Chapter 7: 7. The Break-up

Shiro

When I come back in the morning, Adam’s not home yet. We’re renting a three-bedroom house built in the Crafstman style on the outskirts of San Diego and tried our hardest to make it our own. Right now, remembering how happy we were picking furniture together and decorating the place twists my chest into an uncomfortable knot.

I collapse on the blue couch with squishy cushions Adam loves so much, not bothering with changing or taking my shoes off until I remember Adam would scold me for that. With a sigh, I rise, put the shoes into their cubby and look for ways to make myself useful. Guess I could start on dinner, at least. By the time Adam’s key jangles in the lock, I’m halfway finished with grilled chicken breasts on wild rice with salad. 

“I swear, this new project is kicking my ass,” Adam says between the door. “Hi, Takashi. Nice to see you home for once.” What the hell? When am I ever not here? Since when is everything Adam says passive-aggressive? Perhaps I’m just overly sensitive. Oblivious to my sour mood, Adam comes over and presses a kiss to my cheek. Ignoring the comment, I focus on his job.

“What have you been working on?”

“You wouldn’t get it.” Ouch. That stings. My IQ might not be quite the genius level Adam and Matt’s are, but I have a master’s degree in engineering, for crying out loud.

“Sure. I’m just a dumb jock.”

“Don’t be like that, babe. You know I don’t think that otherwise I wouldn’t keep telling you to come work for our robotics division. They could use you, and you could use the challenge, not to mention the money, instead of just moping around the apartment or partying with that yappy friend of yours.”

Teeth gritted, I choose to nip the argument that threatens to break out in the bud. It’s barely been fourteen days since I officially finished my therapy, and I saw my friend twice during that time, once to accompany him to work. Hardly counts as ‘partying.’

“Lance is not yappy,” I say instead. Okay, Adam might have a point there, but I’m honor-bound to defend my friend.

“Sure. What smells so good?”

“Chicken and rice. You can set the table.”

Thankfully, Adam follows my suggestion without other remarks. When did things deteriorate between us? I remember being happy, in love. But the memory grows hazier with each jibe, each sigh and eye-roll betraying how much of a disappointment I am to him.

“So, where were you today?” Adam asks once we sit down to eat. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“Thanks.” For some reason, my stomach’s churning, so I chase the rice grains around my plate instead of answering.

“I asked you a question.”

“Huh. Oh, yeah.” Why do I worry about answering a simple question? Adam is my fiancé, the person who should know me best. The one I intend to spend my life with. And yet, something stops me. No, not something. The knowledge that my answer will only lead to another argument. One of many we keep having these days, a never-ending row of fighting over pointless details. We’re dry kindling, and every casual remark is a spark that causes us to ignite. 

“I was with Lance.”

Adam responds by rolling his eyes. “Why am I not surprised? That guy’s a flake, bouncing between auditions, never holding an actual job.” 

“His job is just less stable than ours, but he works hard. He goes to auditions, takes acting classes. Plus, he works as a barista at that little coffee place.”

“Where he drinks coffee and gossips all day.”

“He might not fit your idea of a traditional office worker, Adam, but he’s one of my oldest friends. He was there for me when I was the weird orphan kid living with my grandfather. He was there when grandpa died. Whatever your opinion, he’s family, same as Katie and Matt.” 

“And yet, they came to visit what, once, during your recovery? Some family.” Adam’s fork screeches over the plate as he impales a piece of chicken with more force than necessary. There are things on the tip of my tongue begging to be released, but they’d only make an ugly thing even uglier, so I clench my teeth and don’t mention my friends stayed away because they knew Adam disapproved. I don’t say they kept cheering me up in our group chat and stayed up video-chatting with me when I felt down and couldn’t manage much else because of the pain.

“Well, I guess it’s as good a time as any to tell you I actually went with Lance to… audition for a role.” 

Adam laughs. “Good one, Takashi.”

“I’m serious. It’s the new show Lance was auditioning for on Thursday. I came along, the casting lady liked me, made me try, and they invited me for a callback.”

“Of course they liked you. Everyone does, but that doesn’t prove anything. Come on, acting? It’s ridiculous. No one will take you seriously again. You won’t be able to take yourself seriously again.”

“When did that ever bother me? No, that’s your issue, being embarrassed by my goofy jokes. I wouldn’t mind something less serious.”

“It doesn’t seem like you. Ever since the accident, you’ve been drifting. You forgot who you are.”

“Maybe because I lost the job I loved because of something that wasn’t my fault. Adam, I took everything seriously my entire life. Studying. The Navy. What did it get me? A fucked-up arm, a year in therapy, and a ruined reputation. It may be nice to have some fun after the shitty year I had.”

“Are you sure the accident wasn’t your fault?”

“How can you say this? I can’t keep having the same argument. Why are you siding with the Navy?”

He shrugs, glancing sideways to avoid my eyes. “The investigators didn’t find anything wrong with the plane.”

“Somebody must have tampered with the logs. The cabin had a bleed air leak, the oxygen supply shut off, and the reserve system failed. If I hadn’t ejected, I would’ve died, Adam! Or don’t you care about that at all?”

“Of course, I care, Takashi, but seriously, do you hear yourself? ‘Tampered with the logs’? This isn’t some grand conspiracy. If anything, it sounds more like PTSD talking. Have you been seeing your therapist?”

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“Not lately. She said I was coping and to contact her if necessary, but I’m fine.”

“Are you? The paranoia, the sudden career change—if you can even call two auditions a career. Okay, I sort of get why you refused the position with the Navy, but we discussed you joining my company. Instead, you come and drop this little bombshell. On top of this, you’re not in touch with your therapist. I’m worried about you.”

Adam looks at me, pleading, and for the first time in a long time, I glimpse a flicker of the guy I fell in love with. Something painful clutches my chest, but even though I appreciate Adam’s concern, he’s way off the mark. He wasn’t in the plane’s cabin, so he doesn’t understand my need to leave the past behind. This acting job offers me precisely such an opportunity, and it doesn’t matter that when I blink, I see Keith’s purple eyes staring at me. No. This isn’t about an attractive guy. This is about me, proving that I am more than the sum of my mistakes. 

“Look, I’m not saying you must be happy about this, but can you at least be supportive? Besides, it might not even happen. They might not offer me anything, but I intend to accept it if they do. The shooting should take place in Canada, so perhaps some time apart will do us good.”

“In Canada? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Adam looks exhausted, and my heart aches for him, but at the same time, I know there’s no backing down for me.

“For how long?”

“Lance says these things take three to six months.”

“So you’d just up and leave for half a year to play with Lance in Canada. No discussion, nothing, just bye, Adam; I’m off to be an actor.”

“We’re discussing it now, aren’t we?” 

“This is what I get for wasting a year while waiting for you to stop moping. You fucking off to god knows where.” 

Some words can be soothing. Some words can bite. These words land like a hot poker across my face, causing me to flinch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, I know what you meant, Adam. I’m sorry my injury complicated your life. Sorry, my ‘moping’ about losing my health and career interfered with the picture-perfect relationship you had in mind. And I’m grateful to you for being there for me during my recovery, truly. But I can’t keep being indebted to you forever. I might not have your brains, and maybe I am just a failed soldier, but that’s not how relationships work.”

Angry spots flare up across Adam’s cheekbones. Our dinner is long forgotten, getting cold and clammy, a lot like our relationship. The idea curls my lips into a humorless smirk.

“Then tell me, Takashi, how relationships should work?”

“By being there for each other without conditions.”

“For each other. Interesting. Because as far as I remember, everything was about you last year, you, your health, and your fucking lost career, and I don’t know what else. Now you’re being selfish again, telling me you want to leave for six months. You know what? I can’t do this anymore. Go. Have your pre-midlife crisis or whatever you’re going through. Go playacting in Hollywood. Just know that I’m done waiting for you.”

My throat is too tight, full of hot, prickly needless, making each swallow torture.

“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

“Guess I am.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Doesn’t matter. You always do whatever you want, anyway. I’m tired of arguing.” He runs a hand over his face, and I no longer recognize the person I wanted to marry.

“Adam, please. Don’t do this. I can…” What? Refuse the part, stay at home, and find a job that Adam finds suitable? Live in a place that Adam approves of? Only associate with people that are dignified enough for him?

“I can’t do this anymore, either.” 

“So where does that leave us?” Adam’s eyes are shiny, but his mouth is set in a firm line, decisive, despite the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“You stay here. You’ve always loved the place, and I’ll cover my half of the rent until the lease runs out,” I say. 

“That’s decent of you, Takashi. Then again, you were always so fucking decent. Perhaps if you didn’t pathologically need to please everyone, things could’ve worked out for us. Or perhaps you would’ve ended things a long time ago.”

“That’s not fair, Adam. I’ve always put your feelings first.”

“Only when it was convenient for you, Shiro. Guess I should return this,” Adam says and pulls his engagement ring off. It’s a simple black band with a tiny diamond in the middle symbolizing the North star. I used to tease him about being my true north, that he’d always guide me home. Turns out, the compass in my heart was out of alignment. 

“No, please. Keep it.” 

Adam shakes his head. “It doesn’t belong to me. It never did. I hope you find what you need, Shiro.” 

That’s the last thing he says before leaving the house, and I have no idea where he spends the night. Our shared bed doesn’t appeal to me right now, so I put the dishes away and spend the night tossing around on the couch, counting the cracks in the ceiling when sleep eludes me. In the morning, I pack my essentials, arrange for a company to put the rest of my things in storage, and leave for LA without a single glance back.

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