by Emilia Finn
“Guess so.” I drag a breath through my nose and try to stave the tears and boogers. “Are you mad I came home?”
“Absolutely not.” She tries to give me privacy while I slowly spread butter around the berry face. “I will never ever be mad that you come home, babe. I’m sorry you ever thought that. In fact…” She pauses with the can of cream suspended above her plate. “If you want to come home permanently, that would be okay.”
My eyes snap away from my food and stop on hers. “Huh?”
She nods. “You’ve tried. You’ve been gone almost a year already. You’ve studied and worked hard. So if you want to come home, if you can honestly say you don’t want to be there anymore, then you have my blessing to come home. I won’t give you a hard time about it.”
I hate the tears that flow over my cheek and off the sharp edges of my jaw. “Really? You wouldn’t be disappointed?”
“There’s nothing you could do that would disappoint me.” She cuts into her pancakes and brings a small bite to her lips. “You could sell drugs and steal cars, and I’d probably still figure out a way to justify it.”
I cut my pancakes and laugh. She’s not lying. “Can you repeat that? I want to get it on recording. Ya know, just in case.”
“What happened, sweetheart?” She turns a little in her seat so our legs link together. “Why did you crawl into our bed in the middle of the night with tears in your eyes?”
“You didn’t hear yet?”
She shakes her head and studies my eyes. “Should I have? Was it bad?”
I force a small laugh. “I dunno. It’s bound to show up on the news eventually. I did my best to contain the carnage, but God knows who else was watching.”
“Evelyn? God, please tell me fast.”
“Did you know Ben is dating Nora?”
“He’s–” Her eyes widen. “What?”
“Nora, that chick friend of his? The one that went to his fight. Don’t play dumb, Mom. You were there.”
“That girl was…” she shakes her head. “No. He’s not dating her, baby. It’s kind of embarrassing how much he’s in love with you. He was speaking about you all the time, demanding to take your calls, leaving the octagon during training every time you called. It kind of grosses me out how smitten he is with you, but it is what it is, so I’m doing my best to grab on and stay close just in case.”
“Just in case, what?” I prod. “In case he takes the wrong girl to a fight? In case he takes her down to the spring? Our spring. He took her to the world effing stage, Mom! He couldn’t take her somewhere else to show friendship? He had to take her there when he knows damn well fighting is our thing? He shouldn’t have taken her with him.”
“Honey, I… I don’t know what to tell you.” She sets her cutlery down. “I hardly know the girl, only what I’ve heard around town. She was–”
“I know.” I push my breakfast away and drop my silverware on top. “She was hurt. She was traumatized. She needs gentle hands and all the blah blah blah. I know, Mom! There is literally no way I can win this shit, because she was hurt and I wasn’t. She needs a hero, and he’s so good at that.”
“Honey…”
“Do I need to become a victim to get his attention? Do I need to drop all of that hard work and building up that you and Biggie and the guys put in over the years, because he needs someone weaker than him? Do I have to forfeit my very heart and soul to be the person he needs?” I swipe a tear from my cheek and shake my head. “I can’t be that person, and now that it’s all gone to shit, it’s my own fault. I can’t tell him to stay away from her, and I can’t be with him if he’s back here being her best friend when I’m not watching.”
“Babe… did you and Ben have a fight last night? Is this what this is all about–”
“If by ‘fight,’ you mean an actual brawl on my campus yesterday, then yeah, he turned up and got mad that there was a guy within a fifty-mile radius of me.”
“He… what?” She knocks my knee when she turns. “Ben went to your school?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ben Conner? Our heavyweight contender, the guy under contract with our gym to be on his best damn behavior, and our daughter’s boyfriend. That Ben went to your school and got into a fight? That’s what you’re telling me right now?”
“Uh-huh. He took issue with a guy being near me, so they fought outside my dorm and made dicks of themselves in front of a bunch of people with phones. I confiscated what I could and sent Ben away, then I got on a plane and came home. I just…” I blow out a heavy breath. “I needed to come home for a hug before I could cope with the rest.”
“Who’s the guy, baby? Who was Ben fighting? Do we need to get our lawyers involved?”
“No.” I sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. The guy’s name is Reid, and his family owns the gym just off campus. I went there once last semester, and I liked it fine enough, but Ben found out it’s a guy’s gym, and threw a tantrum like he thinks I’m going to run off with the dude. So I stopped going.” I look into her eyes. “I did that for him, Mom. I stopped going because it hurt him when he thought of me being there. I didn’t complain, I didn’t bring it up or throw it at him when I was feeling pissy. I quit, then I got over it. But he’s still back here with her? That’s not fair.”
“Has he…” She hesitates. “Um, did he… like… cheat on you with her?”
“Yes, he did.” I meet her eyes. “I don’t know what he and she do in private. I don’t know about the physical stuff, though I doubt he did that. But he’s back here with her, becoming her best friend, consoling her whenever she needs a hero. He’s giving her the friendship he should be giving me, same as back in high school when he was pissed at me. He’d hang with her, and dare me to say something about it.”
“Babe…” Mom’s blue eyes flicker between mine as she wages an internal war; blind defense for her cherubic daughter, or defend Ben. “I love you, but being friends with another person of the opposite sex isn’t cheating on you.”
“No,” I agree. “Not normally. I’m not so ridiculous to think he can’t have female friends. But her in particular? He used her like a weapon during high school. He used her to hurt me, and now expects me to be cool about them when I’m a thousand miles away.”
“You mean like how you used Knox to annoy him?” Mom pushes. “A little flirt here, a little flirt there. Giggles and fun while Ben was trying to train. You provoked him, and smiled when you got the reaction you wanted.”
“Exactly! But do I hang out with Knox now? Do I keep in contact with him?” I swirl my finger through the liquifying cream on top of my barely touched pancakes. “I don’t want to play games, Mom. I’m not playing, I’m not throwing Knox at him, and when he showed his discomfort with Reid, I cut it. He was just a dude at the gym, and it was like someone’s husband getting mad because his wife trained at our gym and Uncle Bobby showed her around. I thought what he was complaining about was unreasonable, but I did the right thing anyway. I cut it, and I never went back. I knew Ben was back here being friends with Nora, but did I go crazy about it?” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t. I left it alone, because I trusted him to do the right thing.”
“So what’s changed?”
I stare into her eyes and firm my lips. “He brought her to a fight. That’s more than getting coffee for an hour. That’s more than riding bikes or training together – which would also get him in trouble, in case you were wondering. He took her away on a plane, he got her set up in a hotel room, he would have had breakfast with her each morning, and dinner each night.”
“That might be true, but if he’s looking to have a raging affair with someone, then don’t you think he’d be smart enough to not do it right in front of his girlfriend’s parents?”
“No.” I scowl and stare at my pancakes. “And this talk sucks dog balls.”
I slide off my stool with a huff and take my dish around to the sink. I don’t rinse it, I don’t empty the food into the trash. I simply drop the p
late and its contents into the sink with a loud crash, then I stare into my mother’s eyes and dare her to get mad.
“I’m not coming home.”
When she lifts a brow, I elaborate.
“You said I could quit college. I’m not coming home. I’m doing my four years and praying Ben doesn’t have the power to hurt me by the time I come back. I won’t compete for him, Mom, and I won’t share him. He can go fuck himself.”
“You were begging to come home just last week.” Mom stands and pushes her breakfast further back on the counter. “Literally last week, you were bargaining with me and your dad. You would have given anything to come back.”
“Yeah, and now I’d give all that and more if it meant I never had to look into Ben’s eyes while I feel this way.” I press a hand to my chest and cry, “It hurts, Mom. It hurts so much that it feels like someone is squeezing my heart in their fists.” I turn away and head toward the stairs. “I’d rather never love again. This stinks.”
“Where are you going?” Mom follows me into the foyer and up the stairs. “Where are you going, babe?”
“To pack my things. I have a three o’clock flight.”
I know I risk permanent grounding when I don’t stop by the gym on my way out of town. My uncles are going to whip me for being so near and not dropping in to see them. Biggie is going to be hurt, and when Ben finds out I was in town, he’s going to go nuclear.
But I can’t do it.
I can’t look him in the eyes and wonder which of us are the guiltiest. We’re both assholes. We’re both stubborn, and though I know hugging a girl in the middle of an octagon on live TV isn’t the same as cheating, seeing them on my tiny thirteen-inch screen hurt just as much as if I’d caught them mid-act.
So I sneak out just as stealthily as I snuck in, and pray my phone remains silent of family rants about how I’m an inconsiderate jerk for not giving them a minute of my time.
I fly out of the airport an hour from home at three on the dot, arriving back at my dorm before dinnertime. I eat spaghetti-o’s from the can and don’t crawl out of the dark again until my finals.
I should quit school and go ahead with my plan to dance for men. I should quit this farce and save the wasted tuition money, or better yet, give it to someone that actually wants it.
But that’s not what I do.
Instead, I forget to shave my legs, I don’t buy groceries except for canned food, and I earn a potbelly when I do nothing but lay in bed for a month straight and eat my feelings.
My phone remains annoyingly silent but for the odd texts from Bean.
I hurt Ben, and he’s too proud to reach out now that I sent him away, but that’s fine, because he hurt me too. He hurt me so much that I know a year from now, ten years from now, I’ll be able to cast my mind back and remember the way it felt like my heart was literally going to crawl its way up my throat and throw itself in front of oncoming traffic.
Two decades from now, I know I’m going to remember the pain I felt when he pulled Nora into his arms, when it should have been me. That was our plan. That was always our plan, but I was the only one who stuck to it.
But it doesn’t matter to him, because the pain I throw back can be soothed away by his sweetheart damsel. Nora’s been standing on the sidelines, waiting for my misstep, and hoping for her chance to be called up to the big time. And here it is, her chance to take what she’s coveted for years.
I sit through my finals toward the end of May with dread in my belly and a nasty case of nervous energy making me fidgety. I’m the chick that can rarely read a six and a nine the right way around. I screw up which side numbers are supposed to go on – are they debits or credits? – and even if I can calm my thoughts long enough to do the work and find my answers, I rarely write it down properly.
Despite my hurdles, I do my best, and pray for at least a passing grade, and when I’m not doing that, I watch Dawson’s Creek reruns on my laptop. Apt, I suppose. For Dawson and Joey to be best friends for so long, only for everyone to hate on Katie Holmes’ character because she got pissed about him checking out the new blonde in town.
Everyone is always ready to vilify the female, and soothe away the guy’s pain like it’s not his own damn fault.
Guys are jerks. Plain and simple; they’re all jerks.
I’d planned to go home in July. That was our countdown. That was the date Ben and I spent so long looking forward to – Aunt Kit and Uncle Bobby’s wedding anniversary, holiday weekend, cookouts and parties at the lake. I’d been planning this time with Ben and the others for so long that it felt like the countdown was the only thing that helped me hold onto my sanity – so when the date passed, and my alarm chirped signaling I should already be on my plane, I went back to bed and cried.
When my phone started blowing up from my family – but not Ben – I remained in the dorm room my parents negotiated I get to keep even through the summer, and tried my very best to ignore every single pair of eyes that looked my way.
I’ve realized something in the last couple months, while I’ve been effectively cut off from my world. It’s not that my family has cut me off – it was me with the scissors – but despite their pain and pleas for me to come home, the world still goes ‘round. Everyone’s lives continue on. With or without me, my aunt and uncle still celebrate their anniversary. My family still cooks s’mores, and my cousins still swim at the lake to battle the oppressive summer heat.
Most of the other students on campus took off for the holiday, and because of my refusal to socialize in the past year, not one of them came back and asked how my summer break was.
I’m a recluse, and the only constant in my life were the phone calls from Bean.
Where Ben used to call twice a day every day, and I’ve had to create brand new sleep habits because he’s no longer available to talk me to sleep, Bean has picked up the ball and given me updates on our world in my absence.
My cousin Bry, who’s younger than us, has a girlfriend he’s showing off around school. Brooke – his sister – is the golden girl now that I’m gone. Aunt Tink’s twin boys are still breaking laws and driving my aunt and uncle crazy, and Mac is still making everyone go gray because he’s working hard – harder than people think he can or should.
In my spare time – which I have a lot of, when I’m actively ignoring schoolwork – I research heart donation recipients and pro fighting. I look for precedence, and do my very best to help my friend build a case that will end with him being allowed to go pro once he’s old enough.
He still has a few years until then; loads of time to grow stronger and build a solid defense for when the fight committee knee-jerks and says no without actually getting to know him. And all the while, I count down to Bean’s high school graduation, because then she comes here, and we can be together… alone.
Ben
Cold. So fucking cold
Summer.
I was supposed to see Evie again in the summer. It was my go-to plan, my last-ditch effort that included the spring that I have absolutely not shown to Nora or anyone else. Candlelight for me and my girl, a picnic dinner, a whole day to swim together and rebuild what we broke.
It was my chance to beg for her love and pray for a second chance.
I gave Evie space with hopes that my silence would be better than my big mouth throwing shit at her that I wouldn’t mean. I say mean things when I’m mad, so I thought I would do us both a favor, shut my trap, and pray that actions would be what she needed to trust again.
I haven’t cheated on Evie with Nora. I haven’t done anything that is dishonorable, and just as soon as she’d come home and spend time with me down at the spring, she was sure to see that.
Friendship.
That’s how we began, and in our time together, we forgot about our foundations. We forgot to be friends, so I bided my time and declared to anyone that would listen that I had a plan to fix it.
Except… she didn’t come home.
July. August. Septem
ber. October.
Nothing.
My birthday passed, and nothing.
Her birthday passed – her eighteenth, which is a big fucking deal – and still, nothing. Radio silence, but for a deafening ‘Go away, Ben!’ playing on repeat in my mind.
November passes us by, and with it, Thanksgiving dinner.
She didn’t come home.
She won’t take my calls, and when I try, I get sent straight to voicemail.
I fight again in early November, and though Nora absolutely does not come with me, I still lift my hands in victory, and when they come down, there are no phones placed in my hand with a screeching Evie to help me celebrate.
I took fists to my face on purpose, with the sole hope that she’d be watching and unable to control her urge to call and shout for me to lift my hands.
Either she ignored the pay-per-view email I sent her, or she watched it, and in our time apart, has developed herculean levels of willpower. I suspect it’s the first, because her stubborn side has always been stronger than her impulse control. It’s what I love about her, after all. Her inability to filter herself. Her lack of control, and her brutal honesty in everything we’ve ever done.
You need never wonder when it comes to Evelyn Kincaid. If she likes you, if she thinks you’re stupid, or a shitty fighter, she doesn’t play games, and she never leaves her thoughts up to interpretation.
Evie says what she thinks, even when she knows she’ll catch heat because of it.
Now it’s Christmas, and despite six months of absolutely nothing from her, I don my best pair of jeans, and iron my best dress shirt. I wash and comb my hair, and spend half the day in the kitchen with Ma while she helps me prepare a dish to take to the Kincaid home for Christmas dinner.
This thing Evie and I have, it began last Christmas. It blew up because we didn’t know better, and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.