Hero

30

A knock at the bathroom door is almost expected. I’m still staring at my now pallid face when a male voice asks, “Can I come in?”

“I’ll be out in a few moments.”

The lack of response is a relief. I breathe deeply in and out, attempting to calm myself. It’s been more than two months since I had any normal interaction. I can get through this and when I do, I’ll be rewarded with a day of freedom. After some minutes have passed, I open the door to leave, but the man I was just talking to is there waiting. He puts a hand on my cheek before I can pull away.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He withdraws. “Sorry. What?”

“Why—”

“Did I misread something?”

“What?” I ask, backing away. He looks over his shoulder and steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“You said you weren’t exclusive? Which means . . . you’re available, and . . . don’t worry, I have . . .” He pauses, digging in his pockets. “Protection. Money too. I don’t really do this ever, but it’s been a while and the fact that this is a charity event is, well . . .” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know why, but it’s hot, I guess.”

Betrayal is fire through my veins. Confusion melts into despair and hardens into hatred. How could Calvin do this to me? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my heart pounding.

“Um. I’m sorry. I thought—because Parish—”

“Whatever Calvin told you, I’m not. I can’t.” My knees are knocking together, and I think I’m going to throw up, so I feel behind me for the counter. The man steps closer and catches me by the waist, but his hands are an unbearable intrusion.

“Get off me,” I say as I shove him. I slap him across the face, and he stumbles back into the wall.

“What the? I’m just trying to help—”

I push him again, and he grabs for my wrists but I thrash, my hands making contact anywhere they can. I lunge for the door and catapult into the hallway, almost knocking Norman over. “Cataline, what on Earth?” He looks behind me at the man. “Is everything okay?”

“Norman, take me upstairs,” I beg. “Don’t tell Calvin.”

I’m too late though, because Calvin’s bellowing voice dispatches fear through my system. “What’s going on?”

“Come, Cataline,” Norman says, ushering me to the staircase.

“P-please, Norman. Keep him away from me.”

“Hush.”

We make our way up the stairs, his arm securely around me while there’s commotion in the foyer. I hear yelling, accusations, but I put all my energy into climbing to the third floor. Just as I hit the edge of my bed, Calvin strides in, dismissing Norman with a look. I want to cry out for him to stay, but fear silences me.

Calvin grabs my biceps and stands me up. “What happened?” he says with a light shake.

I can barely speak through my terror, so I’m just shivering in his grasp.

“Answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” I cry, my knees buckling. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t do what?”

“I couldn’t have sex with him. I can’t, I just can’t do it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t care what your debt is. You’re an asshole. Punish me if you have to—send me to the basement, anything—I d-don’t want anyone touching me but you!” There is immediate and complete silence except for my labored breathing. My mouth hangs open. “I . . . I didn’t mean that.”

“You thought I wanted you to have sex with that man?” he asks, his fingers digging into my arms.

I attempt to wriggle from his grasp. “I hate you. Out of everything you’ve done, this is the worst. How could you?”

He releases me, and I fall back onto the bed.

“Cataline, I never—” He stops and kneels in front of me. He takes my chin. “I don’t know how this happened. You and another man, it makes me—it . . .”

He’s struggling for words on his knees, a sight my brain can’t compute. “But, you said . . . and you told me not to wear underwear.”

“For me. The only thing getting me through this night is knowing there’s one less thing separating me from having you. I—”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, trying to dislodge my chin from his grip.

“He thought you were a prostitute.”

“Why would he think that?”

“The outfit,” he says. “My very particular . . . proclivities.”

“Prostitutes?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “He’ll pay. I promise.”

I heave a stuttering sigh. My mind is still in shambles, trying to piece everything together. “You aren’t mad?” I ask. “That I fought?”

“I should’ve been paying attention.”

I don’t understand his answer, but like butter, I melt against him. He releases my face and lets me wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hey. Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You will?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says. He removes my arms from him before standing to pull back the covers. “Get in, and relax for the rest of the night. I’ll send Rosa and Norman up for you.”

I stare up at him. “Rosa? And Norman?”

“Don’t worry about the party. I can spare them.”

“Oh. I . . .”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. That’s fine.”

“I have to get back to the guests, but anything you want, you tell them,” he says on his way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch him leave before climbing under the covers. Rosa and Norman are in my room soon after, fawning over me. Norman keeps asking me what I need, but I’m too embarrassed to tell him.

“Calvin.”

“I’m here.”

“Calvin?”

“What is it, Sparrow? I’m right here.”

His warm words bloom inside me, and I smile. When my eyes open, a white tuxedo shirt glows in the dark just out of arm’s reach. “Calvin?”

“What?” he snaps.

“What are you doing here?”

He sighs. “I don’t know.”

“What time is it?”

“Late.”

“Is the party over?”

“Hours ago.”

I shift onto my back, but my limbs are sluggish. “It was too much,” I say. “I wasn’t ready.”

“No. You weren’t.”

My eyes threaten to close again, but I make them stay open. “You do good things, don’t you, Calvin?”

“Hmm?”

“The charity. Is it only for appearances? Or do you really care? You can be so cruel.”

There are soft noises as he moves in his chair. “I do it because I committed to it.”

“Committed to what?” I ask.

“To making things better.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I promised my parents I’d make the world better.”

I look from him up to the faux haven the white canopy creates. “Oh.”

“Are you thinking that I’ve made your world worse?”

“I guess so.”

“Earlier you said you didn’t want anyone touching you but me.”

“It was a mistake. I don’t want anyone touching me, including you.”

He laughs deeply, slowly, because he sees through my lie. With gruffness in his voice, he says, “Try and get some rest.”

My eyelids weigh with sleep, so I curl onto my side. My cheek rubs against the soft pillow. “I’ve never met anyone who cares about nothing,” I murmur. “Until you.” I’m drifting, only half asleep when he speaks again, but I don’t hear it. It feels like I only blink, but when my eyes open again, he’s gone.

I look up from my book. “Did you say something?”

“I asked how you’re feeling,” Norman says, chuckling.

“Oh. About the same.” I wince when the words scrape from my throat.

“How about some soup?”

I smile and wave my book. “Maybe later. I’m at a really good part.”

He shakes his head. “Too much activity last week. Please take my advice for once, and get some rest.”

I grin at his playful tone. “I will.”

I try reading, but my brain won’t cooperate. It wants to wonder whether or not Calvin will be home tonight. I didn’t see him yesterday or the day before, not since he sat in my room in the middle of the night, and even that’s a blur. I told him I hated him. I do sometimes, and it should satisfy me to tell him so, but it doesn’t.

My glands feel even more swollen than they were fifteen minutes earlier, and my body warmer. Whatever I’m coming down with, it’s happening fast. I stand and wrap my silk robe around me, tying the sash around my waist. I go to the kitchen, having changed my mind about the soup. But as I near the entrance, I come to an abrupt halt.

“. . . has kept him out late these past few nights,” Norman says. “Tonight will likely be more of the same.”

“He’s digging himself an early grave,” Chef Michael says. “He barely sleeps, he’s out on calls all the time. What’s going to happen to this city if we lose him?”

“It would survive like every other city on this planet,” Norman says. “But you know as well as I, Calvin will fight to his last breath.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Will you grab the door so I can toss the garbage?”

There’s a shuffle and a creak when the back door opens. Even from behind the wall, I feel the outside air on my thirsty skin. A shrill ring from inside one of the locked rooms nearly turns me into a pile of bones. Norman curses, and I flatten myself against the dining room wall just as he runs through the doorway toward the sound.

When he disappears around the corner, I peek into the kitchen. I’m alone. I have no idea what taking out the garbage involves, but that doesn’t stop my feet from moving. I beeline for the door and find it ajar. My heart hammers so violently, the cold barely registers. I can taste freedom, fresh air, a future, and it’s exhilarating. Without another thought, I bolt.