(Bye, Dimitri.)
* * *
I have a keycard to Nik’s suite.
I slip inside the darkened living area, curtains drawn closed over the windows. I glance left, and Nikolai is already exiting his bedroom, dressed in black boxer-briefs, hair disheveled and face set sternly.
He grips his cellphone, and I’m sure Dimitri called or texted him about me.
I don’t drop my bag. I won’t be here long. “Hey,” I whisper in the quiet.
Nikolai stops a foot from me in the small space between the bar counter and the couch. Instead of asking questions, he assesses my features for answers, his concern palpable.
In one breath, I say, “I quit AE.”
Nik frowns darkly. “No you didn’t.”
“Yeah. I did.” I keep my voice low, my stomach and muscles coiling. “I’m leaving. My flight is at nine, so I’m heading out now—”
“Wait slow down.” Nikolai raises his hands and then reaches out for my bag. “Take a seat.”
I back up, only one step. “I have to go.” It feels like someone is jumping on my ribcage. “I have to go,” I repeat, cementing this agonizing fact.
Before I can spin to the door, Nikolai clutches my shoulders. “Luka,” he says my name with force and urgency. “Luka, you’re not leaving. You have to talk to me.”
I shake my head slowly. “All you need to know is that I quit.”
Nikolai tries to steer me to the couch, but I put a hand on his chest. He instantly freezes, but his gaze drives into my core, trying to pry the answer out. I wonder if he sees fear inside of me.
Anguish. Or heartbreak.
Maybe all three.
“I’ll talk to the police,” Nikolai says. “Whatever you stole, we’ll make it right.”
I laugh because I actually wish that my kleptomania was the problem right now. (And there you go, I gave one monster a name. It’s so clinical that I usually avoid the term, but it’s out there and real.)
“Look at me,” Nik whispers. “Luka.”
I look up. “I’m fine. I’m leaving, and you’ll have to accept it, Nik.” I turn towards the door.
Nikolai sprints ahead of me, and I take only two steps before he pushes me back with his palm to my chest. His puts his phone to his ear.
He’s calling someone?
“Nik, don’t.”
In Russian, he says, “I need you over here right now. It’s Luk.” The call lasts point-two seconds, and then he hangs up.
I shake my head vigorously.
His jaw contracts, and he keeps one hand on me. Making sure I don’t leave. “You weren’t planning on telling them you quit AE.” It’s not a question. He just knows I couldn’t stomach it.
“Don’t make me do this,” I say beneath my breath.
Nik wears dark confusion, his hand on my shoulder now. “You’re choosing this. You chose to quit.”
My bones lock.
Nikolai reads me well. “This isn’t your choice. Luka—”
“I can’t.” My nose flares, and I raise my hands. “Just let me go, dude. You have to let me fucking go.” The door whips open.
Our heads swerve, and I go motionless and cold as Timo walks into the suite, squinting. “Why are you in the dark?” he whispers and then flips on the kitchen light, a soft orange glow.
His face falls at the sight of us, squared off towards one another, and my bag—he hones in on my duffel. “What are you doing?”
“Wake Katya,” Nikolai tells him.
“No,” I say, but Timo quickly sprints to the other bedroom. He cracks open the door and whispers our sister’s name.
My hands are on my head, and I start thinking that I have to tell them I quit. I have to rip off the Band-Aid, dodge their expressions, and then walk out of here.
I have to do this.
I have to do this.
I drop my hands to my thighs, slightly hunched over and already winded. Nikolai tries to bend down to my height. He used to do that a lot when we were younger. Try to be eye-level with us.
It should comfort me, but it just makes it harder to leave.
“We can fix this,” Nikolai tries to assure me.
“No.” My jaw tenses. “There is no we, Nik. There’s just me. I take responsibility for my own actions.”
Nikolai searches my features rapidly, hastily—fearfully.
“Luka?” Katya creeps out of her bedroom, shutting the door. I don’t imagine Baylee on her bottom bunk in there. Overhearing this. I want the last image of us to be better than that.
I stand up straight, and I slowly make my way to the door. Nikolai follows, but I’m able to put my hand on the knob.
Katya and Timo are about five feet away in their pajamas. Facing me with panic and worry.
Timofei tries to smile. “That’s just an overnight bag, right?”
“Sure.”
“He’s lying,” Kat says, eyes already welling in hurt and anger. “You’re a bad liar, Luka Kotova.”
(You’re a good sister, Katya Kotova.) I nod a couple times, fighting emotion. I look between the two people I chose five years ago. My little brother, life and youth personified.
My little sister, sweet and clever.
I already miss them.
I’m numb as I say, “I quit AE.” I turn my back to them, twisting the knob, but their screams of “what?” and “why?” pierce my eardrums.
I tune out Timo who yells at me. Pleading with me to stop and stay and talk. He grabs my hand, and I shake him off. He curses at me.
He screams at me.
(I’m sorry.)
Katya is sobbing.
I exit the suite, my heart in my throat.
I shift my bag to my other shoulder, and I walk fast towards the elevator.
“Nik, you can’t let him leave!” Katya cries. “Nik, go faster!”
Nikolai is chasing after me. I don’t even look back before he runs up to my side, his lengthy stride pace-for-pace with mine.
My voice is hollow. “You can follow as far as you want, but I’m not stopping.” I press the elevator button. As we wait, he stays silent, but his intense presence bears down on me.
I’m in a daze, remembering how Katya auditioned for Noctis, a touring show, during contract renewals last season. That hurt some, but I figured she needed to prove something to herself. She was accepted, and she declined, ultimately staying in Viva.
Timo never thought she’d leave.
It’s even hard to believe I’m not just transferring shows. I’m quitting the company, and I’m a breath away from the elevator.
It dings, and in unison, we enter. The doors slide shut, and I watch the digital numbers tic down as we descend.
Nikolai hits the emergency stop button.
I should be mad. I should be angry.
But I’m relieved. And I don’t know why. He’s the one who’ll harp on about responsibilities and hammer me over the head with what I’ve done wrong.
We face each other in the motionless, quiet elevator. Tensed. Uncertain of what’ll happen here. Either I eventually walk out or he stops me.
There are only two outcomes.
“At least give me the facts,” Nikolai says. “Let me understand what happened.”
“Don’t be too hard on Timo and Kat when I’m gone, okay?” I’m a brick wall that he’s trying to crumble for my own good. I know it.
I just can’t come undone that easily.
His features darken. “If you leave AE, they’ll be inconsolable.”
“So console them,” I retort. “Don’t wait for me to do it.”
Nik must be clenching his teeth, his jaw muscle tensing. We stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment. He’s the one who takes two steps forward, strong-minded.
And he asks, “What do you need from me? I will give you anything.” The way he says that one word—it’s as though he’s offering his entire life to me.
But he already gave me his life, his time, his world years ago when he chose me over the tou
ring show.
I speak as clearly and unemotionally as I can. “I need you to let me go.”
He speaks firmly. Passionately. “Anything else but that.”
I never detach from his brutally intense gaze. “It’s all I need.”
“Bullshit,” he swears. “Something happened.” He keeps searching my face for answers. “Did someone force you into this? Luka—”
“Just stop.” I drop my bag, the weight killing me. “Just stop for a second.” I stagger back and lean my body on the wall. I feel strangely ripped open but sewed up at the same time.
Nikolai’s chest rises and falls, and he paces the width of the elevator, only one time, before halting. “You’re right,” he says, his eyes almost bloodshot.
“What?”
“I can’t console them,” he says flat-out. “I’ve always needed your help.”
I shake my head on instinct.
“I text you every single day, Luka.”
“Then you can text me from across the country—”
“It’s not the same!” he yells from his core. I’m about to cite Sergei and Peter, who he didn’t see for six years but he maintained contact with them through the phone—he beats me to this fact. “You mean more to me than them. I…”
He practically raised me.
Nikolai is only a foot away, his voice deep and low, cut with raw emotion that he doesn’t hide. “I know you’re in pain. You have to tell me what happened. Look at me.”
I realize my eyes are on the floor. I can’t lift them.
Nikolai places his hand on my shoulder, one on my jaw, guiding my face upward. His strict gaze is full of strength. It’s not against me.
It’s for me.
I imagine this is what a father is supposed to give a son. Support. A rock to stand on.
I want to tell him. I want to let it out, and I open my mouth—but I’m so used to suppressing the truth. How do I release it all now?
My eyes well. “Nik…” (I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared.)
His gaze bears into me. “I’m going to help you.”
I shake my head again. “You won’t.” I rub my mouth, my breath stuck in my throat. “I already know what you’ll say.”
“It’s about Baylee,” he realizes, his hands slowly dropping off me.
My head is a million pounds at the hollowness of his voice. It’s about Baylee. I stare at the frozen 34 number, and somehow, I tell him everything that happened in the numbest, most soulless voice imaginable.
It’s easier if there’s no hurt attached to the words. It’s easier if I describe Geoffrey in plain detail. It’s easier if it’s all meaningless.
When I finish, I finally look to Nikolai. I can’t comprehend his reaction fully, not as he stares stunned but harsh at the ground.
“Go ahead,” I say, pain leeching my voice for the first time. “Say what you want to say. I’m the irresponsible fuck-up you can only count on Monday through Wednesday. I risked my career and my family for a girl. You’ll say that she wasn’t worth any of it. That she was just some fling.”
Nikolai meets my gaze head-on, but saying all of this aloud—it snaps something inside of me.
I straighten up off the wall. “You’ll never understand what I feel for Baylee. It’s not fleeting. I can’t wish it away. I tried. I fucking tried!” I scream through glassing eyes. I blink once, and tears fall. “And fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” he repeats, his voice cold. “What did I do other than love you?” He takes a fierce step forward again. “My entire life, I’ve protected you.”
I drop my head, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. “Then why do I feel like you’re about to gut me?”
Nikolai looms close, but he stays still. “I would never hurt you. I’m on your side. Look at me—I’m on your side.”
I meet his eyes, but skepticism lingers in mine.
He sees. “I’m human, too. I make mistakes. I wonder, all the time, about the choices I’ve made in life. Just like you. And I know what it’s like to feel compelled to choose a woman over your career. To risk your job for someone else. You know, I cut out of Amour early for Thora.”
I remember he thought she was in trouble, many months ago before she was part of AE.
“I would do more than that for her,” he admits. “I can’t picture my life without Thora, and I’m telling you, I understand what you’re going through.”
(Do you?)
Very deeply, Nikolai says, “Some love is infinite. And I’m going to help you fight for yours.”
My knees almost buckle as he lifts an insurmountable weight off of me, my lungs ablaze. “Don’t fuck with me, dude.”
“I’m not, I promise.” Nikolai rests his hand tenderly on the back of my head, and then he pulls me into a hug. A real hug.
(I’m not kidding.)
Hot tears run down my chin. I grip the back of his shirt and pinch my eyes with my other hand, crying. I can’t tell you the last time a family member consoled me like this. And I never imagined it’d be from Nik.
He’s a fortress. Something unbreakable, no matter how much I beat at him—and he’s also something keeping me standing.
I feel it fully.
Trying to cut the waterworks, I mutter a couple profanities and rub my face with a rough hand.
Nikolai says lowly, “You spend too much time with Dimitri.” Because of my language, probably.
I lean back some, both of our eyes reddened. “Jealous?”
He doesn’t deny it, and severity hardens his features. “If anyone corners you and tries to manipulate or blackmail you, tell me the moment after. Not a second or day or week later.” He pauses. “I’m always on your side, and I’m sorry I made you feel like I wasn’t.”
I let out a sound of relief and pain.
Nikolai clutches my face, and he says in Russian, “I love you, brother. I need you whole.”
I want that too.
Act Forty-One
Baylee Wright
Curling up on Brenden’s bottom bunk, I cry silently into his dinosaur Pillow Pet. I just listened to the most excruciating sobs from Katya and everything Timo said to Luka as he left.
I couldn’t stay in my bedroom any longer.
Brenden sits up against the headboard, typing on his laptop. “Dr. Spiro is only available Monday at noon. Will you be okay until then?”
When I don’t respond, he shakes my shoulder hard until I attempt to elbow him. It’s feeble and weak.
“Weak,” he actually tells me.
“You’re weak,” I say softly and turn my head, looking over at my brother. The computer screen illuminates his caring face in the shadowy bedroom. “I can’t go at noon.”
“Yes you can,” he says.
“I have practice.” I’m about to turn back into the pillow, but Brenden braces me up, his hand on my shoulder. I rub some of the involuntary tears, my cheeks wet.
“AE will give you an hour off to see your doctor. You should be going more anyway. I haven’t seen you this depressed since…” Knowingness suddenly bathes his features, and his head tilts back. “Something happened with Luka? Didn’t it?”
He seems more sympathetic and concerned than spiteful towards Luka. My lips part, wanting to be honest. Wanting to be free from every deceitful thing I’ve told my brother. I’m scared.
So, so scared.
I swallow and say, “I can just feel low for no reason.”
“Yeah, but events can also push you into a deeper depression.” He shuts his laptop and switches on a reading light attached to wooden slats above us. He likes dinosaurs, history museums, all languages, and literature—that’s my brother. I’ll claim him every day.
He’s mine.
And he deserves the truth. He deserved it five years ago.
Brenden grabs a box and starts covering me in tissues. “Thanks for washing Rexy-Rex. He needed a bath.”
I sniff his dinosaur pillow. “God, he smells bad.”
“Like your sorrow.”
I muster the strength to flip him off.
Brenden smiles.
I want to smile back. On another day, I would. I sit up partially and fold a few tissues, blowing my nose. Besides the occasional breathy snore, Zhen doesn’t make much of a peep on the top bunk.
I can feel my brother thinking hard.
With a breath, I say, “I don’t want you to stop prying.” I want Brenden to dig the truth out of me and take the heaviness away.
“What happened?” he asks outright. “You know I won’t judge or…I couldn’t be mad at you. I wouldn’t. I just want to know so I can help you.”
I shrug tensely, and I sigh a pained breath before I let it all out. I mean every last thing that I’m contractually not supposed to say. From five years ago. From the past months. Past week.
I don’t care about the no minors policy anymore. Everything seems pointless, and I just need someone to tell me what to do. What to feel.
Brenden only interjects to encourage. “Keep going,” he says nicely. “You can tell me. I’m not mad.” I’m not mad, he ensures me the entire time. Even when I confess about impersonating Luka in text.
I’m not mad.
It must be an hour when I finish, and I sob into his Pillow Pet again, hugging it tight. Brenden rubs my back in a circular motion, and he wipes a fallen tear quickly so I don’t see.
I saw, obviously.
“I’ve been afraid to tell you,” I reiterate for the millionth time.
“I would be too,” he says. “I don’t know if I would’ve ever…I don’t think I could’ve crossed AE.” Then again, he wouldn’t have gotten in trouble in the first place.
Knees tucked to my chest, I rest my cheek on the pillow and look at Brenden, my waterworks slowing. He keeps his warm palm on my back.
“I’m sorry for lying,” I whisper, “and for all the times I made your life harder.”
Brenden shakes his head like I don’t need to apologize for the twentieth time. “I love you, Bay. If I lost you with Mom and Dad…” He tries to sniff his tears away, and he wipes the corners of his eyes with this thumb. “You’re my heart.”
“Literally.” I eye his tattoo.
His lips curve high.
“I love you too,” I breathe, and the talk of love draws questions in his gaze.
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