I shake my head, stomach turning over as I put it back in my bag and hesitate, even though my heart is saying to leave it well alone. Something inside of me is fighting it and I’m not letting it go as I tilt my head back to let out an exaggerated sigh into the eerie surroundings. My inner stubborn is grabbing at my soul and begging me to end my own agony and reach out to someone I know will help me.
‘Just do it! … It can’t be worse than this.’ I say it out loud to myself, telling myself off, shaking some sense into me.
I know before I pull that card out that I have already made my mind up. I’m weakening, my health, my heart, my fight. It’s all been shaky since the day I left that hospital and I have barely been holding on for months. I am so tired of struggling to fight every day, and the thought of someone else taking control for just five little minutes is like a life savour in the stormy sea. Just five minutes of not struggling to survive is all I need. My weary soul demands it.
My phone is staring me in the face, reminding me that after four percent I will have no more phone until I go home. It’s enough to make a call. It’s almost like fate is telling me that it is now or never and I dial the number from the back of the card marked ‘Cell’ with no more hesitation, even though my heart is pounding through my chest. I wipe my free hand on my leg to remove the clamminess and I’m surprised to find my sweats are already severely damp. I won’t last out here for hours if I get sodden this fast.
As it rings, I begin to shake, mouth drying and knots inside my gut flip over and turn inside out. My chest gets very tight and I try to focus on the trees swaying in the gentle wind.
It’s not that I’m afraid of Mico being cruel and telling me to leave him alone; I don’t think he will.
I’m scared of having any connection to that fucking man, and Mico is well embroiled in the Carrero kingdom. Where there is one there is always the other, and they are too hard to separate.
God, this is so dumb.
I lose my resolve, fluttering heart giving up and I fumble, about to pull the phone away and kill the call as sense gets the better of me but a sound hits hard.
‘Hello? Who is this?’ The voice startles me; so husky, familiar, heart-warming, and he answers so quickly. It’s as though someone up there knew I was going to lose my courage and hang up.
I realise he won’t know who this is unless I actually answer him. I ditched my phone from Alexi when I left the hospital, this is a throw away cheap phone, and he won’t have a clue who is calling him. I am just so overjoyed to hear his voice, it has my throat all clogged up with emotion, and the feeling of severe loneliness for the first time in months abates a little.
I swallow down the bout of nerves dredging up inside of me and clear my throat to find my voice.
‘Mico, hey.’ I sound pathetic, voice small and shaky and lose my courage completely. He sounds exactly the same; unemotional, strong voiced with that little Carrero depth in the tone. It makes my heart hurt to hear it. Both because it’s Mico and because it reminds me of another voice I never want to hear again.
Every part of me is trembling as I close out the world and focus on that beacon of familiarity.
‘Camilla is that you?’ He sounds surprised, his tone changes and then the phone seems to get muffled for a second as he either moves or switches ears. I guess he is surprised after four months to be hearing from me.
‘Yes. I’m sorry to call you so out of the blue, it’s just …’ My voice breaks, both with tears that are hot on my cheeks at hearing a genuine friendly voice on the other end, and with the effort of talking as my sickness takes over. I’m losing my voice, cracking and painful to talk and my nose is practically a running tap, dripping, so I have to keep wiping it on my sleeve.
Damn this bloody New York weather.
‘What is it? What’s wrong? You sound upset … Are you hurt? Do you need help?’ Mico sounds like Mico, genuinely concerned, mildly panicked and so decent it almost breaks me in two. I forgot what it felt like to have someone give a shit about me and I burst into tears, stupidly emotional. No one is ever nice to me and it sends me over my last tiny edge.
It feels like a lifetime since I saw him and knew what safe felt like. Just knowing another person out there somewhere is connected to me in a genuine way is painful, in a good way. I’m so tired of being by myself and watching my back all the time. He reminds me what it was like to have a home. Even one with Alexi.
‘I got robbed. My apartment did, I mean. I just need help to secure it so I can go back and get myself together.’ My voice is barely audible as it breaks again, and I try hoarsely to talk. It’s obvious I am either sick or completely exhausted. I’m both.
‘I just need you to help me get my door shut and locked, that’s all. I’m sorry to ask this of you but I didn’t know who else to call.’ Tears are blinding me as I struggle to get the last lacklustre words out of me.
‘Don’t think that way, I told you if you needed help to call me. Now give me your address, I’m coming right now. Camilla, are you sick? You don’t sound so good, in fact, you sound awful.’ Mico, gorgeous, caring, safe Mico. He sounds like a haven of hope, and I am suddenly so relieved I called him. I don’t know why I was so afraid. He will help me, of course he will. He was always my saviour.
‘It’s nothing, just a flu bug. I just need to be able to lie down at home. I’ll text you the address before my phone dies on me.’ My voice fails, croaking to nothingness by the end of my sentence as sirens blare nearby on the road past the park.
‘Are you outside?’ He sounds stern and bossy, a little Alexi for a moment and it sobers me right up. That connection is never far away and I nod silently, searching for some strength to give him.
‘It was safer than where I was.’ It slices to speak this time and I hold my throat as I squeak down the phone. I need some water, some warmth.
‘Jesus Christ. Text me now, I’m getting in my car. Hang up and get back to where I can meet you. I’ll be there ASAP.’ He’s in a commanding tone. The voice he uses to deal with his staff and it gives me reassurance that he will do what he can for me.
‘Okay. I’m a good walk from it now so I will head back,’ I whisper and hang up without hesitation to save battery, not sure whether to feel relieved or just in despair that I had to ask for help, but glad that it’s coming.
If I wasn’t sick maybe I would be stronger tonight, but I’m just so tired. I have been this way for so long that I forget what anything else even feels like anymore. Foggy head and morose mood is my constant companion.
I text him the address and then get up and pull my bags with me, dog walker is still lingering in the grass area, and he eyes me warily from his distance, obviously having heard my conversation. Something in that wandering gaze gives me shivers and I waste no time making a move to get out of here.