22. Vein Cut From the Heart #3
“Me? Embarrassing?” Irina scoffs dramatically. “Please.” She gives me another smile, one that brings warmth through the sterile hospital air. “Now shoo, it’s girl time.”
Nik fights back a smile, shaking his head. “Be good, you two.” He follows Rosie out the room, leaving me alone with Irina.
She shifts her body toward me. “Please, sit.” She gestures toward the chair by her bed. “Tell me how you’ve been.”
I lower into the seat. “I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” I mutter.
“Nothing interesting happens in hospice other than dying, dear,” she says, lighthearted as if death is just another appointment on her calendar. “Now, go on. Tell me how it’s been at the studio.”
Irina is a light. Even here, staring down the end, she wants to talk about me, not herself. She isn’t asking for pity or flowers the way my mother would. She just is. And it baffles me.
I want to lie, say everything is fine. But there’s something about her gaze that forces the truth out of me. “Everyone misses you.” A small smile tugs at my lips. “And rehearsals are going great… except for me.”
Her brows knit together. “And why do you say that?”
“Because I’m still struggling. Which shouldn’t be happening this close to opening night.” I pick at a loose thread on Nik’s hoodie, focusing on the fraying seam.
“You know,” Irina voices, drawing my gaze back up, “struggling is just a trial you haven’t completed yet.”
“A trial?”
She nods, her expression steady. “Yes. Whatever it is you’re wrestling with… do you see a way through it?”
I cast my eyes downward. “No… not really.” A sigh leaves my lips. “Nik has tried helping me, but I can’t seem to stop doing the thing I’m… doing.”
The words I can’t say—purge, bulimia, anorexia—form a lump in my throat. By the look on her face, though, I know she already understands.
“When I’m facing something that feels impossible,” Irina says softly, placing her thin hand over my knee, “I run to God. And I surround myself with people who love and care for me.”
I barely stifle a snort. “I don’t have people who love or care for me to run to.” The words slip free, soft and involuntary.
“What about Nikolai?” she asks curiously.
“Nik?” I laugh nervously. “Once he finds out I’ve been lying to him, I doubt he’ll care enough to help me.”
Irina frowns. “Lying?” She shifts against the pillows. “Whatever it is, I’m sure he will forgive you.”
A chaotic rhythm takes hold of my heartbeat.
“You can run to him, lean on him even. He is there for you,” Irina continues. “No, Nik can’t replace the Lord, but let him guide you in your healing, Eleanor.”
Her words leave me reeling. First his confession in the snow, and now his mother being so sure that he’ll be there for me?
My thoughts begin to race. “I’ll only bring him down—”
“My dear girl,” she cuts me off gently. “I see the way Nik looks at you. I hear the way he speaks about you. He’s as stubborn as a mule, but I say give him a chance. And I don’t say this only as his mother. God brought you two together for a reason.”
“Stubborn as a mule is one way to put it,” I mutter, skirting past the rest. My thoughts snag on God. I know Nik’s faith runs deeply, as it does in Lily’s family, and even in Gabriel and Dillon’s. And though I can’t wrap my head around it, I can’t deny… I’m curious. Just too afraid to find out.
“Oh no,” Irina teases. “What did that son of mine do now?”
“Well…” I stagger. Telling her about the drinking doesn’t feel like my place.
“He’s been avoiding me since last Thursday.
Asking Lily to take me home instead. Then today, Lily was busy and suddenly he was fine driving me again.
I got upset and ran, and he—he chased me down.
Twice.” My voice drops. “And then he told me he has feelings for me.”
Irina’s brow arches. “And do you share those same feelings?”
I bite my lip, the silence stretching between us. “It wouldn’t matter if I did,” I whisper at last. “I couldn’t be with him, even if I wanted to. He’s my coach.”
A heavy breath escapes her. “Never say never. God’s timing is always perfect. Everything happens for a reason.” Her voice shrivels into a whisper. “And if I could give you some advice?”
I nod, still fumbling with the sleeves on Nik’s hoodie.
She grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t shut out your heart because you’re afraid of it breaking.
Love—whether it’s from God, or from people He’s placed in your life—has a way of stitching us back together.
You’ve been carrying a heavy burden for too long, Eleanor.
And I don’t know the whole of it, but I can see the hurt in your eyes.
Let someone help you carry it. Let God show you that your body, your soul, your very breath is worth cherishing. ”
Her words pierce through my defences, echoing in the fragile places I try to hide.
She gives a reassuring smile. “Just something to think about.”