that my makeup was ruined, and shook my head.
“Blake, you don’t have to do this,” I said defiantly.
He put his hand on my chin and raised my head so that we were looking at each other. Another rogue tear made its way down my cheek.
“Really, Blake. I’m messed up. You don’t need to do this,” I said, quieter this time.
“You are not messed up. Your past is messed up. Your past does not define you. You are not messed up,” he said confidently, looking at me in that soul-searching way.
The air between us shifted. There was a physical pull between us, bringing us closer until he was holding me again. I closed my eyes and accepted his comfort, letting the feel of him be the thing to keep me grounded.
I’m not even sure how long we stood there, because in that moment, time didn’t matter. Time was an irrelevant force; the only force that mattered was the two of us.
I stood there in his arms, continuing to shake, an occasional sob rising from my throat, and he didn’t falter.
Chapter Eight
We walked up the stairs towards our shared porch hand in hand. When we reached the top, he pulled me in for another embrace.
He pulled back and leaned in, holding my face in his hands.
“You possess charms that you know not of
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