Ava
True to his words, Ivan arrives at my door thirty minutes before dinner, holding a sleek, brand-new model of the latest smartphone in his hands. He hands the device over to me and I take it, examining the shiny black surface.
“It’s brand new,” Ivan explains when he notices my hesitation. “They were able to transfer some of your data into it, so I’m pretty sure you have some of your contacts in there. You might even find a few old messages. But unfortunately, they weren’t able to retrieve your phone number since your phone isn’t accessible anymore,” He says, voice light, but I could sense a hint of seriousness behind his words.
I nod and press the power button, watching as the device comes to life in my hand. The familiar logo glows on the screen, accompanied by the familiar welcome tune. Relief floods through me as the home screen displays, and I tap on the contacts icon where- sure enough, the majority of my contacts are still there.
I scroll through the names, watching the sparse list flicker by. Some of them are familiar, while the others are mostly numbers of people that mean little or nothing to me at all, who I just so happen to have their number due to one reason or the other.
“What’s this?” I mutter to myself as notice a number I know I haven’t saved before. It’s listed under the name Nikolai. I glance back at Ivan, who, on seeing my confusion, takes the opportunity to chime in.
“Yeah, about that, Nikolai insisted that his number be saved into your phone along with the rest of your contacts. And since he knew you wouldn’t let him add it himself he asked me to do it instead.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter, because, as usual, Nikolai seizes every opportunity he sees to insert himself into my life – and now my cell phone.
It’s been exactly four hours since our kiss in his office and I’ve spent that time locked up in my room, trying to get my mind to come to terms with the consequences of my actions. The consequences being Nikolai’s anger and the inexplicable thawing sense of guilt I felt shortly after leaving his office.
Ivan rubs a hand at the back of his neck, clearly finding some sort of amusement in my response. “Right,” he says, “So Katerina asked me to ask if you’ll be joining us for dinner tonight.”
I find it strange how Ivan’s voice instantly becomes more melodic at the mention of his wife’s name on his tongue. When I first saw them together in the kitchen, my first thought was how lovely they looked together, and since I’ve been watching them over the last couple of days, I have come to realize that the love they share for each other is as genuine as they come. Which is surprising, because much like Nikolai, I would have assumed that Ivan was indifferent to the idea of love if I had not seen him with Kat.
I shake my head, “No, I think I’ll just have dinner up here.” I tell him. He nods once then turns to his back and leaves me standing at the threshold of my door.
I let out a breath, closing the door behind me as I stepped back into the comfort of my room. I walk toward my bed and drop onto the soft comforter with a sigh. The weight of the day settles heavily on my shoulders, and I run a hand through my hair, feeling the tension in my muscles roll.
Today was… tiring, to say the least. I spent my morning with Kira and Kat by the pool house and got to learn more about the two of them than I originally thought I knew. Apparently, Kira wasn’t five like I originally thought she was. She’ll be turning six in a month, and her favourite colour is blue because it is the colour of her favourite cartoon character on a TV show about dogs. Kat, on the other hand, was more interested in getting to know me than I thought she would be.
She insisted that it was necessary if we wanted to become friends. Which I had no problem with. To be honest I haven’t had many friends in my life. I met my best friend, Cara, on my first day at NorthShore Academy of Contemporary Arts, a school of artistic people, where we instantly bonded over our shared dislike for our sculpture instructor.
Before Cara came into my life, I barely had any friends. Apparently, it’s difficult to make friends when the other kids at school are fully aware of the kind of lifestyle my father lived. I remember how my classmates’ polite smiles would slip into thinly veiled caution the moment I walked into a room and the annoyance I would feel at their poorly failed pretence. It was exhausting always having that kind of attention on me. But with Cara things were different. She didn’t care what other people said and decided to strike up a conversation with me on my first day despite the obvious looks she got from everyone else.
She’s the closest thing I have to a sister which is why I know she’s probably been running out of her mind over the last couple of days for not hearing from me.
I release a slow breath, finger trembling as it hovers over the screen before tapping the contacts icon. I scroll through, ignoring the countless names that fly by until I see hers.
My finger hesitates over the call button for a second and then I click on it.