Page 43 of The Rival in South Africa
“Right, go be workaholic Alex. Let’s just pretend this whole trip never happened. Forget the date.” Tears were filling up my eyes, threatening to spill down, and I clenched my jaw. If I could just get him out the door. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
Alex stood up, his jaw clenched, and his fingers shook in anger. “If that’s what you want, fine. Goodnight, Nikki.”
And he was gone. The door slammed shut, and I burst into tears.
SEVENTEEN
The yoga retreatwas going wonderfully from a photography perspective. I was in Sri Lanka for four days, but the work had really only taken up two. I had wandered around the retreat, taking photos of everything I could find: sun salutations on a hill overlooking rows of winding tea bushes, serene pools of water with lush jungle providing shade while people bent into downward dog, and small basins of water with flower petals floating on the surface laid out in delicate patterns. My SD card filled with photos of serenity and calm every day, and I dumped it out every night.
During the day, I could focus on work, but at night I lay in bed and thought of Alex. It was so different here. Instead of a king-sized bed, I slept on a double and wondered how it would be to share this smaller space with Alex. I’d imagine how it would feel to wake up tangled in him.
Instead of rowdy, family-style dinners, it was quiet meals often eaten on my own, fresh fruits, smoothies, and vegan dishes. No wild game steaks like at the lodge.
Alex was so competitive. It would never work between us. He needed someone to compete with him tooth and nail. Someone with more drive and ambition than me.
It was a vacation fling. A temporary insanity. Why would I be falling in love with the guy who antagonized me at every turn?
But I couldn’t let it go. What if I’d just told him outright to stop competing with me? What if I’d told him how much it meant to me to do my own thing?
When we’d just been rivals, it was fine. It hadn’t mattered.
But a nagging part of my brain was telling me that Alex, my boyfriend, my lover, this new Alex, would have been different.
* * *
My Uber driverpulled up outside of my flat near midnight. My flight home had been delayed, twice, and I was exhausted with jet lag. I grabbed my backpack before thanking him and pushing the door open. I stopped, halfway out of the car, when I spotted a shadow hunched over on my front stairs. Boxes were piled around him, an arm thrown over one of them. His head was tilted back against the wall, mouth slightly open while he slept.
“Miss?” My driver leaned over the front seat, peering out the window at Alex on my steps. “Do you need me to call the cops?”
“No, it’s fine, thanks,” I said, shaking myself back into motion. I hefted my bag over my shoulder and shut the car door.
Alex startled at the noise and blinked, my front light casting harsh shadows across his face as he woke up, scrubbing his cheeks and looking around.
“Nikki,” he rasped out. “Hi.”
I carefully climbed my steps around the mound of boxes.Sony, one box read.Lowepro, another. All original boxes for camera gear.
“What are you doing here, Alex?”
“I wanted to give you this stuff.” He gestured around.
I nudged one of the boxes nearby with a lens on the side and felt the heavy weight inside. “You didn’t want to just return it?”
He shook his head.
“Alright,” I said, unlocking my door. “Help me get the boxes in.”
We propped my door open and carried the boxes through to my kitchen table, passing each other in the hallway. Alex looked rough, but I supposed sleeping on a door stoop would do that. He was wearing trousers and a dress shirt, which had rumpled from a day in the office and waiting for me. His hair stuck up everywhere, his eyes were tired, his stubble outrageous, and he looked like shit. Part of me rejoiced; he deserved it.
Part of me wondered if I looked any better.
Eventually, we had a pile of camera gear, three or four boxes deep, on my table. It was way more gear than I needed. I’d have to figure out what to do with it all.
“This is the last one,” I said as I came in from the door. Alex changed course, and instead of leaving my place, he stood to the side as I stacked the box.
When I turned around, Alex was gripping the back of one of my chairs, watching me. I expected him to make an excuse and leave, getting back to his workaholic lifestyle so I could go back to avoiding him. Maybe he’d even start avoiding me.
That thought didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped.
