by Elle Tyler
“Your fist connecting to Logan’s face?”
I smiled, lifting her fingers to kiss them once. “Watching you read to those kids today.”
Everly searched my face before she spoke. “You’ve run away from me, too, you know.”
“That is impossible. Believe me. I’ve tried.”
Her eyes dimmed. “On theater night, you left. Why were you so angry? Why didn’t you stay when I asked you to stay? It was like you were so upset to see me in the café that night. Like I didn’t even belong there.”
I turned in my seat to face her better. “You thought I was mad at you?”
“Weren’t you?”
“No,” I said. “I was... Jesus.” For a moment, I breathed. “It’s a longer story than we have time for today. But... theater nights are not good for me, Everly Anne. I go to that café, but it’s not always easy. Sometimes I go out of obligation. Sometimes out of need.”
“Need for what?” she asked.
“Need to feel my mother close. I told you, it’s a long story. But when you were there, on that night, and that asshole was putting his hands on you, I just saw this girl I cared for about to be hurt, and this anger… this anger that I have inside of myself about the shit that happened to my mother... it needed to go somewhere. It was a fucked-up night. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
She sat quietly for a moment. “So... you were... ashamed?”
“I just don’t like anger. I don’t like what I know I could turn into if I don’t keep myself in check. And yeah, I didn’t like being angry around you. You seeing that part of me. Or the ten people from class.”
“Anger and caring is not a weakness, Callum Andrew.” She looked up at me. “It’s actually what I like most about you. There’s a soul behind those dark eyes.”
“Yeah, well... just don’t tell anyone, all right?”
Everly leaned in, a small smile on her face. “You know you have used the word “just” in the last three sentences, right?”
I leaned in so that our faces were only a breath apart. “And now, I’m just going to kiss your cheek, as if it were meaningless, as if were innocent, as if it were just a part of my day.” I pressed my mouth to her soft, warm cheek. In her ear, I whispered, “Because, in our very inconvenient reality, I’d love nothing more than to kiss your mouth.”
She held my gaze after I pulled away. “Can’t be going around disrupting inconvenient realities, now can we?”
I took hold of her hand again. “Certainly not before we wander around a bit clueless together.”
LET A LITTLE WATER
8.
I WAITED FOR HER to exit class a few days later.
“Are you afraid of water?” I asked.
She didn’t think so.
Under the glow and warmth of the late afternoon sun, we rowed a small boat through Central Park, ducking beneath wispy weeping willows, stealing glances under bridges. She shined so radiant; her eyes were so innocent, so wondrous, like everything was new.
After a while I quit rowing and simply let us float. She quizzed me from my school books, and I answered only, “Your dresses have been getting shorter.”
I stole glimpses of her as we walked hand in hand under the canopy of elm trees in The Mall, both of us a little shy and blissfully clueless.
Trapped under a globe of empty, echoey concrete walls of the Naumburg Bandshell, I swung her around as we danced to birds singing in the trees.
We fed goats at the petting zoo, and she never once complained about the smell, only asked me for more quarters every time her hand ran out of feed, and I got her more, more, more, sorry that’s all I have, more quarters.
“I never had a pet,” she laughed. “Sorry.” As she wiped her hands clean, she glanced shyly at me.
“Why not?” I took her hand as we began to walk.
“My father didn’t think it was smart.” She paused and then said, “I’m sorry, that’s all I can really tell you.”
I nodded. “What kind of pet would you want if you could have one?”
“A pig. Like those little teacup pigs.”
I laughed. “Oh... kay. Not what I would have guessed.”
“Expected me to say a cat? Honestly?”
“More like one of those prissy little dogs you could dress up in clothes and carry everywhere.”
“I’m both bothered and offended, Callum Andrew.”
I smiled at her, and that time I could not look away.
“Stop,” she said, smiling herself. “You have that look again.”
“Well, you have that beautiful thing again.” I forced my eyes to focus on the trees. “So, no pets. What about boyfriends? Ever had one of those?”
“Have you met Timothy Brighton?”
“I suppose I’m trying to figure out why it’s all right for you to walk home with me. Why this is all right?”
“That would make two of us, Callum.” She sighed. “But I’d guess your performance in class must have him intrigued.”
“Performance? You think he’s basing your future prospects on grades?” I scoffed.
“Not grades,” she said. “Just how you are... with me.”
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? There was this horrible ringing in my ears.”
“How you are with me.” She smiled. “Sorry.”
“I was almost wondering...” I swallowed my anxiety. “I was almost wondering if you weren’t telling him that we were spending time together.”
Confirmation as she looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” I half-lied. “I understand why it’s awkward.”
“Not awkward—impossible.”
We were quiet for a while as we walked. Everly pulled on my sleeve as we came upon the southern portion of The Mall.
“I need to sit for a moment,” she said.
“Want to sit on the lap of Hans Christian Anderson? His statue is coming up.”
She smiled weakly. “Somewhere cooler than bronze statues.”
We sat in the grass under a large elm, where she sipped ice-cold lemonade, humming every time she took a sip. I brushed her hair away from her hot forehead as I asked, “Good day, Everly Anne?” She pressed the condensation from her cup to her flamed cheek.
“Good day, Callum Andrew.”
Eventually we found statues of Hans Christian Anderson and Shakespeare, but it wasn’t until we reached the Gapstow Bridge that she started to show interest in storytelling.
“I never knew my mother,” she said. “She died giving birth to me.”
We stopped on the bridge, looking down to the water below.
“What do you think she was like?” I asked. “Does Timothy ever tell you about her?”
“He can’t talk about her. No.”
I nodded. “Yeah, Andrew doesn’t like to talk about my mother, either.”
“I feel sorry for your father,” she said. “Having to watch your mom die slowly like that.”
“Do you feel sorry for your father, Everly Anne?”
She looked up at me. “Sometimes it’s hard to feel sympathy for someone so cold. It would be like trying to form a relationship with Hans over there.” She laughed lightly. “I’d like to believe that, before she died, he was softer, that there was this underlying man who felt and had warmth inside of his heart, but I’ve never seen him that way. It’s all business. It’s all routine. You know, we don’t even celebrate Christmas? My nurses give me things, but I’ve never been given a gift from Timothy. Not even for my birthday.”
“It hurts you,” I said, touching her cheek softly. “It’s okay if it hurts you, Everly. You can be sad in front of me, you know. I won’t judge.”
“What about you, Callum? Is it okay that it hurts you?”
“It wasn’t for a long time. No.”
“What made it okay?” she asked.
I pushed her long hair back, over her shoulders. “What do you think?”
“I think you still can’t go
to Theater Night. I think it still hurts.”
“It’ll always hurt.” My hands ran down her arms. “But while my father chooses to mask his pain and your father chooses to deny his pain, I choose to walk with you every day. I choose to lessen the pain and perhaps a bit of the pointlessness in Julep’s death by finding happiness. She fought every day to stay alive for one more day. Don’t I owe her at least that? To fight every day to stay alive just one more day?”
She looked away for a moment. “Sometimes I feel like I owe him that, too.”
I turned her face back to mine. “You don’t owe Timothy shit. It’s completely different. You didn’t kill your mom, Everly Anne.”
She exhaled harshly, as if she was trying not to cry. “I certainly didn’t keep her alive.”
I cupped her face in my hands, placing one kiss to her forehead. “What happened to her?”
Her head shook. “She hemorrhaged.”
“And your father couldn’t save her, right?” She said nothing. “So he’s only blaming himself. Believe me. If you believe nothing else, believe me when I tell you I know what it’s like to have a father who blames himself every day for not being able to save the person he loved most. The only difference between us is that your father was gifted a punching bag. Well, that, and you look much better in short dresses than I ever would.”
She laughed sadly. “You would be an ugly woman. I’ll give you that.”
I smiled. “Give me your hand, too.”
She watched me as I kissed her fingers. I wanted to hug her, to hold her, but I knew better than to push. Kissing her hand was too much.
We shared a sunset from the top of Belvedere Castle, where, on the way down the steps, Everly turned around, three steps below me, and asked, “Do you like how short my dress is today?”
And I replied in the dim light of the stairwell, “I like how bright your eyes are today.”
WE WERE CAUGHT
UP LIKE THAT
9.
I STARED DOWN at a wailing newborn as Tatum stood beside me. “I wish I could say something different, but you need to up his dosage of morphine. He’s in too much pain. His tremors are getting worse.” Two skinny legs trembled involuntarily, laced with opiates from his birth mother. A string of silent curses wrapped around my inner thoughts as I watched the baby wail in agony and confusion. I left the room before the morphine was administered.
The only bright spot in my day stood outside of the neonatal-care doors. But, unfortunately, her brightness was faded around the edges: dressed in blue hospital socks too big for her feet and an ugly green gown draped around her shoulders, tied tightly just to keep it on her small frame. Everly’s smile dimmed as she admired my face, our eyes connected.
“Hi,” she said softly, as if unsure if she was the cause of my irritation.
“Everly Anne,” I said in return.
“Is it all right that I’m here?”
“It’s always all right.”
“You look unhappy.”
“Understatement.”
She touched my arm. “Will you tell me?”
“You know, I can tolerate a lot. I’ve seen babies born disfigured. I’ve witnessed people die. But one thing I can’t…” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “It’s one thing when a mother does everything she should during pregnancy and something simply goes horribly wrong, but when someone purposely harms their child and then I watch those babies suffer because of that... it tests my empathy and sanity in a way I can’t describe without probably scaring you.”
Everly watched my face. “A baby was hurt by their mom? How?”
“Drugs,” I replied. “Born addicted to oxycodone.”
“Will the baby live?”
“I don’t know. He’s not detoxing because I can’t wean him because he’s in too much pain. I actually had to raise his morphine tonight because he’s in agony, but I should be weaning him by this point.”
“What will happen to him? I mean... is his mom around?”
“That’s the part that angers me the most. Usually, the parents provide me with some type of motivation... Even though that sounds screwed up... But I mean I feel like I’m working on the same team, you know? But in these cases, I feel like I’m taking what they’ve ruined and then handing this kid back to them so they can ruin it all over again. Maybe that’s harsh or not very positive, but that’s how it feels. I don’t want to cheer for these cases, do you know what I mean?”
“I think your job is to make someone better. So do that—and then you’ve accomplished something regardless of what happens in the future. That’s not your burden to bear.”
“What if one of these babies grows up to become someone who wishes they hadn’t lived? What if they become an addict themselves and end up ruining someone’s life? What if they do it to their own kid someday?”
Everly stared at me. “Do you think every healthy baby grows up to be a solid human being just because they started out on a good path? You can’t wonder about this stuff, Callum. You fix. You heal. That’s all.”
I felt pulled away from Everly, as if something had slid between us. “I expected you to say something different.”
“Like what? Take him home and raise him?” She nearly laughed.
“You just sound dismissive, like it doesn’t matter what happens to him. I didn’t expect you to be... I don’t know... callous? You’re always so sweet and soft.”
“I know what’s gonna happen to him,” she said. “It’s not the baby I’m concerned about, because he’s got a good doctor looking after him, standing outside the Yellow Heart Wing, pondering his future. The doctor, on the other hand... I’m a little worried about him. He’s doing something unexpected. He’s being human.”
And just like that, I was pulled back to familiar ground.
Her smile mirrored mine at the exact same moment. We were caught up like that. For the smallest millisecond, we were far away.
“Everly Anne Brighton,” a nurse called from midway down the hall. And the bright spot began to fade. “We’re ready.”
“You have the wrong patient,” I said. “Her name isn’t Everly.”
Nurses generally don’t like doctors. Residents? Even less.
She met us at the top of the hall and flipped Everly’s plastic bracelet around to read her name. “Well, unless she swapped ID bracelets, she is indeed the patient I’m looking for.” I held out my hand for Everly’s arm. Of course, she played along.
“Says her name is Princess Tiger Lily.” I looked at Everly head to toe. “Seems legit to me.”
The nurse gave me my own inspection and then wrote my name down on her chart, purposefully spelling out each letter with an exaggerated slowness.
Everly looked at me once and was serious. Second time, with a smirk. The third was charm and then fits of laughter. “You are in so much trouble now.” And mocking. She mocked the nurse with finesse. “A med student messing up... Who would ever suspect such a thing! I’m sure Dr. Brighton will be—” Everly bent over in hysterics. “I’m sure he will just love to hear a nurse griping about a med student getting on their nerves.”
The nurse huffed, shoved her chart under her arm, and then pointed toward the end of the hall. “I’m going to be in your room waiting. You have thirty seconds to meet me there, or I will report this to Dr. Brighton.”
I was still up on Cloud Nine when Everly faced me, the two of us alone. “Save me,” she said, all playfulness muted.
“From what?”
“Myself.”
The familiar cord returned to my chest. And although I had no idea why or how it got there, it was powerful enough to listen when she needed a place within me to confide. It was strong enough to push away all the what-if’s attached to my doing something that wasn’t particularly smart or good for me. And despite not being able to see it, examine it, or hold it in my hands, I knew it was just as tangible and lively as the girl who stared up me.
IT’S CALLED COERCION
10.
“This is the doctor I told you about,” she announced, sitting on his bed.
“So it’s a co-conspiracy,” I said.
His pale face smiled. His weak hand reached for hers. “You bring coffee for me?”
She placed his hand back on the bed but kept her palm on top. “You know you can’t have that stuff.”
“You’re becoming too much like them. Stop going to school with your dad every day.”
She smiled at Truscott and then faced me. “I can’t. That’s where I found this doctor who is going to save your life.”
“But if he’s still in school, he’s not really a doctor and therefore can’t really save my life.”
I raised my hand. “Right here. Hearing fully works.”
Everly chuckled and then got down to business. “This is my friend, Truscott, and he needs a new heart.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but mine is kind of in use right now, Everly Anne. I’m sure it’ll be available once your father finds you missing from Nurse Ratchet’s care, though.”
“You see?” She looked at Truscott. “He’s perfect for the job.”
“Exactly what job am I being assigned to, Everly Anne?”
“I told Truscott he can have my heart when I die.” Guilt overtook the poor kid’s face. “Don’t,” she said to him. “I’ll be dead. Better it save you than just become some deranged science experiment.”
Truscott looked at me. “Don’t you think it’s like wishing for someone to die? I mean, I need a heart to live, and the sicker I get, the more everyone wishes a heart will become available for me. So, if it’s Everly’s heart, then it’s like we’re all wishing for her to die... right?”
I didn’t answer that question because the truth would have upset her, and a lie would have been pointless on this kid.