Chapter 7 Nyah
NYAH
Iclosed my eyes and forced myself to breathe deeply, slowly, the way I had been taught.
I could feel the tension vibrating through my body, my chest tight, my jaw clenched. I can’t do this anymore. It’s either him or me. This hotel was not big enough for the two of us.
I went home early, telling Amy I would see her on Monday. She didn’t question me or press for details. She just looked at me with concern and said, “Drive safe and take care.” I was grateful for that small mercy.
I held off on making the call to Randall.
Instead, I paced around my apartment with my arms clasped behind my back, my thoughts circling endlessly.
The task of straightening his son out felt impossible, and I knew if I let this situation ruin my weekend, I would resent it even more.
I decided to leave the repercussions of our argument to fate.
I picked up Lucas’s toy, which he had left near the television, and hugged it to my chest. The familiar comfort of it made my throat close up.
A sharp pain crept slowly from the base of my neck and spread across my head, a warning I had learned not to ignore. Medication and sleep were the only things that would help. As I swallowed the pills, I reminded myself that I had plans.
I would see my friends.
I would laugh.
I refused to let that ass wreck my night.
I crawled into bed, determined to forget about Caleb Evans for the weekend.
On Saturday morning, I saw my self-defence instructor, Tyrone. I took my frustration out on the punching bag, pounding it with every ounce of pent-up anger and rage I had been carrying.
“You jerk!” I shouted, imagining it was Caleb in front of me as I turned and delivered a solid sidekick. “You are making my life miserable! Why did you ever come to the hotel?”
Tyrone stood back and watched. At six-foot-four, with a chiselled build, the African-Canadian had intimidated me when we first met.
Back then, I had thought it would be impossible for me to ever defend myself.
But training with him on weekends and after work had built my strength and toned my body.
More importantly, he had taught me self-awareness and vigilance.
Learning to control my mind and body together had given me confidence I hadn’t realized I was missing.
“You’re getting better each time I see you,” he said, stepping in carefully to adjust my hands. “Remember to block and cover your face.”
After practising a few new moves, I left feeling lighter, already looking forward to seeing him again in a fortnight.
When I got home, I checked my mail and found another letter from Lucas. His letters always made me smile. Every week, without fail, one would arrive, and I would call him afterward just to hear his voice.
I sat down and opened it carefully.
Dear Mama,
Thank you for sending me to camp. I am having so much fun. Good, you packt extra underwear. I had diyareeya. Some of it got on my shoes, but Sonya helped me.
I am learning lots of new stuff. I went horseback riding, and the horse in front of me pooped. It was degusting. I made a lot of new friends. We used our toothbrushes to dig worms.
My friend Mike can burp the alphabits. I practice with him. I will write again soon.
Love, Lucas
P.S. your chiken curry is way better.
I giggled as I read it, his spelling mistakes and crooked handwriting warming my heart. Knowing he was having such a wonderful time helped ease the ache of missing him. I dialled the camp leader’s number, rocking gently in place as I waited for him to answer.
“Where are you now, honey?” I asked when I heard his voice.
“In Surrey, Mama. Did you get my letters?”
“Yes,” I told him, smiling. “I read them all the time.”
He excitedly told me about the animals he had seen and how he had learned to use a compass. After we hung up, I went to the kitchen and marked another red X on the calendar, counting down the days until I would see him again.
That evening, after confirming the restaurant reservation, I got ready. Elle called to say she would pick me up.
“Hey, guys!” I said brightly, jumping into the car.
Elle turned around, her big expressive eyes flicking between me and the phone pressed to her ear as she checked in on Noah, her son, who was with the babysitter. Her hair, once black, was now dyed honey-brown and brushed neatly over her shoulders.
I had met Elle at the University of British Columbia, where she studied Psychology, and I studied Hospitality.
We had bonded instantly after getting lost in the cafeteria line and missing two classes together.
It was an immediate connection. From that moment, I knew she would be my friend for life, no matter what crises came our way.
Her husband, Karl, greeted me warmly before adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses and pulling the car onto the road. His gentle nature balanced Elle perfectly.
Copacabana was a Brazilian steakhouse—chic, modern, and alive with energy. It served Brazilian-style Angus beef and featured live Samba performances.
Donna and her husband, Matthew Jones, were already waiting for us.
“You won’t believe what that douchebag said to me,” I said as I slid into the circular booth beside them.
They leaned forward immediately, knowing exactly who I meant. I filled them in as we shared tapas.
“He sounds like a misogynistic pig,” Donna said, pushing her long black hair behind her ears, “who only likes women when they stay in their lane.”
I thought briefly of Caleb’s respectful apology on his first day and his interaction with Katie Powers from purchasing, but the memory of his outburst kept the anger simmering.
“And he tried to put the moves on you,” Donna added, rolling her eyes. “He was trying to put you in your place from day one.”
I had become friends with Donna when we had worked at the same hotel for our internship during University.
“That was actually before day one,” I admitted. “We didn’t even know each other… plus we both flirted.”
Elle grabbed her phone. “Wait, wait. Let me refresh my memory.” She searched his name and brought up photos—red carpets, parties, and the infamous Milan skinny-dipping shot. She angled the screen toward Donna. “This is him. Rich, evil mastermind, according to Nyah.”
“He looks more James Bond than Bond villain,” Donna said.
Elle tore her eyes from the screen. “Does he have a golden gun, Nyah?”
“You two are the villains,” I sniffed, though I couldn’t help smiling.
Donna sobered. “I get it. He doesn’t want you to succeed because you’re a woman. He wants to prove something to his father, and you’re in the way.”
“Exactly,” I said. “He’s on a different wavelength.”
“What if it’s not him?” Elle asked.
We all turned toward her.
“So what if he’s difficult?” she continued.
“You deal with difficult people all the time. Why is this guy so different? You work for rich people in a hotel that caters to rich people. He says you’re pre-judging him because he’s rich, which doesn’t seem likely.
” She raised one eyebrow and finished, “Is something else going on with this guy?”
“I think we’ve wasted enough time on Caleb Evans,” I said firmly, sitting up straighter. “I want wine, red meat, and dancing until my feet hurt. Who’s with me?”
Everyone agreed, and we dropped the subject.
Still, Elle’s words stayed with me through dinner.
I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right.
I had dealt with far worse people. His words had been spiteful and cruel, attacking my dignity and integrity—things I would never compromise, no matter how physically attractive he was.
I limited myself to one glass of wine, just as Dr. Sloan had advised. We ate until we were full and joined in the performance, dancing with strangers to music I wouldn’t normally choose. It was liberating.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly. On Sunday, Patty—Mrs. Patricia Lee—invited me over for lunch.
She had been my neighbour in my previous apartment and my guardian angel, often caring for Lucas while I worked and studied.
Her home was peaceful at night and full of noise during the day from her grandchildren.
Over homemade desserts, she often told me stories about her children and about Alfred Lee, the love of her life, who had died eight years earlier.
Lunch was warm and comforting. Before leaving, I gave Patty bronze angel wind chimes, which she hung on her balcony with a smile.
It was a beautiful end to a lovely weekend.
As I fell asleep Sunday night, I knew the coming week would not be easy. I would have to see Caleb’s face the next day—something that once had been pleasant, but now unsettled me on a completely different level.