29. Are You There, God? #2
In the silence, a peace and a love I don’t recognize slip into the cracks of my heart, filling a hole I thought was impossible to mend. Though I sit alone in my room, I don’t feel lonely. It’s like the steady presence of a loving parent, warm and watchful even if they aren’t there.
I set my journal aside and let myself weep. Not from sorrow, but because a love I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve has found me in the most unlikely way. In that single moment, my life split into a before and after, irrevocably altered.
Nikolai
I knock on the door a few times until a muffled, “Come in,” sounds from the other side.
Evelyn’s office is warm, and I’m grateful. My hip has been aching relentlessly in the cold these past few days.
The winter season for showcases have finally come to an end, and I can’t be more relieved.
After Mama’s funeral, only three showings remained before my break.
I wasn’t taking it for granted. I need this time to get right with God, to face the emotions I’ve shoved aside, and to process a death I didn’t think would come so suddenly.
“Nik, what a surprise! How are you, dear?” Evelyn asks around a mouthful of food, smiling warmly despite this being her lunch hour.
I feel a pang of guilt for interrupting, but I need her. The comfort of my mother’s best friend, someone steady in the chaos of grief.
I sit down, rubbing my hands together, trying to still the ache that seems to settle not just in my hip but deep in my chest. The snowstorm outside mirrors how I feel inside: restless, raw, and cold.
Even here, in the safety of Evelyn’s warmth, my thoughts drift to Eleanor.
The memory of that night in the snow, her ankle, her insistence on being there for me, keep replaying, and I hate myself for thinking about it when I should only be grieving.
Yet, in the same moment, I can’t deny the pull of her presence in my life.
The ache of wanting her close, of longing for comfort, cut through the numbness I’ve wrapped myself in since Mama’s funeral.
I glance at Evelyn, her kind eyes noting something unspoken. I know she can see it—the conflict between my grief, my faith, and the small, stubborn hope I carry for Eleanor. And somehow, just being here, just opening myself to the possibility of talking, makes it feel slightly less unbearable.
“What’s on your mind?” Evelyn asks gently, taking another bite of her sandwich.
I sigh and sink into the couch, trying to get comfortable. “Everything,” I confess.
Evelyn chuckles softly. “Well, that certainly narrows it down.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “How about giving me the top three things that are bothering you most right now?”
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. “I feel distant from God, even though I know I’m not. I feel stuck in my grief over Mama, and I can’t seem to mourn her properly… because I can’t stop thinking about Eleanor.”
Evelyn tilts her head, leaning back in her chair. “Oh honey, that would wear anyone down.”
“I know.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Feels like it’s crushing me.”
“Have you tried praying?” she asks, taking a sip of her soup.
I sigh, placing my hands behind my head. “I’ve tried so many times, but it all keeps coming back. When I’m at church, I can’t focus—grief over Mama hits me, or Eleanor’s face when I didn’t kiss her back.” I admit it, not caring that I’ve just spilled about Eleanor.
Evelyn’s expression shifts, just slightly, a knowing look flickering across her face.
“Why do you look like you already know about that?”
She feigns sheepishness. “Know about what?”
“Eleanor… kissing me…” I trail off, uneasy.
She takes a sip of water, her eyes never leaving mine. “You know I’m seeing her.”
“Yes,” I say slowly, surprised, “but… did she tell you that?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Nik,” Evelyn says, giving me her best mom look, gentle but firm.
“But you already know?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies simply.
“So… she did tell you?” I almost feel a surge of victory.
A wide smile spreads across her face. “Because you just told me, Nik.”
I huff, realizing I’m not going to get an answer from her. Maybe I can try a safer question. “Then… how is she?”
“You know I can’t tell you, darling,” she says, sympathy softening her tone.
“You’re killing me here,” I groan, slouching back against the couch.
“Let me ask you this,” she starts, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Why do you want to know?”
“Are you using reverse psychology on me right now?” I narrow my eyes. “Because it won’t work.”
“No, no psychology,” she replies with a small laugh. “I’m just here as your second mom, helping you through your life’s many predicaments.”
I let my hands fall from my head. “Fine.” I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I want to know because I care about her.”
Evelyn lifts an eyebrow, silently urging me to say what I really mean, because she knows me too well.
I groan. “I love her, alright? I want to know because I love her. I haven’t talked to her in almost two months… except the night Mama died.”
A small smile tugs at Evelyn’s lips. “I’m glad you can admit your feelings, Nik.” She sips her water. “Now tell me. Why haven’t you contacted her?”
My defenses go up. “She hasn’t contacted me either, you know.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she says, in that almost sing-song voice that always makes me feel like a child caught in a lie.
“I’m her coach, for one. I shouldn’t be doing that.”
“But it didn’t stop you before,” she notes.
“Fair enough.” I lean forward, swiping a chip from her bag and popping it into my mouth. “Kasper told me he’d fire me if I contacted her.” After the night Mama died, I was grateful that the security cameras’ batteries went out. Otherwise, I’d probably be jobless right now.
“And I couldn’t face her like that. Watching her fall…” I force a swallow down. “It was one of the worst things I’ve experienced since Daria. It broke my heart in ways I didn’t think possible. I don’t think I could handle seeing her like that again.”
I grab another chip. “I’m also… mad at her. So, so mad. I thought she was getting better, but she kept it hidden—basically lying by omission.” I chew, then let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know if I can trust her.”
Evelyn hands me the bag of chips, letting me continue.
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. This is why I can’t grieve Mama properly. Because all of this—Eleanor, the mess with her—it keeps popping up instead.”
Evelyn crosses her ankle over her knee. “Why don’t you try reaching out to her now?” she suggests, shrugging lightly. “You know she’s getting the help she needs, and you’ve never let Kasper stop you in the past.”
A low, labored sigh escapes me. “If my job wasn’t on the line, I would’ve gone to her already.”
“I understand that she’s still under contract, but she can’t dance this next season anyway—which I’m sure you’ve thought about. So tell me, Nik. What’s really keeping you away?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
I remain silent, staring at the floor, caught in my own tangled thoughts.
She leans forward slightly, her voice soft but firm.
“Nik, it seems like you’re avoiding her because you’re afraid of losing someone you love.
That’s why you’re having such a hard time grieving Irina.
You’re trying to hold onto her when God already called her home.
She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
Her eyes meet mine, unwavering. “I say this with love, and as her best friend, but she would be devastated if she knew you were shutting yourself off from something God sent into your life. Remember a few months ago, when you came to us and told us about Eleanor? How Irina and I felt like God brought her here for you?”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Well,” she continues, “she’s here, Nik. And if what we said back then is true, then you are pushing God’s gift away. Maybe she’s the one you can lean on. The one to help you through your pain too. But you’ll never know if you don’t take a step of faith and find out.”
I sit on the couch with Louie later that evening and sulk.
Evelyn’s words won’t leave me alone. They keep replaying like a melody I can’t shut off.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to let Mama go, to stop clinging so tightly to the grief and lean into what’s still here, what’s still tangible.
Maybe she’s right when she said I’m afraid of losing someone else I love.
Eleanor.
Keeping her away feels safe, like the only way to protect my heart. But the longer the silence stretches between us, the more I regret that choice.
I keep replaying that night. The way she kissed me, the way I froze instead of kissing her back. How could I, when grief had swallowed me whole and Kasper’s threat lingered in the back of my mind? If I could go back, I would. I’d give anything to go back.
So I pray. That’s all I can do. I ask God to lead the way. Whether that means Eleanor and I will walk together or apart.
Just as I say amen, a sharp knock rattles my door. Muffled voices rise outside. I glance at my watch—7:38 p.m. Who on earth would be here now?
Louie jumps up, barking and scratching at the door. I hush him and pull it open, only to find Lily, Gabriel, and Dillon on my doorstep, mid-argument.
“Lily—that’s not what we planned,” Gabriel is saying, his jaw tight.
“I don’t care, he’s going to hear it—” Lily cuts herself off when Dillon elbows her.
“Hey, Nik,” Dillon says quickly, drawing both their eyes to me.
“Hi?” I ask, confused. “What’s going on?”
“Can we come in?” Dillon asks, shifting nervously.
I look between the three of them, suspicion rising. “Yeah… sure.” I step aside.
Lily sweeps in first, scooping up Louie and showering him with rubs, kisses, and baby talk as though she owns the place. Gabriel and Dillon follow, claiming the couch like they live here.
I stay near the door, arms folded. “So… were you guys just in town or something?”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Not exactly.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then what?”
Dillon pats the empty cushion. “Come sit, Nik.”