“She’s right.” I smiled at him.
“I was trying to help her get her out from under all those people, not get a new pet.” His voice was grumpy but his eyes were soft. And then he made direct eye contact with me, which was bad news. He grinned and said, “Speaking of pets...” I groaned instantly, regretted bringing anything about Evelyn up. “She told me that you haven’t talked to Lucy in a while?”
“Oh really? I didn’t realize Lucy and Evelyn talked.” I tried to redirect.
“Well, genius, they must. Unless Evelyn is following Lucy around doing covert surveillance.” By the way he stared at me, I knew it wasn’t over. I sighed deeply and just told him.
“That night, after we came back from the hospital, she told me that she wanted to be with me, like intimately.” Isaiah’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead.
“She took off that stupid purity ring of hers and just handed it to me, like it was payment and time to do whatever she wanted.” I felt stupid as I said it.
“So wait, was she saying that she wanted to do it that second? Like, ‘you’re MINE, Davie boy!’”
“Umm.” I shrugged my shoulders, and tried to answer honestly: “I don’t know.”
“So, you didn’t want to be with her?” His voice was gleeful.
“You know that wasn’t the problem, jerk. Stop loving this so much.”
His face instantly took on a repentant look. It was so good it was fake.
“So what happened, David?”
I looked into his eyes, waiting for the reprimand, but it didn’t come. Lucy must not have told anyone what I had said to her. I knew that if Isaiah knew, he wouldn’t be joking around like this. He’d be ripping into me. Not because I’d said something that cruel, but because he knew that I wouldn’t mean something like that. Not to Lucy, anyways. I just shrugged.
“Okay, you don’t want to talk about it.” Isaiah shifted into a different position before he continued. “That’s cool, but since you’re here and I’m guessing you’re not going away, let's not talk about girls. Like, ever again.” I nodded in agreement. He reached for the controller to the brand new gaming system he’d gotten from his parents, who, no lie, left it in his room while he was sleeping. I joined in, happy to be doing something distracting.
* * *
Another two months went by. I spent my time learning to dress Isaiah’s burns (a useful skill for anyone to know) and playing video games to help him pass the evenings. The one thing I tried very hard not to do was think of Lucy. I hadn’t heard from her, which was one of those good-things/bad-things. I hated not hearing from her but I hated that about as much as the thought of talking to her again.
It was a nice change in our routine when Isaiah got to the point where he was ready for physical therapy. The doctor said it wouldn’t take long for him to train his leg muscles again, but it would be painful. Johnny and I spent one week taking him to the therapist every afternoon. That was, until Evelyn learned what we were doing. She took over completely.
She was like one of those crazy mother bears who smacked her baby cubs around but if someone else looked at them funny she would eat that person alive. The first day of her reign, I got to Isaiah’s house to pick him up and “Evil” was already there. She was helping him out of his bed, putting him in his wheelchair, and pushing him out to her car. She wheeled past me so quickly I didn’t even have a chance to blink. She was so little and fragile-looking that it amazed me how strong she was. When she had helped us move those big boxes in front of the blocked entrance at the barn I thought it must of been some kind of adrenaline rush or something.
But she was actually buff. I wouldn’t want to get into a fistfight with her. She was especially quick now, after getting out of the leg cast, which really hadn’t hindered her anyway. The girl was determined, I had to give her that. It really cracked me up when she wrapped her tiny arms around Isaiah, plopped him into the passenger’s seat of her car, and fold the wheelchair up like it was a little plastic folding chair. Isaiah’s face pleaded for help as he sat in the car, waiting for her to get in and drive off with him.
“Hey, can I come?” I asked, running to the car, and jumping in the back, not waiting for her to answer.
“Yeah, whatever," she said grumpily. Isaiah looked back at me a few times then looked at Evelyn, a mixture of shock and awe on his face. He looked like he was trying to figure out some kind of jigsaw puzzle. I knew how the guy felt; it wasn’t that long ago that I had been sitting in the passenger’s seat of a girl’s car, wondering what on earth she was doing with a guy like me. Evelyn was prettier than the average girl. She looked like she had some Portuguese in her and she spoke with a southern accent, definitely not from Montana.
Her eyes were round and popped from her heart-shaped face. She had olive-colored skin and black curly hair that hung just past her shoulders. It was really funny to me, though, that her beautiful face was usually scowling. If she was talking her green eyes were squinting like you were the stupidest person alive.
Isaiah’s physical therapy was on the same side of town where my father lived. It was an older part of Kalispell, about thirty miles away from were Lucy lived. Since I’d moved in with my grandma, over a year ago, I had no reason to come over this far. The streets all felt cold. Even being inside of a warm car, I could feel all of my lonely memories following us down the street, trying to catch up with me. I was the master of brushing things off and convincing myself that they weren’t a big deal, but being here and feeling those familiar emotions rushing back on me, it was hard to pretend.
Evelyn parked her car and jumped to go get the wheelchair out of the back. As soon as she was out, Isaiah spun around and started flapping his arms.
“Dude, get me out of here before she comes back. That girl is freaking me out.” I laughed and hopped out, cutting in front of her to help him stand up. He grabbed onto the side of the car with one hand and let me lift him carefully and place him into the waiting wheelchair. Evelyn looked thunderously at me. I thought about bumping her aside and pushing him all the way up to the office, but I figured I’d probably get a fat lip before she let that happen.
The physical therapist was nice and let both of us stay with Isaiah while he did his exercises. The first ten minutes they pushed down on his kneecap, stretching the top part of his calves. That looked painful, especially because the burns weren’t completely healed yet.
“Do you have to do that?” Evelyn snapped, after Isaiah had closed his eyes and dropped his head from the pain. The physical therapist looked up and smiled apologetically.
“I do. It's important to begin the process before his skin has completely healed to avoid too much scar tissue.” He slapped Isaiah’s back then picked him up so he was lying back on a mat. Next exercise the therapist would bend the leg back as far as it could go, until Isaiah said it was too much. There were tons of others, but no matter what Evelyn was by his side, ready to lend a hand if needed. At the end, the therapist told us to wait a few minutes as he printed out a set of at-home stretches.
Evelyn hurried to help Isaiah sit back down. He slapped at her hand.
“I can do it,” he growled.
“Sorry,” she said miserably, looking down at the ground as he wheeled away from us to the bathroom. She plopped into the chair next to me and put her face in her hands.
“Why does he hate me?” She said through her long fingers.
“He doesn’t hate you,” I answered, surprised at her openness.
“He acts like he hates me. He looks like he is going throw up every time I touch him.” She looked up at me with sad eyes. What is it with beautiful females and sad eyes?
“He probably does feel like he is going to throw up when you touch him.” I laughed but continued quickly when I saw her face drop even more. “He’s a grump and he’s just not used to you. Give him time, he will come around." To my amazement, I saw a big fat tear fall out of her left eye and slide down her cheek.
“He should hate me.”
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“Ah, Evelyn, the barn was his choice to make. He didn’t have to go running in after you. Don’t do that to yourself.” Although the tears were making me panicky, I was starting to like her even more. The more I got to know her, the less she was like anything I thought.
“What’s wrong with you guys? Y’all have like, superhero complexes or something? You gotta’ save everyone you see?” Her voice was laced with disgust. I started to laugh when she said that. Maybe it was true. I patted her back a little. Awkwardly.
“I guess we’re just suckers for pretty girls.” I shook my head, thinking about Lucy and that ridiculous black snow suit she had on that first day. Evelyn smiled at me for the first time ever and leaned back in her chair, finally looking a little bit comfortable.
“Why did you and Lucy break up?” The question wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should have been. If I wasn’t mistaken, her big eyes looked worried.
“It’s complicated.” Going over it for the thousandth time wasn’t appealing.
“I’m sorry, for what we did at the bowling alley. I told Lucy that.”
“That’s not why we broke up, but thanks.” I thought about it for a moment. I had the opportunity here in front of me and I couldn’t let it pass.
“Why did you do that?” I looked her straight in the eyes, something I never would have done before I met Lucy. She just shrugged, matter-of-factly.
“Jealous I guess.”
“Of what?”
“Lucy.” Evelyn laughed. “She is so…” she paused and bit her lip in thought. “Confident, like she doesn’t even think about how magnetic she is. Everyone just follows her around like stray puppies. That’s hard to deal with.” I nodded, understanding a little. Evelyn looked apologetic but kept going. “Rachel would never admit it but she has serious Lucy-envy.”
“I guessed that much for myself, actually.” My life had become a game of jealousy amongst beautiful teenage girls. How great.
“How is she?” I asked quietly.
“Lucy? She’s okay.” I could tell that there was an edgy note in Evelyn’s voice. “She is different, David.” She looked up at me and her usually harsh face was compassionate. “She is sad. She wouldn’t tell anyone that. She’s walking around like nothing has happened but she is definitely not the same. She’s trying to forget you, I think.”
I stopped for a moment to appreciate how observant Evelyn was. All those times I took her silence as judgment on everyone around her. I was beginning to realize she was always observing her surroundings and seeing them clearly for what they were.
I didn’t like hearing that Lucy was miserable, and I was sure Evelyn was right. As sad as I felt, that night in her bathroom checked me from getting too sorry for the situation. I was still angry with her and it was blocking me from feeling any real compassion. I knew I hadn’t lost my feelings for Lucy, but they were misplaced. I didn’t know what shelf to put them on.
“Thanks,” I said simply. Evelyn nodded.
Isaiah came rolling back. I was glad for the conversation to be over.
“What’s wrong with you?” Isaiah asked Evelyn, stopping in front of us, looking a little less affronted and a little more concerned. Evelyn turned her face so she was staring right at him. I saw all the muscles relax in horror. He knew something big was coming. She stood up and grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him right in front of her amazing face.
“You’re going to start being nice to me!” She released him, turned his chair around with a snap, and started pushing him back to her car without another word. Isaiah’s shoulders started shaking with laughter as she scurried away with him like they were in some kind of wheelchair race. He turned back and looked at me and I could tell that he was willing me to keep my mouth shut. Evelyn let me help him into the car, which was surprisingly harder after physical therapy than before. Isaiah was much stiffer and in much more pain. He’d probably sleep for hours once we got him home.
Evelyn started her car, looking less uncomfortable than before, but still as determined. She backed out of her parking space and headed towards the freeway, to Isaiah’s house. I watched the neighborhoods pass, street after street lined with tall trees that overhung the road, creating a green sunshiny tunnel of leaves. My father’s house was only three blocks away. Half of me wanted to get away from there as fast as possible. The other half was thinking of my grandma and Lucy, my two girls, the two most important girls I’d ever known. Them and forgiveness.
I made a decision in an instant.
“Evelyn,” I said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Could you turn down this street here?” I pointed to the sign that said Hudson. Isaiah turned around to look at me, his eyebrows raised.
“I have to talk to him,” I explained in a low voice.
“You going to be ok?” He asked, his shoulders swelling protectively.
“I think so.” I really had no idea what I was doing, just that I had to go see my dad. I didn’t know what I was going to say. But, if I didn’t do it, Dad would be my excuse for the rest of my life until it was too late. I would let my whole life go by, nothing every changing or getting better, because of what a coward I was. I had to face this head on.
Evelyn drove down my old street until I pointed to a little white house with a flat blue roof.
“Do you want us to wait?” Isaiah’s eyes were determined but I knew he was tired.
“I know the bus schedule by heart, man. I’ll just ride to your house afterwards.” I clapped his shoulders reassuringly, even though I didn’t feel sure about anything. Outside the car, I expected them to drive away but they waited, car idling. , I walked slowly up the cracked cement walkway to my father’s old, forgotten-looking house. Junk hunkered in different piles on the front porch; it smelled moldy and dirty. It was like any attempt at appearance had completely gone out the window after I’d left.
I stood at the door, remembering so many times I hadn’t wanted to walk though. All those times I’d had no choice; I’d wanted so badly just to be able to get away. Now I was voluntarily walking back into that prison. Feelings and memories rushed over me, but they didn’t really bother me. I knew where my home was and what kind of person I was, and none of it had to do with this cold house. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, not really expecting an answer. He was probably passed out on the couch.
But the door swung open as I knocked, like it hadn’t been shut the whole way the last time someone walked through it.
“Hello?” I called out, walking into the dusty house. Even though it was the middle of the day, it was dark in there, with lights off and the curtains pulled shut. In the kitchen I saw my father. Too much hair grew from the top of his head, like he’d forgotten what a haircut was. Usually clean-shaven, he now sported a beard that was worthy of an Oregon-state backwoods logger. The stained white t-shirt and old blue jeans he wore were too big for him, like he’d lost a ton of weight recently.
I stood in the doorway, looking at my father who was sitting at the dining room table surrounded by stacks of paper. He lifted his head slowly when he saw I was there. His face was gaunt and much more ancient-looking that I remembered it. He opened his wrinkled lips and spoke.
“Hey, David.”
21. A NEW FATHER
My father’s gaze was sad, but he looked unsurprised to see me standing in front of him. His eyes dropped down to the papers on the table like he had forgotten about the mess in front of him for a moment. He hurriedly scooped everything up, dropped them into folders then shoved it all into a portable filing cabinet that was on the ground next to him. Then he stood up.
“Would you like something to drink?” He headed over to the refrigerator. “I have juice, soda, tea.” He trailed off, waiting for my answer, one that I didn’t have for him. “I have hot tea. Water?” He looked at me from the corner of his eye, willing me to say something.
“I’m good.” I still stood at the entrance to the kitchen. His shoulders relaxed slightly u
ntil he made eye contact with me. Then he quickly looked down again and started walking around, probably wishing something would jump out to help him busy himself. I looked around the kitchen. Unlike the front porch, it was clean, but it was totally unorganized. There were papers scattered, food out that should have been in cabinets, and a few dishes in the sink. I had always been the one who cleaned up around the house. Looked like he had gotten used to living with an obsessive-compulsive neat freak and didn’t know what to do once I left.
The familiar damp smell of the house filled my nostrils. It wasn’t a dirty smell, just old. We both stood there, staring at each other for a minute. I had no idea what to say, but felt this burning desire to just stare at him in the dim light of the kitchen bulb. I think, for once, I felt power over this man. He was sober and he was out of his element. I couldn’t help but bask in this a little, seeing my father squirm around not knowing what to say or do.
“You look good.” He still stood in the middle of the kitchen, his hand on the refrigerator handle like it was his safety net. If I wasn’t mistaken, he almost looked like he was afraid of me, which was absurd. He was around the same height as me, six feet, but he had beat me out in girth.
I flattened my hair down in front of my eyes when he complimented me. His face contorted into dismal sorrow when he saw my nervous twitch. “Sit down, David.” He walked slowly over to his own chair where he had been sitting when I came in. I nodded and sat on the other side of the table, facing him. A part of me enjoyed how uncomfortable he seemed. I couldn’t help but take some pleasure in this tiny bit of payback.
“I read about the fire at the prom. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“How did you even know I was there? I go to school in Whitefish.” I probably sounded more suspicious than I should have.
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