I picked up Lucas’s toy, which he had left near the television, and hugged it to my chest. The familiar comfort of it made my throat close up.
A sharp pain crept slowly from the base of my neck and spread across my head, a warning I had learned not to ignore. Medication andsleep were the only things that would help. As I swallowed the pills, I reminded myself that I had plans.
I would see my friends.
I would laugh.
I refused to let that ass wreck my night.
I crawled into bed, determined to forget about Caleb Evans for the weekend.
On Saturday morning,I saw my self-defence instructor, Tyrone. I took my frustration out on the punching bag, pounding it with every ounce of pent-up anger and rage I had been carrying.
“You jerk!” I shouted, imagining it was Caleb in front of me as I turned and delivered a solid sidekick. “You are making my life miserable! Why did you ever come to the hotel?”
Tyrone stood back and watched. At six-foot-four, with a chiselled build, the African-Canadian had intimidated me when we first met. Back then, I had thought it would be impossible for me to ever defend myself. But training with him on weekends and after work had built my strength and toned my body. More importantly, he had taught me self-awareness and vigilance. Learning to control my mind and body together had given me confidence I hadn’t realized I was missing.
“You’re getting better each time I see you,” he said, stepping in carefully to adjust my hands. “Remember to block and cover your face.”
After practising a few new moves, I left feeling lighter, already looking forward to seeing him again in a fortnight.
When I got home, I checked my mail and found another letter from Lucas. His letters always made me smile. Every week, without fail, one would arrive, and I would call him afterward just to hear his voice.
I sat down and opened it carefully.
Dear Mama,
Thank you for sending me to camp. I am having so much fun. Good, you packt extra underwear. I had diyareeya. Some of it got onmy shoes, but Sonya helped me.
I am learning lots of new stuff. I went horseback riding, and the horse in front of me pooped. It was degusting. I made a lot of new friends. We used our toothbrushes to dig worms.
My friend Mike can burp the alphabits. I practice with him. I will write again soon.
Love, Lucas
P.S. your chiken curry is way better.
I giggled as I read it, his spelling mistakes and crooked handwriting warming my heart. Knowing he was having such a wonderful time helped ease the ache of missing him. I dialled the camp leader’s number, rocking gently in place as I waited for him to answer.
“Where are you now, honey?” I asked when I heard his voice.
“In Surrey, Mama. Did you get my letters?”
“Yes,” I told him, smiling. “I read them all the time.”
He excitedly told me about the animals he had seen and how he had learned to use a compass. After we hung up, I went to the kitchen and marked another red X on the calendar, counting down the days until I would see him again.
That evening, after confirming the restaurant reservation, I got ready. Elle called to say she would pick me up.
“Hey, guys!” I said brightly, jumping into the car.
Elle turned around, her big expressive eyes flicking between me and the phone pressed to her ear as she checked in on Noah, her son, who was with the babysitter. Her hair, once black, was now dyed honey-brown and brushed neatly over her shoulders.
I had met Elle at the University of British Columbia, where she studied Psychology, and I studied Hospitality. We had bonded instantly after getting lost in the cafeteria line and missing two classes together. It was an immediate connection. From that moment, I knew she would be my friend for life, no matter what crises came our way.
Her husband, Karl, greeted me warmly before adjustinghis silver-rimmed glasses and pulling the car onto the road. His gentle nature balanced Elle perfectly.
Copacabana was a Brazilian steakhouse—chic, modern, and alive with energy. It served Brazilian-style Angus beef and featured live Samba performances.
