by Beth Michele
“Evie,” I whisper, hoping she can hear me as I rush to her side.
“Go away.” Her voice is strained from tears and a razor-like pain lances my gut. I’m slowly being torn apart, one piece at a time.
Since the day I met Evie, she’s never been helpless. Only a capable, confident girl who knew how to take care of herself. But the devastating vision before me is someone else. A wounded animal. A beaten down spirit. And I can’t bear to see her this way.
“Let me help you.” I extend my hand, reaching out for her arm but she wrenches it away as if I’ve burned her. She’s never pulled away from me before. A crushing realization sets in, and like a detonating bomb, it nearly annihilates me.
“Go away!” She practically screams it this time but her stubbornness can take a fucking hike because I won’t listen. Not now.
“I’m not leaving you here like this. I won’t.” I’m about to lift her when a woman’s voice breaks through the madness.
“Hello?”
“We’re in here!” I bark, anger coiling around my neck as I wait for her to appear. I swear I’ll kill her with my bare hands. “Where the fuck have you been?” I spit out, and Evie mutters something that I ignore, “While my girlfriend was here by herself on the God damn bathroom floor? Can you help her please? Now!” Her eyes widen in fear like a scared little mouse. She should be scared. I’m calling the agency she works for to make sure this doesn’t fucking happen again.
It takes everything I have to back out of the bathroom and let the nurse do her job. My head is pounding, fingers digging into my palms as I attempt to gain some semblance of self-control. But it’s nowhere to be found.
Staggering out the front door, I make my way to the side of the house where my legs buckle and I fall to the grass. Splinters of pain shoot down the center of my chest and I wonder if I’m having a heart attack. Trying to summon a breath is almost impossible. All the energy is slowly draining from my body. My entire life is on that bathroom floor and her spirit is dying—and I’m dying right along with her.
The sun beats down on this corner of the house and it isn’t helping. Sweat collects under my shirt and behind my neck. I’m suffocated by pain and emotion and I need an outlet. A drink. No. I won’t be a repeat of my father.
With a wobbly hand, I draw my cell from my back pocket and slide the screen. I dial Braden’s number, and thankfully he answers.
“Yo, Big D, what’s up?”
“Listen, I need a favor,” I tell him, attempting to keep my voice steady but doing a crap job of it.
“What the fuck is wrong? You sound off. Hang on.” He snaps at someone in the background before coming back on the line. “Okay, I’m here. What’s going on?”
“I need you to come get me. I’m at Evie’s house.”
“Done. Be there in ten.” The line goes dead and I let my head fall back against the shingles.
A few minutes later, Braden screams up in his 1976 black Firebird. He spots me immediately, his voice bellowing out the open window. “Hey, man, your ride awaits,” he announces, reversing the California Angels baseball hat on his head.
“No shower today?” I ask, sliding onto the overheated black leather seat.
“Fuck you, I just felt like wearing my lucky hat today.” He gives me the once over. “You still look like shit. You going to enlighten me?”
“Yeah.” I glance back at Evie’s front door. “Let’s get out of here first.”
We end up at a small dive bar across town, apparently owned by one of Braden’s old friends. Surprisingly, one that I actually don’t know. It’s a small place, only a counter bar and a couple of tables. Pretty much a shithole, but fitting for my current state of mind.
Braden snags a table and the waitress brings over two sodas. I take a sip of mine as he eyes me over the rim of his glass. “So talk.”
“I went to Evie’s today. The nurse hadn’t shown up yet and she was alone. I found her laid out on the bathroom floor, half-naked and sobbing.” I gulp down another large swig of my drink, hoping to erase it from my memory. “It was the worst fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” A tear escapes down my cheek and I bat it away. “It broke my heart in two.” My whole body stiffens and I close my eyes. “I don’t know why she didn’t call me. It hurts that she didn’t feel she could.”
“Christ, man, I’m sorry.” He sets his drink on the table, twirling it in thought. “You know, I can’t even imagine what she’s going through right now. She’s handled things on her own for so long, and now this. Plus,” he adds, “think about what it must be like for her to have you see her this way. That’s probably why she didn’t call you.”
“Yeah.” I polish off the rest of my soda and slam it down on the table. “This just fucking sucks. I don’t know what to say or how to act around her. It’s so strained between us.” I stare at the empty glass, seeing nothing but my own pain. “Just when I thought we’d found each other, it all gets ripped away.”
“Just… give her time, man. Be there for her when she’s ready. When the dust settles, she’ll come around. Red loves you, you lucky bastard.” He nods his chin toward the door. “If it’ll make you feel any better, we can go outside and spar a few rounds. Maybe I’ll even let you get in a punch or two.”
“Real funny.”
He flips me a smug grin. “I thought it was.”
We shoot the shit for another hour or so. Most of that time Braden makes a noble yet unsuccessful attempt to take my mind off of Evie. As we’re walking outside, I shove his shoulder. Being the rock that he is, he barely moves.
“Thanks for always having my back.”
“Hey,” he’s about to slide his sunglasses over his eyes but pauses, “I didn’t do shit except listen to your sorry ass.” He winks and then drops them down. “But you’re welcome. I wish I could fix this for ya, you know?”
Maybe Braden’s right. Maybe time is all we need.
I’M SITTING BY the window, gazing out at the sun. Glints of yellow bounce off the trees and I want to reach out and touch their warmth. I want to feel it hitting my face and back as I work my legs to a burn, until my breathing is rapid and I collapse from exhaustion. Most of all, though, I want to find Dylan. I want to run into his arms and beg him to never let me go. But he doesn’t deserve me. Not this me. Not like this.
“Do you want to tell me what happened this morning?” Zoey grills me for the third time because I’m still refusing to answer. “Dylan laid into me on the phone, practically tore my head off. And from what the nurse told me, he gave her an earful, too.”
“Don’t blame him.” I look over at his house and wonder if he’s okay. “He was upset.”
She steps in front of the window blocking my view so I have no choice but to look at her. “Why didn’t you call for help? You could’ve hurt yourself.”
My heart pinches in my chest. I know who I hurt this morning, and it wasn’t me.
“I was trying to figure things out on my own,” I confess, finally meeting her brown eyes shadowed by heavy dark circles.
“Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She fiddles with the nametag on her uniform then glares at me. “Huh?”
More silence.
“Right.” Her hands go to her hips and an exasperated sigh falls between us. “You don’t want to talk about it, I know. So tell me, Evie, what can we talk about now? What’s okay to talk about, and what’s off limits? Maybe you need to make me a list.”
“Yoohoo!” Nora’s cheerful voice slices through the tension in the room. “I’m here. The party can start.”
“Perfect.” Zoey pushes off the windowsill and makes a sweeping motion with her hands. “Maybe you can get her to talk. I’m outta here.” A flurry of upset fills the air as she brushes past me. Nora’s eyes follow her out the door then return to me.
“I’m not even going to ask what that was about.” She drops her purse along with a box on the carpet and plops down in the recliner. “Seeing as you’ve kept me at arm’s length, I was ge
tting ready to storm the castle.” Leave it to Nora to make me smile through my misery.
“I might‘ve liked to have seen that.” My gaze strays to the package on the floor. “What’s in the box?”
She stretches her legs out, knotting her hands behind her head. “A lifetime supply of Tic-Tacs and a bunch of Johnny Depp movies.”
“Just what I was wishing for.”
“Evie?”
My pulse quickens at the sound of Dylan’s voice. Then even more so when he walks into the living room with a dimpled smile on his face. But the curve of his mouth does nothing to hide the corners of his eyes, lined in red. He looks so tired and the lump in my throat grows, making it difficult to swallow.
“You ready to go to physical therapy?” He spies Nora in the chair. “Oh. Hey, Nora.”
The word yes is on the tip of my tongue, but the lump tightens and I say the wrong thing. It’s becoming a habit and I can’t seem to stop myself. “Actually, I-I haven’t seen Nora and she wants to take me.” I glance over at Nora, my eyes pleading with her to cover for me.
Dylan’s smile dissolves and he nods his head in acknowledgement. “Okay,” he submits, and in that one word I hear a world of disappointment. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me. “All right, then… hope it goes well.” Tipping his chin toward Nora, he adds, “Thanks for taking her. I guess I’ll talk to you later, Evie.”
The heat of Nora’s stare burns my cheek as I wheel my chair near the door. “Dylan, wait.” When he spins around there’s a faint glimmer of what looks like hope in his eyes. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, about this morning.” I draw my lip between my teeth to give me time to plot out my thoughts. “I’m-I’m trying to work all this out, you know?”
He moves closer, the warmth of his body cocooning me. “I know you are.” The brown in his eyes deepens. “And I’ll be here when you’ve worked it all out.” I shiver when his lips brush the corner of my mouth. “I love you,” he whispers, and my eyes flutter closed as I breathe in the clean scent of him, wanting nothing more than to grab onto his shirt and bury myself in the safety of his arms.
I only open my eyes again when he’s out the door. Nora pivots my chair around. Her lips form a thin line, gaze flaring with anger.
“Oh no you don’t. I will not be a part of your web of deceit. What’s wrong with you anyway?” She takes a deep breath, then starts again. “Listen, I’m your friend and I love you, but I’m not in love with you, so you aren’t going to get the kid gloves from me. You’re going to get the truth. And the truth is, right now, your legs aren’t functioning and I get it, it sucks. But you’re here, you’re alive, when some of us were beginning to think you wouldn’t be. So wake up to that and look around you.”
She wheels me over to the sofa then sits on the edge of it. “Dylan loves you. He wants to take care of you. That’s what you do for the people you love. Why won’t you let him do that?”
I want to run as far away from this conversation as I can. Knowing in my heart that what I want and what has to be are two totally different things. But I’m stuck. In this chair. In my head.
“It’s not that simple.”
Nora is so tuned into me, it’s ridiculous, and her next words prove it. “Yes, it is. Get out of your head. Stop overthinking it.”
I toy with the ends of my hair, needing something to do. “You don’t understand.”
She folds her hands together in her lap, leering at me. “So, enlighten me.”
“I can’t be what he needs now.”
With a tilt of her head, she studies me. “That’s a bullshit answer. Why not?”
I shrug, already giving up on this conversation. “I just can’t.”
“I just can’t. That’s all you’ve got? Sorry, but the psychologist in me sees a ten-year-old answering my question, not a grown woman.” Her green gaze narrows on a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re going to decide what Dylan needs now? You’re not going to let him make his own decisions? Because I’m pretty sure he’s a big boy. I think he can decide that for himself.”
“I’m pretty sure this discussion is over.”
“And I’m pretty sure you aren’t telling me the whole truth.” She waves her purple hair at me with a confident gleam. “But lucky for you, I’m patient, and I have my ways. Remember, this is my calling.”
I have to wonder what mine is now.
“IT WAS NICE to meet you, Trey,” Nora flirts, sweeping her ponytail over her shoulder. When he’s out of range, she whispers, “Since when are physical therapists so hot? I despise him already and I’d like to have sex with him.” She laughs, struggling to tear her gaze away as we exit the building. The wind loosens a few purple strands from her ponytail and she reaches around to tie them back again.
“Zoey felt the same way, maybe the two of you can tag team him.”
“Zoey?” she scoffs. “Zoey who? He only has eyes for me. I caught him checking out my hair.” She clicks the key fob twice to unlock the car. “Come on, we’re going to Java for a hot chocolate.”
“I just want to go home,” I whine, as I maneuver my body onto the front seat, swatting Nora’s arms away when she tries to help.
“You’re getting stronger. That’s good,” she says, slamming the door and stowing the wheelchair before rounding to the driver’s side. “But I’m not taking you home. I ran into one of your friends from the salon this morning. She said you’ve been dodging all their calls. All you’ve been doing is sitting in that house and getting more depressed. I won’t have it.”
“Who says I’m depressed?” I stare out the window as she cranks the engine. The counselor said that too, but what does she know.
“You’re kind of at a disadvantage having a future psychologist for a close friend,” she tells me, pressing the button to roll down her window. “I know what you’re thinking before you even verbalize it.”
“That’s called psychic, not psychologist,” I inform her, as we inch up to the traffic light. Nora flips on the radio and starts bobbing her head to the music. My own head stays plastered against the window as I randomly scan people walking by. To my surprise, I see someone way too familiar. My skin prickles and I sit up straighter to get a better look.
Dylan is walking out of a nearby cafe with a girl I don’t recognize. Dylan—who barely ever dresses up—is wearing dark slacks and a pressed white shirt. My eyes well up and my stomach hardens as I take in the wavy, blonde tresses, big boobs and long legs emphasized by a fitted, red dress. But it’s not her breasts that make the hair at the base of my neck stand up. I’ve got great breasts. It’s the fact that she can use those legs. She can walk down the street with him, hand-in-hand, chase him in the park, wrap her legs around him anytime she wants—things I can no longer do.
I dig my nails into the skin above my knee, searching for the same pain that’s squeezing my ribs—trying to feel something. But it’s not enough. Tears drown my skin and my breathing falters.
“Evie, what’s wrong?” The light turns green but Nora steers the car to a nearby parking lot. The same one where Dylan is standing with the blonde beside his truck. I point a finger in their direction and Nora removes her sunglasses, squinting out the window.
And then she laughs.
I sniffle, then rub my nose with my hand. “What’s so funny?”
“Evie. You don’t know who that is?” Another gurgle of laughter and now I’m ready to explode.
“Nora, you better hurry up and tell me before I shake the answer out of you.”
“That’s Braden’s sister, Lindsay, you goof.”
“Really?” I take another peek out the window. “She looks different than the last time I saw her.”
“Well, she’s all grown up now.” She gently pats my hand then grabs some tissues from the center console. “Give Dylan a little credit, will you? Plus, I remember Jordy saying something about today being the day they were going to sign the contracts for the diner.”
&
nbsp; I’m such an idiot. I completely forgot that was happening. This is a big day for Dylan. The day he finally has his freedom.
And I won’t be the one to enslave him again.
FOUR WEEKS. TWENTY-EIGHT days. Six hundred and seventy-two hours.
That’s how long it’s been. That’s how long I’ve had to watch Evie, sitting in front of that fucking window, staring. It’s like my mother all over again.
I’m on the verge of a breakdown. She never wants to do anything or go anywhere. It’s always the same. We talk a little, maybe watch a movie, then she tells me she’s tired and that’s my cue to leave.
I have yet to take her to her therapy sessions. It’s either Zoey, Nora, or the nurse that bring her, and it’s killing me. This whole thing is killing me. And it’s a slow death.
I glance out my bedroom window and shake my head. There she is, like clockwork. Her reflection behind the glass, taunting me. Realization dawns that maybe this is some sort of test and I’m failing miserably.
Something erupts inside my chest, much like a volcano, and I’m on the brink of exploding. I grind my feet into the carpet as my eyes are drawn to picture after picture of me and Evie. With renewed purpose, I bound down the stairs and out the door, ignoring Gran’s voice as she calls after me.
Determined, I cross the street. The same street where the accident happened. But it’s done now. Over. And life has to go on. But she’s not living, and I can’t stand seeing her like this for one more day.
I ball my hand into a fist and bang firmly on the door. She already knows it’s me because she can see me from that damn window. My heart is beating erratically, adrenaline pumping, and when the door opens, I steamroll right past her and into the living room.
“Hey. What’s going on? Something wrong?”
Hands on my hips, I inhale a blast of air for courage. “Yes, Evie. Something’s wrong. I miss my best friend. That’s what’s wrong. What’s happening to us? Every day you push me away a little bit more and I don’t understand why.”
I jab a finger against my chest. “I’m the one you can talk to about anything. I’m the one you laugh with. I’m the one who sat by your bedside day in and day out, holding your hand, praying that you’d open your eyes.” The pitch of my voice rises several octaves and she shrinks back in her chair. “I’m the one who fucking loves you.”