Chapter 21
CALVIN
They leave at dawn.
I watch from my tent as Georgia loads their bags into Ahmed’s SUV.
Ella is fussy, crying for reasons only she and Georgia understand.
The team has gathered to say goodbye—Omar hugging Georgia, Yasmin wiping her eyes, Khalid pressing something into Ella’s hands.
A gift, probably. Everyone looks somber.
Good. They should be. Georgia is abandoning the project at its most critical moment. Walking away when we’re on the verge of something historic.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
The truth, the part I don’t want to examine? It’s messier.
I watch Georgia buckle Ella into her car seat. The toddler is crying in earnest now, calling for me.
“Cav-cav! Cav-cav!”
Each repetition is a knife between my ribs, and it takes all my strength to stand where I am, my arms at my sides. She’ll be okay. I know it. She’s so young, she’ll probably forget all about me within a few days.
Georgia says something I can’t hear from this distance, probably trying to soothe her. Ella’s crying intensifies.
I want to go out there. Say goodbye. At least to Ella.
She doesn’t understand what’s happening, why I’ve disappeared, why we’re not building sandcastles today.
But I stay in my tent. Because if I go out there, if I see Georgia’s face up close, if Ella reaches for me with those little hands, I might break.
Might beg Georgia to stay. Might admit that I was wrong, that I’m terrified, that I don’t know how to need someone, but that I think I need her.
And I can’t do that. I can’t need her. Can’t need anyone. That’s how you get hurt. That’s how you give someone power over you.
My father taught me that. The only person you can count on is yourself. Everyone else will disappoint you eventually. Better to keep control, maintain distance, never give anyone the leverage to destroy you.
So, I stay in my tent like a coward and watch through the gap in the entrance as the SUV pulls away. The team disperses, subdued.
And I’m alone, just like I’m always most comfortable. Except I don’t feel comfortable. I feel hollow.