Tumbling Down: Angst, NC-17, Parts 10-11
Part Ten
“I remember things clearer now. Like Ukraine, and Elemash. Anton, Alexei…my parents’ faces, and my cousins. Stuff from a long time ago, from my childhood. It’s not much, but-it’s so much more vivid now.”
“Things are starting to come back?” I asked softly, rubbing my cheek against Nikolai’s chest.
We were lying on the couch, stretched out along its length. Nik had his arms wrapped around me and was stroking my back as I rested against him, exhausted and drained. Yet for my still-puffy eyes and aching head, I felt almost whole, there.
Nikolai nodded. The action bumped his chin against my head. I slid my hand across his stomach and along his hip, curling my arm around his waist and nuzzling closer as he spoke.
“I think so. Back in the theatre, things were…I started remembering flashes of events; like fireworks beneath my eyelids. It hurt, but-so many things were going through my head, all at once. It was amazing how much came back.”
I couldn’t help the happy grin that spread across my face. I closed my eyes, smiling into his chest; fighting down the giddiness that spread in a wam glow through my body.
“I’m glad,” I whispered. My voice was still hoarse from crying and Nikolai brushed his fingers through my hair, tangling in the mussed locks. “I’m so glad, Nikky…”
“I hope that I’ll be able to remember you soon,” he murmured. “I want to remember us together.”
I tightened my grip on him spasmodically, suddenly afraid again. “You don’t have to remember,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to-”
“Shh, Sergei,” he soothed. “It’s alright. I want to remember. I’m happy with you like this, I just wish…wish I could remember how we were.”
I nodded, relaxing at his repeated declaration of his desire to stay with me. We lay there, entwined together, and I was almost falling asleep within the comfort of his arms when a thought occurred to me.
“Tell me about yourself,” I mumbled sleepily. Nik’s hand paused at the small of my back, surprised.
“Isn’t that kind of unnecessary?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “I know so much about you already. But I want to hear it from you. Tell me what you’ve remembered.”
He chuckled. The reverberations in his chest were a pleasant hum, and he resumed his stroking of my back.
“Where to begin?” he mused. “Everything’s still kind of disjointed. The earliest I remember is Ukraine. My family-I have a sister, did you know? Natalya…she’s six years younger than me. But I don’t…don’t remember much about her. Is this because of my memory? I feel like it isn’t.”
I leaned back and looked Nik in the eyes, searching his gaze sadly.
“You remember going to Elemash?”
He nodded. “My parents wanted for me to be the best. A goal for every parent, I suppose. After they sent me to my cousins in Elemash, we almost lost touch. They’d only visit on Christmas, and my birthday. Natalya was always so different each time…I sent her presents for her birthday, but I was only guessing at what she might like…”
I brushed my fingers against Nikolai’s cheek, sighing. “You did lose touch. After you went to Moscow to play for CSKA…Viktor Tikhonov doesn’t encourage distraction, and Moscow was so far away; they stopped visiting. After a while, they stopped calling regularly. You send them money and gifts every so often, so...they’re happy…”
I trailed off, my heart breaking at as tears welled in Nikolai’s eyes. He blinked them away and I hugged him close, whispering raggedly.
“I’m sorry, Nikky. I’m sorry…”
“No…it’s alright,” he said hoarsely. “I needed to know. I…I needed to know. It’s okay, Sergei, really.”
“It’s not,” I denied fiercely. “You’re a wonderful, gentle, loving person, and you deserve to have a family who loves you and appreciates you. You deserve so much, Nikolai.”
Nik leaned his head down and tilted my face up with his hands, and I was caught in that tender gaze. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead just on my hairline, rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone.
“You’re my family now,” he murmured softly.
I froze.
A gentle breeze, rustling through our hair. We’re sitting close together on the bench swing beneath Marc’s porch, watching as his kids play in the yard. Rusty is there, with Rick, and Jody and David and Jason and almost all the team, celebrating Jason’s marriage. Nikolai rests his head on my shoulder and twines our fingers together, a peaceful, content smile on his lips.
“Do you think we’ll ever be like that?” he asks softly as Marc grabs his son in his arms and swings him around with a delighted laugh. I squeeze his hand, turning my head to plant a quick kiss to his temple.
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of settling down before-probably because ‘settling down’ usually implies with a female. I like kids, but…they frighten me. How breakable they are; how much responsibility it puts on you to care for them.”
Nik smiles sweetly at me. “I think you would make a wonderful father. You’re so kind…you have so much to give.” He looks back at Thomas and Olivier, who have combined to tackle Marc to the ground. “Alexei was an orphan. His first two foster homes…they were horrible. But the people who finally adopted him-they would always come around when we had breaks; on holidays, and his birthday. They loved him and cared for him like he was their own blood, even though he wasn’t. I want to be that someday. There’s so much pain in the world…I want to make that kind of difference in someone’s life. I want to be able to raise someone up and show them that life isn’t all about pain and punishment.”
I look over at Nik in surprise, and no small amount of awe. I hadn’t known he felt so deeply about it. He glances at me, his eyelashes lowered; shy and tentative over revealing something he so obviously wants.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly, overwhelmed by his desire to continue his life with me; to have a family with me.
With me.
“Whatever happens, we’ll do it together,” I say softly. “You’re my family now, Nikolai.”
You’re my family now.
“Sergei?”
I looked up into Nikky’s concerned gaze. The pad of his thumb brushed the skin below my eye, and I was surprised to find I was crying. There was wetness on my cheeks, and yet I felt so happy. I smiled.
“I love you, you know that?” I whispered. The side of his mouth quirked up in a grin.
“Yeah,” he replied softly, teasingly. “Yeah, I think I do.”
But do you? Do you really, Nik?
I’d die for you. I love you so much I’m afraid I’m going to end up hurting you because I need you so badly. I feel like I should be strong for you…but I don’t know how I can be there for you when I’m too weak to care for myself.
I squirmed up until I was level with Nikolai’s face, sliding my hands behind his head. I pulled him down, pulling him close: gentle but firm; inexorably because I just needed him that much. I tasted his lips and it was the sweetest thing ever, and held him still while I poured myself into him like an offering-giving him myself and all that I was, broken, pieced together and all; hoping that it was enough.
And I think that maybe it was, because his arms wrapped around me and held me there; his tongue probed back with the tentative touch of my own. When we broke apart he continued kissing me, pressing his lips to my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids; accepting me as whole even though we both knew I wasn’t.
And I felt complete in his embrace.
--
Part Eleven
“Kings”
“Luc Robitaille.”
“Avalanche.”
“Actually…Footer.”
“Hah. True enough. Rangers?”
“Lundqvist.”
“Isla-wait, Lundqvist? But he’s a rookie! He can’t be the first person you think of.”
“Yeah, well, Jagr’s an ass, so I don’t want to think about him. But Lundqvist has a nice ass.”
Nikolai about nearly choked on his drink. I patted him on the back as he tried to gasp for air, eyes tearing as he fought to laugh and breathe at the same time. Rick looked at him indignantly.
“You can’t tell me Henrik Lundqvist doesn’t have a nice body,” he declared.
Nik waved his hand, still wheezing, and Rick sniffed haughtily.
We were at a little diner for lunch, all four of us-Rick, Nik, Rusty and I. After they had finished eating Rusty and Rick had gotten into a word association game (hockey, of course) that, while entertaining, subtly served to allow Nik to check his own knowledge. I could tell he saw through it-but he played along nonetheless. We were sitting facing each other, Rick and Rusty on one side of the booth and Niolai and I on the other, and Nik and my hands were clasped discreetly beneath the table. As Rusty took mock offense to Rick’s Lundqvist comment, Nik squeezed my hand, and we exchanged a smile.
Rusty, ever sharp, caught the look and pounced on it.
“You two are happy my boyfriend is checking out other men?” he demanded tragically. “Now even my own friends have turned against me!”
“Oh, come on,” Rick scoffed. “I see you checking out Niklas Sundstrom every time we play the Canadiens. You don’t have any room to complain.”
Rusty flushed and coughed awkwardly. “I err…thought you hadn’t noticed.”
Rick smiled predatorily. He scooted close to his lover with a sultry look, eyes dark and half-lidded.
“You know I love watching you,” he breathed throatily.
“Aw, I love you too, Ricky.” Rusty smiled brightly and leaned over, planting a sloppy kiss on Rick’s cheek. The child-like gesture clearly halted any of his lover’s public suggestiveness. Rick fairly pouted in response, sitting back and sulking as Rusty turned back to us expectantly.
“So, Sergei, are you going to attend the golf tournament?”
I winced. I had forgotten about that.
“I…don’t know,” I hedged. “I don’t think I will be…”
Beside me Nik perked up. He bumped me with his shoulder.
“Why not? You should go.”
“Yeah, Sergei,” Rick wheedled. “Don’t leave us alone with fucking Doug Maclean.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t Gilbert, Tyler, Jody and Marc going to be there as well?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “But still-come on, it’s for charity.”
I still hesitated. The proceedings usually lasted more than four hours-six, if you included the media meet-and-greet. I’d never left Nikolai alone for that long before.
Seeming to sense my reluctance, Nik squeezed my hand gently.
“You should go,” he said firmly. I glanced at him, questioning, and he nodded with an encouraging smile. I glanced up at the expectant Rusty.
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
-
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Sigh. “Yes, Sergei.”
“Do you want me to pick anything up for you on the way home?”
“Sergei. For the last time, I’m fine. Stop calling and go back to the tournament. I’m going to take a nap.”
“But, you’re sure-”
“Sergei!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll see you in a while.”
“G’bye.”
I closed my cell phone with a sigh, shoving it back into my pocket. We were already at the 18th hole-Rick, Rusty, Marc and I were in one group, while Maclean, Jody Shelley, Gilbert Brule and Tyler Wright were in the other. Gilbert had almost gotten down on his knees to beg us to let him come in our group to escape Maclean-Jody and Tyler were used to it, and able to suck it up-but it was four per, and self-preservation won out. Marc’s one condition of participating, coming all the way up from Tampa, had been that he not get stuck with Doug; no one dared separate Rick and Rusty; and I could pull seniority. So Gil was stuck-and Rick and Rusty were going to watch their gear carefully, wary of cut skate laces and hot-pink spraypaint.
Rick and Marc were bickering about something to do with the angle of Rick’s shot, while Rusty leaned on his golf club boredly. I had stepped away to call Nik-which I had been doing almost every third hole. He had gotten a bit miffed, but I was concerned. He’d reassured me constantly, and as the tournament had gone on I’d slowly relaxed and allowed myself to enjoy the company.
“Rick,” Rusty finally snapped, “If you don’t take your shot already you are not getting any tonight.”
Rick’s expression was something akin to horror. He meekly lined up as Marc and I snickered. It took him five tries to get the ball in the hole, but at last we were able to retire to the club house. We settled into a quiet corner of the restaurant and ordered food before sitting back to talk.
“So, how has Brent been with the move?” I asked Marc as he stirred the sugar into his lemonade. It was a pleasant day, with a cool breeze that rustled through the trees but did nothing to detract from the warmth of the sun, beaming through a cloudless sky.
Marc smiled. “It’s been a little rough,” he admitted. “Tampa’s so different from Columbus. The boys have embraced it, though-Thomas has just started school, and he’s already loving it-which has made things go a bit smoother; but moving is never easy.”
I nodded sympathetically. We talked for a while, chatting and catching up; reminiscing over our time together. At one point Gilbert slid into a seat at the table, slinking low in his chair and having obviously just snuck away from the other group. We obligingly hid him behind a potted plant.
Marc left first, having a long trip back to Florida, and I followed soon after. My stomach was hurting-I think the calamari had been a little on the raw side-and I wanted to get home to Nikky.
My Nikky.
That thought pleased me, and I found myself grinning stupidly as I got into my car.
I’d only gone about half a mile before a sharp pain tore through my side. It felt like hundreds of tiny needles stabbing into my gut, and I doubled over painfully, clutching the steering wheel. My eyes watered and I barely was able to pull into a pharmacy, hand pressed against my abdomen.
I tried not to hunch over too much as I got a bottle of water and searched for a pack of pills for indigestion. There was no way I could drive like that-reluctantly, I pulled out my phone to call Nik again.
“Hello?”
Maalox, Bisodol, Pepto-Bismol… ”Nikky?”
“Sergei? What’s wrong? You sound weird.”
Bless you for not lecturing me about calling again. I grabbed a bottle of Maalox from the confusing variety of bottles and pills.
“I’m…not feeling too great,” I managed, flinching as another stab of pain arched through my stomach. “Do you think you could come pick me up?”
“Sergei, I-I don’t remember the streets of Columbus all that well…”
Oh. Right.
I shook my head blearily and headed to the front of the store. “Shit. I-I’m an idiot. Sorry, Nikky.”
“No, it’s alright, but… do you want me to call Rusty? You don’t sound well at all.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Okay-where are you?”
I made it to the counter-the store was nearly empty-and the young teen manning the register took a look at my ashen face and leaned over in concern.
“Sir, are you alright?”
Don’t call me sir, I’m not that damn old, I thought bemusedly. I shivered as the pain escalated into a hot, burning sensation. Sweat slicked my forehead, and my breath was coming fast; too fast.
“Sergei?”
“I’m-”
Something tickled my throat. I choked, leaning on the counter, covering my mouth with my hand as I was seized by a fit of wracking coughs. My limbs felt leaden and dead; the floor tilted dangerously in front of my eyes. When I brought my fingers away from my mouth there was blood flecking them, and nausea roiled in my gut.
“Sergei? Sergei!”
Nikky, I can’t-
My eyes were blurry and darkness edged my vision. My knees gave out, and the last thing I saw was my phone smashing against the floor before oblivion claimed me.
“I remember things clearer now. Like Ukraine, and Elemash. Anton, Alexei…my parents’ faces, and my cousins. Stuff from a long time ago, from my childhood. It’s not much, but-it’s so much more vivid now.”
“Things are starting to come back?” I asked softly, rubbing my cheek against Nikolai’s chest.
We were lying on the couch, stretched out along its length. Nik had his arms wrapped around me and was stroking my back as I rested against him, exhausted and drained. Yet for my still-puffy eyes and aching head, I felt almost whole, there.
Nikolai nodded. The action bumped his chin against my head. I slid my hand across his stomach and along his hip, curling my arm around his waist and nuzzling closer as he spoke.
“I think so. Back in the theatre, things were…I started remembering flashes of events; like fireworks beneath my eyelids. It hurt, but-so many things were going through my head, all at once. It was amazing how much came back.”
I couldn’t help the happy grin that spread across my face. I closed my eyes, smiling into his chest; fighting down the giddiness that spread in a wam glow through my body.
“I’m glad,” I whispered. My voice was still hoarse from crying and Nikolai brushed his fingers through my hair, tangling in the mussed locks. “I’m so glad, Nikky…”
“I hope that I’ll be able to remember you soon,” he murmured. “I want to remember us together.”
I tightened my grip on him spasmodically, suddenly afraid again. “You don’t have to remember,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to-”
“Shh, Sergei,” he soothed. “It’s alright. I want to remember. I’m happy with you like this, I just wish…wish I could remember how we were.”
I nodded, relaxing at his repeated declaration of his desire to stay with me. We lay there, entwined together, and I was almost falling asleep within the comfort of his arms when a thought occurred to me.
“Tell me about yourself,” I mumbled sleepily. Nik’s hand paused at the small of my back, surprised.
“Isn’t that kind of unnecessary?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “I know so much about you already. But I want to hear it from you. Tell me what you’ve remembered.”
He chuckled. The reverberations in his chest were a pleasant hum, and he resumed his stroking of my back.
“Where to begin?” he mused. “Everything’s still kind of disjointed. The earliest I remember is Ukraine. My family-I have a sister, did you know? Natalya…she’s six years younger than me. But I don’t…don’t remember much about her. Is this because of my memory? I feel like it isn’t.”
I leaned back and looked Nik in the eyes, searching his gaze sadly.
“You remember going to Elemash?”
He nodded. “My parents wanted for me to be the best. A goal for every parent, I suppose. After they sent me to my cousins in Elemash, we almost lost touch. They’d only visit on Christmas, and my birthday. Natalya was always so different each time…I sent her presents for her birthday, but I was only guessing at what she might like…”
I brushed my fingers against Nikolai’s cheek, sighing. “You did lose touch. After you went to Moscow to play for CSKA…Viktor Tikhonov doesn’t encourage distraction, and Moscow was so far away; they stopped visiting. After a while, they stopped calling regularly. You send them money and gifts every so often, so...they’re happy…”
I trailed off, my heart breaking at as tears welled in Nikolai’s eyes. He blinked them away and I hugged him close, whispering raggedly.
“I’m sorry, Nikky. I’m sorry…”
“No…it’s alright,” he said hoarsely. “I needed to know. I…I needed to know. It’s okay, Sergei, really.”
“It’s not,” I denied fiercely. “You’re a wonderful, gentle, loving person, and you deserve to have a family who loves you and appreciates you. You deserve so much, Nikolai.”
Nik leaned his head down and tilted my face up with his hands, and I was caught in that tender gaze. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead just on my hairline, rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone.
“You’re my family now,” he murmured softly.
I froze.
A gentle breeze, rustling through our hair. We’re sitting close together on the bench swing beneath Marc’s porch, watching as his kids play in the yard. Rusty is there, with Rick, and Jody and David and Jason and almost all the team, celebrating Jason’s marriage. Nikolai rests his head on my shoulder and twines our fingers together, a peaceful, content smile on his lips.
“Do you think we’ll ever be like that?” he asks softly as Marc grabs his son in his arms and swings him around with a delighted laugh. I squeeze his hand, turning my head to plant a quick kiss to his temple.
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of settling down before-probably because ‘settling down’ usually implies with a female. I like kids, but…they frighten me. How breakable they are; how much responsibility it puts on you to care for them.”
Nik smiles sweetly at me. “I think you would make a wonderful father. You’re so kind…you have so much to give.” He looks back at Thomas and Olivier, who have combined to tackle Marc to the ground. “Alexei was an orphan. His first two foster homes…they were horrible. But the people who finally adopted him-they would always come around when we had breaks; on holidays, and his birthday. They loved him and cared for him like he was their own blood, even though he wasn’t. I want to be that someday. There’s so much pain in the world…I want to make that kind of difference in someone’s life. I want to be able to raise someone up and show them that life isn’t all about pain and punishment.”
I look over at Nik in surprise, and no small amount of awe. I hadn’t known he felt so deeply about it. He glances at me, his eyelashes lowered; shy and tentative over revealing something he so obviously wants.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly, overwhelmed by his desire to continue his life with me; to have a family with me.
With me.
“Whatever happens, we’ll do it together,” I say softly. “You’re my family now, Nikolai.”
You’re my family now.
“Sergei?”
I looked up into Nikky’s concerned gaze. The pad of his thumb brushed the skin below my eye, and I was surprised to find I was crying. There was wetness on my cheeks, and yet I felt so happy. I smiled.
“I love you, you know that?” I whispered. The side of his mouth quirked up in a grin.
“Yeah,” he replied softly, teasingly. “Yeah, I think I do.”
But do you? Do you really, Nik?
I’d die for you. I love you so much I’m afraid I’m going to end up hurting you because I need you so badly. I feel like I should be strong for you…but I don’t know how I can be there for you when I’m too weak to care for myself.
I squirmed up until I was level with Nikolai’s face, sliding my hands behind his head. I pulled him down, pulling him close: gentle but firm; inexorably because I just needed him that much. I tasted his lips and it was the sweetest thing ever, and held him still while I poured myself into him like an offering-giving him myself and all that I was, broken, pieced together and all; hoping that it was enough.
And I think that maybe it was, because his arms wrapped around me and held me there; his tongue probed back with the tentative touch of my own. When we broke apart he continued kissing me, pressing his lips to my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids; accepting me as whole even though we both knew I wasn’t.
And I felt complete in his embrace.
--
Part Eleven
“Kings”
“Luc Robitaille.”
“Avalanche.”
“Actually…Footer.”
“Hah. True enough. Rangers?”
“Lundqvist.”
“Isla-wait, Lundqvist? But he’s a rookie! He can’t be the first person you think of.”
“Yeah, well, Jagr’s an ass, so I don’t want to think about him. But Lundqvist has a nice ass.”
Nikolai about nearly choked on his drink. I patted him on the back as he tried to gasp for air, eyes tearing as he fought to laugh and breathe at the same time. Rick looked at him indignantly.
“You can’t tell me Henrik Lundqvist doesn’t have a nice body,” he declared.
Nik waved his hand, still wheezing, and Rick sniffed haughtily.
We were at a little diner for lunch, all four of us-Rick, Nik, Rusty and I. After they had finished eating Rusty and Rick had gotten into a word association game (hockey, of course) that, while entertaining, subtly served to allow Nik to check his own knowledge. I could tell he saw through it-but he played along nonetheless. We were sitting facing each other, Rick and Rusty on one side of the booth and Niolai and I on the other, and Nik and my hands were clasped discreetly beneath the table. As Rusty took mock offense to Rick’s Lundqvist comment, Nik squeezed my hand, and we exchanged a smile.
Rusty, ever sharp, caught the look and pounced on it.
“You two are happy my boyfriend is checking out other men?” he demanded tragically. “Now even my own friends have turned against me!”
“Oh, come on,” Rick scoffed. “I see you checking out Niklas Sundstrom every time we play the Canadiens. You don’t have any room to complain.”
Rusty flushed and coughed awkwardly. “I err…thought you hadn’t noticed.”
Rick smiled predatorily. He scooted close to his lover with a sultry look, eyes dark and half-lidded.
“You know I love watching you,” he breathed throatily.
“Aw, I love you too, Ricky.” Rusty smiled brightly and leaned over, planting a sloppy kiss on Rick’s cheek. The child-like gesture clearly halted any of his lover’s public suggestiveness. Rick fairly pouted in response, sitting back and sulking as Rusty turned back to us expectantly.
“So, Sergei, are you going to attend the golf tournament?”
I winced. I had forgotten about that.
“I…don’t know,” I hedged. “I don’t think I will be…”
Beside me Nik perked up. He bumped me with his shoulder.
“Why not? You should go.”
“Yeah, Sergei,” Rick wheedled. “Don’t leave us alone with fucking Doug Maclean.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t Gilbert, Tyler, Jody and Marc going to be there as well?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “But still-come on, it’s for charity.”
I still hesitated. The proceedings usually lasted more than four hours-six, if you included the media meet-and-greet. I’d never left Nikolai alone for that long before.
Seeming to sense my reluctance, Nik squeezed my hand gently.
“You should go,” he said firmly. I glanced at him, questioning, and he nodded with an encouraging smile. I glanced up at the expectant Rusty.
“Alright, I’ll be there.”
-
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
Sigh. “Yes, Sergei.”
“Do you want me to pick anything up for you on the way home?”
“Sergei. For the last time, I’m fine. Stop calling and go back to the tournament. I’m going to take a nap.”
“But, you’re sure-”
“Sergei!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I’ll see you in a while.”
“G’bye.”
I closed my cell phone with a sigh, shoving it back into my pocket. We were already at the 18th hole-Rick, Rusty, Marc and I were in one group, while Maclean, Jody Shelley, Gilbert Brule and Tyler Wright were in the other. Gilbert had almost gotten down on his knees to beg us to let him come in our group to escape Maclean-Jody and Tyler were used to it, and able to suck it up-but it was four per, and self-preservation won out. Marc’s one condition of participating, coming all the way up from Tampa, had been that he not get stuck with Doug; no one dared separate Rick and Rusty; and I could pull seniority. So Gil was stuck-and Rick and Rusty were going to watch their gear carefully, wary of cut skate laces and hot-pink spraypaint.
Rick and Marc were bickering about something to do with the angle of Rick’s shot, while Rusty leaned on his golf club boredly. I had stepped away to call Nik-which I had been doing almost every third hole. He had gotten a bit miffed, but I was concerned. He’d reassured me constantly, and as the tournament had gone on I’d slowly relaxed and allowed myself to enjoy the company.
“Rick,” Rusty finally snapped, “If you don’t take your shot already you are not getting any tonight.”
Rick’s expression was something akin to horror. He meekly lined up as Marc and I snickered. It took him five tries to get the ball in the hole, but at last we were able to retire to the club house. We settled into a quiet corner of the restaurant and ordered food before sitting back to talk.
“So, how has Brent been with the move?” I asked Marc as he stirred the sugar into his lemonade. It was a pleasant day, with a cool breeze that rustled through the trees but did nothing to detract from the warmth of the sun, beaming through a cloudless sky.
Marc smiled. “It’s been a little rough,” he admitted. “Tampa’s so different from Columbus. The boys have embraced it, though-Thomas has just started school, and he’s already loving it-which has made things go a bit smoother; but moving is never easy.”
I nodded sympathetically. We talked for a while, chatting and catching up; reminiscing over our time together. At one point Gilbert slid into a seat at the table, slinking low in his chair and having obviously just snuck away from the other group. We obligingly hid him behind a potted plant.
Marc left first, having a long trip back to Florida, and I followed soon after. My stomach was hurting-I think the calamari had been a little on the raw side-and I wanted to get home to Nikky.
My Nikky.
That thought pleased me, and I found myself grinning stupidly as I got into my car.
I’d only gone about half a mile before a sharp pain tore through my side. It felt like hundreds of tiny needles stabbing into my gut, and I doubled over painfully, clutching the steering wheel. My eyes watered and I barely was able to pull into a pharmacy, hand pressed against my abdomen.
I tried not to hunch over too much as I got a bottle of water and searched for a pack of pills for indigestion. There was no way I could drive like that-reluctantly, I pulled out my phone to call Nik again.
“Hello?”
Maalox, Bisodol, Pepto-Bismol… ”Nikky?”
“Sergei? What’s wrong? You sound weird.”
Bless you for not lecturing me about calling again. I grabbed a bottle of Maalox from the confusing variety of bottles and pills.
“I’m…not feeling too great,” I managed, flinching as another stab of pain arched through my stomach. “Do you think you could come pick me up?”
“Sergei, I-I don’t remember the streets of Columbus all that well…”
Oh. Right.
I shook my head blearily and headed to the front of the store. “Shit. I-I’m an idiot. Sorry, Nikky.”
“No, it’s alright, but… do you want me to call Rusty? You don’t sound well at all.”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
“Okay-where are you?”
I made it to the counter-the store was nearly empty-and the young teen manning the register took a look at my ashen face and leaned over in concern.
“Sir, are you alright?”
Don’t call me sir, I’m not that damn old, I thought bemusedly. I shivered as the pain escalated into a hot, burning sensation. Sweat slicked my forehead, and my breath was coming fast; too fast.
“Sergei?”
“I’m-”
Something tickled my throat. I choked, leaning on the counter, covering my mouth with my hand as I was seized by a fit of wracking coughs. My limbs felt leaden and dead; the floor tilted dangerously in front of my eyes. When I brought my fingers away from my mouth there was blood flecking them, and nausea roiled in my gut.
“Sergei? Sergei!”
Nikky, I can’t-
My eyes were blurry and darkness edged my vision. My knees gave out, and the last thing I saw was my phone smashing against the floor before oblivion claimed me.