by Lisa Swallow
“I was going to take them home - to Lancaster - but my car won’t start now. The snow, I think; I don’t know. So I brought them here where it’s warm. Who else can I ask to help us, Evan?”
Deja vu. Deja fucking vu. Lucy wants something and I’m torn in two.
“Dad?”
“So, you think telling him about mum and everything is a good idea? Not the best way for him to find out.”
“If you’re taking them to Lancaster, there’s a small possibility he might notice,” I say sarcastically.
“Dad’s probably already drunk. You know he starts early on Christmas day. So I can’t ask him.”
No, you’re asking me. Pulling me out of my happy Evan and Ness bubble. Again.
I change tack. “I don’t think abducting someone’s kids is a good idea!”
“I have Faye’s number. I tried calling…a lot.”Yeah, you’re good at that.“We can’t stay here. We’ll take them somewhere safe. Just for tonight, or until I get in touch with Faye.”
“You should get in touch with fucking social services, or the police, or whoever deals with this shit on Christmas Day, Lucy. Don’t get involved.”
But in my mind’s eye is the little boy I met at Faye’s house. And the little boy in the photo on Lucy’s bedroom wall. And he’s alone.
Lucy’s crying; I can hear the familiar sniffling.
“Are they okay? Brandon and Jade?” I ask.
“Upset. But okay. Evan, please. Just take us back to Lancaster, and then you can go back to Ness. I’m not asking for any more than that.”
Anymore? She’s asking me to drag myself into the car crash surrounding Faye. And today. Christmas Day. Ness’s precious Christmas Day. I mentally calculate: over two hours to Sheffield, and two more to Lancaster. Four hours to get back here. If the weather holds and I don’t get stuck in snow. I’d have to stay in Lancaster until tomorrow.
I prepared myself for this - for Lucy’s attempt to blackmail me into returning to Lancaster for Christmas. Ness hinted at the possibility too. Since the argument between them at Ness’s the other week, she’s cagier about Lucy again. Which makes the situation worse than usual.
But Ness will understand? About the kids? Still on the phone with Lucy, I stop talking and walk to the window. Outside, the snow sparkles as sun burns away the grey snow clouds from last night. Mine and Ness’s footprints stretch down her driveway into the fields beyond.
What the fuck do I do?
***
NESS
Towel drying my hair, I step out of the ensuite into my bedroom. Next to the clothes I laid out to wear on the bed is Evan. I halt.
“Evan!” I hiss.
Something’s wrong. There’s no mischievous Evan aura to him in response to my semi-nakedness; he’s sitting with hands tensed on his knees and watching me guardedly. This Evan isn’t sneaking in for sex.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Can’t this wait until I get dressed?” I throw the towel over a chair and tighten my robe. There isn’t the tiniest suggestive look or response from Evan; his eyes remain warily on mine.
“I have to go, Ness.”
The words crack me across the face. “Go? Where?” The answer jumps into my mind and out of my mouth. “Lucy.”
“No. Well, yes, but no.”
He always does this. Struggles to be honest around the Lucy situations. I slump onto the chair my damp towel is resting on. “Please don’t tell me you mean now, Evan.”
“I have to. She’s stuck.”
“Stuck? That’s a new one!”
His eyes widen at the hostility tingeing my voice. “I know you won’t be happy about this…”
Frustration of the return to a couple of weeks ago crashes into my head, and before I realize, I’m shouting. “Not happy? You can’t just leave on Christmas Day. We’ve got plans; today is for us, with my family. How fucking rude of you to walk out when people have organized so much!”
“Ness…”
Tears follow the words, and I gulp back the sob. This is special. Important. He knows how much this day means to me. “One day! I thought you could give me one fucking day! Go and see her tomorrow. Surely she’s well enough to wait a day?”
“Things aren’t that simple; she’s stuck and…”
I don’t listen. Don’t want to hear. “I’m stuck! Stuck believing I mean more to you than she does. Fuck, all this is worse than you two-timing me!”
“You do mean a lot to me,” says Evan quietly, standing to approach me.
I fix my eyes on him, forcing him to look into my tears and anger. “Then stay.”
Evan can’t hold my look. He glances away and doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Heart thumping, I pray he’s about to change his mind. But the length of time it’s taking him to respond, I doubt he will.
“What’s so important?” I demand. “Did she snap her fingers? Or is there some new sob story about how she needs you and no one else can help?”
“Ness! That’s not fair.”
I stand and look up at him. “Always her. Every single fucking time!”
Evan steps back, face changing, his features melding into the inscrutable, closed-down Evan. “Don’t be like this…”
My mind flashes further into the point of no return. I didn’t expect to say this so soon after our truce the other week, but I’m done. Maybe I’m too selfish, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. “Me or her, Evan.”
“What?”
“I can’t do this anymore. If you’re willing to walk away from something so important to me – to us – then go. And don’t fucking come back!”
“Jeez, Ness, it’s only a day. I’ll come back tomorrow…”
I grab at my hair rather than lash out at him. “That proves you don’t understand me at all if you can’t appreciate how important this is, what it means to me to spend Christmas Day with you. I can’t explain; I feel like you’re rejecting being part of my life. Again.”
Evan stares at me, mouth hard. “I’ll make things up to you.”
“No, you won’t. This is pretty much the most important day of the year to me.”
“You’re being stupid!” As soon as the words come out, his face registers what he’s said wrong.
“Stupid!” I shriek. “Yeah, obviously I am. Stupid thinking you’d ever give yourself to me over your fucking sister!”
“It’s not just about her…” Evan pushes a hand into his hair and grips, the way he does when he’s about to give up communicating. “Okay, forget it. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Not if you won’t listen to me.”
He steps towards the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” I demand.
“To pack.”
My backside hits the chair again. He’s making the choice. And the choice isn’t me. “Yeah, forget it! And I mean it! If you can walk away from me today after everything we spoke about, then don’t fucking coming back! Ever!”
He pauses and looks at me; I will him to say something, but he turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
For a couple of minutes, I stare at the door, tears halted by the numb shock of him walking away from this. Then they begin to fall, and I don’t think I can stop them.
Because I can’t stop him.
***
EVAN
I leave around an hour later, and Ness doesn’t speak to me. Explaining to her parents is excruciating; I just about manage a mumbled excuse about having to help my sister. I don’t go into details with them either.
In a daze, I follow the motorway to Sheffield, relieved the roads are clear. Ness’s reaction turns over in my thoughts. When I waited for Ness to get out of the shower, I wanted to tell her exactly why I had to go. But her reaction knocked me sideways. I didn’t get a chance to tell her I’d be back again, or about the kids, because she turned into some kind of psycho. Yeah, Ness can shout, and I’ve recently been on the receiving end, but never like this. I could’ve
given her the whole story, but as soon as she started yelling, I did what I always do when I can’t cope with how people are reacting to me: I shut her out. Perhaps she’s right; maybe I don’t get her. After what she said about not coming back, I think I’ve fucked things up for good this time.
Sheffield city centre is deserted, the bright lights and warmth of the fast food place beckon from between two closed stores. I walk in, blinking at the vivid colors and surprising number of patrons. Wow. Great place for Christmas dinner. Lucy sits in a corner with the two children next to her. Empty wrappers and half-full drinks surround them, and Brandon plays with some crappy plastic toy you get with the meals. The girl must be Jade, and she stares into space. Lucy is on the phone. She cancels the call when she sees me.
“I still can’t get hold of her,” Lucy says as I slide onto the plastic bench seat next to her.
The girl eyes me suspiciously. “This is Evan, your brother,” Lucy says.
I bite back my desire to tell Lucy not to call me that. Jade’s eyes widen and she looks away. “Hi,” she says in a small voice.
Brandon watches me. “My Dad says he’s going to bash you.”
“Where is your dad?” I ask.
Brandon spins the toy. “Dunno.”
“He hasn’t been around much,” Jade says.
“What about your mum?” I ask as gently as possible. Jade is skinny, like she doesn’t eat enough, and her face is pale. She’s sitting close to her brother and fiddling with the wrappers, folding them into neat squares.
“She hasn’t been home for a couple of days.”
I look to Lucy. “Did you try the hospitals?”
“Don’t bother. She does this all the time,” Jade says quietly. “But she comes back, eventually.”
Anger builds in my thumping head as I’m confronted with the reality of what Lucy dragged me into. I have to get away, before I upset them by shouting. “Does anyone want anything to eat or drink?”
“I’ll have a Coke!” pipes up Brandon.
“No, you’ve had enough Coke.” Jade looks sternly at her brother.
He pouts, then wriggles. “I need a wee.”
“I told you you’ve had enough. Come on.” Taking his hand, Jade stands, and they walk towards the back of the restaurant.
Waiting until the pair are out of earshot, I turn back to Lucy. “Have you called someone? Like some kind of authority?”
“Can we call them tomorrow? We’re family. We can look after them for today. They can still have Christmas at ours? When Faye gets in touch, we can tell her.”
Family. Why can’t she get into her head we’re not? Yet this reaction makes me a hypocrite. Because why am I here? Because of my little half-brother. And the boy in the photo on Lucy’s wall.
“Things aren’t as simple as that. How do you know what she’ll do when she finds out you took her kids?”
“I didn’t take them! I’m looking after them! I told you, the house is freezing. There’s no way we could stay there.”
Arguing with Lucy is as pointless as ever. “And Dad? What will you say to him?”
Lucy twists her drink cup in her hand. “The truth, I guess.”
“Wow. That’ll add fun to my already awesome Christmas.” I slump back against the seat and pull my phone out, on the deluded off-chance Ness may have called.
Lucy watches. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what we’d have done. Sorry for dragging you away from your day. And Ness.”
“Don’t even go there,” I snap.
She shifts in her seat, picking at her half-eaten burger, saying nothing.
Christmas carols play in the false plastic happiness, a million miles from the Christmas card village where I left the person who’s the centre of my world. The uneasy churning inside returns as I remember her words, the intensity in her eyes. I think she meant every word; she doesn’t want me to go back. And who could blame her?
Chapter Twenty-Five
NESS
New Year’s Eve. I’d planned to take Evan to the party at Tamara’s with Abby. The idea of partying when I haven’t spoken to Evan since Christmas Day doesn’t appeal. I’m not him; I won’t fill my emptiness with alcohol. There’s a hole in my chest, punched by Evan, and deepening every day. In typical Evan style, he sent a text to test the water the evening after he left, but by then, I was too upset to respond. There’s been no communication for a few days now, which both infuriates and upsets me. But doesn’t surprise me. I’m not sure I want to talk to him anyway; I can’t ride the Evan roller-coaster anymore.
So, I plan a New Year’s Eve at home with movies and a bottle of wine. I asked Abby not to come over, and told her she should go to Tamara’s party, but she turned up with wine, popcorn, and chick flicks. I know she’s trying to help, and chick flicks are her solution to break ups, but I don’t want to spend an evening watching couples in love.
“We’re such party animals,” grins Abby, setting a huge bowl of popcorn between us.
“In sexy party clothes,” I mumble.
I’m in my flannel pajamas, hiding under a blanket, and Abby is dressed in yoga pants and a huge jumper. I laugh when I see she’s wearing the huge pink, fluffy bunny slippers I bought her for Christmas.
“Can we watch these instead?” I ask her, and throw a couple of DVDs at her.
“These are from the last century?”
“I don’t feel like watching any of those. These are classics. I can’t believe you’ve never seen The Breakfast Club.”
“Okay, but only if you promise to watch the fireworks at midnight.”
“Of course.”
Abby pours two glasses of wine and hands me one. “So, have you spoken to him yet?”
“No.” I clamp up. I don’t want this conversation.
“I know what he did was wrong, but is this worth breaking up over?”
I pull the blanket closer. “This isn’t just about Christmas, is it? This is because of what his choice means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That Lucy’s more important than me. I thought we’d sorted things out. I told him I couldn’t be in a relationship with both of them.”
“I don’t think he means to be like that. He loves you.” Abby sips her drink. “You guys are special; I’ve told you before.”
“Yeah, right. Since we came back from Europe, half of our weekends have been apart because of his pull to his past. And we don’t get much chance to see each other in the week because of my studies. And now this whole Christmas fuck up. I don’t want a relationship like this. This is all too much. Or too little.”
“But finding his mum, Ness. That must’ve hit him hard. Give him a chance.”
I shove a handful of popcorn into my mouth. I’ve been okay with the extra trips to help Lucy, and his irrational jealousy, but he knows Christmas was the deal-breaker for me. A chance for him to prove that, outside of all that crap, our relationship matters more. That he knows when Lucy needs him, and when to let her sort things out for herself. And he couldn’t give me one day. I’m too young to carry his baggage. These thoughts run on repeat in my head, convince the old, logical Ness I’m doing the right thing by backing away.
But I love him more than I realized. Like the snow he talked about, he transformed my world too. The sudden memory of those words sends tears sliding down my cheeks. I never thought I’d react physically to losing someone, but I’ve hardly eaten, want to hide away, and permanently feel sick and dizzy. His texts said he wants to talk - explain - but we’ve been here before. And I can’t keep going here. The tears flow, and the pain pushes through the numbness.
“Oh, Ness…” Abby hugs me, and I bury my face into her scratchy jumper. She still wears the perfume from her teen years and the scent pulls me back to those days. The days when I did the comforting and never understood how overemotional she got.
I pull back and wipe my face with my hand. “How’s things with Jared?”
“Pretty good. He’s in Scotland for New Year.�
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“Scotland?”
“That’s what I thought. Some draughty stone castle? No, thanks. He’s at some school reunion, so I think he’s relieved I didn’t push him into taking me.” She pauses. “And at least only guys will be there. And Ollie will look after him.”
Trouble passes over her features before she steps up and grabs a DVD. Her silence and mine is an unspoken end to talking about boyfriends. Ex-boyfriends.
***
“Ness!”
I startle awake and knock the half-empty bowl of popcorn onto the floor. Abby stands over me, and in the distance, exploding fireworks crackle.
“We fell asleep! You and your crappy eighties movies!”
“Or maybe the wine?” I indicate the two bottles on the table, one half-empty.
“Come on, we’ll miss them!” Abby grabs my arm and pulls me towards the French doors at the back of the room.
Thawing snow remains on the ground, patches of grass show through. I hover on the patio, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. We missed midnight. Fireworks shoot across the sky, throwing colors into my dark world.
Abby claps, the big kid who loves fireworks. “Happy New Year, Ness.” She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek.
“Happy New Year!” I grin.
“I have to call Jared!” She drops her hold on me and skips inside.
The noise of the fireworks fades as the New Year begins. While Abby chats and giggles on the phone to Jared, I toy with the idea of calling Evan, then reprimand myself for being weak. But I pick the phone up anyway.
There’s a missed call and a text. From Evan.
‘Happy New Year, butterfly girl. Tu me manques. I love you.’
A sob catches in my throat; I don’t want to cry in front of Abby again. I’m too tired and had more wine than I intended. So I know if I do speak to Evan, we’ll end in another argument, which I can’t cope with.
Lying on the sofa, the aching emptiness left by Evan consumes me again. But I can’t let him back in because the empty space he leaves behind grows each time this happens.
The fireworks continue, slowing now.
A new year. A new start.