Page 75 of Big Nick Energy
‘Are we done?’ she says.
‘Yes, again, I’m sorry. You and your children are very welcome in the library this Christ—’ But before I can finish my sentence, she hangs up, the monotony of the dial tone letting us know how much we flatlined there.
Nick looks at me blankly. ‘Oh.’
‘Sorry, that was?—’
‘She was so angry. Shame on that man for hurting her so much.’ He looks down at the floor for a moment.
I feel bad to see Nick’s disappointment that this didn’t work out as it should have, that the story still doesn’t have an ending. Or maybe because it means there’s no reason to be here now.
‘Well, maybe Facebook will come up trumps with other suggestions,’ he says. ‘Thank you for checking.’
‘A pleasure.’
‘One more book-drive stop in two days?’ he says. ‘I’d still like to help out if that’s alright. It would feel strange not to.’
I smile at him. ‘I would really appreciate that, sincerely. I can meet you there?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ he says. He’s a different Nick to the one I’m usually around. He almost looks a little defeated. ‘Are youspending Christmas with your boyfriend?’ he asks me. It seems almost painful for him to get that word out.
‘No. I’m with Nana at home. I get her on day release. You?’
‘We all get summoned to my mum’s.’
‘Bet she cooks up a storm.’
‘You know it,’ he says softly. He fiddles with his hands, still avoiding eye contact. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way, Kay.’ There’s a way that he says my name which still resonates deep in me, a light growl in his voice that trails off into a whisper. I watch him turn and a feeling surges up in me; somehow I already miss him and I want him to stay here, with me.
‘NICK!’ I say that too loudly, we’re the only people here, but he smiles when I’m so clearly shocked at my own volume. ‘I… I just wanted to say thank you for buying all those copies of my book.’
He pauses. ‘Did my mum…?’
‘No, I was in your office and I saw the boxes. I don’t quite know what to say.’
‘I have a lot of nieces and nephews and friends with kids,’ he says, putting his hands in his pockets. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him blush. ‘I heard you chatting to the manager of the care home about money and in the back of my mind, I just thought it was a nice way to support you, to help you out. I can sell them in the farm shop if you want.’
I pause for a moment to hear him say this, struck by how authentic and genuine he is with his care, his consideration.
‘But really, why?’ I ask, looking him in the eye.
He looks straight back at me, as if I’m all he can see. ‘I’ve just never met anyone like you before, Kay.’ His words make me stand still on the spot, piercing a part of my heart that was almost desperate to hear them. ‘You radiate this energy, this kindness, I see it in your eyes. I don’t really smile a lot. I bloody sell Christmas trees but I’m not sure I always like Christmas. Butthen there’s you and you’re just… you’re like light. Your book drive, the way you invest all that energy into it, for nothing else than to make people smile, to give them a small gift, that’s what drew me here, to you. I hope you don’t mind me saying that. That I like that, I like you.’
‘Nick…’ I whisper, emotion soaring wildly through me.
‘I like how mildly ridiculous you are. I like how your wild red hair looks like it belongs on a Disney character, I like that you laugh at your own jokes, I like how you eat and it ends up everywhere instead of inside your mouth. I likeyou. All of you. I need to say that out loud.’
‘Please…’
He puts his hand up in the air. ‘It’s OK. I get it. I do. I’m not one to cross a line. Your boyfriend is a very lucky man,’ he says, almost punctuating his sentence with that statement so I can’t add any more. He turns to go and I want to throw myself in his path – but I know I can’t. What about the other Nick? I can’t think straight – everything feels a blur, a mix of flashbacks of being in my teens and thinking I was in love, images of kissing this Nick the other night and statements of love, commitment, labels, Nana telling me to look for the one person who’ll raise me up. I just can’t see who that is. I can’t breathe. It’s like being surrounded by this massive ball of big Nick energy and I feel defeated by it, unsure how to take it all on. ‘I’ll see you in two days, Kay.’ And with that he heads towards the door and leaves the library, pulling the collar up on his jacket to shield himself from the cold before walking away into the bleak icy night.
THIRTY-TWO
‘I don’t get this film. I don’t get why the kid doesn’t just tell the police he’s home alone. It makes no sense. They would get social workers in. They’d look after him instead of him having to fight off these thieves,’ Nick says as he looks at his large flatscreen television, so huge I can pretty much count all of Macaulay Culkin’s teeth when he screams. ‘Pass the Sellotape, babe.’
I’m at Old Nick’s flat, doing a bit of last-minute gift wrapping and trying my best to get into the season, to prove that being here is the right decision. This is Nick. Nick from back in the day, who you used to spend hours with, literally days at university where you’d go out on Friday and go back to his and sprawl over his bed, eating Domino’s and tubes of Pringles. This is a safe love with history, potential. That said, did he used to sit here and judge films like this when we were together? This is Christmas canon. You don’t get to sit here and pick holes inHome Alone. Because Harry would unlikely survive the flamethrower to the head if we’re looking at what’s wrong with this.
‘How do you get your corners so straight?’ he asks me, grappling with a small jewellery box.
