The Tutor

Chapter 11: Outdoors

Nick stretched, yawning hugely, feeling comfortable and at peace. He remembered where he was and lay motionless, savoring the cool cross breeze that drifted through open windows of the apartment. His mansion in Bel Air was climate controlled in every way, and was always the perfect, thermostat-set temperature, silent and comfortable; he'd almost forgotten this feeling, this slight morning chill that came from having your windows open all night, of hearing the cacophony of birdsong and children, of lawnmowers and sprinklers. It brought back memories of his childhood in Brooklyn.

He turned his head to look at Sumire, who slept next to him. Her braid lay next to her head on the pillow, and he again marveled that in the months he'd known her he'd never seen her hair uncoiled in all its glory like this. The mouse on her face had darkened and spread to color the area under her eye and along her cheek, and Nick could see, now that it was daylight, a long scratch, caused perhaps by a ring on her attacker's finger when he'd punched her.

He looked at her hands, which lay on top of the quilt, loosely curled, relaxed, and he saw that she had chafe marks around her wrists. Two or three fingers on each hand had fingernails that were ripped down to the quick and bloodied, and must have been very painful. How tall was she? He, Nick, was six foot three, which made him nearly too tall for modeling, and Sumire barely came to his shoulder; maybe five three? And could she weigh a hundred ten pounds?

She was tiny.

They should've been able to snap her in half like a bread stick.

How, how had she fought off those two animals, all alone, with no weapons but her two small hands?

He kept thinking of her, on the messed up bed, Larry of the pony tail, with his meaty hands, holding her vulnerable wrists over her head as Danny tried to open her legs. Then, somehow, she'd performed the time honored move of kicking him in the family jewels, and then she'd flexed her lower body up over her head and kicked Larry in the head, thereby effectually disabling both of them.

He, Nick, probably couldn't have done such a thing, even though he was a foot taller, and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. He couldn't reconcile the person sleeping in front of him with the fighter who had performed the feats of the night before. He reached out and smoothed some hair off her forehead, because she was sleeping and he knew he could.

She turned her head away in her sleep, brows drawing together slightly.

Nick heard a light tapping at the door, and quickly got out of bed before it could awaken Sumire.

"Nishimura-san, good morning," he said, opening the door and stepping out. "How can I help you?"

"Good morning, Nick-san," she replied with a smile, giving a slight bow. "I was looking for Sumire-chan, is she still sleeping?"

"She is, but I'm sure she'll be up very soon," he responded.

"Well, she's supposed to help me spread some ground cover and mulch back here? And the gardening center just called and said they can deliver it today instead of next week if I can take delivery, so I was coming to check if she was free, you see. I'd rather get it done today, because next week it's supposed to get up in the hundreds." The woman made a face of discomfort. "That doesn't sound very nice, does it?" She shook her head.

"Well, Sumire-chan took a nasty spill last night, and she's really, really sore, so I doubt she'll be in any shape to help you today," Nick began.

Nishimura-san leaned back, putting her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear. Is she okay? I'll tell the gardening center to just wait until next week then--" she turned to go.

"No, Nishimura-san, Nishimura-san, please, listen--" Nick entreated, reaching for her hands. "I'm free today, as it happens, Sumire-chan and I were just going to run lines, so this is perfect! I'll help you, and she can sit in the shade and help me, see? This will get me out in the sun, get me a little exercise, which I desperately need, and it will keep her immobile and quiet, which she desperately needs as well." He looked down at the woman's face. "You know what she's like, you know how she tries to do too much. If you and I are working, she'll have nothing to do but sit in the shade and call out my lines to me. Perfect, like I said." He smiled at her.