✾ Anemone ✾

I twisted my ring around my finger over and over, feeling the cool metal against my skin. 

"You look like you're going to throw up again," Beau said, nudging me with his elbow. 

I looked over at him. "Do I? I'm really trying to look calm right now." 

"You're not doing well at all," Beau said, shaking his head. He smiled a little. 

"Don't laugh at me," I said lightly. 

He shook his head again. "I didn't laugh. I'm not laughing." 

I smiled. "Yes, you are. I can't hear it but I can see it." 

"Ok, I'm laughing," he said, giggling and turning to me. "But seriously, you said this was no big deal. You're the one who told me that. If you keep this up, you'll make me nervous, too." 

I nodded. My desire to keep him calm overshadowed my anxiety. "I'm overreacting right now." 

"Probably," he said. "But she's your mom, so I can't tell you for sure." 

I took his hand. The wintery air clung to our clothes and exposed skin, determined to sap the heat from us. But his hand still felt warm. "She never said she was against it...back then. But she didn't stop my dad, either." 

Beau smiled as if he knew it would be enough to comfort me. It was. "Stop overthinking it," he said. "Also, you have some paint in your hair." 

"Oh god, where? Mom will complain about giving her frown lines if she sees it," I said, touching my hair. 

"Here," he said, reaching up. His face slipped into concentration mode as he tugged at the bit of paint. I smiled and leaned forward, stealing a kiss. 

He squeaked his surprise but quickly leaned into the kiss. When he stepped back, his tongue briefly peaked out between his lips, pushing at the corner of his mouth. "I got it," he said, blushing. 

I felt at ease. Beau and I were in a better place than we had been in a long time. I felt close to him again. "Thanks," I said as the elevator doors opened. "Aren't you nervous about this?" I asked him, stepping out. 

"Only because you're nervous," he said, his voice playful. "And besides, if she's anything like you are, I have nothing to worry about." 

I stopped walking just before the door. "Thanks for agreeing to this. I know I sprung it on you." 

He shrugged. "I've been wanting to meet her, so I'm glad." 

I pressed the bell. Almost immediately, the door swung wide open. My mother revealed herself in all her splendor. She'd really gone above and beyond, probably trying to impress Beau. She was wearing a floor-length black gown with diamonds around her neck, the sort that are small enough to avoid gaudiness but large enough to communicate obvious wealth. To my surprise, she'd done her hair up in an elegant braid. I'd never seen her with her hair like that before. It made her look younger. 

"Oh," she exhaled, dramatically resting her fingertips lightly on her chest. "You're so precious." Before I could stop her, knowing that Beau was a bit slow to warm up to most strangers, she pulled him into a tight hug. Beau looked at me over my her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. I just shrugged. My mother was...a wonderful handful. 

When she finally let Beau go, she touched his face. Beau smiled politely. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Amano." 

"Oh, call me Ai," she said. "Look at your beautiful face," she said. "I see why my son fell for you." 

"Oka-san," I chided, a little embarrassed. 

"And I see where he got his good looks from," Beau said, laughing. "And his sense of style. Your dress is wonderful." Wow. I hadn't prepped Beau for this or anything.

Briefly, Beau had managed to render her speechless, a rare experience for her. All within the first minute of their meeting. She looked at me. "Hana, you best never let this one go."

I laughed. "I don't plan on it." 

Beau blushed a little as my mother pulled me into a hug. "I missed you, my boy," she whispered, holding me tightly. 

"I missed you, too," I said. "But can we come inside now?" 

She nodded, stepping aside. "Come in. Come in." 

Beau bowed his head. "Thank you." 

"Make yourself at home," she said, gliding into the center of the apartment. I hadn't been to this place in ages. When I was young, Mom and I would sometimes live in this huge apartment for a while while dad was on business. But it had been years since then. It was much changed, filled to the brim now with pieces that were obviously my mother's style rather than my father's--like the giant modern painting of an elephant and the art deco touches--but it was still nostalgia-inducing. 

"It's beautiful," Beau said. "And huge." 

"Oh, you should see the main house," Mom said. "It's ten times this size." 

Beau swallowed and leaned closer to me, whispering. "I knew your family was rich, but this is insane." 

I thought I'd warned him properly--that maybe the personal elevator to the apartment might have been a clue--but I suppose seeing it in person was a whole other thing entirely. He was right, though. The apartment was needlessly huge, extending over multiple floors with more rooms than one person could ever need. I wondered if Mom had even been in some of them since living here. But my father liked spending money if only because he could. 

"Sit down, babies," Mom said, interrupting my short trip into the past. She gestured to the long table right outside the elaborate kitchen. Everything in this place seemed a bit oversized, from the furniture to the ridiculously high ceilings. I hadn't noticed it as much as a kid, strangely. 

I pulled Beau's chair out and watching him sit, analyzing his posture. He wasn't outwardly tense, which was a good sign. I ruffled his hair a little as I sat beside him. 

"So tell me about yourself, Beau," she said, setting down an elegant platter with various types of cheeses. "What are you studying in school?"

"I don't currently have a declared major, but I find the humanities compelling," Beau replied. He suddenly looked nervous, eyeing me. "I recently wrote an essay for my philosophy class that my professor submitted to a national competition."

"Oh, impressive!" Mom said, clapping her hands together. 

"I won," Beau said. 

My heart lurched. "You what!?" I shouted. "You got the news?" 

He grinned. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you."

I smacked his arm for not telling me sooner. "Any time is the right time. I'm proud of you!"

"First place," he said, smiling widely.

"Very outstanding for a young man like you," Mom said.

"I didn't doubt it for a second," I insisted, shaking my head.

"You haven't even read the essay," he teased.

"Whose fault is that?" I shot back.

"Maybe I'll let you read it," he said coyly. "Now that I'm nationally acclaimed," he joked lightly. He paused briefly and then suddenly looked at Mom, his eyes wide as though he'd just realized something. He leaned forward and took her hand. "I haven't thanked you for helping me with NYU! I don't think I would have been able to get in if it weren't for your help, and who knows where I'd be if I hadn't been able to go to school?" 

She looked surprised at first, but then softly rested her hand over Beau's. "Now that we've met, I can tell that you deserve the spot. And besides, I should really be thanking you, Beau. It was because of you that my son and I were able to meet again."

Beau looked shy. "I don't deserve thanks. I didn't really do anything." 

She smiled knowingly. "Sure, you didn't," she let go of his hand and reached out to touch my face, "but just know that it is because of you that I've got Hana back." 

Beau bowed his head sheepishly. "Hana?"

It was my turn to be embarrassed. "It's my nickname." 

"I've called him Hana since he was just a little ugly baby," Mom said, laughing brightly. "It means flower in Japanese." 

Beau's eyes widened. I felt his words coming before he even opened his mouth. "That's so cute!" 

"It's not cute," I mumbled. 

"Oh, of course, it is!" Mom said. 

"Mom, please," I begged her. Maybe it was dumb--especially after I'd bawled like a child in front of Beau two days earlier--but I still wanted to be at least a little bit cool in his eyes. Learning about how ugly I was as a baby probably wouldn't help with that. 

But she completely ignored me. "And he always calls me Oka-san even though he speaks barely any Japanese." 

"Do you call him Hana because he likes flowers so much?" Beau asked, smiling widely. 

I lurched forward, attempting to cover his mouth. But he ducked. 

"He likes flowers?" she asked. 

Beau looked surprised. "You didn't know?" 

For a brief moment, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. And then her face transformed. She looked like she could play an evil step mother in a Disney movie. "Flowers, Hana?" 

"Copper doesn't know what he's talking about," I said nervously, pressing my hand down over his mouth. I felt him smile against my palm. "He just thinks that because of my tattoos."

"Why are you blushing, then?" she asked, looking down her nose at me and narrowing her eyes. 

"Because--" I felt Beau's tongue push against the crack between two of my fingers. "BEAU!"

The second I yanked my hand back, Beau pitched in. "He knows flower meanings. And I'm not just talking a few. Like, all of them." 

"Hana," Mom sang, "did you learn the language of the flowers because of your nickname?" 

"It's just a hobby," I grumbled. My face felt really hot. I wanted to slam it directly into the table. I should never have let these two meet. They got along too well, like a couple of old friends conspiring against me. 

"No, it's not," Beau continued. "Quiz him." 

"Ok, tulips," Mom said, clearly enjoying my humiliation.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Declaration of love." 

"Lilies," she said. 

I hesitated, knowing how they'd react. Begrudgingly, I spoke. "What color is the lily?" 

They burst out laughing and didn't stop for what seemed like an entire minute. By the time they quieted down, I didn't feel so bad anymore. I maybe even smiled a little. 

"You're really serious about it, aren't you?" Mom said. 

"It's so not just a hobby," Beau teased. 

"I always knew you were a romantic," she said, chuckling. 

I awkwardly stuffed a chunk of cheese into my mouth. I considered denying it adamantly right up until the moment that Beau gently rested his hand on my thigh under the table. I looked at him. He was smiling sweetly at me. Just like that, I felt better. I was just glad that he was happy. 

"I get it. I'm a mushy romantic. Can we please talk about something else?" I begged. 

"It's fine. We wouldn't know if you passed the quiz, anyway," Beau said, his smile showing in his voice. 

"I have news, Oka-san," I said, seizing the opportunity. Now was as good a time as any to take revenge on Beau for not telling me about his essay until now. 

"Hm?" she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. 

"I scheduled a gallery for my show," I said. 

"What?" Beau shouted. He grabbed my arm tightly. 

"Ow," I said, flinching. 

He released me quickly. "Sorry! Why didn't you tell me?"

Mom laughed. "He wanted to tell us both together. Look at how red his cheeks are!" 

"Mom," I chided. 

"That's so exciting!" Beau said. He looked about ready to leap out of his chair. 

"I'm happy for you, Hana. When is the show?" she asked. "I'll be there. I just can't wait." 

The thought of her being there was a little embarrassing considering the subject material. Showing a bunch of strangers would be easier than showing the people who knew me best. But I still wanted her to be there. It was a big deal for me. "The nineteenth." 

I watched Beau as I revealed the date. He ducked his head and peered at me like a little kid. "That's my birthday." 

I smiled. "I know." The show was mostly for myself, of course, but it was also a gift for him. 

"Thanks," he said quietly. 

"That's quite soon," Mom said. "How long have you been arranging this?" 

"Actually not that long, but I already had most of the work done anyway."

"Most?" Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. He was still under the impression that all of the pieces were from my portrait collection. I'd only ever worked on the new one while he was at school.

I smirked, feeling a little mischievous. I was so looking forward to his birthday. "Most," I confirmed.

"You're being mysterious," Beau said, leaning towards me and scrunching his nose up. 

I nodded and poked it. "On purpose."

"You two are so cute," Mom interrupted. Oh, shit. I'd nearly forgotten she was even there. "How did you meet?"

My heart shriveled up in my chest. "Um, it's really not a good story," I said immediately. 

But she caught on. Ai Amano being Ai Amano, she pressed me on it. "What? Were you doing something criminal at the time?" 

I shook my head. "Nothing like that." I watched Beau out of the corner of my eye. He was clearly uneasy.

"So, tell me, then!" she said, excited. "I want to know." 

"Oka-san," I said coldly. I got mean when anyone, even my own mother, made Beau uncomfortable.

Her smile faded. Beau touched my arm. His voice was soft. "It's ok," he said before turning to look at my mother. "We met under sort of unusual circumstances. He was walking down the street and saw me on a rooftop." 

"What on earth were you doing on a roof?" she asked. 

Beau smiled sadly. "I was thinking about jumping." To this day, remembering him on that roof makes my throat close up. I couldn't say anything. 

"I see," she said. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting. 

"Ren didn't want to tell you because he's always protecting me," Beau said. The light tone of his voice defied the heaviness of the topic. 

"Well, in exchange for telling me something I didn't know about my son earlier, I'll tell you something neither of you know about me," she said, sitting up straight. I had no idea what to expect. She spoke in her imperious actress voice, wearing it like armor. Her words sounded like they'd come from a well-rehearsed script.

"When I was freshly twenty six, the monumental emptiness of my life slipped unexpectedly from painful to unbearable. So I developed a habit of holding my head underwater when taking my evening baths. It was all terribly dramatic. When I did it, I felt a little poetic. Transcendent. I was obsessed with it."

"Oka-san," I said quietly, shocked. Beau said nothing. He watched her closely. 

"Anyway, I kept doing it. It was like flirting with death. Of course, I never could have really drowned myself in the tub. But there's something to be said about my just thinking of it in the first place. Most people don't think about those things. You've got to know that." 

"Why did you stop?" Beau asked. The look in his eyes made him seem far away from me. And my mother was right there with him, the both of them aliens living on a distant, lonely star. "You did stop, right?"

She inclined her face, her braid hugging her head tightly. Pretenses of neutrality shook weakly before collapsing altogether. "Ren was just a child at the time. Barely not a baby. Just discovering complete sentences." I'd never seen her so sad, and I'd seen her sad more times than I could count. "He caught me one day. Waddled right up to the bath tub and looked down at me. His little head barely made it over the edge."

She looked at me, taking a deep breath. "You didn't look scared. You didn't even know what I was doing. But you woke me up. How could I have thought, even for a moment, that what I was doing was ok or that it was normal? The place you have to be in to feel that way eludes easy words."

I had no idea. I knew it hadn't been easy for her, but had I ever really asked? I really was a bastard. "I'm sorry." I felt just as useless now as I had with Beau. 

"Don't apologize," she said. "I'm not telling you this to make you sad. In fact, I'm not really telling you at all." She turned and looked at Beau. "I'm telling you." 

"Why?" he asked. "We just met." 

She smiled. "Because despite how different we are, we've both walked right up to the edge. Just to look, of course. Never to touch. But it's enough, don't you think?"

I didn't know who this woman was or what she'd done with my mother. I felt like I was looking through a kaleidoscope at their faces. 

"I...have been thinking about talking to someone about it," he said quietly. 

She nodded. "It's what I did eventually. It's a good decision."

I felt like I was on a boat in a typhoon. For some reason, I'd assumed that Beau was ok. That he was better. But better? Better how? I cleared my throat, trying to stand up slowly like a normal person. But I failed and bolted out of my chair, choking out a brief, "Excuse me." 

"Hana," Mom said quietly. It sounded like she was mourning a shattered glass, and it made me angry. "These things are deep inside of us. If we don't do the work to dig them out, they stay there."

"I'll be right back," I said as I passed her and retreated from the room. As soon as I turned the corner, I opened the closest door and stepped inside, breathing as slowly and rhythmically as I could in an attempt to force my body to calm down. I knew I was tugging myself along by my own leash, but whatever part of me I was trying to keep collared just wouldn't let up. 

Mom had remodeled the bathroom. There were now tiny blue tiles artistically arranged into starlike patterns across the floor. I stared at them because I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror. 

I'd never known. She had an entire side I'd never seen, that I should have seen. Turns out I'd abandoned her just as much as she'd abandoned me. I felt like a failure. 

And what about Beau? If he still wanted to talk to someone--someone who wasn't me--didn't that mean that he was still in pain? Didn't that mean that I'd been blindly thinking that he was fine when he wasn't? I'd been acting as though us being together could magically fix something...

I wasn't enough. For either of them. Maybe for anyone. That's all I was thinking. 

Knuckles tapped lightly on the door. "What?" I said. 

"Let me in." It was Beau. He sounded calm. 

"It's not locked." 

He slowly opened the door. In all its expensive newness, it didn't make a sound until he shut it again behind him. He leaned against it and sighed, looking at me. 

I scowled. "What?" I said again. 

"You're upset." 

Wasn't much use hiding it when I'd rushed away like someone had chopped my arm off at the wrist. "Yeah."

"You want to talk about it?" he said. 

I shook my head instinctively. He looked sad and said, "We should talk about it." 

"It's not-"

He waited, but I don't even know what I was going to say in the first place. Finally, he turned away, not looking at me when he said, "It seems like we run into this problem a lot."

"What problem?"

"Keeping secrets. Not talking," Beau said. "But maybe we should have expected it considering how it started."

My blood rushed like river rapids. I shook my head. "Let's talk," I said. "Sorry." I rested heavily against the wall. I didn't want to lock him out. I knew I needed him. "I'm sorry."

Beau turned back to look at me, leaning against the sink. He squinted a little. "Are you mad at me?" 

I shook my head immediately. "No." 

"Then why did you leave like that? Because you didn't know about your mom?" he asked. 

"Sort of." 

"She's hurt," he said. "It took courage to tell you about what she went through, and you just left." 

"She should have told me earlier, and I wouldn't have left. When I was a kid, I mean." My throat felt tight. I still felt like a kid.

Beau stared me down. "So you are angry."

"Maybe." 

"Have you considered that she didn't tell you because she knew you would have stayed," he said, "and she didn't want that for you?"

My blood went cold. Thick shame oozed over my body. I covered my face with my hands. "God." 

"These things are more complicated than they seem...than people make them seem," he said. 

"What people?" I asked. "And what things?"

Beau just smiled sadly. "You mad at me, too?" 

"I'm not angry at you for being sick. I never have been and I won't ever be." 

"But you are angry." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

He sighed and stepped closer to me, holding my wrists. "Like I said, it's more complicated than it seems." 

"But I care about you," I said, holding his hands tightly. I felt like I was begging him for oxygen. "I just want to help you. Can't you at least try to explain it to me?" 

He shook his head. "It's not like it used to be. I do feel better, Ren. It's like your mom said. You can wake up from it and heal a little on your own."

"And you have?"

He nodded. "With your help. But... It was real darkness I felt on that roof. And now that I've felt it..." He hesitated, searching for words. And then they whooshed out of him. "It's like before, I was a clear glass of water. And then that day, a drop of black ink fell into me. As time passed, the ink faded until it became invisible again. But it's still technically in the water, diluted. Even if I can't see it, I know it's there. I can feel it." 

"What?" I felt exhausted trying to understand him. It was so frustrating that I couldn't. 

Beau leaned into me. "What I'm saying is that I'm nowhere near where I was back then, but that I still feel as though there's something missing in me. There's some gear somewhere that's jammed." 

"So you're not..." I looked away briefly, trying to compose myself. "You're not think about going--" My throat squeezed up again. I couldn't even bring myself to say the words out loud any longer. The thought of losing Beau was terrifying. I wanted to reach down and pull him out of the darkness once and for all. I'd never considered until now that it might not be within my power. 

"No, Ren," he said, realizing my meaning. He looked so sad. "I won't leave. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Hey." He caressed my face, whispering. "It's ok. Hey."

"Am I not enough?" I asked. 

He looked terrified. "Wha-" 

"For a second, I thought I was."

"Ren." I looked at him. "Shut up." 

I felt the weaker parts of me recoil. "What?"

"I mean this in the nicest way possible," he said, "this isn't about you." 

"It's about you. If I love you, doesn't that make it about me?"

"No," he said. "Ren, you've helped me so much. I very well might have ended up dead without you. But my pain is my pain. It's not your job to fix it, and I don't blame you for it." 

"I never said it was... I just want you to be happy," I said. 

"You never said it, but with the way you reacted earlier, it seemed like you felt that way," he said. "You didn't fail anything." 

I bit my lip. "I should just be able to help you." 

"I feel guilty," Beau said quietly. I watched him. "I wish I could just magically be ok for you." 

"And I wish I could magically make you ok." 

Beau smiled. "I promise it's not all that bad," he said, touching my face. "I'm happy being with you, but I still worry. It just creeps up on me when I'm not paying attention. All this insecurity..."

I closed my eyes and felt his touch dance over the wounds on my heart. "If you think talking to someone will help, I want you to do it." 

"Thanks," Beau said, kissing my forehead. "We can talk more later. But for now, your mom is waiting."

I sighed. "I don't know what to say to her." 

"Probably just be honest with her," he said. "You've got a good heart. No matter what you say, as long as you really mean it, you'll be able to work through it together." 

"Kiss me first," I said. 

"Needy." He turned his head and pressed his lips to my skin, scattering small, playful kisses across my neck and jaw. I tangled my fingers in his hair and held his head still. He gasped a little, a sound that made me want to tear into him. It caught me off guard. My throat felt raw when I said, "A real kiss."

He stared at me. "Let go of my hair." 

"I don't want to," I said before I kissed him. It was a shallow kiss, but it was slow. I felt his breath tickle me. His hair was soft against my fingertips. 

"If you don't let go..." Beau said, leaning his body away from me. "I'll get hard right here, right now." 

Slowly, I released him. "Probably better avoid that." 

He breathed a laugh. "Yeah, probably." 

"Copper, I was thinking that..." 

"What?"

"Your birthday is coming up soon," I said. 

"And?" he said, his eyes narrowing. 

My mouth hung open. Jesus, why was this so difficult? I'd never found it hard before. It had always just come so easily to me. I felt my face go hot and rubbed my neck awkwardly. "I was thinking we could..." Have sex. Sex. Just say it, you fucking idiot. 

I took a deep breath and pushed off of the wall, standing close to Beau. His lips parted. I took his chin and tilted his face up so that I could kiss him again. He let me, closing his eyes. "Will you give me your body, Beau?" 

His eyes snapped open. "Y-You--"

I shook my head. "Sorry, that was a weird way to ask. I'm nervous." My hands were sweating. "What I mean is: will you have sex with me?" 

I didn't have time to be proud about getting the words out without sounding like my old douche self before Beau launched himself at me. He clung to me, hanging from my shoulders and kissing me again and again. "Yes!" He laughed. "Yes, please." 

I chuckled. "Wow, ok." 

"I've been waiting," Beau said, looking into my eyes. "I really want to do it." 

"You're not nervous?"

"Of course, I am!" he said immediately. "But it feels good. It's kind of all I've been thinking about."

I nodded slowly. "Sorry I made you wait, I guess." 

Beau smiled. "Prude."

I chuckled. I'd never been called a prude before. It was comically refreshing. 

I had half a mind to scoop him up and carry him home. I didn't want to wait, to be honest. I felt ready, but it was his first time. It should be memorable. I wanted to give him this one momentous day, to give him everything. He deserved that and so much more. 

"Let's get back," I said. "My mother's not patient." 

"She raised you. She had to be at least a little patient or she would have gone insane," Beau said, opening the door. 

"Oh, ha ha," I said sarcastically. 

"I bet you were a troublemaker as a kid," he said.

"No more than she was as an adult." 

"Guess that's why you two get along so well," he said. 

"You're one to talk. You're already fast friends and you only met today." 

"Yeah, well she's..." He stopped walking, grabbing my wrist. 

"What?" I asked. But then I heard it. A man's voice was coming from the hallway ahead of us. It was a gravely voice, the sort laced with cigarette residue. 

I pressed my back to the wall, forgetting how to breathe. "Fuck," I gasped. 

"Are you ok?" Beau asked. He held my shoulders tightly. It was like he wanted to pin me where I was; if I didn't move, I couldn't get hurt. "Ren." 

"Sorry." I tried to force myself to breathe properly. "Sorry." 

"Don't apologize," Beau said. His expression was filled with concern. It made me feel steadier. 

I stared at Beau, soaking up his strength. "I haven't heard his voice in years." 

"So it is him..." Beau said. He seemed uncomfortable as though he wasn't sure how to act. "I thought it might be." 

"But she said that they were separated," I said. Anger started rising in me. "She lied?" 

"We could...ask?" Beau offered. 

"I don't want to talk to him." 

"Maybe you should." 

"Jonah said the same thing." 

Beau's expression hardened when I said Jonah's name, but he shook his frustration off and glanced down the hall. "We can't just hide here." 

"Sure, I can," I said, turning and walking in the opposite direction of the man who'd tormented me for years. 

"Ren," Beau scolded. 

I shoved my hands in my pockets. His voice tangled my legs up and halted my retreat.

"You can do this," he said. "If you don't do the work of digging it up, it'll stay there."

Get rid of the sickness, not the symptoms. Angrily, I took Beau's hand. "Fucking fine," I grumbled, dragging him along behind me as we turned the corner. 

And there he was, looking older and angrier. But it was him underneath it all. Still a bastard. 

Still regrettably my father.