Chapter 54
Calvin
An emptiness welcomes me back home as I step into my apartment to a deafening silence that reminds me there is nothing but my furniture waiting for me.
It has been over twenty-four hours since I last spoke to Nikita. After I realized that she had left the country, there was no reason for me to stay behind. The wedding party imploded when they learned that Britney had left and it wasn’t long after that, that the real reason was revealed.
Kenneth and Violet are still missing in action, but I don’t give a shit about any of that. There is nothing about that situation that I care to give any more of my energy to. All I want is to hear back from Nikita.
And eventually, I do. One text from her.
Nikita
I’m okay.
Two words. Two fucking words is all I have gotten from her. I’m well-aware that I have hurt her, but to be iced out like this is torture. I am losing my mind. There is not a single moment that passes without a thought of her and the sheer desperation I feel inside to get her to talk to me.
But she doesn’t.
A part of me is angry. I can recognise my own faults in what caused her to leave, but I can’t comprehend why she would choose this particular way to cut me off. Things have changed between us during our time together, and I know she feels it too. She has to. There is no way that any of that was fake - it can’t be.
Maybe she just got caught up in the environment?
Thoughts of doubt infiltrate my mind, coming up with many possible truths to why she left. Maybe she doesn’t feel anything for me and now that she has stepped back into reality, she realized that. I could have easily been a casual fuck for her.
Fuck that. I was there. There is no way either of us could fake what was exchanged between us. I have never connected with someone the way I do with her. I want more of it. I want more of her.
After dumping my luggage by the entrance, I move over to the island of my open-plan kitchen. I pull my laptop out of my carry-on, ready to check my emails when my phone rings with a FaceTime call from Jay.
I am not in the mood to talk to anyone, but the possibility that Jay can give me some kind of additional insight to Nikita has me answering. Jay appears on my screen. “Jay,” I greet, “how are you?”
“I’m good. Whoa, wait.” He leans closer to the phone, “Let me see your face.”
Oh, right.He is referring to my still swollen, purple lip that has yet to subside, making a mental note to ice it again. Moving closer to the screen, I give him a better look. He flinches, “Shit, is that from Kenneth?”
When I spoke to Jay looking for Nikita, I had to give him some insight into what happened. He just hasn’t seen the damage as of yet, “Indeed.”
“I hope you did some damage to him too.”
“I haven’t seen him since it happened, so I have no idea.”
“I’m not big on violence, but he’s one person that I’d be okay with watching get punched around.” Chuckling, I nod in agreement. He is arguably the most punchable person I know. “I see you finally made it back home.”
“I did.” I move across the screen, popping an espresso pod into the coffee machine and placing a small mug on the spot before returning, “Longest flight of my life.”
Dropping my elbows onto the counter, I run my fingers through my hair as Jay eyes me through the phone. “What?” I ask.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened?”.
“I already told you. Violet and Kenneth are fucking-”
He shakes his head, flicking his hand as if he’s willing my words away. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”
I play dumb. This isn’t something I want to get into right now, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Rhodes.”
My machine beeps to signal my espresso is ready which has me moving out of frame. “I’m not.”
“I know you’ve got great kitchen cabinets, but I’d prefer not to have a conversation with them,” he responds dryly.
With a sigh, I move back this time pulling a barstool around the island. I stop in front of the screen, espresso cup and saucer in hand.
Jay points towards me, “Are you going to keep lying to me?”
“Jay, fuck, what do you want me to say?” I snap.
“I’d like to know what happened between you and Nikita,” he remains calm, not matching my energy. “I get that you two hate each other, but she left without telling anyone. Do you really think I’m not going to have questions about it?”
“Your sister is the one who made the dramatic exit,” I mutter, feeling my frustration with her. Somehow, I am able to miss her and be pissed at her for running away in equal measure.
“What did you do to her?”
“Why do you automatically assume I did something to her?”
“Nikita only runs away when she doesn’t want to face something. Why do you think she went with you in the first place? She didn’t want to face the fact that she lost her job and her apartment on the same day. It was easier for her to take you up on a free holiday.”
This isn’t new information to me. I have learned enough about Nikita to have recognised that trait in her. A trait that we both share. When the going gets tough, I will pull away and become disconnected. Eventually, it becomes second nature to be as withdrawn as I am. It is easier that way and that’s why Nikita does the same.
It’s like looking in a damn mirror.
I don’t want to talk about this, “I think you should be asking your sister this question.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried? She won’t say a thing to me, so I figured I’d try the next best thing.” He pauses, waiting for a response, but I remain quiet as I sip on my drink. “That’s you.” He points his freshly-rolled joint at me before bringing it between his lips, “Fess up, Rhodes.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Jesus, between you and Nikita, I’m not sure who’s more stubborn.”
That’s an easy answer. “Definitely your sister. She’s the most stubborn, infuriating woman I have ever met.”
“I know th-”
“No, seriously. What’s wrong with her?” There is barely a sip left in my small cup but I empty it into my mouth. “Why is she incapable of having a conversation? Or answering my calls? All I got from her was two words, ‘I’m okay’. She drove me crazy for an entire day and that’s all she can give me?” I scoff, shaking my head, “She’s a real piece of work.” Moving to place the cup and saucer in the empty sink, I try to shake off my frustration with her. It is easier to be mad at her than to admit that my feelings for her are getting in the way of any rational thinking.
I return to the screen to Jay eyeing me with his furrowed brows.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you like my sister?”
I scoff in an attempt to hide the truth. “Do I like your sister?” I repeat, shaking my head, “Please.”
His eyes narrow, the questioning look remaining, “That’s not a no.”
No, Jay, I don’t like your sister. I actually think I’m falling in love with her. I open my mouth, ready to lie to him, but the words don’t come in time since I am distracted by the truth. My silence earns a wide-eyed reaction from him, bringing his phone closer to his face. “Oh shit, you do!”
Shaking my head, I attempt to regain composure, “No, I-”
“I thought you hated her,” he says with a laugh.
So did I. It is exhausting pretending that is still the case so I let go of it. What’s the point? “I thought I hated her too.”
“Well?” He waits for me to say something, but I don’t know what he wants. I look at him, raising my eyebrows and he elaborates, “Does she feel the same?”
I shake my head. “I thought she did, but we had a… disagreement.” That’s one way of describing taking your shit out on her. “And she left.”
“Typical Nikita.” He drags an ashtray over to where he’s sitting. “Always running away from her feelings.”
“Why?”
He drops his shoulders. “Only she can answer that question, but do you want to know what I think?” He doesn’t wait for a response as he continues. “I’d put money on the fact that she feels the same and that’s what scared her off.”
I eye him. “You think?”
There is a flicker of hope inside of me at Jay’s insight. If anyone knows more about Nikita, it would be her brother. “Yep. Now the question is, what are you going to do about it?”
A part of me urges me to return to the reality I once knew. The familiar one that I built my life around. The one that doesn’t involve Nikita.
But that thought doesn’t sit well with me.
Am I supposed to return to a life without her? Why would I allow the color to be sucked out of my life? She brings a burst of sunshine to my dull, gray life. One that refuses to be lived. My fear has kept me from so much, I don’t want it to keep me from her. Whatever I thought I once wanted is now no longer true. And not because she influenced my decisions, but rather because she showed me that it is okay not to have the answers. It’s okay to not be plagued by the fear of the unknown on the other side. Instead, she has me thinking about embracing it. With her.
“I wish she would talk to me,” I admit, allowing my vulnerability to show. “She won’t even answer my calls.”
“When she decides to ice you out, it’s incredibly difficult to get that to thaw. Trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of it enough times. I love my sister, but she’s a tough one. Give her some time.”
He is being helpful and his response is fairly calm. “I must admit I honestly expected a different reaction from you. When Mario suggested going on a date with your sister, you were ready to pummel him.”
“That’s because it’s Mario. I’m not letting that man-whore anywhere near my sister.”
I chuckle. “But I’ve been cleared to go near her?”
“You’re a good guy, Cal. Whatever happens between you and her is none of my business. If anyone would make sure of that, it’s Nikita. If she’s told to stay away from someone, it only makes her want to do the opposite, so I’m not getting involved, but-” He pauses, eyeing me, “If you hurt my sister, you know I’m going to have to do something about that, right? Big brother duties and all.”
“That’s fair.”
“You should-” Jay’s sentence pauses as his eyes diverted their attention. “Sorry, Cal, I’ve got another call coming in. Can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
We say our goodbyes and I lean against the counter, my thumb hovering over Nikita’s number. I toy with the idea of phoning her again. I need to speak to her, but the constant rejection is slowly chipping away at my sanity. Shaking my head, I stop second-guessing and bring my phone to my ear. “Come on, Nikita.” I murmur to myself as the ringing continues, each ring causing my leg to continue to bounce from the anticipation inside of me.
Just as I am about to give up and accept defeat again, her voice comes through on the other end, “Hi.”
Fucking finally.
“Nikita, shit, you answered.” I get to my feet, moving aimlessly. “Hi.” There is a pause, “H-how are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Better now that you decided to answer my call.”
Her voice isn’t filled with the usual warmth that I’ve become accustomed to. Instead, there’s a distance to her, “Yeah, sorry about that. I just needed some space.”
“Of course. I understand, and listen, I’m so sorry for taking my shit out on you the way I did.” If this is the only time I have to speak to her, I need her to know I am sorry. “You were not the one I was angry with, but I treated you like you were. It was wrong and I’m sorry for that.” There is another beat and it fills me with anxiety. She is giving me nothing and without being able to see her, I can’t tell where she is at. I hate it. “You there, linda?”
“I’m here.” There is a hardness to her voice. One that distanced her from me with each word she speaks, “Thank you for your apology.”
“You’re welcome.” I exhale a sigh of relief because that is exactly what I feel now that I get to hear her voice. “Jay told me that you’re visiting your dad. How long will you be there for?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Will you be going back to San Francisco?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I run my fingers through my hair, the sickening feeling in my stomach returning thanks to the wall I’m hitting with her. She appears to forgive me but something is still off. “Can I see you?”
Another beat.Each one seems to be longer than the one before, sending my nerves into a spiral.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answers after what feels like forever.
“What do you mean?” I ask, giving her a chance to change her answer. I don’t want to accept what is already clear to me.
I hear her take a deep breath before she speaks, “It was fun while we were away, but let’s be honest, Cal, you and I? We’d never work in the real world. I think we just got caught up in the moment.” Another pause. “Don’t you?”
Caught up in the moment? No. There’s no way that’s what it was. The sinking feeling in my stomach worsens while a new ache appears in my chest as her words wrap around me. “You think we got caught up in the moment?” I repeat slowly, trying to comprehend how she can possibly believe that. “Do you really believe that?”
She doesn’t hesitate with her response, “Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Sighing, she tries to speak,”Cal...”
“I know I fucked up, Nikita,” I jump in, losing my patience with this. She’s lying. “But you can’t pretend that what happened between us wasn’t real. You feel it too. I know you do.”
“I have to go.”
“No, don’t do that. Don’t run away again.” My voice raises thanks to the emotion working through me now.
“I’m not running away,” she argues. “I’m sorry that you feel there is more between us when there isn’t.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit.”
I take a deep breath in, willing myself to think straight, “Nikita, please. Just take a moment and think about what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry, Calvin, I have to go.”
And with that, she ends the call, leaving her words ringing in my ears.
We’d never work in the real world.
I think we just got caught up in the moment, don’t you?
I stare at my blank screen, my fingers itching to dial her number again, but I don’t. I put my phone on the counter, replaying the conversation. Am I truly that delusional to think that what I am feeling - what we are feeling - is real? Shaking my head, my jaw clenches as I try to fight the raw emotion inside of me.
What happens now? Am I meant to return to my life as if she hasn’t ravaged a tornado inside of me? She left nothing but destruction in her wake, but like the eye of a storm, there is calm. With her, things are clearer, better, lighter. My once dull, greyscale life has been uprooted by an attack of color in the form of Nikita Da Silva. I am not ready to go back to life without her.
But she isn’t giving me a choice in the matter.