Chapter 9
Everyone goes to Hosier Lane, in downtown Melbourne, to look at the street art. Nearby, at one of the few open cafés, we hold a secret Santa to celebrate Christmas. Everyone exchanges crappy tourist gifts with each other. It’s fun, but Mischa looks so sad.
“I hope you’re not sad because of me,” I tell him, down the end of one of the narrow alleyways.
“That’s part of it. It’s also Christmas Eve in America now. I promised my little sister I’d be with her. I’m her only family and I’m standing her up for a lame trip and a crushing three-week long rejection from a guy who fucking hates me.”
“Oh dear. That’s like exchanging gold for brass.”
“It’s starting to seem like it,” he says. “Where’s Will?”
“Headache.”
“Where is your bodyguard-boyfriend?”
I hate that lie. The cure feels worse than the disease, but I have to think about Will too.
“I don’t know, he has the day off. Things are a bit more relaxed now. My brother thinks it’s safer here.”
“William thinks Melbourne is safer than Amherst?”
“Look,” I sigh, “I’m not going to argue if it means I’m left alone for once.”
“I wanted to say goodbye to Kane. I’m going to the hotel to pack. I might see you guys next time you’re at the pizzeria. Here’s my number if anything changes.”
He hands me a piece of paper.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, and I feel my insides getting colder. “You don’t want to do the rest of the tour?”
“No,” he shrugs. “You made yourself pretty clear. I don’t want you doing anything rash. I want to leave here in one piece. I’ll maybe see you guys later. You know, you two can marry in Massachusetts. Or don’t. Just please choose each other and not some random girl to make everyone else happy.”
I hate lying. It’s always such a balancing act. All just to manipulate someone who likes me.
“That’s not why…”
“Look, Austen; I don’t think this is mania.
I’m actually pretty low in energy right now.
I just love you, and fumbled the ball, badly.
I wish you looked at me the way you looked at your buttercup, and that whole cute thing in the reading gallery made me believe in true love and broke my heart at the same time.
All I want is for you to be happy because I love you, and want what’s best for you.
I have to leave now and chalk all of this up to experience. ”
“But you’re here already. You might really enjoy the trip. You could meet someone else.”
Mischa shakes his head emphatically. “I don’t actually want to meet anyone else. It was nice to get to know you a little, but I’m a little scared I might try to hurt myself if I keep punishing my heart like this. It’s time for me to go. Have a good holiday.”
“Hold on.”
“It’s cool, Austen. I gotta go.”
“Wait, I want to give you something,” I say, and hand Mischa a small box. “Merry Christmas.”
He opens it.
“Oh wow,” he says, as he looks at the silver pendant.
“It’s a blackbird, like the song,” I explain. “Please don’t read into it. I just wanted to thank you for yesterday, and say sorry for being so nasty, but I still hate you.”
“Thank you,” he smiles and puts it on. “It’s lovely. I’ll keep it forever.”
“Great, but don’t leave because of me. I’d feel guilty if you left.”
“I’m leaving because of Kane. I’m happy for you, I just can’t watch it anymore. Take care.”
All Mischa’s emotions are bubbling just under the surface. I can see the pain and I want to comfort him. I just can’t.
“Okay then, I guess. Bye Mischa.”
“I’m Eastern European, do I kiss you goodbye or not? You hate being touched so I don’t know...”
I can deal with physical pleasantries when I know they are coming. A handshake, pat on the back, being kissed three times hello when we lived in France. I don’t like that sort of thing much, but can take it.
“Yes,” I nod. “That’s okay.”
“Have a good holiday.”
He pecks my cheek fast, and looks at me after pulling away, and his eyes judder around again like yesterday. I think it’s that zing you get after embracing someone you have chemistry with. He seems to find it amusing, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, and kisses my other cheek. “See ya.”
He goes to leave and I step in his path.
“Wait,” I put my hand to his chest to block him.
He looks down at my hand holding him back. “Yeah?”
“I’m not with him.”
“What?” he says, crossing his arms.
I scowl at the ground.
“Kane,” I say finally. “We’re not. Never have been or will be. Our friendship was forged in Hell, and now he’s very protective. He would kill you if I asked him to. He loves me but not in love, and he’s not gay.”
“Kane’s not gay? What about you?”
I shake the thought off. “I’m just a mess.”
Mischa frowns at some graffiti on the wall. “If you are prepared to fake all that just to get rid of me, then I should definitely go.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“You want me to stay?”
“Stay. It seems only right.”
“You don’t really hate me, you love me?”
“No,” I scoff. “I didn’t say that. I do hate you, and I really don’t want to fuck you either, but feeling hate is better than feeling guilt. I just want you to be around for me to hate... a little longer.”
He admires the bird in the pendant, very amused. “Hmm, I don’t know… this is very nice…” he narrows his eyes at me, and cracks into laughter. “Can we drop the act?”
“What do you mean?”
"We’re just gonna pretend you aren’t crazy about me while I burn alive, huh?” he gasps between laughs, “Austen... you’re so cruel... to both of us... seeing you try to fight it just makes you more endearing...”
I suddenly regret my choice, and put my palm to my forehead.
“Ma caille...” I whisper to myself.
MA CAILLE?
DID I JUST SAY MY DARLING?.
WHAT THE HELL?
“The fuck you just call me?” Mischa stops, surprised. “Mikhail?”
I’m surprised at myself and let it show. My cheeks flush.
“Everybody calls you... um... Mikhail.”
“Not you. You call me Mischa. That was my name before everything was taken from me. Nobody’s called me that since I was little, but you chose that for me, and I like hearing you say it.
I won’t make you sleep with me, care about me or treat me like you love me even though you do and pretend not to, and I know you’ll probably never give yourself permission to show your feelings for me, even if I can tell how much deep they are, but please, give me this one little ray of sunshine, otherwise my life is all a nightmare. ”
He’s really agitated. I am stunned into silence. The idea that everything was taken from him, and his life is a nightmare like mine, moves me a little.
“Sorry...”
“Don’t say sorry, just don’t call me that.”
I grab his hand. “I love calling you... I mean I love the name Mischa.”
He flashes a wicked smile. “You’ll love screaming it one day.”
I turn on my heel. “Alright, you made it weird. See ya, pervert.”
???
We go to the Dandenong Mountains a few days later. I am seated next to him on the historic train that runs through the old-growth forest. He brightens immediately.
“My sister thanked me for the incredible Christmas gift,” he says. “It made her cry.”
“Did you get her something good this year?” I ask.
“I did not, but some anonymous person remembered for me.”
I give him a confused look. “Not me!”
“It’s a beautiful car, Austen.”
My mouth drops open. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I ignore him the rest of the day, and he smiles out at the tall trees passing by the old train. The side of his pinkie finger touches the side of my arm again, and his fingertip lightly pats me an undetectable amount. If he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging violently.