by Linda Holmes
She felt strangely loosened, like she’d run a mile or gotten a massage. It was like she’d drained herself so utterly that nothing in her could stick together. What was left was floating like the fuzz you blow off a dandelion.
Cleaning up took about an hour. She scooped up what she could with paper towels and dumped it into the trash; she swept and swept and swept; she moved the stove after all. Drawers came out. She cleaned cabinet doors and chair legs with a wet sponge.
At the end of it, she sat on the floor of her kitchen and took out her phone. Can you come over?
Are you OK?
OK/safe, but need help.
Give me 15.
Side door’s open.
It was closer to ten minutes later that the door of her kitchen opened and Andy, sweaty in basketball shorts and a Red Sox T-shirt, stepped into her house for the first time in about two months. He saw her sitting on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets under the sink. “Jesus, Ev, are you all right? What’s going on?”
“Just sit with me,” she said.
He dropped down to sit next to her, stretching his legs out in front of him. He waited, then leaned toward her. “Why are we on the floor?”
He had grown his hair out a little, and realizing she hadn’t seen him in such a long time that his hair was different made her chest tighten. “I was changing the light bulb,” she said, looking up above the kitchen table. It was a start.
He followed her eyes up there. “From down here? That seems like the hard way.”
She smiled. “I went to get the screwdriver.”
He turned and looked up at the shelf. “Did you have it in the Giant Screw Can? Evvie, I told you that was asking for trouble.”
“It was in the Giant Screw Can. Knocked over the can, knocked over the applesauce, knocked over the rice.”
He cringed. “The giant rice thing, the enough-for-Survivor thing?”
She nodded. “That’s the one.”
“And it fell?”
“It fell. It all fell.”
He crossed his arms and looked around, then took a quick breath and said, “I have to admit that sounds amazing.”
“Oh, it was amazing all right. There was rice in the bathroom.”
He gave a low whistle. “Wait, you cleaned it all up already?”
“I did.”
He laughed. “Ev, you’re supposed to call before you do the whole thing yourself.”
“I didn’t feel like calling you to come clean up my kitchen would be the thing to do. You know, considering.” She turned toward him and sighed. “I said a lot of things that I should not have said.”
“We both did, Ev.”
“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to call. It was stupid, and I’m so sad, and something is wrong. Everything is wrong.” She rubbed the spot between her eyes. “My mother called. Not today. I mean, she had called while I was working on dinner, the day you guys came over.”
“Oh shit,” Andy said. “What happened?”
“She wants to see me, and she’s been leaving messages. I can’t put her off anymore. It’s been weighing on me so much, but I didn’t want to bother you about it—”
“Oh, Evvie, God, you wouldn’t be—”
“I know. I just…I want to be the kind of person who…I don’t know, who—”
“Does exactly the right thing all the time? Yeah, I do, too.” He wiped his damp forehead with the bottom of his shirt. “Every day, I worry that I’m screwing up my kids, screwing up with Monica. Hell, I worry I screwed everything up already.” He scooted closer to her and picked off a piece of rice stuck to her bare knee. “You’re not going to make everybody happy all the time.”
“I want to, though.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I know you do.”
“Baggage,” she said. “So goddamn much. I should have my own cargo plane.”
“Well, you’re not alone. You remember I told you that night that Lori had the girls for a weekend?” Evvie nodded. “She told me that day that she wanted to have them with her for six weeks every summer.”
“Oh, no.”
“I’ve never been away from them for six weeks. Ever. I don’t think I’ve been away from them for six days since Lilly was born. But Monica and I didn’t want to wreck the night, so we decided to keep it to ourselves.” He nodded. “Which wasn’t a very successful plan.”
Evvie smiled thinly. “What happened?”
“What usually happens when Lori makes noises about wanting to see them more. She sees them, and she remembers that she loves them, and they love her, but she’d rather take them out to Chuck E. Cheese’s and on cruises than be the one who makes them eat plants and go to school. And she backs off. She backed off again. Door’s open to longer visits in the future, but…not for now.”
“Well, I’m glad it passed, at least.”
“Can I ask about Dean leaving? I wanted to call you, but…I didn’t.”
“I already miss him a lot.” She nodded. “A lot. That’s the truth. I don’t know how much else there is to say, but I’m at least trying to stop lying.”
“Lying about what?”
“I lie a lot,” she said simply. “I lied about the dishes.”
“Goddammit, I knew there was something weird about that.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Well, I broke the yellow dishes. Or, Dean and I broke them. Really, I broke them. It felt better than anything I had done in months, which I can’t explain. I didn’t know how to tell you about it. Just like I didn’t know how to tell you I wanted to get a divorce.”
“Can you tell me about it now?”
She told him that Tim was mean. She told him about the worst things he’d ever said that she could remember. She talked about his temper, how he hollered at her when he couldn’t find things, the bruise on her back from the dresser. And then she caught sight of her own toes, and it reminded her of something. She took the deepest breath, maybe of her whole life. “Do you remember the cut on my foot? When I got stitches?”
He turned and looked at her. “You said you dropped a glass.”
“I did say that. But Tim dropped a glass.” She paused. “No, that’s not even true. Tim threw a glass. He threw a glass at the living room floor, because he was mad at me. He threw the glass, and I stepped on it.”
Andy shook his head. “Goddamn.”
Evvie nodded very slowly. “You know, he told me once a week since I was in high school that I overreacted to everything. That everything with me was drama. After a while, I knew what he would say. He didn’t even have to say it. So I think I just stopped telling anybody anything.”
“I should have figured it out, though.”
She shrugged. “I’m a better liar than you think.” She picked at a spot on her knee. “Speaking of which, I should tell you there actually was insurance money, but I felt too guilty to spend it, so I haven’t touched it. And you shouldn’t bother arguing with me, because I’m not going to.”
His eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
She smiled. “Yeah. That’s why I’m broke. That’s why there’s no way I can stay in this house. I’m going to look for something, maybe something smaller but closer to the water.” She looked over at him. “I know I’m laying a lot on you. But I think that’s about it for now. That, and I’m sorry.”
“Well,” he said, picking up a grain of rice from under the edge of the cabinet and tossing it over his shoulder into the sink, “I’m sorry, too.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you showed up now.”
“And I’m glad you called.”
Evvie pulled her knees up and hung on to her shins with both hands. “I scared the shit out of myself tonight. I don’t even know what to do next.”
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned on him. “It’s oka
y. I’ve got you. You’re going to figure it out.”
A FEW DAYS LATER, MONICA TEXTED. Long time no see. I’m baking bread. Can I bring you some this afternoon?
Sure! Thank you. Come in the kitchen door and yell—might be working upstairs and not hear the knock.
But instead of working, Evvie, distracted and exhausted, eventually wandered into Dean’s apartment—no, the apartment. She rested her hand on the counter of the kitchenette, and she looked around at the emptiness of the big rectangular room where she once drank bourbon and told stories and where she sometimes slept with the most famous disaster in Calcasset besides herself. In the middle of the floor, right under the ceiling fan, she stretched out on her back and closed her eyes.
She heard a knock on the door, but she stayed where she was, and before long, she heard it open. “Evvie?” came Monica’s voice.
“I’m in here,” she called out. She heard Monica drop her keys on the kitchen table.
“Oh, hi,” Monica said.
“Hey.”
“Can I join you?”
“Sure.”
Monica came over and sat down on the floor, then lay back until they were right next to each other. “It’s good to see you.”
Evvie smiled at the ceiling. “Yeah, you, too.”
Right there, stretched out on the floor, looking at the popcorn ceiling Evvie had always meant to replace, Monica updated Evvie on Rose’s upcoming dance recital, Lilly’s current obsession with collectible toys called Monsteroos (“like Beanie Babies if Tim Burton made them”), and everything she was trying to get done now that school had started. “How are things with you?” Monica finally asked.
“Okay. About to be busy. I’m going to sell the house, I think. It’s too big for me. And I’m trying to get back to work. And right now, I’m putting off calling my mother.”
Monica laughed. “Oof.”
She hadn’t planned to, but Evvie told Monica about Eileen: how she left when Evvie was little, how her visits and calls diminished gradually, how she would pop in at inconvenient times of her own choosing but miss all the weddings and the funerals. “But,” Evvie said, “she’s my mother. I don’t want to have regrets. I know I have to see her and suck it up, but it always stresses me out.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“No, I know. But I’m trying to…I don’t know. I can’t cut her off, so I might as well have peace with her.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Well,” Monica said, “I don’t know why you’re the only one who has to show up every time. If she can wait when she’s deciding to wait, why can’t she wait when you decide to wait? It doesn’t have to be forever.”
It was quiet, except for the jangle of Monica’s bracelets as she shifted on the floor. “What’s your mom like?” Evvie asked.
“Overprotective. Fun. Smart. She works for a law firm. Big Cuban family, a bunch of brothers and sisters, just like I have.”
“Your mom’s Cuban?”
“Yep. If you’re thinking you wouldn’t know it from looking at me, you’re thinking the same thing a guy said to me when I was applying for a summer fellowship once. Right before he asked me if I’d ever seen the TV show Jane the Virgin.”
Evvie turned her head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“But they’re not Cuban.”
“No, they’re not.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. But my brother called the guy two days later. He claimed to be from the law firm of Rodriguez, Rodriguez & Rodriguez, and he told the guy if he ever asked another question like that, he’d be sued for a million dollars.”
“Is your brother a lawyer?”
“Not only is he not a lawyer, but he’s my littlest brother. He was fifteen.” Monica shrugged. “He has a low voice.”
Evvie laughed.
“I want you to know I never spilled the beans about the lingerie thing, by the way. Andy came right out and asked me whether I thought you were sleeping with Dean.”
Evvie turned to her. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I hope so. I would be.’ ”
Laughing made Evvie’s shoulders shake on the carpet. “Bet he loved that.”
“I mean, it’s the truth. I told him, the closest I ever came to sleeping with a professional athlete was the guy who wore the mascot costume at my college.”
“You slept with the mascot?”
“Swear to God.”
“And how was that?”
Monica hesitated, and then she turned to Evvie. “One time he told me he wanted to wear the tiger head to bed. He expected me to think it was, like, a very exciting idea.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘As far as my own experience, I’d rather you wore the body.’ ”
They cackled, and it echoed in the empty apartment. Monica shifted her position on the floor. “Hey, is it okay if I call you up sometime and we can see a movie or something? I meet a lot of guys around here, and I need women friends or I lose my bearings.”
“That would be fun. I used to have women friends,” Evvie said. “I’m not sure what happened. When I was married, Tim wanted us to only have, you know, couple friends. He thought I’d complain about him to people. Eventually, it was easier not to start anything, and I stopped going out very much.”
“Wait…what?”
“Yeah, I know. He was weird.”
“That’s not weird, Evvie,” Monica said. “That’s sort of…emotionally abusive.”
Evvie had told stories about cutting her foot open on the debris of her husband’s anger, and about his temper. She had dreamed over and over about his red face and his hot breath. She had told Dean, right from the beginning, that he wasn’t good to her. That she didn’t love him. She had whispered that she didn’t miss him. He was mean, she had told Andy. But there it was, a diagnosis like you’d give someone with a fever and a red throat, where you’d peek with a flashlight and say, hmm, and then say that you’d be spitballing, that you’re no expert, but it sure looked like strep to you.
That’s sort of emotionally abusive.
“Yeah,” Evvie finally said. “I keep saying I’m going to get into therapy one of these days.”
“I’m in favor of all that stuff,” Monica said. “One of my doctors said, ‘Your head is the house you live in, so you have to do the maintenance.’ ”
“That’s…weird.”
“Yes. Mental health metaphors are sort of hit or miss in my experience. But I’ve been on antidepressants since I was seventeen, so I can give you a name if you need somebody.”
I need somebody all right, Evvie thought to herself.
* * *
—
Two days later, Evvie lay on the floor of the apartment again with her phone in her hand and her heart pounding. It won’t get easier. You might as well just do it. Then you’ll be done. She couldn’t say quite why she’d taken out her black and pink baseball glove and had it resting against her hip.
She went into her history and found the call she was looking for. She highlighted it and hit the button.
“Hello?” Her mom’s voice was always eager and never completely believable. She was probably sitting on her patio, her cat on her lap, her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.
Evvie could feel her hand shaking. “Hi, Mom.”
“Evvie! I’m so glad you called! I was starting to be afraid you hadn’t gotten my messages. How are you, sweetie?”
“I’m fine.” She scratched the carpet with the fingers of her free hand. “How are you?”
“Busy. All over the place. I had a craft fair, and that went very well. And I saw a very good play, you know, it was on Broadway last year, it’s touring now. It’s about an affair, do you know the
one I mean?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s wonderful. You should see it. It’s so moving.”
Evvie closed her eyes. “Listen, Mom, I don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to get back to you about what you said about being in town.”
“Yes! Yes, I’m going to be around at the end of September. What would be a good day for you to come down to Portland for lunch? It’s been ages. I know we’ve both dropped the ball a little on staying in touch.”
Evvie clenched and unclenched her fist and played with the pink laces on the glove. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to get together this time.”
There was a pause. “Oh? You’re not in town then?”
For a second, she thought that maybe for once, her mom had thrown her a rope. She opened her mouth with such gratitude, she was about to say yes, yes, she was traveling, that was it exactly. But she remembered being in Dean’s truck with him on the way back from Thanksgiving, and she remembered him saying she had to start telling somebody the truth.
“No, I’m not traveling. I just don’t want to, Mom. I’m not saying forever, but not right now.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I don’t want to get together right now.”
“Don’t be silly. I haven’t seen you in ages. We’ll check in.”
“No. No, not right now.”
Now Eileen’s voice got tighter. “Well, now I really don’t understand. What’s all the drama about?”
She kept her eyes closed. “It’s not drama. I don’t have the energy to bring you up to speed on everything that’s happened to me in the last two years in two hours just because you think it sounds interesting. I just broke up with somebody, I might be selling the house—I have a lot going on, and I’m not going to add to it.”
“I’ll make time whenever it’s convenient for you,” Eileen said, as if Evvie had said none of it.
“Mom, you’re not listening. I don’t want to. I’m—” Take a class in not apologizing all the time, she heard Andy’s voice say. “I don’t want to.”
“Honey, I know it’s been hard for you. But I’m not asking for much; it’s lunch. If there’s something we need to talk out, we’ll talk it out. I want to help. And I want to hear all about your boyfriend.”