The Fear Of Faith [2]

40. Cal

How the fuck could I do this now? How could I take all of my shit, pack it into the car and leave New York? How could I go back to The Falls and resume my life there alone in my little cabin and leave her here? How could I do all of that after that phone conversation with her on Saturday.

Today was Christmas Eve. Today I was supposed to be making the long trip back home. I was supposed to meet my landlord at 10am to hand back the keys and get my security deposit then leave New York for good. Yet here I was, sitting on the sofa, surrounded by boxes, contemplating the decision.

She had sounded so upset that I was leaving. After what she had written on that lighter she'd given me, the phone call had been enough to make me rethink it all. What if we could fix this? What if leaving meant I was throwing away a slight chance of getting her back?

At the same time, she had hung up on me. The second she'd heard Tori's voice her tone and attitude changed and it was just a reminder of many past arguments. Could I really deal with her immaturity all over again?

I knew the only way to conclude all of this was to see her and talk to her but her parent's were here for Christmas and I didn't want to disturb them or risk having Clara force me to join them. That would be way too awkward. I couldn't leave today. I would give it until Christmas was over and see her and then I could decide once I'd had my final conversation with her.

I called my landlord and let him know I needed a few more days and agreed to pay the rent until the end of the week. Then I lay about for the rest of the day, ordering deliveries instead of cooking considering I had no food in with me planning to move. I watched TV alone for most of Christmas Eve, scrolling through my shop's Instagram feed when I realised something. Tomorrow was Christmas Day and I hadn't bought Bethan a gift. Even before she'd sent the gift she bought me, I'd planned to still get her something. I'd had my eye on just the thing for a while. An online seller named John Stack was selling a first edition of To Kill a Mockingbird and the second I'd spotted it, and saw that he lived in New York, I had to have it. The sentiment was just too perfect.

I found his profile online, seeing that the book was still available and I emailed him about it, asking if I could collect today in time for Christmas tomorrow. Shortly after, he replied, sending me his address and I quickly jumped up and headed over to the trash bag that had some of my clothing inside, pulling out jeans, a t-shirt and jacket and throwing them on before leaving.

I made the fourty-minute drive to Soho and found his place, pulling up outside of his home. I headed up the driveway and knocked at the door, waiting a few seconds before he opened it and greeted me with a smile. He was a small man, bald with thick, square glasses, looking around fifty years old.

'Cal?' he asked.

'Sure is,' I replied with a nod.

'Come on in,' he said, stepping aside and I entered.

His home was pretty modern; a lot of paintings on the walls and obviously, the largest bookshelf I'd ever seen gracing the huge wall of his lounge.

'Impressive,' I said with a nod.

'Thank you,' he chuckled. 'I believe this is what you came for.'

I turned to see him holding out the plain brown hardback book in his hand. I took it from him, studying the title on the spine and turning it in my hands. I flicked through the pages, noting that they had a few marks of spotting throughout and the pages looked old and a little worn but I also knew that it added character to the book and that was something she would admire even more.

'It's perfect,' I said.

'A gift I'm assuming?' he said.

'Yeah, it's her favourite novel,' I told him.