Lisette takes my hand in hers. “Then maybe you’re in the wrong place, Nina.”
38
NINA
My voice echoes down the hallway.
I don’t know if he’s here — the place is too quiet, the lights off in every room. Like a ghost of the house that I left, silent and echoing. Familiar but foreign.
I had to go past Vanya’s quarters to get here, because I didn’t take a key to Art’s place when I left. She grinned like the old witch she is, with this unnerving look in her eye that said she’d expected me to come back at precisely this time, in this way.
“You’ve got some sun,” was all she said. “And so have you, darling.” She bent down to scoop Ava into a hug.
We find Art in his study, slumped over his desk, wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants.
I’m so used to seeing him wear a suit that I didn’t even know he owned a pair of sweatpants. The bottle of whiskey on the desk ishalf-drunk, the screwed cap off.
He raises his head as I come in and looks up at me, a dazed look in his eyes. Even in the low light, I can see the dark shadows beneath his mismatched eyes. As I meet his gaze, he sits bolt upright.
“Nenoka?” his voice rasps.
“Look at me.” I click my fingers in front of his eyes. Even in this state, it’s a relief to see him.
He reaches a hand out to feel for my face, as though checking I’m really here. As soon as his fingers reach my skin, it’s like he wakes up.
His eyes widen and he glances at his hand as though he’s touched a flame.
“Ava’s here too, Art. Your child. Remember?”
“Bongiorno Daddy!” She hugs his leg and won’t let go. He pats her back clumsily, his face scrunching in confusion at the Italian.
“Ava. Nina. You left…” he loses his train of thought before he can even form a coherent sentence.
I don’t know if I’ve seen Art this drunk. He’s always in control. Especially recently, he’s been unwilling to let himself lose a sliver of power.
“You don’t drink a lot usually, do you?”
He shakes his head sharply, his golden hair tousled and messy.
“You don’t like it when I drink,” Art slurs. “I stopped drinking for you. Not tonight, though. Tonight I did drink. Tonight was two weeks since you left, so I decided you weren’t coming back.”
He stopped drinking for me.
I don’t know if anyone’s ever put me before their own desires before.I didn’t think Art would. Maybe Lisette was right — maybewe do mean more to him than I thought.
“You idiot. You’re going to feel awful tomorrow.”
I place a hand against his forehead and bring him a cool flannel once I’ve put Ava to bed. She wanted to read to Art, thinking he was injured and drowsy like when he had a gunshot wound, but I told her it was bedtime.
“Come to bed, Art.”
He grabs my hand as I lead him towards the bedroom.
“I wanted to say…” he pauses, thinking about it, his voice deeper than usual and raspy from the alcohol. “I‘m sorry, Nina. I should have told you the truth. It wasn’t fair.”
I don’t know if this is the alcohol talking, but the apology lodges under my skin. I nod at him, too choked up to reply.
Please let him mean it.
