Winter Town

by Stephen Emond

  “See, again, that seems unlikely,” Lucy said with a smile. It was a slight smile, but it was genuine, and Evan knew it from the way her eyes squinted. Lucy fake-smiled often, but Evan knew the real smile was in her eyes.

  “Stone tablet Donkey Kong,” Evan said, looking away from Lucy before she noticed his glances. “That’s why the council wouldn’t accept his high score.”

  “Sad.” Lucy shook her head.

  “A broken heart and hundreds of bee stings, they all led him right here,” Evan said. Lucy’s smile was forced now. The game was over. The moment had come and gone like a passing breeze.

  Lucy let out a sigh as they walked, once again in silence, aside from the crunching of leaves and branches under the snow. Evan noticed the sigh and couldn’t help but think that for someone who had texted him earlier, Lucy did not seem all that interested in actually being there. He’d tried to keep her talking, but now he was thinking he should have stayed home. Maybe she’s just in a mood right now. Maybe meeting up later would have been better. Or earlier. Or any other time than right now.

  They continued trudging through snow that spilled onto the path leading uphill. At the top of the hill, they turned to follow a line of trees. The icy branches crossed above them like a spiderweb against the sky.

  “How long have you been in town, anyway? Did you just get here?” Evan didn’t want to seem pushy, but Lucy usually called him or texted the second she landed.

  “Huh?” Lucy asked, like she’d just woken up from a nap.

  “Well, it’s Sunday now. Usually you get here on a Friday or a Saturday, right?”

  “Oh. Yeah, no, I got here yesterday. My dad just wanted to spend a little time with me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Evan saw her as infrequently as Doug did. Sometimes he felt guilty spending as much time with Lucy as he did when she was in town, but he figured it was ultimately her choice. “How is he?”

  “Fine. You know. For Doug.”

  “Cool.” As another bout of silence came on, Evan’s mind started to wander to other things he could or should be doing. Like shoveling the driveway, which he didn’t get to finish in the morning. Or helping more with Dad’s village. He was starting to feel especially cold, too, and breathed into his gloves and placed his hands on his cheeks. “It didn’t feel this cold when we started walking. You’d think the walk would have actually warmed us up a bit.”

  “Meteorologist Evan,” Lucy quipped.

  He was getting tired of making all the effort here and of getting shot down by two-word sentences. Evan thought of volleyball again—Lucy was spiking his every serve. “That would be biologist,” Evan said, ready to match Lucy’s ennui. “You aren’t cold? Must not be used to the South yet. Eventually, though. You’ll come back here to visit one day and you’ll whine about the snow and the cold, all used to your warm temperatures, and your Georgia peaches. Probably won’t want to come back here at all.”

  Lucy took off her gloves and fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Sorry, I just really need one,” Lucy said as she lit her cigarette. She seemed relieved to do it.

  “What? You smoke now, too?” Evan asked.

  Lucy blew her smoke out. “It’s not, like, always or anything. It’s just sometimes.”

  “Ugh,” Evan said. He was already growing weary of New Lucy™. “It’s such an unattractive habit.”

  “Who am I attracting?” Lucy asked, eyes widened, with a hint of contempt.

  “Okay, forget that. What about your lungs?”

  “Jesus, all right, already,” Lucy said. “It’s just one cigarette. I told you.”

  Evan glanced at her from the side of his eye. It was like they were fighting now. Why are we fighting? he wondered. “It’s fine. Really.”

  Evan looked down at his feet, buried in the snow. The bottom fifth of his jeans was soaked. Dry jeans would feel really good, he thought. But as long as they were out here and he was striking out, he might as well keep swinging.

  “When did you start?” he asked.

  Lucy let out a long exhale and closed her eyes. She took another drag and then tossed the cigarette.

  “It presented itself as an option,” she said, looking away from Evan. “I weighed the pros and cons and made my choice.”

  “Sensible,” Evan said. Everything felt pointless. Lucy wasn’t talking and Evan was growing tired of all the mystery, so he suggested they turn back and call it a day. It was a simple suggestion, but one that had never come up on any of their walks. Lucy looked disappointed, and Evan couldn’t understand it. He hadn’t made the slightest connection with her all afternoon. “I’m just cold,” Evan said apologetically, and looked away from her. “And we have all that company still.”

  “ ’Kay,” Lucy said, almost inaudibly. Her arms dropped to her sides like dead weight.

  If he could even catch her attention for a moment, it’d be something. Lucy showed up decked out in leather and looking like Edward Scissorhands, and commanded all this attention she didn’t actually want. Evan considered meeting her tomorrow with a mullet and torn jeans and an ill-fitting tank top, with uneven chin stubble and a black eye, and a hickey on his neck, with one green shoe and one red one, and a severed hand. Some options presented themselves, he’d say. I made my decisions.

  Lucy kicked a rock. She was acting like a child who’d been scolded. “Seriously?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in a year, and that’s it? You see your family every week.”

  “Well, then say something, Lucy. What the hell?” Evan had had enough. “You asked me to come out, you, and frankly I’m really busy right now. This is not a good time for me. I have a lot on my plate. This year has been rough. And you don’t say a word, you shoot down everything I have to say, so what do you want?” Evan felt good letting off a little steam, good enough that he cut himself off there before he said anything he’d regret.

  “Fine, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Lucy didn’t return his energy. She was as quiet and aloof as she’d been yet. That made Evan angrier. He had some stranger standing beside him, practically taunting him. He hated it. He wanted her to open up. He didn’t care why or how or about what at this point.

  “You look ridiculous, by the way,” Evan said, feeling bad immediately after he’d said it but pushing ahead anyway. “I really can’t imagine what convinced you to do that to yourself.”

  Evan was sure she’d yell and boil over now, if she didn’t punch him, but she stewed for a moment and then told him, “No, you really can’t.”

  “Lucy, what’s—” Evan started.

  “I was looking forward to seeing you. Sorry I couldn’t slip into a comfortable level of banter for you in twenty minutes.” Lucy glared at him. “Enjoy your vacation, and have fun with your homework!” Lucy gave Evan a shove and stomped through the snow and leaves. A wind blew, pulling the light snow off the ground and into the air. She left the cemetery and headed back home. Evan watched her walk away. He didn’t know what else to do.

  “Lucy!” he called out when it was certainly too late.

  “And where have you been, mister?” Evan’s mom asked him as he walked inside, around five thirty in the evening. It was already long dark by then. A few aunts and uncles were in the living room, everyone picking at food still. They ate early at Sunday dinners so everyone had time to get home and enjoy the rest of the evening. Mom was loading the dishwasher in the kitchen. Dad’s town was up and sprawling, the buildings were lit, and all the boxes were put away.

  “You know…” Evan said, rolling his eyes. He walked toward the stairs, hoping for an easy exit.

  “We’re gonna need more details than that,” Dad said from the dining room table. Evan’s cousins were ready for some kind of dirt.

  “I am without details,” Evan said, raising his arms as if he could be physically searched for details. “I went over to Lucy’s. I always hang out with Lucy when she’s home. You know that.”

  “Bring her over sometime, Evan,” Gram said from th
e couch by the TV. Evan didn’t know how to respond. He had felt embarrassed the whole walk home. He had yelled at Lucy for dressing differently and not having anything to say because he was stressed about college choices and history reports and the Christmas town and having to sneak out of the house because of a dinner his family had every single week. He knew he hadn’t been fair.

  “How is she?” Dad asked. “And how’s the homework paper going?” This is what Dad really wanted to ask. Anything else was just a dance to get there.

  “She’s fine. You know. It’s always a little weird at first.” He wasn’t sure if he’d see her again to prove that right or wrong. “I haven’t started the paper yet. Sorry.”

  “Say good-bye to your aunt and uncle,” Mom said, standing in the kitchen doorway. “They’re loading up the kids in the car. Are you gonna watch a movie with us after dinner?”

  “Or you could get a head start on your paper,” Dad said, and glanced at his watch. “It’ll be early still.”

  Evan looked at his mom and then at his dad. He felt angry still. Too angry to work on a paper. Maybe he could get lost in the movie. Maybe that would help.

  “Watch a movie with us,” Mom said. “You’ve got all vacation for homework, right, honey?” She looked at Evan’s dad, who shook his head and took his plate to the dishwasher. Then she turned back to Evan.

  “Sure, sure.” Evan relented and gave his mom a peck on the cheek. He had a hard time saying no to his mom anyway. She seemed so excited. After their company left, they ate some cookies she’d baked earlier and watched It’s a Wonderful Life. The perfect image of a loving family during the holidays. Evan couldn’t pay attention to the movie, though. He was still on edge. He felt rotten over Lucy, and he was annoyed with his dad, and his to-do list was looking less and less like a list and more like a big mountain of dirt he had to dig through. By nine, Evan’s blinks were lasting a full second each. His dad had been asleep in his chair for the past half hour, his snore as loud as the TV.

  When Evan got to his room, he clicked on his drawing-table clamp light. The table was tilted slightly and held a few loose sheets of paper. Along the sides it shelved water-colors, brushes, pencils, pens, and ink. Evan fell into his chair, stared at a blank sheet of paper, picked up a pen, and tapped it against the table. His notebook and history book sat waiting for him on the right. He was so tired. To his left was a half-finished watercolor depiction of Aelysthia with odd-looking creatures at war with one another. Evan brushed his finger over the painting. He liked the texture of watercolor paper. He reached over to his bookcase, where on top of his hardcover Harry Potter collection sat his college applications pile. Evan placed the unruly stack of papers and pamphlets on the table and let his head fall on top of them.

  I’M LOOKING THROUGH YOU

  “Hi, Evan, I’ll be right with you,” the waitress at the small diner Evan liked to frequent said. She gave an extra mumbled hello to Lucy, who sat quietly across from Evan like a ghost. A moment later, she flew past them again. “Sorry I’m taking so long. One minute!”

  “It’s all right, Tracy. Take your time,” Evan said, and Lucy gave him a cold stare. This was the third time the waitress had said One minute. Dishes were clanking in the kitchen, and assorted smells wafted by. The coffee and bacon smelled good. The eggs not so much. “She’s nice,” Evan said, as if that were reason enough to let her take her time.

  How did we end up here? Evan thought. So far, breakfast with Lucy was much more subdued than their walk had been. Lucy had shown up on Evan’s doorstep in the morning, where she’d sent Evan a text message in lieu of, say, calling or knocking on the door. Evan hadn’t brought up Lucy’s Goth getup yet, or the fact that the last time they had talked she had shoved him away and ditched him in a cemetery. Their conversation was the better for it. Evan knew a cry for help when he saw one, though, and wasn’t ready to let Lucy’s odd behavior go completely just yet. He could subtly nag her into submission, for instance. He decided to test it lightly at first and stared at Lucy for a couple of seconds. He was only thinking Holy hell, what’s all that on your face? but said nothing.

  “What?” Lucy barked.

  Evan snickered to himself and decided he’d back off.

  Lucy sighed a gust of air that reached across the table. Her old brown hair would have reacted to the sigh, but her sculpted black hair sat lifeless. She took her phone out of her purse and looked at it for a minute before shutting it off and putting it back in her purse. Evan checked his own phone for messages, but he had only another text from Marshall: She’s obv back, seeing as you’ve fallen off the face of the earth. Response, plz. M. Evan put his phone away.

  “Marshall’s dying to meet you. You really don’t remember him at all? Sullen, Gothy, looked kinda like you do now?”

  A quick eye movement told Evan to shut up. “If I did know him, it was pre–middle school,” Lucy said. “And I’ve completely blocked out those years by now. Sorry.”

  Two men were having a loud conversation on Apple and Microsoft and laptop technologies. The rest of the diner was maybe a third populated, so Evan wondered why the hostess had seated him and Lucy right next to these guys.

  Evan pushed away his napkin roll of a fork and a knife, and laid out a grid of boxes on a blank page of his sketchbook. The paper stuck to the table, which was still damp from a wiping. He laid out twelve panels, three across and four up and down. Evan and Lucy often spent time waiting for food or for a movie to start doing these jam strips, one-page collaborative comics. Evan would choose a topic and draw the first panel, Lucy would take the second panel and continue the story, Evan would draw the third, and so on. With an even number of panels, one gets to start the comic, and the other gets to finish it.

  The morning sun was seeping in through the half-shut blinds of the diner window. There was a row of neighboring stores across the parking lot that were partially obscured by giant hills of plowed snow. The sun was bleaching them pure white. Evan drew the square panels fast and loose, as was his style. He used a pocket brush pen, which gave the appearance you’d get by using a brush dipped in ink.

  Evan started the first panel while Lucy observed the busy diner. She looked down at her fingers, which were twirling the paper place mat in large circles.

  “We’re supposed to get a snowstorm today,” Evan said, passing the sketchbook to Lucy to continue.

  “It’s New England—what else is new?” Lucy said in a flat tone, looking at Evan’s panel.

  “It’s just odd because it’s sunny,” Evan said. Not this again. He looked out the window at the stores across from the diner. It looked cold, and it was, but otherwise it seemed pleasant.

  “Better go buy five shovels and a fifty-pound bag of salt,” Lucy deadpanned. “We’ll stock the pantry—might be trapped for the winter.”

  Evan found himself placing any observation of Lucy into one of two categories: Old Lucy and New LucyTM. Sarcasm was borderline, but he’d give it to Old Lucy. New LucyTM was moodier and quiet, and, dare he say, emo. It amused Evan to know how much she’d hate it if she knew he was thinking this. She’d probably give him a bruise somewhere. That’s so Old Lucy.

  “I’m just being a bitch,” Lucy said.

  “ ’S all right. I miss your bitching.” It was definitely better than the long stretches of silence.

  “It’ll get old. Trust me.”

  Evan watched Lucy draw. She took a lot of time and care to try to match Evan’s style. She stuck out her tongue while she was focused, an old habit Evan had noticed years ago. Evan wondered if it helped in some way, if she was aware of it, if he did anything similar when he was drawing. Because when he was focused, he was gone. He could be thumping his leg and sitting in his underwear for all he knew.

  Lucy passed the comic back to Evan.

  Evan held the pocket brush pen to his chin while he thought of the next panel. The sun moved behind clouds.

  The waitress approached Evan and Lucy. “Hi, sorry for the wait. Can I get you guys so
mething to drink?” she asked with a large grin. Evan ordered an orange juice, and Lucy asked for a coffee.

  “Sure, I’ll bring those right out,” she said, and gave Evan a wink. He figured she must have thought he was on a date.

  “Tracy, this is Lucy,” Evan said, and Lucy waved. Tracy smiled and said they’d met last year.

  “Did you?” said Evan. “Yeah, I guess you would have. Lucy’s my best friend since childhood. She’s in town for vacation.”

  “That’s so awesome. Well, be sure to enjoy it,” said Tracy. Before turning around, she noticed the sketchbook. “Evan, I didn’t know you could draw. Are you both artists? May I?” Evan passed her the sketchbook, which she thumbed through. It was mostly jam strips, dating back a few years, with a few random drawings Evan had done on his own interspersed. Evan remembered that some of the jam strips were pretty dirty. He hoped Tracy wasn’t looking too carefully.

  “He’s the artist,” Lucy said, pointing to Evan. “I just pretend.”

  “We both are,” Evan said, embarrassed. “She’s the modest one, and I’m the braggart.”

  “It’s really good, very impressive. Both of you,” Tracy said with a smile.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Evan said, playing rock star. Lucy sat quietly. She vacantly looked over the menu.

  “Are you guys ready to order, or do you want me to get your drinks first?”

  “I’m all set,” Evan said. “Lucy?”

  “Yeah, you go first,” she said, still mulling over her choices. Not big on small talk, Evan thought. He looked up at Tracy and ordered a sizable selection of pancakes, sausage, hash browns, and eggs (sunny-side up). Lucy opted for the more economic side of toast. Plain, please.

  The waitress left, and Evan started drawing. “Not hungry?” he asked.

  “Not really,” Lucy said. “What about you? Did you just cross a desert or something?”