CherryLatte

Last

She looked at him blankly. "What do you mean your last?"

She had taken his hands in her own. He had his eyes glued to them. The way her thumbs were grazing against his wrists. "I am leaving the museum."

"For what?" her thumbs stopped moving.

"It's time I took on my responsibilities. As a son and as an heir." His eyes never moved from their entangled hands he had cradled in his lap. When she pulled hers away gently, he grasped onto them and pulled them even closer to him.

Tash had to wrestle her hands away from him. She moved them to his face so she can lift his head and meet his eyes that did everything to avoid hers. "Is that what you want?"

No one had ever asked him that before. No one seemed to understand that his predicament was actually a predicament.

His parents spent many years apart while his father was building their business. When they had finally settled and established themselves, it had been over eight years since they had Keva, so they decided not to have another child. They already had the son they needed. He spends many-a-days wishing he had begged them for a sibling. Maybe if he had a sister, she would be able to look at him as a woman who had no expectations from him. A sister would see beyond her own hopes of what she wanted from him because she would want nothing.

Tash forced him to look at her. She looked into his eyes searchingly. His eyes glistened as he saw her look into him.

How can she see me? Despite the numerous things that were plaguing his mind right now, that was the only thought in Keva's head as he looked at her looking at him, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly.

Tash didn't say anything. Each second she remained silent; his desperation grew exponentially. He waited for her words because she always knew what to say to him. He knew he could trust her to tell him not what he wanted to hear or what she wanted to tell him but, the truth.

Tash recognized this as one of those moments where if you said the wrong thing it could affect a person more than you realize. She understood the weight of words. They could be daggers or cushions. Which one did this man who was waiting desperately for an answer like a child waiting for permission needed right now?

"Is that something you can live with?" 

He wanted a solution, not a question.

"I can think of worse fates," he answered honestly. Right. While he felt like no one understood him. He also understood why people might not be able to sympathize with a rich and privileged man whose biggest worry is to choose between his love for art and living the rest of his life as a millionaire CEO. Boo fucking hoo. Several would be glad to have his options as choices.

But is that enough reason for him to let his life be dictated?

Tash brushed his hair back. "Right, do you wanna be rich or do you wanna be rich?"

He smiled wryly, "I know, big dilemma, right?"

"Except this isn't about money." Tash wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. He was obviously in distress right now. Comfort was exactly what he, anyone, would need right now. But it wasn't the distress that stopped her, it was the hopelessness with which he held on to her hands. She laid him down and rested her head on his chest. She allowed him to comfort her.

She cannot tell him to be selfish and choose himself and neglect his family and his responsibilities towards them and their legacy. She was not even sure she understood his situation. Passion vs Responsibility, Family vs Self, Your Dream vs Their Expectations, Self vs Self. These were not uncommon conflicts. Rich or poor, everyone faced these. However, to understand someone's specific circumstances was the difference. The fallout is different for everyone. She realized in this moment that she did not know enough about his specific circumstances to tell him what he should definitely do. She only wanted whichever decision he took to be the right one for him. Happiness is never a guarantee in situations like these. It is only a mercy granted in rare moments regardless of your choice.

As he ran his hands through her hair, she listened to his heartbeat stabilize. In this moment right now, this was the only thing in her power to give to him. Control.

Her lips found his wrist. He caressed her cheeks and smiled with just a tinge of jealousy at what was now the luckiest cherry blossom in history.

"Why blossoms?" she asked, looking up at him.

Keva exhaled deeply as if thinking about his answer. "There was a tree in front of our home when I was a child. I only remember I used to play under the shade in the afternoon while my mother cooked. It was mostly just me and her. My father was always here in the States doing business or whatever. When we finally came over here to stay with him, it was the only thing I had a memory of as the years went by."

He felt her caress his arm gently as if trying to paint the picture of him under the tree. "I only ever went back home once. When I graduated college, my mother thought I could use some time to reconnect. She said something about finding myself. I honestly just went because I wanted to get away from all the disagreements we were having about my future then. So I went and the tree was still there for some reason. The old house had changed so much, but that tree was still there." His eyes were lost but there was a smile on his face and so Tash didn't interrupt him. She listened. "After three weeks my mother came to bring me home. We were standing under the tree when she told me she had convinced my father. But only if I managed my own place."

He sighed. "I think I was so excited and proud that I would get to work with art and artists plus have my own museum to do as I wish that I didn't even realize that it was his way of testing me."

Tash had propped herself up on her arm and was listening to him. "Who told you to prove you're a capable man responsible enough to manage a business? You should have ran it into the ground," she teased him with compliments.

"Would you be lying here with me if I was a failure?" he postured.

Tash shrugged her shoulders unsure of what to say. Why was she lying here with him?

"Then, I'm glad I didn't," he pulled her back onto him, wrapping his hands around her waist.

"Then, why me?" she asked after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you come up to me that day? Like I'm sure if you had gone up to any girl you would somehow have still found yourself in this position with them."

"What position?" he asked, confused.

"You know, in bed with them."

Keva looked at Tash, bewildered. "Maybe" he postulated.

Tash, "then why me?"

Keva, "...your clothes"

Tash did not know what she was expecting to hear but it was never this. "What?" Her interest was now peaked.

Keva, "You can usually tell a lot about someone from the way they dress"

Tash, "And what did mine tell you?"

Keva, "I don't know. It asked me more questions than it gave me answers."

Tash had always wanted to know why he wanted her, because it never seemed to make sense to her. But she never found the right timing or never truly wanted to ask. If she had known that his answer would be this interesting she would have found the confidence to ask sooner. "What questions?"

"...why would you ever want to hide this ass?"

"..."

"You are so stupid! I hate you. Seriously!" The laugh she bust out was from a pure state of bewilderment.

As if he had foreseen this opportunity arising from earlier when he wrapped his hands around her waist, he conveniently smacked her ass and pulled her entire body onto his. "That's ok. I love you." 

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