Unfortunately, the Nick-shaped hole he leaves in my life throbs like an infected tooth the entire time he’s gone, which gives me a taste of LAN—Life After Nick. I’m completely overwhelmed by my feelings and hardly know what to do with myself. Rather than facing it head-on, I avoid his calls, which become more frequent as the days go by. I can tell by the tone of his messages and voicemails he knows something is up, but I can’t bring myself to talk to him. And then he goes and ups the ante.
As a rule, I don’t answer calls showing as ‘private caller’, but I have a few balls in the air with the exhibition and finishing the office, so I make an exception. But it’s Nick. He doesn’t waste any time.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls.” The sound of his voice weakens my knees, and I drop onto the floor in front of the painting I’ve been working on, leaning against the wall.
“No, I haven’t. I’m very busy, Nick.” If he wasn’t so right, I wouldn’t be so defensive.
“Right. I see.”
“Was there a reason for your call? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
I can hear the leashed impatience in his voice. “Yes, actually. Firstly, I wanted to check on you—”
“I’m fine. I’m a big girl, Nick. I was fine before I met you, I’ll be fine after you’re gone.”
There’s a sharp inhale from Nick. And a long pause.
“Gone. Okay. Well, secondly, I wanted to suggest you come down to Melbourne to meet me for the weekend. I thought we could have a mini getaway.” My breath catches. If he had asked me this a few days ago, I would have jumped at the idea. Now? Not only do I not know what we are, but I feel too raw.
“As I told you. I’m busy, Nick. I don’t have time.” Even I can hear what a complete bitch I’m being. Another lengthy silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes.
“What’s going on, Lulu? Is this about me not going to your exhibition?”
“No. Of course not. You’re not obliged. I know how busy you are.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. And I don’t think I’m fooling either of us.
“If I could get out of the partners’ dinner, I would. But I can’t.”
“Sure. I know that.” And now I’m the petulant teenager. Very mature.
“And what did you mean by when I’m gone?”
“Well, I’ll be finishing up at CPM at the end of next week. So …” I can’t even bring myself to say the words. Tears are streaming down my face and I’m struggling not to alert him by sniffling.
“So, what? That’s it then, is it?” His voice is sharp, but I’m not sure if it’s hurt or anger I’m hearing.
“Well, it would make sense.” Nick is quiet for a long time. I pull the phone from my ear to check he’s still on the line when he responds.
“Not to me, it wouldn’t.” Now it’s my turn for silence. “I don’t see why we can’t go on as we have been,” he adds eventually.
“Is that what you want? Don’t you have a life you want to be getting on with?” Now would be the time for him to fess up about his plans. I hold my breath as he answers.
“I am getting on with my life. We said at the beginning we’d carry on until we’d had enough. Have you had enough? Because I haven’t.”
My stomach flips. I don’t want to do this on the phone, but I don’t want to lie either. Who am I kidding? Every word coming out of my mouth is a lie. And maybe every word coming out of his is too.
“I … I don’t know. It just seems like the right time …”
“This is not a conversation we should be having over the phone.” He hasn’t used this tone with me since we first met, when he was still Nicholas the Disapproving. “I understand you don’t want to come to Melbourne for the weekend, so I’ll get a flight home on Saturday morning. We can talk then.”
Nick hangs up without another word, and I cry myself into a coma.
Over the next couple of days, Ro keeps up a steady stream of calls and texts and stupid cat memes, trying to distract me. I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s not working. She knows me well enough to see through my half-hearted responses, but is kind enough not to call me out on it. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.
Everything I paint looks like misery on canvas. So much so that Sebastian, who calls in to see my progress, looks concerned and suggests maybe I should take a break.
By the time Nick returns from Melbourne, I’m beside myself. It’s clear he wants us to keep seeing each other, yet he still hasn’t suggested we become anything more than casual. And none of that negates my fears.
“What was all that about, Lulu?” he asks as he drops his overnight bag by the door, having wasted no time coming straight from the airport.
