“Yes, I do hate them so. In fact I’d made this snow pile here for me to have fun in alone, and you know, rub it in, with all the fun I’ll be having.”
“I suppose that could be true,” the mannish-sounding belle declared. “So you wouldn’t object to me taking a dive into your pile, no?”
“Oh, ha, well, you wouldn’t want to ruin your lovely dress, seeing as it’s zero degrees outside and the snow is sure to be even colder.”
“Nonsense, you do know I partake in the ocean plunge once every winter. I find it does the heart good. In fact I might just take this dress off right here and now if you don’t mind!”
“There’s a dead body in the snow, and I killed him and I’ll kill you, too, you bloody old sod!” And with that, Joey slapped the lady right off the ledge and into the fiery pits of carpet below.
“You were always a shitty son!” she yelled as she met her untimely death. Evan and Lucy laughed, and Evan kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, but I really do have to finish this stupid paper. I’m so close. So close.”
Lucy leaned against the wall and smiled and blushed a little. Evan walked back over to the table where his books and laptop were and sat down, and watched Lucy for a moment. She picked up the fallen figure and put her back onto the ledge. She felt less bored now. That was fun. That was a nice break. Lucy felt guilty for the things she’d been thinking about Evan and wished she could take those thoughts back. Evan was who he was, and there was room for study and room for play. He could read and he could come be silly and he could kiss her on the head, and all those things could coexist just fine.
Lucy started moving the townspeople around in a tribute to the events of the afternoon. The mother lay on her back, Joey standing over her, shovel in hand. Sis watched, stunned. Joey’s schoolmate lay covered in cloth snow, and Frosty lumbered behind Joey, his dark accomplice. The rest of the townsfolk closed in, curious about the goings-on, searching for the next piece of small-town gossip to dish out over Christmas dinner.
There was an hour until Evan’s dad came home. She’d have to leave soon. The figures would all be back in place by tomorrow, Lucy knew. Dad would kill me, Evan would say. I can’t mess up his village!
When Lucy came by the next morning, it was all back in its place.
FALL BREAKS AND BACK TO WINTER
“Mmm, chamomile,” Lucy said, taking a delicious whiff of imaginary tea. This was her only line for the first scene.
“Maybe you can say it like Sue Sylvester from Glee,” Tim offered, excited to play director. Tim stood by the kitchen counter upstairs at Marshall’s house with Lucy, who was in a soft maroon bathrobe with a golden M embroidered into it. Thus, her character’s name: Mindy. Lucy had no idea who Sue Sylvester was, so Tim said to just sound angry and sarcastic. Lucy gave it a shot.
“Let’s try it as Nicolas Cage,” Tim said, and Lucy gave it her best and they laughed.
The kitchen and dining room were joined by the living room area, where Evan sat on the couch in his thirty-dollar Santa Claus outfit. It was duct taped on in most places. Even though he was supposed to be pantsless, he kept the cheap costume pants on between scenes. The belt around his waist was becoming more of a prop than a usable belt, so he held the pants in place with his left hand and stayed glued to the couch. He had a pillow stuffed under his Santa coat and into his pants. With his right hand he was constantly scratching his face and head because of the itchy cheap beard and hat.
“That really fits the contours of your face,” Marshall said.
“You’re gonna be in that for a while. I’m sorry,” Tim said, looking over from where he and Lucy were standing. He giggled. “It’s going to take some time to get the lights and audio set up.” The living room was full of lights and clamps and wires and large silver sheets and duffel bags full of camera equipment and microphones and more wires and stuff.
“Where is Mrs. Claus?” Evan shouted in his gruff Santa voice. “Bring me my cookie baker! Peppermint Patty, we used to call her, ho ho ho. And now she’s just Peppermint Claus, much less ring to it.”
Lucy rolled her eyes as Evan tried his best to make a character of this. She wished he’d held off on putting on that ridiculous costume, seeing as he couldn’t really do anything now because of it. He was trying to get her to sit on the couch, where she’d have to listen to that goofy voice. “I’m rehearsing, Ev,” she told him, and turned her attention back to Tim. “So what is this thing? Is this just for fun?”
“Well, yeah. It’s threefold,” Tim said, hopping up on the counter. “For one, yes, it will be fun. Marshall and I love horror movies, so it’s just something we’ve been wanting to do for as long as we’ve been together. Also, we both want to go to NYU for film school, so you know. If it comes out good, then maybe we can use it as a portfolio piece. And third, it’s going to be really fun.”
“Ho ho ho!” Evan said in Santa-voice. “You said fun twice!” He put down his phone, which he’d been playing with.
“Evan, Santa doesn’t even talk in this thing. And he’s certainly not jovial. You really don’t need to get in character.” Lucy had a particularly low tolerance for Evan suddenly that she didn’t care to explore. She wanted to have a short finished by the end of the day, which was going to take a lot of work, and she was having more fun with Tim and Marshall. They were telling her about the time they had cut school to go to a taping of The View in New York. Lucy laughed as they told her about the angry woman they sat next to on the train who kept hushing them.
“She was just jealous because she had to go to her boring job and we were on our way to see Joy Behar,” said Tim. And then there was the cute audience extra who got placed next to Marshall and how they tried to follow him around after the show.
“I love how you guys are actually interesting,” Lucy said, feeling momentarily bored with everything and everyone else in the world.
“Aww,” Tim said, “we try.”
“Maybe dropping off toys in every house in the world isn’t interesting to you.” Santa Evan tried to join in, but his outfit was falling apart even as he sat there glued to the couch. Lucy felt guilty that he had overheard her. She didn’t mean to take a dig at him. She wasn’t even sure why she was feeling so angry. There was no logical reason. What she wanted was to walk with Evan and talk for hours and empty out her mind, but she couldn’t do that, because she couldn’t actually tell him anything. Because then he’d be the angry one, if she was honest. If he knew about Ian, especially. She couldn’t bear for him to stop looking at her the way he had been. The same look that made her feel so guilty now. It was probably some karma thing, some kind of self-sabotage.
“We’re all set,” Marshall said, finally ready to film Lucy’s big tea scene. Marshall and Tim both got behind the camera, framing everything just so and disagreeing on the direction of light and how close in on Lucy they should be. Tim settled the argument (they went close-up) and, it being Marshall’s camera—
“… Go!” Marshall said. Lucy figured this was the same as Action!
“Mmm, chamomile!” Lucy sighed, not as Nicolas Cage, holding a mug of actual tea close to her nose.
“Cut!” Tim said.
“That was so… good!” Marshall said, and they began the long process of taking all the lights and mics down.
Back in the living room, Evan wasn’t thrilled with the brief script he was looking over. “Aww, don’t worry,” Tim said. “It’s just a short movie, no one will think you’re really pantsless Santa. It’s pretty much exactly what we’ve talked about all year.”
Evan replied that he had been excited to film the short with Lucy but had forgotten that he’d basically be brandishing a knife and a baseball bat and chasing her around the house. Lucy tried to comfort him. “It’s just acting, it’s not like the cops are going to show up and catch you threatening me with weapons or anything. Don’t overthink it.”
“This is going to be preserved,” Evan said. “I mean we’ll probably watch it a m
illion times. What if it’s a romance, what if Santa breaks into her house and sweet talks her, and—”This was met with a roomful of jeers.
When it was time for them to film again, about twenty minutes later, the scene involved Lucy hearing a noise and walking into the living room, where she would find a single present sitting on a lamp table. Lucy would pick it up, look at it curiously, and open it, to find Santa’s knife thrusting through it from the bottom, beginning the chase, which was essentially the script.
“We’re going to film the living room scene really quick, and then move back to the kitchen for the next part,” Tim said.
Evan groaned. “Why don’t we just film all the kitchen scenes together?”
“It’ll be easier to edit if we shoot it linear.”
“Not really,” Evan said. “Once it’s in the computer, it doesn’t make a difference when you shot what. You can drag and drop it anywhere. We’re really just losing time here, when we need it.”
“Ev, drop it, it’s done.” Lucy let out a long sigh and headed back to the kitchen with everyone else. Evan stopped her in the part of the hall that branched out where the living room and kitchen areas met.
“Lucy. Is everything okay?” he asked. Lucy felt the guilt like a stab from Santa’s knife. He was a puppy dog again, worried about her. She touched his cheek with the palm of her hand. She wished she could choose an emotion and stick with it for longer than fifteen minutes. She leaned in and gave him a kiss, and told him she was fine.
“Are you sure?” Evan asked. “You seem a little off.”
That was the theme of vacation this year, she wanted to say. Lucy didn’t want any drawn-out conversations, though, not now while they were in costumes and had to run around the house. Maybe they didn’t have to have one at all, with this whole back-and-forth that she was feeling, maybe she could just get through the rest of the week and some time apart would be all she needed to figure it out. That sounded really good. Just have fun now so this kind of talk doesn’t happen, and everything else will work out on its own. Right.
“I’m sure,” Lucy said, and tried to change her demeanor. She was an actress, now. She smiled and said everything was fine, and that she hadn’t planned on the filming to drag on so much. Evan agreed and was satisfied with that answer and went to look for his pants. The lying brought on the guilt again, but she convinced herself that it was better in the end if she carried all the bad feelings herself. She was used to them.
* * *
Mel came home while everyone was cleaning up after the big chase scene. Lucy was helping Tim wipe up fake blood, and Evan was sitting at the kitchen table by Marshall. He had taken out the pillow, wearing just the jacket, beard, and hat now. Tim wanted to shoot another scene from early in the script, but Evan was splattered with fake blood that wouldn’t come off.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your film!” Mel said as he walked in. “If you want, I can come back in. I think I can make a better entrance.”
“Hi, Dad,” Marshall said. “We’re between shots.”
“We’ve been between shots for most of the day,” Lucy said, and slumped her head onto the counter.
“Looks like a lot of work,” Mel said, taking in the scene. “And a lot of blood. A Christmas Carol remake?” He said his hellos to Tim and Lucy. Mel pointed to Evan. “And you must be… the Easter Bunny?”
“Close,” Evan said with a smile.
“I understand congratulations are in order,” Mel said, and shook Evan’s hand. “Marshall tells me you and Lucy started dating since I last saw you. That’s wonderful.”
Lucy lifted her head and said, “It’s complicated.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, just trying to be funny, but she regretted it immediately. This was one of those stupid things she’d say only half-aware she was saying it in the first place, but now it would hover in the air and follow her around. It was complicated.
Tim and Marshall looked away. Evan looked at Lucy, but she kept her head down. So much for avoiding conversation.
“I understand how that is,” Mel said with a sympathetic grin. “Well, you kids let me know if you need anything.”
There was silence and some small awkward chatter after Mel left. We can leave this to clean later, look at the time. Everyone worked as fast as possible to get the next scene set up. Evan begrudgingly got in place, but his face was blank. Lucy wished it were anything but.
“And… go!” Marshall said.
Evan took a deep breath and exhaled for what seemed like forever. Lucy waited.
“Can we stop?” Evan asked. “I’m just not really in the mood. I’m sorry. We can finish some other time.” Evan walked into the living room and grabbed his pants and put them on along with his boots.
“I won’t really be around past this week,” Lucy said timidly. She wanted to film this but knew it wasn’t going to happen now. And she knew they’d have to talk. She knew she had just ruined her shot at this actually working with Evan. She felt horrible, and embarrassed. She wished she’d just played nice and shut up, and she couldn’t figure out what her deal was in the first place. She had had this coming all day, and she knew that, too.
“Honestly, Tim, Marshall, it needs work,” Evan said bluntly, still wearing his hat and beard. “It needs more thought. It needs some semblance of a script, no one just picks up a camera and makes a film, you know? You have to plan it.” Evan picked up his gloves and his phone and his notebook. “I’m just being honest. I’m sorry. Not trying to disappoint, but this isn’t going anywhere like this. It’s not going to make any festivals, and it’s not going to get you into NYU.” Tone-wise, Evan’s lecture reminded Lucy of his dad.
“Yeah, sure,” Tim said uncomfortably. Everyone else stayed quiet. Lucy couldn’t think of a time in her life when she’d seen Evan lose his cool. She was having trouble picturing him even upset or angry aside from now. She’d wondered if Evan felt like she did, if maybe he had a long-standing crush like she did, or if maybe he’d just been going with the flow and seeing where this would all lead. He felt something strong, though. Lucy knew that now.
“Look, we’ll keep working on it. Maybe in the spring. It’s not like we were going to finish it by your NYU application deadline anyway,” Evan said, shrugging his shoulders, and tossed the hat and beard. “I’m gonna take off.” He left his Santa suit on the couch, grabbed his real coat, and walked out the door. A few seconds of quiet passed.
“Are you okay, Lucy?” Tim asked with a frown. “I like Evan and Lucy.”
Lucy sighed. “I know, I do, too. Thanks, Tim.”
Tim gave Lucy a small hug, and she sat with Tim and Marshall for a minute. No one was sure what to say.
“I want to stay and help clean, but I have the keys,” she said, pulling them out of her purse and jingling them. “I drove. So. I’m gonna go get changed.”
She walked zombielike into the bathroom and shut the door.
* * *
The snow was falling faster than it had all day and the roads were a coffee-colored slushy mess, but Lucy floored her dad’s car through the dark streets with abandon, desperate to get Evan home before things got any worse. She darted through the back roads, speeding up at any stretch of road and hitting the brakes at each turn. Lucy clutched the wheel and her eyes were open wide in a disturbed panic, her mouth shut tightly. If Evan’s mouth could do the same, maybe she could figure out something, anything to tell him that would make things okay. Unfortunately, Evan didn’t wait long.
“You know, what is with you?” he asked. Lucy stiffened further. She wanted to fix things, but she did not like arguments, or blame, or nasty tones. “Why are you acting so different? It’s not just the look. You’ve been snippy since you got here. I feel like an asshole every time I open my mouth around you. Do you even like me? I feel like you don’t.”
“You know I do,” Lucy said through her teeth.
“Well, then I don’t know what’s going on. You never used to be this way.”
“You’re different
, too,” Lucy said, finding herself quickly getting worked up. The words were going to fly now, and she was worried because she had no idea what they’d be. “Since when are you Mister Settle-Down-and-Have-a-Family, Mister Small-Town-Romance-Junkie? You’ve changed, too.”
Lucy hit a stretch of ice and pumped her brakes and then hit the gas to avoid swerving.
“Who said anything about a family?” Evan asked. “I had a girlfriend for a month this year. You’re projecting. Could you drive a little slower?”
“No.”
“What’s going on with you?” Evan asked, still heated.
“I’m not some Stepford Wife, Evan. I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not cute little Lucy, I’m not Evan’s bitch, I’m not going to be whatever you feel like I should be. I’m going to get angry, I’m going to curse if I need to, and I’ll smoke if I’m stressed and if I feel like it, so get used to it.”
“What stress?” Evan asked. “What is going on? Because I feel like this should be a happy time, and you are not happy.” Evan threw his arm up by the window and rubbed his temples. “You know, I’d like to know how you see me,” he said, turning to face Lucy. “You seem to be so angry with me, and I can’t think of anything I’ve done to deserve it.”
Lucy slammed on the brakes as a light turned red, and the car skidded for a second before coming to a stop.
“And could you please drive slower? I get it, you’re pissed.”
“You don’t get it, that’s the problem,” Lucy said, shutting her eyes for emphasis. “You haven’t had any challenge in your life, you have it so easy, you can’t appreciate what others go through, and you definitely can’t appreciate me.”
“How do you know? It’s been, like, two days. What the hell.” The light turned green. “And how would you know how easy I have it?” Evan asked. “Just because we don’t have the same issues doesn’t mean I don’t have any. My family is always expecting something from me. And so are my friends. Tim and Marshall, who I probably just pissed off. I have to deal with my father and his constant micromanaging of my life.” Evan’s tone changed, it was calmer now. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my parents were split up. Like maybe they wouldn’t be so focused on me, and I could just do what I want. Running off to be some kind of artist isn’t even an option in my life—my dad couldn’t care less about drawings and comics. I have to make straight As, I have to get into the best school, I need to be doing extracurricular work every day, or I’m not meeting my potential. I work every minute for a life I don’t even know I want! And then you come into town and I try all week, but I can’t think of a reason to work on this stupid paper I’m being harped on about. And somehow I have to live up to this character.”
Winter Town Page 13
