Forgiving Eve: A Novel

by Kathryn Hewitt

  Annoying, but also sort of endearing. Irma was essentially his mom. A boy who respected his mom, or at least was willing to put aside his own ego to make right when he knew he was wrong, was something special. I think the fact that my own mom was not someone who I’d be willing to sacrifice much for, anymore, colored my opinion.

  “My-Irma and Richard still own a house away from camp. It’s not too far, about a twenty minute walk, and one of them manages to visit it and keep it up every week or so. I’m not sure why they keep it, since they live here on campus, but they do.” I was lying with Jack on his pallet that night, having not seen him since he chased after Irma. He’d finally appeared in our bunk after I’d gone to bed, but the second he walked in he’d gone straight to my pallet and gently but firmly grabbed my hand and hoisted me up, pulling me with him towards his.

  Obviously they could be keeping their house for many reasons, but I suspected that the main reason had a name: Jack.

  “Is that where you go, when you need to escape?” I was speaking softly, hoping not to disturb the rest of the bunk, but mostly because I was hoping to get answers.

  I felt him nod, his chin brushing my shoulder as his arms encircling me tightened. This was headway. Not an exciting or illicit location, but I wasn’t disappointed. The mysteriousness of Jack’s disappearances had lost its titillating nature for me. I no longer fantasized that he was off on adventures, I just wanted to know he was safe and that he was coming back…to me.

  “It’s my home.” He said this quietly, but the power of the statement was not lost on me. Jack went back to where he’d always felt safe, where his real mom had always left him behind but where he’d been loved and cared for. I could understand this. Had I ever had such a location, I was fairly certain I’d have run from Phil and almost always ended up there. Did it make me a bad person that I envied Jack?

  “Of course,” I murmured, still lost in thought. If I’d had anywhere to go, would I have? I knew the answer was no. I’d always have stayed for Gideon. And yet…Oh, Gideon. Why was it so easy to leave me? The rock that always seemed to develop in my stomach when I followed this line of thought materialized. Some days I hated Gideon as much as I’d loved him.

  Dragging myself back to the present, to the boy who needed me, I pushed Gideon to the back of my mind. My last thought of him was to wonder if I’d ever be able to reconcile our relationship and his loss in my life.

  “Jack,” I whispered, since his breath had already slowed and now only softly lifted the hair on my forehead. He exhaled more forcefully so I knew he’d heard me and was still awake. “It’s ok if you need to go home sometimes. If that brings you peace, that is what matters. I’m sure Irma and Richard would much rather prefer you go there than just…” I was scared to even finish my sentence.

  “Disappear?” Jack asked, as if he could read my mind. I guess he was getting to know me all too well.

  “Yeah. Please don’t disappear on me, Jack.” It took a lot for me to say that aloud. The dark helped, but I was sort of leap-of-faithing it.

  “I had a long talk with Irma. You’re getting out soon, Snuggs.”

  Wait, what? This was not the direction I’d expected our conversation to take.

  “You’re getting out. They wont tell you, but Irma told me because she’s worried about the impact that your leaving will have on me. But you’re being released, time served, good behavior.” I audibly gasped. “Don’t ruin the surprise for Greg, he gets a lot of joy out of delivering this news.” I giggled, not being able to help myself as I pictured Greg telling me the ‘news’ and my Oscar worthy performance as I feigned shock, surprise, then elation.

  But, was I elated?

  “Eve, breathe.” I realized that Jack’s hands were on my shoulders now, and he was forcing me to look him in the eye. Despite the darkness of the bunk, our eyes were now adjusted enough that I could see him clearly and could focus on him and our eye contact. “Breathe…In 1…2…3…out…1…2…3…”

  I closed my eyes and focused, breathing with Jack and re-centering myself. I’d already begun down spiraling and Jack had pulled me back. Wow.

  “You’re going to move on. Eve, you’re an adult now. You’re free and clear of your JV record and you’re smart and extremely talented. You now have entrée to a new world, a world where you are able to create your own destiny.” I hadn’t realized when I’d gotten so close to Jack, but I was in his arms now, inhaling his soothing scent and listening to his predictions. I could almost believe him. “Snuggs, you’re going to be free. Free of Phil.”

  Wow. I can’t say this was the first time I’d believed such a thing, but I’d so far only ever believed that being free from Phil went hand in hand with incarceration, personal ruin, and retribution. Could it be possible to be free and have my own life?

  “I’ll never be free from Phil.” The words came out before I could stop them, but I knew they were true.

  “That is in your control. He is gone from your life. It’s up to you to free yourself from everything he represents.” Jack was always so wise when it came to everyone but himself. He was right. I had to free myself from Phil. But I also knew that Phil and everything he did and everything he represented were a part of me.

  In that moment I realized that the real challenge was acknowledging Phil and his contribution to the development of Me, while simultaneously discarding the damaging aspects of Phil. I hated him and had to own that. I loved Gideon and had to own that. I’d made my own choices in an attempt to eliminate Phil and had to own that.

  But no matter what, everything I had been through had made me who I was today. It had made me this woman, lying in an amazing man’s arms. A man who loved me, despite what I’d been through and because of what I’d been turned into. Jack loved me.

  Shit. I was becoming a Greg Mini-Me.

  I had to step up and own ME.

  For the first time in my life, I was willing to try. I was Eve. I was damaged and amazing and confused and in love. But one of the few things that I knew now was that I was loved. Gideon had loved me unconditionally, Jack loved me for who knew why, Leila loved me in her own cracktasticness, and Greg cared in his own professional yet personal way.

  I’d come to Juvenile Delinquent Camp and found more people to love me than I’d met in my whole life. There was both joy and disappointment in that. Either way, without dwelling, I’d come up. I needed to remind myself that I was worthy of love, that despite the fact that those who should have loved me didn’t. I was still a person. People, like plants, wither without affirmation. A little sprinkle of care and water, or a notice and kind word, make the difference. We all need positive care and reinforcement.

  This is something I never considered that I could appreciate. Me: Eve. The anti-positive. I was the case study in Negative Nelly. Bleah. I had to allow myself to grow; I had to allow myself to let Greg access me and encourage my growth. He was my arch nemesis but also the key to me thriving. I hated to admit this but it was true.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “I’d like to discuss something with you, Evelyn.” Holy crapballs. Greg never called me by my full name unless he was serious. Like, really serious.

  “You’re being released.” I wanted to act surprised but I wasn’t. “I’m not certain this is the right move for you, but you’re legal and I have no ability to supercede Irma and Richard. They are my superiors and I cannot disregard their decision.”

  Fudge nuts.

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Jack, I’m home,” I hollered as I slammed the apartment door behind me, slipping off my flats. It had been a long day and all I was dreaming about was dinner, a hot bath, and snuggling up with Jack on the couch while eating popcorn. Work drained me, mostly emotionally, but it always felt good to come home and know my best friend was here waiting for me.

  I was taking off my coat as Jack appeared. I turned to him with a smile on my face; seeing Jack after all we’d been through, still here and still devoted, never got old.

  The
look on his face stripped the smile off of mine and made a shiver run up my spine. We knew each other too well. We knew sadness and heartache, and loss too well. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask what was wrong. I needed my last two seconds of sanity before he dropped his bomb.

  “Snuggs…” His tone was the equivalent of a knife through my heart. All I could do was stare at him, willing his soulful blue eyes to provide me with the solace and strength that they always managed to. I couldn’t even blink. “Snuggs,” he tried again, swallowing and then continuing, “I got a call.” He swallowed again and stepped closer to me, his hands reaching toward me. I reached out as well, allowing him to grasp my hands and pull me toward him. I knew this was another amazing example of my growth, an example of how far I’d come and how much my therapy had helped me.

  Old Eve would have recoiled.

  “Eve, Baby…” Jack cleared his throat and I almost wanted to scream at him to spit it out, but I was too terrified of what he knew and what it would do to me that I remained silent, begging with my own grey eyes for him to spare me, for reality to be pliable and allow us to decide that whatever the bad news was, we weren’t interested and that things could go back to how they were.

  Holding Jack’s hands, I finally got some semblance of control and pulled him with me to the couch, sitting while dragging him down with me. “Tell me Jack.” I guess I’d pulled it together a bit. That was the thing with us…we were two people who made each other whole. We were whole people alone, but there was always something missing. No one was perfect and everyone had weaknesses and bad days. Some how, despite our abundance of both, we managed to rise to the occasion when the other needed something; be it support, love, encouragement, or just warmth and loving arms.

  “It’s Leila.” Jack sighed, sorrow etched across his face. “I’m sorry Snuggs. I’m so sorry. The world is a sadder place today.” I buried my face in his shoulder, hoping it would stifle my sob. Please. No one else. I was so tired of losing people. I cried as I already knew the answer to my unspoken question.

  Finally, I sniffled it out, mostly incoherently as I was still pressed to Jack like we’d become conjoined.

  “Tell me.” I sobbed again but wouldn’t be deterred.

  “Snu-”

  “Tell Me,” I commanded more forcefully. This was an example of one of the few arguments we still had with each other. Jack liked to withhold upsetting information from me, claiming he was trying to protect me and shield me from things that were upsetting. I argued that I wasn’t a china doll and that I deserved to know the truth.

  The foundation of a relationship between two psychologically damaged people would always be a little rocky. Acknowledging our faults and limitations, and constantly working to overcome them, was what made us work. I suspected that most relationships were tumultuous and the fact that we were determined to make ours work despite our individual histories was what separated us from many other couples. We wanted something that was ours. Something that we had complete control over and which was dependent on our survival instinct.

  We wanted something that wasn’t tainted by anyone else’s mistakes.

  Jack and I wanted nothing more in this world than to be together and to be healthy. Healthy Alone to be Healthy Together. It was sort of our life motto. Which is why it always rubbed me the wrong way when he tried to protect me. I knew it wasn’t out of malice; it was out of a need to care for me. It was his version of throwing himself in front of me if a gunman pointed a weapon at me. It was like how he always insisted on going down stairs in front of me. His joke of, “If you fall, at least you’ll fall on me,” was not a joke regardless of his casual cadence and small smirk that always accompanied his statement.

  The problem lay in that I wasn’t blind to the fact that despite of Jack’s bravado, he was no more stable than I was. Consequently, I constantly went out of my way to make sure he was always ok, always taken care of, always allowed to just feel like Jack. Not like the damaged little boy who was abandoned by the one person who should have stood by him, given up on simply because his brain didn’t want to play by the rules.

  I could never be too harsh on Jack. I was equally protective. I suspected that most people were similar in their approach to caring for their loved ones. I would always cover him with my body if there were a bomb going off. Perhaps I was no better than he when it came down to it.

  But balance is key. I had to keep him from being so overprotective that I couldn’t live my life. Life was not all happy stories and joy. Jack and I had learned that firsthand, (which was another of his arguments). Jack claimed I’d seen too much unhappiness already, I’d met my lifetime allotment, and that it was his job to never add to that.

  “Jack…” I guess he got my tone because I felt his muscles stiffen. I knew I was hurting him by insisting he give me more information, but we’d weathered so much already that I knew we had our arsenal at hand.

  We had each other.

  “Eve…” Jack kissed my cheek and inhaled my scent, breathing in as he nuzzled my neck. I knew this as his effort to ground himself, to draw strength from the familiar. It helped him to know that what he needed was here; I was still here.

  He gathered me up in his arms. I wondered if this was for me or for him. Either way, I was both content and terrified. I loved being surrounded by everything that was Jack, but I knew that what he had to say was going to be painful.

  “Lei is dead.”

  I felt like I’d been punched. I knew in my heart that this is what he was trying to protect me from, but to hear it made it real. I knew his harsh words were another symptom of how hard he was being hit by this news; another advantage of knowing Jack so well was that I knew his coping mechanisms. Cold hard facts were how he compartmentalized. It was easier for him to pretend he was emotionless and unaffected. This was something he’d worked hard to overcome, but like all of our unhealthy characteristics, we’d be working toward improvement for the rest of our lives. Working to be Healthy.

  I guess Leila was tired of working on being healthy.

  Some days I was scared to admit that I felt the same way.

  Those were the days that I wondered if I could have done any of this, wondered if I could have survived if I didn’t have the one person who truly understood me and my circumstances, yet loved me regardless and inspired me to keep trying.

  Lei didn’t have that someone.

  “I’m sorry, Snuggs.” I lifted my head to look at Jack and a tremor moved through me. He looked as broken as he’d looked back at camp. Some days I wondered if I’d been drawn to his brokenness. At 17, all I thought I’d seen was a beautiful man, a sexy boy who made me feel things I never thought possible.

  Now, after all of these years of therapy, self-actuation, effort and hard work, and a whole lot of bliss, my husband looked completely different from the boy I’d fallen in love with. He was still beautiful. He was still more breathtaking than I thought was fair. He was still my Jack. But the tortured boy I’d crawled into bed with was, for the most part, gone. Jack had put in the effort. Some days I feared it was due to my sheer unrelenting pressure, but I knew deep down that Jack had healed himself for him.

  One time, a few years back, Jack confessed that he realized that in order to be the man I deserved, he needed to become the man that I deserved. That started with growing into the man that he himself could respect. Sure, Jack is still medicated, and I’m always there to ensure that he stays on his meds, to nag him when necessary, but his emotional and psychological growth has been astounding.

  If no one knew anything about Jack and met him for the first time, all they would ever think was that he was the perfect specimen. The fact that he has allowed me to know him through all of his layers, to know his greatest weaknesses and the reasons behind them, only showed how strong he is.

  “Jack. Baby. Tell me. Not knowing is worse than knowing.”

  “Snuggs…I’m so sorry.” The worst part was that I already knew what he was going to tell me. I alrea
dy knew that Leila had given up, had cashed in; I knew that Lei had given up on us. Lei had given up on me. There was such a pain in my chest, and I can’t lie, I was suddenly so angry with her. How dare she do this to me?

  I knew this was irrational. I knew I couldn’t feel this way…but I felt this way.

  “She hanged herself.” I heard the audible breath I exhaled, as the air whooshed out of my lungs while I tried to maintain my own emotional stability.

  Leila.

  Leila, my only friend when I came to camp alone and all kinds of messed up. Leila, who knew all of my truths and never judged me. Leila, who was the gateway to Jack.

  Leila.

  Why did you feel so alone as to make this choice?

  I suddenly switched focus. Leila was Jack’s friend long before she was mine. What was this tragedy doing to his psyche? Was this going to be a trigger for regression? Losing someone, especially by their own hand, was nearly impossible to handle for the most balanced; I couldn’t help the fear that rose to the surface. Had Jack come far enough that this would be hard but not impossible to reconcile? I thought he had, but I would never become so blindly optimistic as to lose realistic expectations and acceptance of him.

  This is the problem with loving someone. You immediately consider their wellbeing over yours. Here I was so busy freaking out about Jack and how he was feeling, hoping he wouldn’t go off the grid, that I was oblivious to my own pain.

  It wasn’t until Jack was wiping the tears off of my cheeks that I realized I was crying. Suddenly I understood that I wouldn’t be seeing Leila anymore. I wouldn’t hear her crazy laugh, see her various hair colors. I wouldn’t have her to call me out on things, awkwardly pointing things out that most people would be too polite to discuss.

  Lei.

  Probably the one reason I survived, myself.