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Lucas’s voice came down the line again. “Is that Carla?”
“Yes,” The Russian answered.
“Thank fuck for that,” he said.
I heard The Russian walking, putting some distance between them.
“Brooker, I’m a fucking idiot ...”
“But you’re my fucking idiot,” I said, teasing him and he laughed ... that beautiful, rich, baritone laugh.
“We’ll land about seven tonight, can I come over and see you then?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Or you could pick me up at the airport?” he suggested, “Like some of the partners do.”
“Or I could pick you up at the airport,” I agreed.
“Russian!” I heard a male voice yell. “Final call for the bus.” The Russian ignored it.
“Great. I’ll text you the flight details later.” He breathed out again. “Brooker, I’m worried that ...”
I held my breath. Please don’t say ‘we’re not going to make it’, or ‘we’re not suited’ ... I couldn’t take it.
The Russian continued. “I’m worried that I don’t know how to fix this and I’ll blow it between us.”
“Russian,” I said, his name softly, “We’ll sort it, I promise.”
Lucas interfered again. “For Fuck’s sake, Russian, get on the bus!”
“I’ve got to go, they’re all waiting.”
“What? You’re the only one not on the bus?” I laughed. “Go then, I’ll be watching the game and sending you positive vibes.”
“Thanks for calling me back, I needed to hear your voice.”
“Russian!” I heard a chorus of voices that time.
“I’m fucking coming for Christ’s sake,” he yelled back. “Got to go. Text me later? See you soon?”
“Yes to both,” I said, feeling in love and happy again after that horrendous night of pain.
“Bye,” he said the word slowly and deeply, like he was drawing out the moment before disconnecting. He was walking at the same time; I could hear his movements.
“Hang the fuck up now and get in here,” Lucas said in the background.
I heard The Russian swear again and hang up, and I laughed. We were okay; we were going to be okay ... I hoped we were going to be okay.
I went back inside and felt so much better. Mom called out that lunch was ready and I walked through the hallway and living area to the kitchen, past the shrine that had been set up for my sister, my deceased sister ... the reason I hadn’t been coming home very often.
