I miss Cal. How will I live across the world without seeing his smile every day? Or without hearing his teasing drawl calling me Tots? Or without melting into the warmth of his hugs?
My flour-covered hands clench into the dough as the ache in my heart spikes sharply. Hot, wet drops splatter on the counter as I lose the fight to hold my tears at bay.
“Oh, honey,” Irsia murmurs. She rushes around the island and gathers me close. The fact that I’m taller than her doesn’t lessen the impact of her support.
“Cal and I fought about my going away,” I whimper, taking in shuddering breaths as I give in to my misery.
“I gathered.” Irsia pats my back, not complaining when my tears wet her shoulder.
“And Istillmiss him,“ I sniffle, my voice high and thin like a heartsick child. “He’s an idiot but I miss him so much.”
Wordlessly, Irsia helps me get cleaned up before settling me into the couch and bringing me water. Kind of her. I’m certain all this crying will leave me dehydrated.
“He said such horrid things,” I complain, accepting the tissue she hands me with more force than the occasion warrants. I fold my feet under my thighs and swipe the pillow off the side, crushing it to my abdomen as though it’ll stave off the misery rushing towards me. “He said what we had was temporary. That all I wanted from him were orgasms and fun.”
Irsia’s face grows thoughtful as she nods, digesting what I’ve said. “Aloo, I’m not taking sides, but that’s pretty much what you told me as well. That it’s just a fling. Why is that making you cry?”
My vision blurs as my eyes fill again.
“It’s more,” I wail, my face dropping into my palms.
“Mmhmm.” Irsia sounds amused, but I’m too distraught to see the humor in my situation.
“I wasn’t very nice to him either,” I admit. “He’s not the only idiot.”
“Then work it out,” she says patiently, like the solution is right in front of my face and I’m being blind to it.
How? I’d promised him a safe space to be completely himself, that he didn’t have to smile and be happy if he didn’t feel like it. And, when he needed that safety, I lashed out.
“I don’t know how to,” I confess in a tortured whisper.
“For starters, you could tell him how you really feel.”
I blanch.
“The alternative,” she continues, “is that you run away to India without resolving anything, forget Cal, and move on.”
My entire being rejects this idea. My feelings must have shown on my face, because Irsia snorts out loud.
“Looks like you know exactly what you need to do, Alia. Time to be brave and win your man back.”
47
CALLUM
It’s all down to this.
Ironhearts vs Arrows.
Whoever wins the game today advances to the playoffs.
Anaheim was the underdog who climbed up the standings with a vengeance this season. Tensions are high with both teams duking it out. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been shoved into the boards. Kubanski dropped gloves because their winger wouldn’t stop chirping at him, earning him a five-minute penalty early in the first period.
While they failed to convert on the power play, the Arrows scored a goal off the rush by their winger when we didn’t expect it. During the second period, we managed to catch a break in their defense, aggressively driving to crash their net before our centerman ripped a shotover their goalie’s gloves.
Tied at 1-1, we head into the penultimate minute of the third period with the noise of twenty thousand spectators shaking the ice below our feet.
Under my helmet, sweat gathers along my forehead as I watch Novak drop to his knees to stop the puck from sliding in. He covers and holds down on it, ending the play for the moment before we position ourselves for the next drop.