I always think, I’ll do better tomorrow. When I’m this knee-deep in, I rarely do. But it eases me right now. The “I’ll do better tomorrow” thought. It helps me stand up.
I close the bathroom door and return to my room—the lights are on. Cautiously, I slip inside, not surprised by what I find.
Dimitri is squatting beside my duffel and inspecting the contents, plus the empty drawers.
He catches my gaze. “Going somewhere?”
Look, I knew I couldn’t tell my family I was quitting Aerial Ethereal. At least not until the last minute. They’d ask why a million times over, but I already emailed Marc Duval that I’m quitting, an informal written termination.
It’s done.
“To hell,” I say, pretty easygoing. My voice is never dry. “Want to come?” I pick up my duffel by the strap and zip it again. If I pretend like I’ll be back, I can leave easily.
It won’t hurt.
(Please.)
“Hell is too hot for your lily-white ass.” Dimitri straightens to a stance, and his gaze narrows for answers.
I almost smile. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll pick up some sunblock on my way.” I nod to him. “See you on the other side, dude.” As I turn, he guards the door with his six-foot-five frame. He’s dropped some muscle mass this past week, per Geoffrey’s request.
But he’s still huge.
“If you won’t talk to me, go talk to Nik,” Dimitri says seriously.
“I’m about to.”
He processes this, trying to trust me. I’m really telling the truth. I plan to tell Nik I quit AE, and then I’ll hop in a cab. I already booked a plane ticket to New York.
I figured I’d find an apartment in Brooklyn. Tap into my tiny savings, and then I’ll figure out where to go from there.
Simple as that.
(It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.)
Dimitri cocks his head. “If you’re in trouble, you know you can come to me.”
“I’m fine.” I try to pass, and he extends an arm across the door frame.
“Fine isn’t waking up at two a.m. to go puke—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Dimitri points at my chest. “You made a promise to Nik when you were thirteen. Did you forget that?”
“No. I didn’t forget.” I promised that if I ever felt out of control, to the point where I couldn’t function, I would tell him. I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t go at this alone. I’d ask Nik for help.
Dimitri stares at me like so what the fuck are you doing.
I rub my face once, wincing. Because I just want to leave, not confront these issues too. One is hard enough. Heaping them all on me at once—I can’t.
I can’t deal with it all right now. “Let me through, dude.” I can’t stay here.
Dimitri hesitates. “Tell me I’m not going to regret this.”
My throat bobs, but I try to smile, duffel strap on my shoulder. “Stay beefy. Or everyone will start calling you the Prius.” I pass him, patting his shoulder once, knowing he’ll let me go.
He sidesteps, his features solidified in pained confusion.
(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.