Crimson Footprints Part 37

"Oh my G.o.d." Tak whispered. In nothing but a pair of form fitting boxer briefs, his libido died, instantly.

Daichi looked from Deena to Tak and back again, his face a myriad of astonishment.

"Now dad, before you go crazy-" Tak reached for his father in an effort to calm him.

Daichi turned to his employ, his gaze narrowing. "I see your aspiration knows no bounds, Ms. Hammond."

Deena gasped.

"Dad, when we met we had no idea that you were the common denominator."

"When you met..."

"O.K., I know what you're thinking. And you're absolutely right. We should've been more forthright. We should've been upfront. And we shouldn't have pretended that we were meeting in California. But you have to understand-"

"When you met..."

"Otosan, just-just hear me out. Please."

"How long this been going on?"

Tak cringed. "Otosan-"

"Don't 'otosan' me! How long has this been going on?"

Tak swallowed, suddenly speechless, motionless. Daichi pointed an emphatic finger at the couch, and without a word, Tak sat.

"Tak.u.mi, I will not ask you again." Daichi stared at his son until he looked away with a sigh.

"Three years."

"Three-"

At this revelation it was not his son he looked at, but Deena. Deena who'd listened to his confessions of parental inept.i.tude, of resentment and regret, all while feigning ignorance.

"Daichi, I didn't-I never-," she shook her head. "I never told him anything you said."

This time it was Tak's turn to look up.

"What? What are you talking about, Deena?"

She looked from the elder Tanaka to the younger, desperate.

"He confided in me, about-things." She turned back to Daichi. "But I never betrayed you. Not once."

Tak's eyes narrowed, and in them, Deena saw the seeds of something new.

Distrust.

Daichi turned to his son.

"Tak.u.mi. You know I can't accept this."

Tak sighed.

"You know how I feel about this matter."

"Otosan, please. Just listen. I love her and I have for years. She makes me happy. Doesn't that count for something with you?"

Daichi sighed. Here was his son, sniveling about happiness. It was always that way with Tak.u.mi, so engrossed with himself. But Daichi knew he needed look no further than a mirror for someone to blame. He'd always given his son whatever he wanted, believing it the best way to express his affections. When he turned 16, he bought the boy his first car, a Ford Mustang convertible, because it was what he wanted. When he turned 16, he bought the boy his first car, a Ford Mustang convertible, because it was what he wanted. When he graduated from UCLA, it was a three-bedroom condo in South Beach, and for his 25th birthday, a luxury yacht for cruising the Caribbean.

Daichi was most comfortable when his love could be expressed with gifts, as opposed to the emotional outpours everyone else seemed to prefer. But in showering his son with gifts, Daichi had created a man whose values did not match his own, who had no sense of the group's greater ident.i.ty, who constantly sought pleasures of the self and of the flesh. Tak.u.mi, he found, knew nothing of modesty, restraint or sacrifice and was at least to Daichi, the very anti-thesis of j.a.panese.

"This is your problem, Tak.u.mi. Everything is about you. What Tak.u.mi wants, what Tak.u.mi likes. No reason, or values, or anything. And what has Tak.u.mi decided he wants this time? A little flesh."

"And what about you, dad? Don't you go to any lengths to get what you want? Isn't that what my whole life has been about?"

Daichi's gaze narrowed. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"No? Well can you have Angela pencil me in and get back to me?"

Daichi's eyes narrowed to nothing."Listen to me and listen closely. I am your father. You know better than anyone that I will not tolerate insolence. We will not revisit this. I forbid this. I forbid this," he pointed a finger at Deena, and like that, he'd reduced her to an object, a thing, a this.

"Dad." Tak's voice broke with frustration. "Don't be this way. If you just-if you knew how important she was to me," Tak sighed. "I've always done as you asked, regardless of whether we saw eye to eye. So you must know that I-I don't do this lightly."

"Tak.u.mi. What would your ojiichan say? What would he think?"

Tak sighed, thinking of the proud historian that was his grandfather. What would his ojiichan say?

"Otosan. I can't help how I feel."

Daichi closed his eyes. When would the boy learn? Learn that what mattered was not issues of the self, but of the group, the greater good?

"You're my oldest son, Tak.u.mi. You're supposed to be my pride and joy."

Daichi's head was lowered, his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and he was no longer shouting. "When I am gone you're supposed to head this family. To preserve our history, our traditions, our way of life. You know how important this was to your ojiichan, how important it is to me." Daichi ran a tired hand through his hair. "I know I have not been the ideal father. Absent when I shouldn't be, whether through mind or through body, but such a thing doesn't negate your responsibilities. It doesn't negate who or what you are."

He raised his head. "You cannot be so colorblind as to erase the color from your own skin. You are not as others are. You are of j.a.panese blood and your history is rich and important and worthy of preservation. Know this before you know anything."

Daichi paused with the memory of him and Yos.h.i.+ learning j.a.panese on Sat.u.r.days, going to Dharma school on Sundays, and a host of ethnic and cultural events-Hana Matsuri, Sakura Matsuri, Tango no Sekku and the Obon street festivals. His father had been adamant about Daichi and Yos.h.i.+ knowing and taking pride in their culture.

"There are things greater than you, musuko." Daichi looked at his son pointedly. "You must ask yourself, this woman that you love-will she follow our traditions? Will she honor your ancestors at the Obon Festival? Build a butsudan for you, for me, when we are no longer here? Because Christians are not in the habit of fas.h.i.+oning altars to the deceased, no matter how much they've loved them."

Tak thought of how willing Deena had been to let things unravel because his ethnicity proved an obstacle. He thought of the lengths she went to to hide who and what he was-lying, skulking, hiding, indefinitely. He couldn't be certain she'd ever embrace their traditions. They hardly ever fought, but when they did, it was because he'd grown tired of deceiving his father or keeping quiet when Grandma Emma called. She'd never able to give him a straight answer as to when they could pull the shroud back from their relations.h.i.+p. Perhaps, she'd never intended to. Perhaps, after three years together he already had the answers to his father's questions, and simply refused to accept them.

Tak stared at the floor. "I don't know what she'd do, otosan. I can't be sure."

Daichi stared at his son, baldly.

"I'm leaving."

He turned to Deena. "And you are off the Skylife project."

"What?" she exploded. "You can't do that to me! You have no right!" It was her project, her vision, hers.

Daichi chuckled. "I have no right? I have no right?"

He took a single menacing step towards her.

"I have every right. I am Daichi Tanaka. That is my firm. And I began it with little more than the sweat of my palm. That is my son, born of my flesh and blood. You, Deena Hammond, are the one with no rights."

Deena shook her head, fl.u.s.tered and near tears. "But this is personal. You can't kick me off for-for dating your son."

"No? How about because your project is over budget? Or because your inaccessibility this weekend has caused an estimated loss of 2.3 million dollars as we searched for doc.u.ments that only you seem to know the whereabouts of? So, tell me, Ms. Hammond, would you find any of those reasons more to your liking?"

Deena closed her eyes, felt a tear spill.

"Daichi, please. I'm begging you."

He turned away, unimpressed. "And as for you, Tak.u.mi, I will pretend that this never happened. And you will do the same."

Tak and Deena watched as Daichi smoothed his charcoal jacket, straightened his posture, and sauntered out the door. Silence followed.

"Tak?" Deena said weakly as he disappeared into the bedroom. When he emerged, he was fully dressed.

"Tak? Tak, talk to me." His silence frightened her.

He shot her a single, impatient look, brushed past her and slammed the front door behind him.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT.

Deena tore out the door after Tak, oblivious to the wild jutting of her two-tone curls, and barreled down the creaking staircase. She shouted his name in desperation, certain he intended to exit not only her building but her life. She found him partway down, frozen at the sound of her voice, as he waited for her to catch up with him.

"What, Deena? What do you want?" He sounded tired, anguished.

"What do I want?" Tears obscured her vision. "I want you to come back. Why did you leave like that?"

Tak took a deep breath. "Why do you want me to come back, Deena?" Still, he wouldn't look at her.

Deena searched the expanse of his back. "What do you mean? I love you. Why would you-"

He turned to face her. "All right then. You love me? Then let's make this thing solid. When do I meet your family?"

"Tak," Deena shook her head in exasperation. "You can't-you know I can't let you." Deena sighed. "We keep talking about this!"

"Right! We keep talking about it. And it's going to keep coming up."

Tak shook his head in disbelief. He took a step upwards, toward her.

"Just what is your plan here, Dee? To keep me hidden forever? And just how the h.e.l.l am I supposed to feel about that?" It was exactly as his father said; she wanted more from him than he should ever have to sacrifice.

"Tak, please. I love you. But you've got to understand how things are for me."

"How things are for you? This whole relations.h.i.+p has been about 'how things are for you!'"

"I know, Tak, and I love you for it. I know this is a strain on you. But this is hard for me, too. There are consequences to this relations.h.i.+p for me."

Tak stared at her. "And what? You haven't decided whether you're willing to accept these consequences, yet?"

"That's not the point, Tak."

"No, Deena. That is the point. You love me? Then d.a.m.nit, you need to act like it. I mean, what kind of watered down love is this, anyway? You love Lizzie and you fight like h.e.l.l for her. You prowl up and down the streets at G.o.d knows what hour, without a f.u.c.king thought for yourself. You love your grandmother and you fight like h.e.l.l so she'll show you an iota of affection."

Deena's nostrils flared. "Is that it, Tak? I don't show you enough love?" she sneered.

Tak shook his head. "This is such bulls.h.i.+t. I'm out of here."

He turned and barreled down the stairs. Deena followed.

"Don't you dare walk away from me in the middle of an argument!" she called.

"We weren't arguing. I made a statement and I departed shortly thereafter."

"What are you now, Daichi? Smug and self-righteous?" Deena shouted as they rounded the last set of stairs.

"My father's a wise man," he said as he reached the bottom of the staircase, "and he knows exactly what he's talking about-when it comes to you at least."

He cast her a single, hard glare before taking off again. She gaped after him.

"What the h.e.l.l's that supposed to mean?" She quick-stepped to meet his long stride across the lobby.

"It means just what I said."

"When it comes to me?" Deena echoed. "No way. You don't get to make some sweeping statement like that and just walk off."

Tak shot her a look before shoving open the heavy double doors that led to Collins Avenue.

"Fine, Dee. You know what it means?" Tak said as their argument spilled into the bustling sidewalk. "It means that he's a h.e.l.l of a lot smarter than me. He's smart enough not to let love derail his values." He shot her a look of disdain. "But I guess you two are alike in that way."

Deena shook her head in desperation. "Tak, come on! You know I love you. G.o.d knows I do. I don't know how to be any plainer than that! If we were in a perfect world, I'd already be married to you."