“No? Could I ask you a question, then?”
She nods, not meeting my eyes.
“Who is Jun?”
“My brother. Big brother. He’s the head of the company now Papa’s semi-retired.”
I breathe in and out slowly, letting go of that fear. She didn’t mention him by name when she was talking about her family, but she said she had two brothers.
“Are things patched up between you and Jun?”
She shakes her head. “He’s always mad at me.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugs her shoulders.
I wait. Normally, I’d rush to fill the silence. But I’m coming to realize how powerful a tool silence is. I’ve been too worried about being awkward to use it.
She shifts in my lap several times before she looks up at me. “You’z always mad at me, too.”
I stroke her hair again. “No, I’m not. I was angry that you ghosted me, and we’ll talk about that later, but I’m not always mad at you.” I take a deep breath and say what needs to be said, even though talking about my feelings sucks almighty ass. “I was very, very happy with you for three days. I’m willing to bet that Jun is happy with you sometimes, too, because you make the people around you happy, Cynnie.”
“I do?”
I smile into her eyes. “You do. Why do you think Jun’s always mad at you?”
“Nothing I do’z ever good enough. I finish a project and it’s really good, but it’s not on time. If it’s on time, he says I shouldhave turned it in early. If it’s early, he says I could have worked on it more. It’s never good enough for him.”
A tear wells and trembles on the edge of her dark lashes. I brush it away with my thumb, remembering what she said about her little being emotional.
“Is that something you could talk to him about? Tell him you’re doing everything you can to meet his expectations and he still gives you the impression that it’s not good enough and that kind of unnecessary perfectionism hurts your feelings?”
She swallows. “Can’t talk to Jun.”
“No?”
“He doesn’t listen to me. He only talks to Papa and Baachan.”
“Baachan’s your grandmother?” I ask, remembering Cynnie mentioning her and also remembering the word from shore-leave in Japan.
Cynnie nods. “She mad at me, too. Took my phone for two days to remind me to respect the family.”
That goes toward explaining some of the ghosting, although I know Cynnie has access to her social media accounts from her work computer, so she probably could have gotten me a message if she tried. Still, it modulates my anger.
“I’m sorry everyone was mad at you, baby. Can you look at it another way? See their anger as a sign of how much they care about you? It’s frightening when someone you care about disappears because you don’t know if they’re safe or if something bad is happening to them. Do you understand why they’d be upset?”
She nods and blinks up at me through her lashes. “That why you’z mad at me?”
“Yes,” I say without elaborating, trying to stick to Jack’s plan.
“Cause you care about me?”
More Lolita-ish blinks. Is any of this real? I didn’t get the sense that Cynnie was playing me the last time she was here, but it feels like it now. Why?
Everyone’s been telling me that kink is about honesty and communication. Nothing about this feels honest. It feels manipulative.
“Yes, baby, I care about you. I care enough to be upset that you’ve been ignoring me. And I care enough to say that I don’t like what’s happening right now. This feels wrong. Let’s stop before it turns into a fight and do something fun together. Would you like that?”
