I decide not to tell him that’s quite an oversight and figure it will be easy enough to suss out once we get inside.
We hold hands as we walk up the brick pathway toward the house, the front yard well manicured and the landscaping impeccable. Once we get to the porch, I hold the bouquet of flowers we’d stopped to get in front of me. Evan said we didn’t need to bring anything, but Mom always taught me it was important to bring something to a dinner party, not that we’d ever gone to many in Basin Lake. Still, I feel less empty handed as Evan finally presses the doorbell, setting off a series of loud chimes on the other side of the door. There is a clattering of heels before the heavy door swings open and a smartly dressed brunette woman appears.
“Hey, y’all,” she says with a slight Southern twang. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She moves aside and welcomes us into the house. “Nice to see you again, Evan,” she says once we’re inside. “And you must be Paige, right?”
Her teeth are perfectly white against her coral colored lipstick, and her rounded belly makes me guess she’s probably five or six months along.
“Yes,” I say extending my hand. “It’s nice to meet you…” I stall because I don’t know her name, and she catches on to this fact immediately.
She looks over at Evan, raising her eyebrows at him before turning back to me. “My name’s Adele. I don’t know if Evan has told you, but his father and I are expecting.” She looks down toward her obvious baby bump.
“Congratulations,” I say. “And yes, Evan mentioned it.” I hand her the bouquet of flowers that look so inconsequential in a house as big and luxurious as this one.
“These are lovely, thank you,” she says, smiling again. “Come on in.”
My heels echo against the hardwood floor as we walk through the giant house filled with oversized furniture and a picture on every wall. Every time I turn, there’s a chair or a vase or a piano to fill what might have once been a couple of square feet of empty space in a house that is filled to the rafters. It’s not really my style, but there’s a warmth to it that I don’t imagine Evan’s father is responsible for. I ask Adele if she’s an interior designer.
“Oh, no,” she says with a smile. “I work at the same bank as Kevin… Evan’s dad,” she adds to be sure I know she’s talking about Mr. Mattson. “But my best friend is the designer, and she’s done wonders.”
“It’s really nice,” I say just as we enter the back of the house with a big kitchen that connects to an even bigger family room.
“Look who’s here,” Adele says to Mr. Mattson who is slowly rising from a sectional couch in the family room. A football game plays on a TV mounted above a gas fireplace.
“Good to see you both,” Mr. Mattson says as he walks toward us, dressed in a modern looking pair of slacks, a fitted sweater over a white dress shirt, and a blue tie.
“Hello, sir,” Evan says, stepping toward his father and firmly shaking his hand.
“Hello, Paige,” Mr. Mattson says immediately after pulling his hand away from his son. My eyes are still on Evan who seemed to be looking to his father for some sort of connection, some clue that he’s actually glad to see him.
“Hi, Mr. Mattson!” I’m trying to sound cheerful when I’m really just nervous.
Adele has stepped into the kitchen but now reappears with drinks for both Mr. Mattson and Evan. There is apparently no issue with underage drinking in this house.
“Watch some football with your dad,” Adele says to Evan who has already downed half of what I think is whisky to relax his nerves. “And you come with me,” she says, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen. I sneak a glance over my shoulder to make sure Evan is okay as he takes a seat about as far as he possibly can from his dad.
“He’ll be fine,” Adele whispers to me with a wink, seeing my trepidation at leaving him on his own.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, pushing my lips up into a smile.
The smells of cinnamon, sage and thyme float through the air of the kitchen as well as the fatty, singed smell of turkey. Adele offers me wine, but I opt for some sparkling apple cider and get to work helping her finish setting the table. I put appetizers out, fill carafes with lemons floating in ice water and open two bottles of wine. Evan gets up twice from the couch he and his dad are sitting on and tries to help us, but Adele orders him back, and by the look on his face, I imagine he feels like he’s being sent into time out. I’m all for Evan and his dad connecting, but considering they’re barely speaking, it’s kind of stupid to force them together. Adele has different ideas though, and it appears she thinks this is the best way to create some father-son bonding.
When we finally sit down to eat, Evan looks relieved. He sits next to me, across from his dad and Adele. For the first half an hour or so, everything is going fine. Adele is asking a lot about me and what I’m studying and what it’s like in Basin Lake.
“I’d like to go someday,” Adele says. “It sounds so quaint.”
In response to this, Mr. Mattson sneers. “You could say that.”
I notice the drink he sat down with is now empty, and he’s already pouring another one, whisky, straight up. Who knows how many he had before Evan and I even arrived.
“Is it not quaint?” Adele looks sideways at the father of her unborn twins.
“It’s a hick town,” Mr. Mattson says quite dismissively. “I was glad to get out of it.”
Evan grips his fork, and I put my hand gently on his. Mr. Mattson getting out of Basin Lake also meant him leaving his children.
“Well, I’d still like to,” Adele says. “I’ve never been to the West Coast.”
In hopes of diffusing the building tension, I ask Adele if she’s always lived in North Carolina. The answer is no. She was born in Atlanta and has only lived here for two years. Then I ask about her pregnancy, her job, her family and every other bit of personal information that I hope will keep Mr. Mattson, who is now throwing back whisky like it’s water, calm.
Adele, in turn, asks how I like Well’s Creek and mentions she thinks Evan and I make a very cute couple. And before Evan can respond to her question about what his major is, his father breaks in with an equally cruel and amused laugh.
“What?” Adele asks.
“Nothing.” He spears some turkey and stuffs it into his mouth, shaking his head and looking like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Can we expect snow up in Well’s Creek?” I ask Adele, even though I don’t think she’s ever been there.
“Just say it,” Evan says, his eyes trained on his dad like darts ready to be thrown.
“I know it snows down here on occasion,” Adele answers me, trying as hard as I am to keep these two men from colliding.
“You really want me to?” Mr. Mattson is beginning to slur his words. He’s drunk.
“Yeah, tell us what’s so funny… Dad.”
After he wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin, a wicked smile spreads over Mr. Mattson’s face. He takes another drink of whisky and clears his throat, then says, “The truth is that my son has been a disappointment to me for as long as I can remember.”
“Kevin!” Adele looks as shocked as I feel.
Evan bristles, and I take hold of his hand.
“Okay, okay…” he waves his hands around. “I know it’s not politically correct to say your child is a disappointment, but you’re seriously asking him what his major is? All through school, this kid couldn’t get his act together. I can’t tell you how much money I spent on tutors or trying to bribe him to do anything above subpar.”
I turn to Evan because I know what his father is saying is not only incredibly cruel but equally inaccurate. Evan Mattson is one of the smartest guys I know. But he’s so still, so focused on his dad that I know he won’t say a word, and so I just hold his hand a little tighter.
“You not going to say anything to that, son?” Again, Mr. Mattson is shaking his head in disgust.
“Kevin, I really think you’re out of line.”
; “If not for me,” he says, ignoring Adele. “There’s no way in hell he’d have gotten into Well’s Creek. I’m on the board for God’s sake, and I had to grease more wheels than ever to get them to even consider accepting him! The only college in the country that would even contemplate taking him with his grades.”
I shake my head and decide to speak if Evan won’t. “That can’t be true,” I say. “Evan is smart, and even if he wasn’t, you’re being horrible. I really think you should apologize because nobody should talk to their kids like that.” My voice is shaking from anger, but I’m glad I’ve gotten it out at least. Evan remains immovable.
“I don’t need to apologize to him.” Mr. Mattson pours more whisky and slugs some back before continuing. “And you.” He stares me down as the whisky sloshes around in the glass he’s clutching. “You’re so naïve that you don’t even realize you never got a scholarship, not a real one anyway.”
I start to laugh. What Mr. Mattson is saying seems so untrue that I turn to Evan because I figure he won’t be able to hold his amusement back either. His father is obviously suffering some kind of mental breakdown right before our very eyes.
But Evan won’t look at me, and I finally let go of his hand because his grip is so tight he could probably break one of my fingers.
Adele has buried her face in her hands, and I turn back to Mr. Mattson and shake my head. “I don’t believe you. You aren’t making any sense.”
He unsteadily points a finger toward Evan. “This kid wanted in your pants so bad that he begged and pleaded for me to get you into Well’s Creek too.” He takes a moment to laugh, and I can see how glazed over his eyes have become. “Sure, we created a scholarship, one that I paid for.” He points the same finger back at himself. “And Evan insisted that I pay for a two-bedroom instead of getting you a dorm. Did it work? Has he finally managed to screw you?”
“You’re disgusting,” Adele says, dropping her hands, pushing her chair from the table and storming off.
“I fucking hate you,” Evan says with controlled rage. “You’re a piece of shit, Dad.”
“He makes me feel guilty sometimes,” Mr. Mattson says to me, unfazed by his son. “With stuff like that, calling me a shit father.” He laughs again, so out of control, so different from the quiet, distant man I’d seen before. “He reminds me I was never there for him,” he continues, “and then I soften up and buy him expensive cars and make problems go away and pay tuition for a hot little piece of ass like you—”
“That’s enough!” Evan stands up and shakes the table with his might. “You can say whatever you want about me, but you keep her out of this.”
Mr. Mattson’s eyes are heavy all of a sudden, like he just now comprehends the damage he’s doing with his words. He goes from a laughing drunk to a regretful one in an instant. “Well… fine… I shouldn’t have said that last part about Paige, but—”
“We’re leaving.” Evan takes my arm, and I get up and follow him through the house, not even bothering to turn back when Mr. Mattson comes after us and tells us he’s sorry and that it won’t happen again. I grab my purse and coat before we storm out the front door, overcome with confusion and shock at everything his father just said to us. I don’t want to believe that any of it could be even remotely true.
Just a mile or so away from the house, Evan pulls into the empty parking lot of a restaurant, gets out of the car and starts punching the thick trunk of a tree. He kicks at it and swears, and I’m so taken aback that I don’t get out and try to calm him. I guess I know he has to do this, and I just wait until he returns to the car, his knuckles bloody and raw.
“I can drive,” I say, figuring that’s best considering how upset he is and that he’d had at least one whisky that I’d seen. He doesn’t disagree, and we switch seats.
There is so much I want to ask Evan, but I’m afraid I’ll just be exacerbating the hurt he must be feeling. And I could honestly care less if he’s not as smart as I thought he was or if Mr. Mattson had to pay everyone at Well’s Creek off to get him in, but I am concerned about what he said about the scholarship and the apartment. It’s something I won’t be able to sweep under the carpet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
EVAN
Thanksgiving Evening
The closer we get to Well’s Creek and the further away from my dad, the more relaxed I become. You’d think Paige would have demanded I answer to everything my dad said, especially after I’d gotten out of the car and kicked and punched at a tree like a crazy person. But she’d remained silent on anything related to the topic.
“We could stop by Target and get some pre-Black Friday deals,” I say with a smile, wanting to forget the last few hours.
“No thank you,” she says. “It doesn’t feel very holiday-ish.”
“Maybe we can see what Marvin and Jason are up to, then?” I offer, afraid going back to our apartment will force a conversation about today.
“I thought you said they were both heading home for the holiday?” she reminds me.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I think we should talk when we get home,” she announces as she takes the exit into Well’s Creek.
“Yeah. I guess we have to,” I mumble.
I’d had a fair degree of hope when we’d left for Charlotte, and I could tell Paige did too, that she wanted to see me and dad acting like a father and son should. But now, as we walk up to our apartment together, she looks dispirited.
She closes the door behind us, takes my hand and leads me to the couch like a little boy lost.
“I want to know why he said those things.” She slips her heels off and puts her stocking feet on the cushion between us.
I bend forward and clasp my hands together, my knuckles raw and throbbing from earlier. “Where should I start? It’s all going to be embarrassing.”
“I’m your best friend… and more.” She touches my shoulder softly. “I’m not going to judge you.”
“No, but you’re going to be pissed about the scholarship and the apartment.” To what degree I can’t even venture a guess at.
“You can explain that to me later, but right now I want to know why he said all those things about you having trouble in school. Evan, you’re one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met.”
“If you only knew.” I laugh, knowing I’m about to sound like a clichéd joke to her.
“Well, I should know,” she says, serious and concerned. “We’ve been friends forever. So, tell me… please.”
I sit back against the couch and sigh. “My dad was right about school. I used to love it, until my parents got divorced. And then it all went to hell. My tutor seems to think I purposely fucked things up to get my parents’ attention.”
“Your tutor?” Paige looks floored.
I meet her eyes. “That job I told you I got? I lied. I’ve been going to a couple of different tutors after I bombed summer quarter, and I’ve been doing better. I actually got a passing grade on a test I took last week.”
She’s silent for a moment, looking confused. Then she says, “But you always finished your tests first, and you were in advanced classes and had an answer for everything. So, how exactly is it that you could ever bomb a test?”
I shrug. “Because it’s easier to just fail than put forth any effort. Mom and Dad did actually try to get me help, and it worked for a while. I felt like they cared about me more than their jobs. But then the better I did in school, the more invisible I was to them again. When Dad moved away, it was kind of the last straw for me. I just didn’t care. And there were no consequences, not from Mom or my stepdad.”
She puts her hand to her mouth, like she’s stifling tears. I don’t want to upset her, but it feels good to finally tell her the truth, so I continue.
“I got kicked off the football team for bad grades. Coach Matthews tried to give me a chance to get them up, but Mom or Bill or Dad would do something to piss me off, and failing was the easiest way get back at them, to get their attention. Then they ju
st stopped caring at all, told me it was my life and I could waste it if I wanted to.”
“How did I not know this?” Paige is looking at me with a horrified expression. “And how did my mom not know? How did she not help you?”
“She tried,” I say, letting out a breath. “She called me and my mom and stepdad in for one of those family conferences. She kind of accused me of some kind of plagiarism at first because I’d selectively turn in good essays and papers half the time and shit the rest.”
“My mom thought you were cheating?” She shakes her head.
“It wasn’t her fault,” I say. “She seemed to catch on to what I was doing. She told me I had promise and that I was wasting it. She wanted to tell you so that you could give me some kind of a pep talk, but I begged her not to.”
She puts her feet back on the floor and slides over to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her, grateful she hasn’t gotten up and run off.
“You should have come to me,” she says, crying. “I would have done whatever I could if I’d known.”
“Yeah, well, it’s embarrassing enough to be in love with a girl who you don’t think loves you back. Having you know I was purposely failing and constantly being threatened at being thrown back into remedial classes would have been too much.”
She lifts her head and looks deep into my eyes. “I loved you too, and if you had let me in, told me what was going on, it would have brought us closer. I missed too much with you.”
I hold her a little tighter, glad that she knows, thankful for her acceptance.
“You weren’t kicked off the team for smoking pot,” she says like this has just registered in her mind. “I feel like a failure for not knowing that either.”
“Well, I did smoke pot,” I admit. “But that wasn’t the reason. It’s just what I let everyone believe. You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have.” She sighs.
“I’m the one who messed up my own life, Paige. I honestly was going to try to turn over a new leaf senior year, but then stuff… happened,” though I’m not ready to divulge to her exactly what. “My grades sucked, and I wasn’t going to get into a decent college, so Dad worked his magic. Part of me wishes he or my mom or someone else other than Coach Matthews would have held me accountable, but they didn’t. They just let me coast.”
Between the Boys (The Basin Lake Series Book 1) Page 29