by Elle Tyler
“Do you live in Lasdon?” she asked, regarding the school’s housing where most students chose to live during the latter years of school.
“No, I stayed at home,” I answered, leaving out the part about father needing an adult babysitter.
“Where do you live—Trump Tower?” She rolled her eyes with laughter.
I shook my head. “My father did well but not Al Pacino well. No. We have a two-story a few blocks from here.”
“Rich boy,” she ribbed. “I wish I were that lucky.”
I stuck the coffee stirrer in the corner of my mouth. “If it makes you feel better, it pisses off my stepmother.”
“I’ve got one of those, too.” She laughed.
I would have kept talking, but her story had already been told. We were both runaways.
“So...,” she asked as we walked to the train, “what do you think Everly has, if not an eating disorder?”
“I don’t really want to talk about her.” Head down. Hands in pockets. All business. I knew I was being rude, but I just couldn’t help myself.
“Is it true—what Logan said? Do you like her?”
I glanced to Cecily. “Why does it matter?”
“Because... I like you?” She smiled, and when she did, there wasn’t any shyness, just hope that I’d return the same feeling.
I faced forward. “I’m just trying to focus on school, Cecily.”
“I know, but it gets so arduous. Don’t you ever want to just break free? Have a little fun?”
And I’ve seen girls with those fun-seeking eyes—Amelia “Sweetkisses” Vanguard had those eyes—and they led only to a bed full of stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I have a bit more to prove than others,” I half-lied. “So I don’t have time for fun. Walking you to the Metro is already putting me forty minutes behind everyone else on our assignments.” And that effectively ended all conversation.
Not that I needed to cut her off completely: I could have asked friendly questions or talked to her about myself and humdrum things such as the music I liked, but that was normalcy, and I had an abnormal heart, the kind that stretched like a rubber band and weakened with every tug I allowed someone to have.
There was only that little bit of give left, and I clung to it like a kid with a kite.
So my thoughts stayed in my head, my questions in my mouth, and my eyes on the road ahead.
I would not wonder about Cecily the Cute Italian Girl.
HER WARMTH
ON MY ARM
6.
AS I SIPPED COFFEE, I tried not to wonder why Everly Anne would choose to sleep on a couch in my sister’s café, rather than her own bed. I was in the middle of a group study session, and every time I looked up, I felt as if I were putting my secret on display. I knew better than to watch her overtly in front of Logan, but my eyes couldn’t deny the desire to spy. It didn’t help that there were two men sitting across from her with their mouths full of opinions about Everly’s gray knee socks and, “What unconscious bitches don’t know won’t hurt them.”
I robotically called out my answers as Cecily went around the table with quiz questions, not listening for the right answer, not giving a wild fuck about passing, as one of the men laughed with his friend and then stood, taking three steps to close the gap between the two sofas. His arm went on the back of the couch as he hovered over her, and it might as well have been his hand on her face. Whatever he whispered to her made his friend laugh, and then his hand lowered to her calf, his finger on the back of her knee socks as he trailed up to her knee.
I pushed away from the table so hastily, I knocked my hand into Cecily’s coffee, spilling it all over. She cursed as I stepped toward the couch, but her voice was faint as I reached the man.
“Get away from her.”
He turned, the grin still sewed on his face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll get your turn in a second.”
I shoved him hard. “The fuck did you say?” I shoved him again. “Oh, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to touch someone. Touch me, motherfucker. Put your hands on me, not some innocent girl, and then see what the hell happens.”
Noelle had her hands on my chest before he could react. “What are you doing, Cal?”
“That man assaulted me!” he screamed. “I wanna press charges.”
“Get out of my café!” she yelled at him. “Leave right now!”
I pushed her hand away. “Why would you let her sleep here? How incredibly stupid are you?”
“Let who...?” And then she turned to see Everly sitting up, fully awake. “Oh.”
“Oh.” I turned my attention back to the man and his loser friend. “There are ten people sitting at my table who have cut into enough human bodies and passed enough chemistry labs to know how to make shit look like an accident. I better not see either of you two assholes within ten blocks of here ever again.”
Once the room calmed, I sat beside Everly, fully aware of my classmates’ eyes on us.
“Do I even want to know?” she asked.
I was still too riled up. “Why the hell are you sleeping here? Who the fuck naps in the middle of a café?”
“My friend is in surgery.”
“So sleep at home, where it’s safe, Everly Anne!”
“Why are you so angry?”
“Because that...” Too many eyes were on us. I breathed.
“I’ll just go,” she said, and then quickly corrected herself. “I’ll go.”
“No.” I reached out for her arm, but she slid away. “I’ll walk you home, if you’re leaving.”
“Group’s waiting for you.”
“And I’m sure there are two men outside who’d love to run into you right now, Everly Anne.”
I stared at her, attempting to find a cure for my anger in the softness of her eyes, but Cecily drove a wedge between us as she stood at the foot of the couch.
“We figured Everly might as well join us,” she said. “Since she’s who we’re discussing, anyhow.”
“It’s cheating,” Everly replied.
“Yeah, but...” Cecily glanced between us. “Callum basically saved you from being molested... so... you kind of owe us one.”
“She doesn’t owe anyone anything.” I stood. “I’m leaving anyhow.”
“But we just started,” Cecily cried.
“It’s too distracting to study in here tonight.” I stepped to the table and gathered my things into my bag. “I’ll study at home.”
Logan snorted. “Yeah, sure you will.”
I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure we already ‘discussed’ my fist and you shutting up last session.”
“And you wanting to fuck Brighton’s daughter.” He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think much has changed, Trovatto.”
“Because allowing someone to take advantage of her would have been a better choice? I’m sure Dr. Brighton would’ve loved to learn an entire group of his students stood by and didn’t help his daughter.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Not that he expects much from you, Logan.”
I walked out of the café without turning around to ask Everly if she’d follow me. Three minutes later, she rounded the corner where I waited, my back to the brick of the café.
“I’m not going home,” she said. “I came here tonight for the show.”
“Thought you had a friend in surgery?”
“I do. That’s why I have to be here. I told him I’d tell him all about it when he wakes up.”
“Him,” I mused, pushing away from the wall. “Goodnight, Everly Anne.”
“Stay for the show. Please?”
“I don’t ever watch the shows.”
“Why not? The last one was pretty good. Someone was appointed to answer questions as Jesus.” She smiled, and when she did, I wanted to sneer in return, to ask her about him, to apologize for acting like I had a claim on her. But all I saw was her softness staring back at me. For a stolen moment, we were caught up like that. And as I searched her face for answers to the fee
lings budding inside of me, I realized why she was beautiful in a way I hadn’t seen in other girls—girls like Cecily, with the coconut oil skin and no interesting secrets. Everly’s beauty rivaled the way autumn leaves strip branches to the bone. Her structure stood raw before me, her secrets wading in the depths of her eyes, so close I could call on them, if I desired, knowing that, for me, she would answer.
“Everly Anne,” I whispered to my shoes.
“Stay.” Her hand was on my arm for such a brief second, I couldn’t even reply. As she let go, I came back to the real world where the theater-café was filling with customers to watch the show Noelle hosted in honor of my mother. The show Everly wanted me to watch with her, though she was clueless of its purpose.
“I can’t.” I stepped away.
“Okay.” She glanced to the door then back to me. “Did you do that to Logan’s face?”
“Logan’s mouth did that to his face.”
“Stop hitting people because of me, Callum.”
“It wasn’t about you.” She seemed surprised by that, and I stepped closer. “Should it have been about you?”
“The only time you’d ever hang around Logan is if you were forced to—like in study group or class—so I’m not sure what you could be discussing that would get you angry enough to punch him in the face, unless it had to do with me...” She looked toward the window where my group still sat inside. “But maybe I’m being a little too hopeful.”
“Or ridiculous.”
“Kind of the same thing.” She smiled shyly.
“I didn’t punch him because of Cecily, either.”
She nodded. “But you knew who I was wondering about.”
“I’m not dating Cecily. I’m not even interested in Cecily.”
Everly looked up at me. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just the girl you’re studying.”
A dagger through my chest would have hurt less.
I held her gaze. “Clearly.”
“Don’t hit strangers for me. I can take care of myself.”
I leaned into her face. “Clearly.”
“Why are you being so rude to me tonight? Did the doctor gene finally kick in?”
“You know what, Everly Anne? Tell your friend, your boyfriend, whoever the fuck is having surgery, that sending you to watch some stupid show at night all alone isn’t the brightest idea in the world. If he had an ounce of feeling and respect for you, he wouldn’t ask you to do such stupid shit. P.S., the show sucks. Most people choke as soon as they step on stage. There was only one person who nailed it, and she’s been dead for ten years.” I shoved my bag higher on my shoulder and said, “Goodnight.”
I lost her in the crowd of people as I walked away, and when I turned back, she was gone.
The urge to rewind my footsteps had never been greater.
The café was packed with people as Noelle stepped on the small stage in the left side of her café. I could only watch from the door as she revealed that the act tonight was Saint Valentine.
And who was playing her? Everly Anne Brighton, of course.
She looked so much different on stage than she had in class as the main attraction. This Everly was an exclamation versus a question. But she was still her: the bright hair, the underlying shyness, the curious eyes. The way she moved as if she was following music no one else could hear, with measured steps and thoughtful rhythm.
“Fucking hot!” a person from the crowed cursed as they sipped their coffee too fast.
“Well, thank you,” Everly replied without missing a beat. They ate it up; clapping and laughter resounded.
“Are you in love?” someone called out.
“I am love, so I am always in it, because I am always myself.”
“Will I find my soul mate?”
“Find your own soul first, and then worry about its mate.”
“Why are men such shits?”
She found Logan, stared him in the face. “Some questions just answer themselves.” They loved it, offering her a round of applause.
“Have you ever fallen in love at first sight?” Noelle called out.
“Yes.” She sighed. Her eyes roamed the room until she reached me standing in the doorway. She paused as we searched each other again, for reason, for answers, then flicked her attention back to Noelle suddenly and said, “Snickerdoodles.”
Noelle stood and whooped up the crowd to applaud her efforts.
Everly stepped off stage, her bravado shrunken down to miniature size as someone else became the star in her place.
In the shadows, she wrapped herself in that same yellow sweater from class.
Our eyes met again, but she was different, displaying a wholly other concept of beauty as she shyly turned away to thank the girl behind the counter and graciously took a cup of coffee. I moved away from the door and back to where I had waited for her earlier, outside against the brick wall. But she didn’t search for me when she exited this time. She took her cup of coffee across the street and sat on a bench in front of a delicatessen. She was alone, with eyes that didn’t look up. There was no wondering or hopefulness. She traced her finger around the plastic rim of her cup and didn’t lift it to her mouth.
I felt like a traitor walking away, leaving her unprotected and doubtful; especially when I had the warmth of her hand still on my arm. But I did walk away only to have her ghost follow me home. Her warmth remained on my arm as I tried to study and ignore the emptiness in my gut. But I kept seeing that man’s hand reaching for her. His finger trailing up her leg. Her looking at me in the doorway with love on her lips. Her looking at me let down that I might have stood up for Cecily when Logan had harassed her in class every day. Walking away from her because I couldn’t deal with words like love on theater night.
But she remained beside me when I turned off the lights and closed my eyes.
Her hand was right there on my arm, asking me to stay.
By that point, I had been awake for nearly twenty-seven hours straight. A part me longed to conclude that the night was all a hallucination, because nothing so short-lived should have felt so encompassing. All I could rely on was the warmth that would not subside. It blanketed me, lulling me to sleep with blunt truth: something in my spirit had changed, something so large that I had been woken up by a sleeping girl.
ONCE YOU
BECOME REAL
7.
I WAS ON THE FIFTEENTH HOUR of my forty-eight-hour shift in the neonatal wing, thanks to Tatum Quade, my best friend and the only nurse who didn’t hold contempt for my rookie status. The halls were quiet as we watched the nursery from the window.
“So, how many times have you thought about quitting this year?” she asked.
“None.”
She laughed. “Liar.”
“It’s not so bad. The long hours suck, but it’s the politics and drama that makes it unbearable.”
“And having Dr. Brighton as your attending.”
“That would be the politics and drama, Tatum.”
She soured. “He’s giving you a hard time because of Andrew?”
I turned to her. “His daughter is our patient in a differential.”
“Gross.”
“And...”
We’d been friends since elementary school. Not much else needed to be said.
“His daughter? You slept with his sick daughter? Callum!”
Okay, much was left to be said.
“No, I didn’t sleep with her. There’s this thing, though.”
“Yes. It’s called a penis. A penis that makes you stupid. Stupid enough to make you toss all your hopes and dreams out the window for one little piece of ass.”
“She’s not a piece of ass. It’s not even close to being like that.”
I faced the nursery, and when I grew quiet, she grew serious.
“So what is it then? What is the thing?”
“I don’t know—hence, calling it a thing.”
“Okay, let’s do a quick anatomy lesson, Third Year
.” She turned me to face her as if we were bookends. “Look at my body and tell me, if I were... Wait, what’s her name?”
“Everly.” Everly. Everly. Everly.
“If I were Everly, what parts of my body get you all hot and flustered?”
“None, because I refuse to look at any of your parts.”
“Because my scary military husband will kill you? Or, because this Everly is just so damn brilliant, she doesn’t need breasts and a vagina to turn you on?”
“I really don’t like you right now.”
She grinned. “Just name a body part and get over the weirdness of it being my parts we’re using in a hypothetical conversation to uncover the mystery of your ‘thing.’”
“All right, I like you.”
“Name a body part, Callum.” She jutted out her chest.
“Oh, you lost me again.”
Tatum groaned, which made me laugh. Her hands landed on my shoulders. “Fine. Tell me what part of you—awkward penis aside—feels this thing for Everly.”
“I think it’s the worst in my head... hypothetically.”
“Like a throbbing pain?”
“Like... something sewed her into all of my thoughts. Even the pointless ones, like what I’ll eat for breakfast or where I’ll go for coffee. I start thinking about an omelet and then I’m thinking about what Everly is having for breakfast. I leave for a quick break and go to the same café I have walked to hundreds of times throughout my life, but every step is wondering if Everly Anne Brighton will be there waiting, and if she is waiting, is she waiting for me? Is it just a coincidence? You see—that look on your face—that is the same bewilderment I feel whenever this thing comes over me. What is it called?”
She smiled almost pitifully at me. “It’s obvious, that’s what it’s called.”
“I like her. I understand that part, Tatum. I’m trying to figure out how it happened. What kind of voodoo Everly Anne possesses that could perform this level of evil shit during third year.”
She shook with laughter. “You poor fool.”