Her Healing Place

by Sybil Smith

  Their gazes hold just a little too long. Vera nervously wipes her hands on her pants as she stands.

  "Well," she looks down at her growling stomach, "I'm going to stop down at Luigi's on the corner before heading back to work. Want to come with me?"

  She sees the hesitation in Evelyn's eyes and quickly thinks of something that might sway her. After all that she had learned this morning, there is no way she was just going to leave Evelyn like this.

  "They have great donuts..." she offers, wagging her eyebrows.

  Evelyn lifts herself from the floor with a small smile. "That sounds wonderful, Vera."

  They leave the house in an easy silence, thinking about the morning, about the future, and what it all means for them both.

  Chapter 8

  Before Vera, pain was what held her up, kept her going. It helped her make it through the day. It was her closest friend. But then she moved to Philadelphia and met Vera. Vera, the detective that hid behind her tough as nails façade. Vera, who held Evelyn when she needed to be held and pushed when she needed to be pushed. Vera, the only person that had ever truly cared about Evelyn besides Tristan.

  And Evelyn is scared. She's scared to get a taste of the happiness that Vera had brought into her life just to have everything ripped away from her again. She's scared to be happy because being happy might mean forgetting. She never wants to forget the life she had with her son, even if it means she has to endure excruciating memories every single day just to get a short glimpse of the good ones. She never wants to forget the good ones.

  So when Vera offered to bring lunch down to the lab for the 12th day in a row, Evelyn rejected for the first time. She told Vera she had other things to do. And she does. She has to carefully reconstruct the walls Vera slowly started to tear down over the past few months. She has to remember what it was like to be alone, because she resolved herself to never let anyone in for fear of losing them. She has to remember her life isn't idle chat and joking around. Her life is loneliness and loss and no one could ever possibly change that—not even Vera.

  The one person she felt safe with.

  The one person she’s scared to death of getting close to.

  So when Vera barged in at half past two while Evelyn was wiping her eyes from the tears that had been freely falling all day, Evelyn almost asked her to leave. Almost. That is, until she sees the red stain slowly growing on the sleeve of Vera's shirt.

  Evelyn gasps. "Vera?"

  A lopsided grin covers the detectives face. “Think you can help me?”

  She swore she watched it happen in slow motion. Tristan had been climbing around on the play set in the back yard before tumbling sideways off the slide and landing in the woodchips below. She was already up and jogging towards him before he had the chance to stand up.

  She gently carries him inside. He hasn't cried, he hasn't whimpered. Honestly, it would've been odd if he did—Tristan is not usually a crier. His lip never even trembled when he fell off his bike and got a bruise that covered his entire ribcage a few weeks before. He's brave. Resilient. Tough. And for the next few months he needs to continue to be.

  Carefully, she places him on the counter beside the bathroom sink. She lifts his shirt and pant legs to check over him. He seems perfectly okay minus the ever-present bruises and the scratches that now mar his forearms. He slowly runs his finger over them—gauging the damage—before looking back up at her.

  "Can you fix it, Mama?"

  Smiling, she runs her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I certainly can, my sweet boy."

  She reaches down into one of the drawers and pulls out some peroxide, Neosporin, and a bandage. In awe, he watches as the peroxide hits his skin and instantly bubbles up. "That feels funny."

  Grinning, she pats his arm dry and starts to apply the Neosporin. "How come?"

  “My arm was blowing bubbles!"

  “It sure was,” she answers, kissing the top of the gauze. "All better?"

  He pulls on her blouse until she comes closer and his arms instantly wrap around her, his head burrowing against her stomach. "Yep," he gives an exaggerated nod, "You always make me better."

  Her breath catches in her throat. She puts her arms around him, pulling him tighter against her. How will she be able to explain that there's something she can't fix? How can she explain to her child that there's already something invading his body, doing irreparable damage, and there's not a damn thing she can do to fix it?

  She feels her throat tighten as she sets him back down on the ground. There's no way she's going to let him see her cry when he doesn't even cry himself. She harshly swallows and puts on a fake smile that most likely doesn't fool him. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?" He nods his head and she playfully pokes at his belly. "You can go play in your room. I'll leave the door open in case you need me."

  "Okay," he says, as he gives her thigh a hug and runs off down the hall to his room. Only then does she give in to her emotions. She grips at the edge of the vanity so tightly her knuckles turn white. She slowly looks up in the mirror to see her eyes watery and a single tear finally slip out and roll down her face. She closes her eyes, praying to a god she doesn't believe in for a miracle that most likely won't come.

  Hastily, she undresses and throws her clothes in the hamper before turning on the shower and stepping inside. She knows the water won't completely muffle the sound of her sobs, but she lets them out anyway—echoing against the tile— as her forehead leans against the wall and the water runs down her back.

  She smacks her hand against the tiled shower wall. She's been alone—always been alone. And now that she's not…now that she actually has someone to love and loves her in return, she's terrified. She could lose it all in an instant, a second. She can't fathom her life without him. He completes her. From the moment he was born he began smoothing her rough edges. He taught her to love, to be compassionate, to not always hide behind the facts. He was her lifeline in a world she was struggling just to survive in.

  He was her saving grace.

  But despite the infinite list of medicinal facts swirling around in her head, she might not be his.

  She stands in front of Vera with a suture kit she found hiding in the lab. The gash on Vera’s arm isn't too deep, but it certainly isn't pretty either. She pulls on gloves and intently focuses on the wound as she rubs away the excess blood with an alcohol pad—ignoring the chill bumps forming up Vera's arm and across her chest.

  Evelyn pokes at the cut and Vera winces. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to the hospital? I have no training when it comes to this."

  Vera gives a lopsided grin. "No. I'm fine with you doing it. Especially since we missed our lunch date today."

  Vera watches the faint blush creeps up Evelyn's cheeks. Petite, usually meticulous hands drop the stitching needle more than once. Vera gently places her hand on Evelyn's arm to get her to calm down. "If you keep acting like that, maybe I should go to the hospital. I don't want an ugly scar just because you can't hold still."

  Evelyn pinches the wound together. "This will probably hurt. I haven’t done this since…ever."

  Vera exhales a heavy, defeated breath and nods. "Not the first time I've had stitches. They hurt no matter who does them."

  “You get hurt often?”

  “Yeah,” she answers. “I’m usually the go-getter. Eugene handles the interrogations and reports.”

  “I see.” Evelyn nods slightly. “And you usually let your colleagues fix you up instead of a trained professional?”

  “The way I see it, you probably know just as much from working down here in the lab all the time,” Vera answers. She readjusts her injured bicep so Evelyn can get a better view. “And you look better than any doctor I’ve been to anyway.”

  Evelyn doesn't look up from pushing the needle in and out of Vera's skin. The compliment is only one of many Vera has given her. Though appreciated, it can’t be accepted. Not yet.

  "Vera,” she starts, keeping her focus on the nee
dle and skin. “It's not that I would mind dating you, I'm just not there yet. I'm not sure if I'll ever be." She licks across her lip as she tries to tie off the end of a stitch. "But I am very grateful that you're always here for me. Even when I try to push you away, I am still grateful," she slowly starts pulling off her gloves moments later. The injury needed no more than three in and outs. "You deserve someone much better than me. I'm broken. There's nothing that I could possibly give you," her voice finally starts to crack, "You deserve so much more."

  Vera tucks Evelyn's hands into her own. When the other women finally meets her eye, Vera's heart nearly breaks at the pain that's so clearly written across her face. She wants nothing more than to pull Evelyn into a hug and protect her from all the heartache she's been through. But instead, she runs her thumbs across Evelyn's knuckles and takes a steadying breath.

  "Evelyn, you are not broken, okay? You're smart and oddly funny and compassionate about everything you do. Don't ever think you're broken and don't ever think I hang around you just because I want to date you. I'm here for you because I want to be, in any capacity that you'll let me."

  Being here with Vera-it feels so…right. But so completely wrong at the same time. How can she want to let Vera in, but also build up walls to keep her out? Not even her complex mind can figure that one out.

  Chapter 9

  Vera carefully makes her way to the apartment complex. It's already late November and snow fell ankle deep during the night. She trudges up the few stairs and rings the bell, hoping Evelyn is actually here.

  She waits a few minutes before ringing it again. This time she hears the tale tell shuffling of footsteps and the door quickly being unlocked. Her breath catches as the door opens to Evelyn wearing only a robe with a bottle of wine clutched tightly in her hand. Her eyes are red rimmed and slightly puffy, and her hair is precariously thrown into a ponytail with a few wisps flying freely around her face.

  "Hello, Vera," she says with a weak smile, her words coming out with a tipsy lilt.

  Vera narrows her eyes and walks through the door before shutting it behind her. It's only eight in the morning; Evelyn must've started drinking as soon as the sun came up. She tries to pry the bottle from Evelyn's fingers. "C'mon, Ev. Let me have it."

  Frowning, Evelyn relinquishes the bottle from her grasp after a few pulls and tugs. Vera holds it up between them with a shake. "You have any other plans today?"

  Vera marches into the kitchen and pours it out in the sink. Evelyn grimaces. It was her last bottle of cheap Pinot.

  She'd have to go buy more later.

  Vera raises her eyebrows after the bottle is drained dry. "So…you were just going to sit at home and get drunk? On Thanksgiving?"

  Evelyn quickly looks down to the floor, letting her embarrassment and shame fill in the gap between them and hang heavily down around their shoulders. "Thanksgiving was Tristan's favorite holiday," she says. “It’s my first without him.”

  Vera takes a deep breath. She knew it was the right decision to come over this morning. "Do you have any coffee? We're going somewhere and it'd be best if you were sober."

  "Coffee actually further dehydrates the body, making it more difficult to become sober." Evelyn clears her throat, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as Vera looks at her incredulously. "Water. I just need to drink water."

  Vera exaggeratedly nods her head a fills a glass before handing it over to her. She drinks it all as Vera keeps a watchful eye on her. She finishes quickly, placing the empty glass on the table. "Where are we going?"

  She finally gives Evelyn a full-dimpled grin. "You'll see."

  …..

  After 30 minutes of trying to pick out what to wear, Evelyn finally decides on a simple sienna dress that hits right above her knees. She adds a scarf to tie it all together. The colors make her look perfect for the autumn holiday. It makes Vera wish she tried harder with her own outfit.

  Right before Vera can step out the front door, the clock strikes nine. Evelyn quickly grabs her arm to stop her. "Vera…do you think we can stay here for a little while longer?"

  Vera notes the time. They still have a while before they need to arrive, so she nods with a playful grin. "If you insist."

  Evelyn smiles the smile Vera anxiously waits to get a glimpse of every day, the one that briefly lights up her face and eyes and warms Vera from head toe. They make their way to the couch, and flip through the channels until Vera finds one to settle on.

  Vera fights a grin before looking at Evelyn. "The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade?"

  Evelyn nods. "Yes, I've watched it every year for," her grin slightly falters, "six years now."

  Vera wraps her arm around Evelyn's shoulders and pulls her into her side. Vera knows Evelyn doesn't open up much about her past and she'll take anything she can if it lets her get a peek into Evelyn's life. "Really?"

  Evelyn leans further into Vera. "Every year since Tristan was born. I never experienced family traditions, and I wanted Tristan to have them. I know it seems silly, but…he really enjoyed watching it, and I enjoyed watching him. The way his eyes lit up when he asked about the logistics behind each float, the way he laughed every time his favorite characters came on screen…"

  She accepts Vera’s proffered hand. "I was going to take him to watch it one year. I just never got the chance." She makes sure to leave out the part where she couldn't afford it because of the medical bills and the way her parents depleted her trust fund as soon as they found out she was pregnant. She doesn't dare burden Vera with any more than she already has. She's honestly surprised Vera has stuck around this long. No one else has ever come close.

  She hears Vera take a deep breath as she moves down to lie in Vera's lap. Vera gently starts running her fingers through Evelyn's hair, realizing this isn't strictly platonic behavior. But she doesn't care. For Evelyn, she'd do anything even if it blurs the lines. Evelyn needs her and, honestly, she needs Evelyn now, too.

  "Well, maybe you can still go one day, y'know? I'll take you." She stills her hands on Evelyn’s shoulder. "You can tell me the scientific logarithm whatever, and I can tell you which show everything is from," she lightly chuckles, "especially since we both know how bad you are at knowing normal people television."

  Evelyn looks up tentatively. "You'd do that?"

  Vera takes a deep breath and fights the urge to just wrap Evelyn up and take her some place to protect her from all the pain she lives with every day. It's clear that Evelyn has never had anyone to lean on, to care for her. And Vera has already decided she'll be there till the end, no matter what—her own way of trying to protect Evelyn from her grief. She swallows thickly, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Yeah, of course I would."

  Evelyn quickly rolls back to face the screen, giving Vera the privacy to process her own emotions. She lets out a light laugh as she sees the next float that's now making its way on the screen. She knows it's impossible, but all she can do is think of it as a sign.

  Vera listens to Evelyn's laugh and smiles. "Clifford. You heard of him?"

  Evelyn nods her head against Vera's lap. "He was Tristan's favorite float in the whole parade. We would sit through the entire thing just to get a glimpse of it."

  Vera squeezes Evelyn's arm. "I think maybe Tristan is telling us he likes our plan."

  "Improbable as it is…that's exactly what I was thinking."

  …

  Evelyn nervously clings to Vera's arm, taking a deep breath as Vera knocks on the door. She's nervous…terrified even. She's never done well around people—always the one to miss jokes and unknowingly turn things towards awkward territory. People just aren’t her forte anymore.

  Vera flashes a nervous grin as they hear shuffling behind the door right before it swings open. Clara, presumably Vera’s mother, puts her hand on her hip and scowls. "You're late!"

  Evelyn takes a small step forward. "It's really my fault—"

  "—Sorry, Ma. I got preoccupied," Vera says, winking at Evelyn. No sense in making her f
eel uncomfortable in the first five seconds.

  Clara frowns at Vera once more before literally yanking Evelyn into a hug. "It's so good to finally meet you, dear. Vera talks about you all the time!"

  A pink blush creeps up Vera's face. Rolling her eyes, she pushes them all inside. "Would ya let us in, Ma? It’s freezing out here."

  Clara nods and steps back, throwing apologizes over her shoulder as she leads them to the dining room. The table holds more food than Evelyn had seen during her parents' catered holiday dinners. Turkey, stuffing, lasagna, and more fill every single free spot. Evelyn imagines Tristan running around the chairs singing his favorite Thanksgiving song she had taught him when he was two. She never was a good singer, but Tristan's tone had a childlike sweetness and was perfectly pitched. She'd often just teach him songs just to hear his voice.

  Vera notices her zone out and slightly squeezes her hand as she pulls out a chair for her. "I know it looks kinda overwhelming, but Ma might take it easy on ya since it's your first time," Vera whispers in her ear with a teasing grin before sitting down herself. Clara goes to pour them some wine, but Vera shakes her head. There's no way she's going to let Evelyn keep going down the path she's on.

  "So Evelyn," Clara says as plate after plate gets passed around the table. "What do you usually do on Thanksgiving? I was surprised when Vera said you weren't doing anything this year."

  Evelyn almost loses her grip on the cranberry sauce as it gets handed to her. She can't possibly lie, but telling them the truth would dredge up a conversation that would likely cause heavy hearts around the table. She certainly doesn't want to ruin the party.

  “Just the usual things,” she answers after a moment. “Cooking and eating and all the other Thanksgiving stuff.”

  Clara passes more dishes around. “With your family?”

  "Ma," Vera pipes up, "Isn't it time to say blessing or something?"

  Evelyn gratefully smiles at her friend as everyone joins hands and Clara says the blessing. Evelyn is loath to release Vera's hand at the end, so she doesn't. Vera doesn't even try to hide her glee.