Chapter 20 – Lonely Figure
~~~~May 21, 1884~~~~
Dear Mr. Charles Batchelor,
I request a letter of recommendation…
Nikola packed his small menagerie of items into his travel bag, almost meticulous in their order.
He kept his jaw clenched as he did so, not wishing to voice his disappointments even to himself.
He had overstayed his welcome at a place he had once considered his home, now it felt like a torture chamber. Every day he saw them together, holding hands, sharing secret kisses when they think no one is watching, but he is.
He was going away, tonight, he was sure no one would notice until it was too late.
Nikola packed the rest of his meager things including his prototype machine in a tightly secured crate. His carriage would be waiting at midnight to take him to the harbor, from the harbor he would board a ship, and that ship would take him as far as he needed to go to escape this hell.
He had called upon Charles Batchelor for a letter of recommendation, which he would personally hand over to Edison himself, and from there he would show him his design for a more efficient electrical system.
Nikola had it all planned out. He would make a name for himself outside the wall of the Sanctuary. Maybe then Helen would see.
He stopped and closed his eyes, his heart felt like it was tearing apart every time he thought of them. The pain was crippling at times.
He shook his head of the thoughts.
Helen had every right to make her own mistakes, John was certainly one of them, but it was too late to change anything now.
He should've told her sooner, he should've confessed to her in Paris, or that night so many years ago when they had kissed under the stars.
Then it would be Johnny watching from the shadows, watching him with his arms wrapped around Helen's waist, his kisses on her cheeks.
John didn't care for Helen like he did, John didn't love her like he did, all John saw in her was her beauty, how good she looked on his arm when they went to the opera, the pride when other men would turn from their own wives to glance in marvel at her. The attention fed John, and it made Nikola sick.
Nikola never cared about what the rest of the world thought, all he wanted was Helen, for purely selfish reasons, he wanted to make her smile and laugh, watch her dress and undress, watch her sleep and wake, hold her, love her, spend his eternity waiting on her, walking with her, dancing with her. That was love!
But he had been a coward, and let her slip away.
If only she knew that all he had done was for her. Then she would see how much he loved her.
That's why he was going to America, back to that Edison Company, right to the source; his invention would show her and the world that he was worth something.
It had to.
He heard her laughter outside his window and he stopped what he was doing and went to peer out of it. He rested his hands on the sill as he watched her in the garden. She, James and John were having afternoon tea, as always, the three of them were as predictable as clockwork.
Helen stood up from her chair and made her way over to one of the well-kept flowerbeds, she smiled at the white roses and picked one of them, smelling it. She had always loved spring, especially when the flowers started to bloom.
He watched her intently.
She was so graceful; time, with her, seemed to slow, seconds ticked by as she walked back to the table.
Nikola rested his palm on the pane, as if to reach out and touch her.
She stopped, as if she had felt his hand on her, her eyes darting up to the window where he was. He backed away, hoping he hadn't been seen. But he still watched as she looked into the window, he could just see the hint of blue in her eyes. She turned her head and went back to the two men on the veranda, ignoring him, like she always did.
He crept back to the window and watched her, his breathing sounded loud and labored, and his heart felt like it was beating itself out of his chest to fly out the window and join her. Every thing inside him longed to be around her, and he was dragging himself further and further away.
John leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek; Nikola averted his gaze, the spell broken. He hated that man more than anything, he always had, and he should've expressed his distaste for him when they had met, Helen would've apologized and they would've parted ways and she would be his and only his. He let them get close, he let him steal her away, but once John let go of his vice like grip on Helen's heart he would take her back, and he would never let go.
Nikola turned away from the window, going back to his bag.
His misery weighing heavy on him as he slowly put the rest of his items in the bag; shirts, trousers, pictures, tools, little things that meant nothing to no one but him.
He felt time slip away as candles replaced sunlight, and the warm air turned a fraction colder.
Nikola grabbed his coat, hat, and gloves, slipping them on quietly. There was no fire in his fireplace; he had his boat tickets, travel papers, letter, and cash neatly tucked into his breast pocket; and he had a carriage waiting several blocks away.
He would slip away silently, that way he wouldn't be missed.
He grabbed his case and quietly turned the doorknob and snuck out of his old room into the dark hallway.
He had one last thing to do before he could leave this place forever. He lowered his bag to the floor and slowly creeped his way to the room at the end of the corridor, opening the door without making a sound and entering the dark room.
The fire crackled in one corner casting shadows along the walls.
Nikola reached into his vest and pulled out another letter, he stepped up to the bed and placed the small handwritten note on the bedside table.
He looked at the sleeper, her blonde hair flowing around the pillow, the moonlight peeking past her dark curtains to cast shine over her face. Nikola gently sat at the edge of the bed and leaned over her ear.
"Helen…I'm going to go away again…" he whispered to her, "…and I won't be coming back…not until you need me again."
Nikola looked at her peaceful face, he reached a hand to brush a stray lock from her face. He leaned down slowly and let their lips just touch. How he wished her still lips would animate and kiss back.
His eyes closed in a moment of pretend then he pulled back, scrubbing a hand over his face, muffling his small whimper.
He stood up quickly and left without looking back; he knew that if he looked back his legs would cease to move.
He picked his bag back up and exited the Sanctuary, never turning his head to look behind him.
Helen woke up, her eyes cracking open. She could've sworn someone was in the room with her just a moment before. She still felt the ghost of his touch on her skin, hear the heel of his boots click as they made their way down the hallway.
She sat up quickly and headed straight for the window, a shudder of thunder breaking up the silence of the night, and the rain came down quickly, soon drenching the world around her. And in the rain was a figure dressed all in black, head held low against the sudden onslaught of rain, walking down the path to the front gate, a single bag in his possession, not even an umbrella to accompany him. Just a lone figure.
It may have been the same one watching her and John on the balcony, or that she saw in the window earlier that day. The same lonely figure, moving back into the shadows.
He stopped just outside the gate and turned only so slightly that she saw a pair of say grey eyes, staring longingly back at her before ducking back under the hat, back into the shadows.
Then all the figure was, was a memory.