Breaking Everly

by Jessop, K. L

  Only now, after having the conversation with her dad, something is telling me that their pain had more hidden secrets behind them than what they were telling me.

  “You're probably sick of hearing this but how are you bearing up?”

  She makes herself busy in the kitchen, preparing tea for us both. “Okay, considering. It's strange, but knowing your husband is terminal with a disease that can’t be fixed, it gives you more time to digest the fact you're going to lose him. I just didn’t think I’d lose him so quickly.”

  “I was shocked it was so soon, too.”

  “I saw him deteriorating before the doctors even knew the cancer was terminal and my gut feeling back then was that it wasn’t going to be the outcome we were all expecting.” She places a tray of china cups and a pot of tea on the table before sitting. I take over the role and pour us both a cup as she sits in silence for a moment.

  She gives a flat smile. “Robert and I had a wonderful life and we achieved all the dreams we wanted to fulfil. It was hard at first to accept his decision to stop the treatment, but it’s what he wanted. He didn’t want the time he had left to be in hospital, and I didn’t either. The time we shared at home was as beautiful and as peaceful as it could have been, regardless of how short that may have been.”

  How is she remaining so strong through all of this?

  “You’re a remarkable woman, Mrs B. Mr Braithwaite was a lucky man.”

  “I think I was the lucky one. He made my heart burst every day. He was a true gentleman.”

  “He sure was. I’m glad I got the chance to see him before I left.”

  “Robert always thought very highly of you, Adam. As do I. There was no doubt he would not have gone without seeing you first. You were the first person on his list. I’m glad you both got the chance to talk.”

  “Me too.”

  She smiles softly before her eyes drift to something that’s just caught her attention in the living room. My heart stops and my breath catches at the knowledge of who is standing a few feet away from me. I can sense Everly is there before I turn to look at her. I can feel her presence. Not being able to hold back any longer, I turn my head in her direction, now able to get a closer look of her. The surprise and shock I feel from seeing the figure standing before me has my heart aching. Her hair is much longer now, a soft wave of honey blond that falls over her shoulders. Her thin frame is swallowed up in oversized clothes that don’t show any of the curves I know are under there, the skin that’s exposed on her hands, neck and face is incredibly pale, where it always used to be golden from where the sun had hit it. But it’s her eyes that catch my breath and not in the way they used to. They once sparkled and glowed so strongly that they filled my heart with so much warmth. I used to love the way her eyes would keep me captive and safe. Now they look empty, pained and withdrawn. In one way, it’s what I would expect to see as she’s in mourning, but it unnerves me and I can’t figure out why. Something doesn’t sit right.

  “Everly.”

  “Come in, darling. It’s okay.” Mrs B says as if her daughter is scared to see me. Maybe she is and maybe she has every right to be. There are a lot of things I need to say to her, and I believe she knows this. As she enters the kitchen, Everly goes to stand beside her mum, who is still sitting down, as though she needs protecting. Her head is down, the sleeves of her hoodie now cover her hands as she picks at her nails underneath the fabric. But what irritates me more is that she doesn’t look at me. “Adam has come around to see us. Isn’t that nice of him?”

  An awkward silence falls between the three of us and as if Mrs B can’t take the tension that’s bouncing between us, she makes her excuses to leave. I find myself wanting to leave right along with her but somehow stay glued to the chair because I don’t want to give Everly the satisfaction that it’s bothering me. She can’t run from me forever, not while she’s in town.

  “I'll leave you two to it. Thank you, Adam. I appreciate your visit.” Coming over to give me a hug, she whispers unexpectedly in my ear. “She’s not a strong as you remember. Be gentle with her.”

  The silence is now more deadly than it was a moment ago, the dripping of the kitchen tap now penetrating the space between us as she still picks at her nails. What changed? What did I do that was so wrong that she’s clearly feeling anxious about being around me?

  “When did you get back?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.

  “Sometime last week.” I can’t help but close my eyes at hearing the sound of her voice. I’ve heard her sweet voice in my recurring thoughts all this time, but nothing compares to hearing it in real life. It’s a murmur but at least it’s something. “I thought you…”

  “What?”

  She dips her head lower, still not bringing herself to look at me. “I didn’t think you would be here. Dad said you were away.”

  “So, you came back hoping to not see me.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispers.

  “I was away. I got back yesterday. I just came to pay my respects to you and your mum.”

  She nods but doesn’t say a word in response, all the while my frustrations with the way she is behaving is bubbling in my chest. I didn’t expect a happy reunion with hugs and laughter where we’d catch up on the decade since she slipped through my fingers, nor did I expect her to be overjoyed with visitors asking how she’s doing because I know for a fact, she won’t be doing great because she’s lost her dad. But Jesus Christ, I expected more than this. Something. Anything.

  It makes me want to shake the hell out of her even more and yell at her, then in the next breath, I want to take her in my arms, stroke her hair away from her beautiful face and tell her that nothing matters because deep down, deep, deep down my feelings have never changed. I’m confused as shit because I don’t know how I should feel or what is the right thing to do. All I know is this works both ways and she should be giving me something, too. “How are you doing with everything since your dad?”

  “Fine.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I’m fine.”

  That’s all it takes. “For fuck sake, Everly. Do you really hate me that much?”

  “No.”

  “Then why can’t you look at me?”

  Closing her eyes for a second, she swallows before turning her head slowly to finally look at me. “I'm sorry, Adam,” she says with tears in her eyes. She speaks the words I've wanted to hear all these years, but now I'm unsure what she's apologising for and if it truly means anything.

  “For what? The way you left. The way you ripped my heart out. They way you've not been in touch all these years or because you're finding it hard to look at me because you know you’ve done wrong and it’s the guilt that’s eating away at you?”

  “Whichever one fits best,” she says, quietly, looking back to the floor.

  My blood is hot-red with an anger I’ve not felt before, but I keep my cool because I’m not about to lose my shit in the house of the mourning. I do however make my feeling clear. “Seriously? That's it? You broke my heart and left like you did and all I get is an apology for whichever it fits best?”

  She snaps her head in my direction. “I don't know what you want me to say!”

  She is fighting hard not to lose it, too. I can tell. She always had the streak in her where she’d stay calm for so long then like a click of a button would crack.

  “I'm still waiting for an explanation as to why you went, but I guess that's not happening anytime soon.”

  “Like I said, I'm sorry.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “Wow. You've changed, Everly. You're clearly not the girl I remember.”

  “It may have slipped your mind, Adam but I've just watched my father die! Forgive me for not throwing a party for my arrival or giving you all the fucking answers you're wanting to hear!” she barks. Our eyes lock as her body trembles with falling tears.

  S
hit.

  My questions and frustration could have waited. Now is not the time because no matter how much I need to hear her reasons, I can't ask them now. She needs to grieve. Not knowing what else to say or do, I stand from my seat ready to leave. She needs time. We both need time. As I leave the kitchen, I take one last look at her. “Tell your mum I said goodbye.” With that, I head out of the house.

  My heart is still pounding from seeing her again, and it’s shifted something inside of me that's been laid dormant for years. My chest is tight with anger because if it hadn't have been for the death of her father, I know she would never have come back. But what hurts more than ever is when I catch a glimpse of her through the conservatory window and I see her crumble. Then, as if it were yesterday, the words of her father play in my mind.

  All is not what it seems with my daughter, Adam. She is hurting.

  And as I watch Mrs B console her daughter, who is now cradled in her mother's arms as she lets out deep uncontrollable sobs, a thick lump forms in the back of my throat.

  I watch Everly fall apart.

  Is that because of me? I'm unsure, but what I do know is this: she’s not just hurting—she is clearly broken and despite everything she’s done to me, it fucking hurts to see her this way.

  13

  Everly

  After Adam had left that day, I don’t know how long I’d cried into Mums’ arms. I just know it was years’ worth of tears that left my body. The moment I heard his voice downstairs, my body had tingled, the hairs on the back of my neck had risen, and before I’d known it, my feet had carried me down the stairs towards him as if they’d had a mind of their own. I’d been willing myself to stop moving because I’d known what I was about to face and with each step I’d taken, my heart had pounded twice as fast.

  The presence of him had had my mind in spirals. His proximity had had my body burning with so many feelings that I’d not felt in years, and I physically and emotionally hadn’t been able to comprehend any of them.

  I’ve consumed nothing other than pain and fear for years, and in that moment, despite his anger towards me, I’d wanted nothing more than to be held by him. That scares me all the same because I know it will never happen. How could it? I ripped his heart out and stamped on it without any explanation and left him with only a note of apology and my engagement ring. How can it ever be like it was before?

  He hates me, I can see it in his eyes, and I completely understand why because I despise myself. No one will ever know how much I regret what I’ve done to him and no one will ever know how much I truly miss him.

  I rise from my bed to the sound of female voices downstairs, and I already know it’s the women from church. Mum said they were coming around to help her with Dad’s funeral preparations, and as much as I don’t want to go down there, I have to. I take a quick shower and twist my hair up in a messy bun before putting on my baggy harem trousers and an oversized t-shirt, not bothering to look in the mirror. I can’t remember the last time I did.

  Heading downstairs, anxiety churns in my stomach at the thought of having to enter a room full of people and not knowing what to say. Why hadn’t anyone woken me? Anita of all people knows I hate things like this.

  “Everly, darling. You’re awake.” Mum smiles as I pop my head around the living room door. The room is filled with around nine older women who are now looking at me as I smile politely. Taking each one of them in, it occurs to me that I have no idea who any of these people are, and I feel sad for my mum and the life I never new she had. I knew she went to church, her and Dad always did, but after telling them what had happened to me, Dad mentioned she went more as a way of coping. Now, as I look around the room, it’s made me realise just how much I don’t know about Mum’s life back here in Keswick. I never knew she had so many church friends. Is this because of me? Have I torn myself away not only from the life I had here before but from the life I had with my parents? Did I not ask about their lives as much as I thought I had? Have they kept things from me because I’m on the brink of breaking daily? Am I that much of a mess?

  “Hey, Mum. Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

  “Nonsense dear. I would ask how you slept, but as you’ve not stirred in nearly nineteen hours, I would say great.”

  Nineteen hours?

  I draw my brows together. “I’ve slept that long?”

  She hugs me tight and whispers. “Sweetheart, you were exhausted. You’ve had a lot on your mind. Do you want me to make you something to eat?”

  “No, thank you. I’m not really that hungry. I’ll get something though.”

  Mum introduces me to the ladies in the room along with Reverend Mark before I head into the conservatory to see Anita, grabbing an apple and a banana on the way through.

  “Well it’s about bloody time sleeping beauty woke. Do you realise how draining it is listening to my own voice for hours on end because I’ve got no one else to talk to?”

  I smile, watching her thread a silver bead onto the wire necklace. “Sorry. I didn’t know I was out that long. I’ve not slept like that in forever.”

  “Yes, and as much as I want to punch him in the gut for making you cry, I can’t help but think it has something to do with seeing a certain Mr Knight.”

  “He didn’t make me cry, Nita. It just all got too much. I was exhausted. I knew he would be angry. He has every right to be angry.”

  “Even so, you’ve just lost your dad. He could have gone a little easier on you in my opinion.”

  “Maybe.” Only I’ve got a feeling that he hasn’t finished with me yet. I could tell that the reaction I had from Adam was just him scratching the surface of how he truly feels. He’d always had respect for people and showed it in the way he treated them, and I know no matter how much he might have wanted to, he wouldn’t have lost his temper while my mum was in the house. “How’s the workload going?” I ask her, taking a bite of my apple.

  “Great. I’ve finished ten orders this morning and posted them out. Now I’m starting my next batch of twin sets. These rose colour beads are just flying out the door.”

  “That’s amazing. You said they would.”

  I look back at my mum in the living room and hate the fact I need to be in there but don’t want to be. We’ve talked about what we want at Dad’s funeral because he arranged it all before he died so she’s no doubt putting all of that into practise, but I still feel I’m letting her down. “I should be in there shouldn’t I?” I ask Anita on a whispered sigh.

  “Only if you want to be. No one is forcing you.”

  “How has she been? I feel like I’ve abandoned her.”

  “Honestly, Everly, she’s been incredible. Your mum is one strong cookie, and please don’t feel guilty in anyway because I can tell by the look on your face that you are. She gets that this isn’t easy for you.”

  “She’s lost her husband, Nita, the love of her life. It’s not easy for her either.”

  “And I totally get that, but she’s not the one that’s come back to a place that’s full of dark memories.”

  “I’m trying to be brave, I really am, but it’s hard.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look and I curse inwardly. Even after all this time, Jamie still has a hold over me and even she knows it.

  “Come on,” she says, placing her tools down and standing. “I need a break from this as my eyes are sore. Let’s go in there and see what’s happening.”

  “You don’t have to come with me.”

  “I know. But I want to. Besides, it will make it easier for you having someone you know other than your mum.”

  I smile flatly. “Thank you. You know me too well.”

  “Come on. You’ve got this.”

  I spend ages sitting in the living room with Mum and her friends, introducing myself to everyone and accepting their condolences. The plans for Dad go well and everything is how he would have expected it to be. He’s organised his day so well; he even left mum a note telling her what time we have to
get up. That made me laugh. He was always so organised. Then the pain of him not being here hits hard and I slowly withdraw myself from conversations.

  As I go to make my excuses to leave, Reverend Mark turns in my direction.

  “Everly, your father has asked for you to do a eulogy, but only if you’re up to it. How do you feel about that? Do you want to do it?”

  My stomach drops with his question and my limbs become numb. Everyone in the room is looking at me now, even Anita, and my chest burns with the words I want to say but can’t seem to speak.

  No, I don’t.

  I can’t, because not only will I be too broken to speak the words, everyone will be watching me, judging me, and Adam—Adam will be there doing the exact same thing.

  But I feel sick at the thought of letting Dad down if I don’t do it. I look at Mum and my heart aches at the hope that’s in her eyes: she wants me to do it, too.

  But I can’t.

  As I shake my head at her, she smiles softly with a nod telling Reverend Mark that it won’t be necessary for me to do it and I just slip back into the background.

  I can’t be here any longer.

  I can’t sit and make plans knowing that it won’t change a thing. He’s gone, he’s never coming back.

  “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Shall I come with you?” Anita asks.

  “No. I want to be on my own. I’ll be ok.”

  * * *

  The warmth of the sun glows against my face as I look up at the sky, the fresh air and the birds calming my inner sorrow as I sit on the wooden picnic bench down by the lake. The surroundings at this part of the lake are new to me, like the café with benches outside, and I’ve never before seen the man who stands watching me, leaning against the brick wall with a walking stick in one hand and a pipe in the other. He should unnerve me given the fact he’s watching me, but he doesn’t. There’s something about him that seems to make the place feel even more tranquil than they already are, if that’s at all possible. Once I’d left home, I’d just walked. I’d had no intention of going anywhere in particular but I’ve ended up here: Derwentwater Lake.