by Lisa Swallow
I sit, and Evan orders meals. He returns with two glasses of Coke and pushes me along the bench seat into the corner. Taking hold of my hand, he rubs the cold away and kisses my fingers.
“Do you know what day it is?” he asks.
“Sunday?”
Something amuses him; he’s fighting down a smile. “Today a year ago?”
“A year ago…” His words click into place. The first time we came here. Shouldn’t I remember, not the guy? “Oh.”
“You forgot!” He gasps in mock-horror and clutches his chest. I’m sure my cheeks turn pink.
“I did. Sorry.” I’m so busy that most of the time I don’t know what day of the week it is.
“Hmm. Well, I was going to take you on a picnic, but the weather’s too bloody cold. And I think it’s going to snow.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Evan pulls a package from his pocket, a small, flat square box. “I wanted to mark the occasion. I bought this before…well, the fight. So it means more giving this to you now.”
Now I feel bad. “Evan…”
Evan shifts his gaze back to the box. “Open the present.”
I unwrap the purple tissue and pull out the necklace inside. On a long silver chain is a silver pendant: a painting of a blue butterfly beneath domed glass.
“Why do you make me cry in public?” I say, fighting the tears.
“Why do you cry when I do nice things? I think I need to stop being romantic.” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
The emotion of the night at the club, the fight, the fear we were returning to last year engulfs me and the tears flow. I put my hand on the back of his head and my lips on his. “Thank you. This is beautiful.”
Evan’s smile softens the worry transparent in his face recently, and he wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “So are you.”
“Sorry I forgot.” I turn so he can fasten the necklace.
Evan nips my earlobe. “That’s okay; you can make it up to me later,” he whispers, setting a tingle from my neck to my toes.
Our meals arrive and we chat about everything and nothing as we eat. We discussed a lot the other night, but I still think things need straightening out for us to draw a line under recent events.
I set down my fork, unable to hold in my worries. “What happened, Evan?”
“What do you mean?”
“Last year, after I found out about Lucy and we were a couple for those months. There wasn’t any of this jealousy. What changed?”
“What do you mean?”
“We lived our own lives and there wasn’t any of this.”
“You didn’t have all of me then,” he says quietly, “you know that.”
“So why does this make things different?”
Evan studies my face, eyes searching mine as if deliberating whether he’s about to say the wrong thing. “Fear, Ness.”
“Of what?”
He taps his fingers on the table. “As a little kid, I was never scared of heights. Me and my mates climbed the tallest trees we could find and would sit up for hours watching everyone pass. And occasionally, throwing things at people.” He grins. “When I was eight, one kid fell and broke his arm. He screamed in agony, and I couldn’t help him because I froze and hung onto the branch. For the first time ever, I was afraid of what would happen if I fell.”
I rub my head, confused. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’ve avoided heights since that day; I’m always worried I’ll fall and break something. It’s the same with you. I fall for you every day, and although I’m not scared of being in love with you, I’m afraid of getting broken.”
Eloquent Evan, the deep thinking guy I forget he is sometimes. “So now we’re serious; you’re going to be like this?”
“I’m learning, Ness. This is new to me. Giving my heart to someone wholly is terrifying. It’s not because I don’t trust you. Like I say, I’m scared.”
“I know. How I feel about you scares me sometimes too. But you’ll push me away if you can’t trust me. And this hiding things from me – we won’t work if you do.”
“I know.” He inhales. “But I felt like you were pushing me away, so that made it harder to say anything.”
“How?”
“Your studies. I know they’re important, but sometimes it’s as if you don’t have room in your life for anything outside of them. You don’t really do anything else. We hardly see each other. I think I’m as jealous of your studying as I am of your friends.” He pauses, pushing his food around his plate. “So I thought I’d just deal with the situation on my own.”
“But you’re not dealing with what’s happening. Look at how hiding this ate away at us. I’m here to support you because I love you; you should know this. And I’m sorry.” I smile wryly at the memory of a conversation last week.
“What’s funny?”
“It’s ironic you saying this, because Ollie said the same thing to me last week. That I’m too obsessed with my course. But this is me. I have to learn to not be the perfectionist I was at high school. Because this is different.”
“Huh. I never thought I’d agree with him on something.”
“So I am going to make more us time.” I squeeze his hand.
Evan strokes my cheek. “I thought we’d fucked this up. My head was a mess.”
“I’m not surprised. But if you’d told me…”
“I was in denial. I need to confront how finding Faye makes me feel and put her behind me. Then move on. So, you’re right. I need to see her.” His words sound rehearsed.
Evan returns to his food, shutting down the subject, and he blinks away whatever thoughts are in his mind. And as always, I know when to leave things. I know what he needs from me at this moment.
I place my hand over his and squeeze his fingers. “I understand so much more now. Anyone else but you and I’d have given up. But this is different. You’re different. When I’m with you, everything feels right. As if you’re meant to be there. As if you were missing all along.”
Evan smiles weakly, but the shine returns to his eyes. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
“Maybe I need to show you more. Sorry.”
“More days together would help, yeah?” he suggests.
I kiss his nose. “More openness too?”
“From both of us.” He closes his fingers around mine.
***
EVAN
The clouds that gathered over the last few weeks are blown away by opening up; accepting the unsaid hovering between us, a relief. My fear that Ness wouldn’t accept both of us contributed to the confusion was unfounded, but I guess the real test will come in what happens next. Can we change?
“We should talk about Christmas instead,” Ness says.
“Christmas?”
“Are you coming to stay? Remember I said my parents invited you a few weeks ago?”
“I’m not sure.” I’m uncomfortable there; I’ve met her parents a couple of times and got the impression they were surprised she chose to be with me. But the idea of not seeing Ness for the whole Christmas break doesn’t appeal.
“Staying at the mansion?” I ask, my gentle sarcasm betraying what she knows lies beneath.
“I do not live in a mansion!”
“Compared to my house?”
She gives me the unimpressed look she does when I start comparing my background to hers.
“Well, neither of us live in our parents’ houses, so we’re equal. We both live in terraced houses in a city.”
“I suppose.”
An image of Faye’s house appears in my head. Increasingly, my mind drifts back to waiting outside the house for Lucy. Regretting not going inside. Even when Lucy came out and pleaded with me to go and see Faye, I refused. Then when Lucy did climb into the car to go home, the journey passed in silence. I talked about anything and everything so I didn’t have to talk about where Lucy had been.
But now, Ness knows. Faye’s not hidden anymore. Until I see th
is woman, she isn’t going away. And until she goes away, I can’t move on.
Chapter Fifteen
EVAN
The grey clouds match my mood and turn the street from dreary to depressing. I park in the same spot as when I brought Lucy. I can see Faye’s door and wonder if she’s as nervous as I am right now. I know this has to be done – confront my feelings and put this whole pile of crap behind me. Which is why I called and arranged to see Faye.
So why do I feel sick?
Lucy isn’t with me; I couldn’t stand her to know I was coming here. This is something I need to do alone.
Heart thumping in my ears, I climb out of the car and lock it, walking into the December sleet. I pull my jacket tight.
The tarmac path to the doorway is cracked, and tatty brown curtains hang in the dirty windows. I ring the doorbell, but the little boy inside me wants to run back to the car.
The woman who answers the door isn’t what I expected. But what did I expect? The nervous eyes looking into mine are Lucy’s. And they’re filled with tears. Faye steps back to let me into the house, and I follow her in. I hope Faye’s not intimidated, because she’s small – smaller than Ness, who I wish was with me right now.
We step into a dim room; we could be in a student house. The furniture is crammed together and has seen better days. The place stinks of cigarettes and alcohol. Faye’s cheeks are flushed, her hands shaking. The wine glass on the table confirms the fact she’s been drinking.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.
My gaze shifts from the glass, back to her. Faye’s young, but I knew she would be. She was sixteen when me and Lucy were born. She looks a lot like Lucy, although her hair is longer. As I stare, I expect to be overwhelmed with some kind of emotion, but numbness remains.
“Drink?” she repeats.
“Um. No.”
Her face crumples to disappointment. “Okay. Yeah. Tea.”
She disappears into the kitchen, and I perch on the edge of the dirty sofa. The room has newspapers and junk piled in one corner, and a television in the other. An ashtray full of cigarettes sits on the table next to the wine glass.
My phone beeps and I jump. A message from Ness, asking me to call.
Faye returns with a mug containing weak, watery tea. She sits in the nearby armchair, and I sip the tea, the clock ticking in the quiet between us.
“I’m glad you came,” she says softly.
“I probably won’t come again.” I can’t look at her.
“I understand.”
A car passes in the street, the noise filling the silence.
“Oh! Biscuit. Do you want a biscuit?” Faye jumps up and disappears before I can answer, then returns with a selection box, freshly opened. Bought especially for me. “I’m not sure which you like.”
I don’t take one, and look at her. “I don’t suppose you would know what biscuits I like, would you?”
Faye’s eyes widen, and the glistening tears return. She rubs her mouth, and I notice a tattoo on her wrist. Words I can’t read. Not wanting to see her cry, I look the other way. When I look back, she’s refilled her wine glass.
“Lucy says you’re at university?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“And you have a girlfriend who’s going to be a doctor?”
Why did Lucy have to divulge my personal life? “Yeah.”
Faye chews a finger and waggles her stocking-covered foot. Like Lucy. Oh shit; if she’s got mental health issues too, what the hell have I done by coming here?
“How about you?” I ask.
“Me?”
“What do you do?”
“Nothing. At the moment, I’m between jobs.” She gulps her wine and I spy the half-empty bottle on the floor. Eleven am.
“Oh. What did you do?”
“Bar work.”
I resist the urge to laugh at her. Sounds about right.
“So, what did you want? Lucy said you wanted to talk to me.” I can’t drop the hostile tone.
“I never expected her to look for me.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m glad she did.”
I suck air between my teeth; there’s so much boiling inside me, and every moment I sit, and with every tick from the clock, the closer I come to losing control.
I gulp down the tea and stand. “This was a bad idea, sorry.”
“Please don’t go, Evan. If I’m only going to see you once, stay longer.”
Faye’s tiny voice pierces my resolve. She stands and reaches a hand out to my face. I recoil, and her face moulds into hurt.
“Look at you, such a good-looking boy. Your Dad must be so proud of you. With university and everything too.”
I wish she’d cut the crap. “What happened?” I ask.
“When?”
“Why did you leave us? And never get in touch?” My voice cracks, as does the barrier in my mind against this shit.
Faye rubs her head and pours more wine. “I had to.”
“You had to abandon your five-year-old children?”
Her welling tears threaten to spill, and I will them not to. “Lucy didn’t say?”
“No, you say.”
“Because of your dad.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t love me.”
What kind of fucking pathetic excuse is that? I want to scream we loved her, ask why she didn’t take us with her. “And that stopped you from ever contacting us again?”
“I got messed up in some stuff. Jim told me not to contact him. He was hurt. I tried to send you birthday cards for a few years, but he sent them back. Said to keep away.”
“Messed up in what stuff?”
Faye slumps onto the sofa, draining her glass. “Drugs. The wrong kind of people – people I couldn’t have kids around.” She pauses. “It’s a good thing I left you. You wouldn’t want my life.”
This is beyond uncomfortable. The need to run from the place and never come back fills me as I gradually absorb more of the surroundings I’m in. The thing disturbing me the most: behind the sofa is a throw rug covering a pile of junk. And poking from under the rug is brightly-colored plastic. Some kind of kid’s toy. My stomach turns over. Has she got kids? Other kids.
“You live on your own?” I ask, watching Faye’s face for the truth.
As predicted, her eyes shift. She inspects the wine glass. “I don’t have a partner.”
This isn’t a full answer, but I can’t deal with knowing about her life. I’m doing what I promised Ness: laying the ghost of my past to rest, and then leaving. Back to Ness. Back to my new life.
Faye attempts to engage me in conversation, but I can’t drag my gaze away from the strange pile in the corner. I study the rest of the room for more evidence of children. Then I appraise her more carefully.
Faye’s smart shirt and tight jeans hang on her slight figure, and her hair is dyed – a henna tone to the brown roots beneath. A color Lucy once had. The color yellows her skin, and the dark shadows below her eyes betray more than tiredness. She has a drinking problem; that’s fairly clear, but is there more? The deep red lipstick and attempt to mask herself with make-up makes her look older then her years, not the younger look she probably hoped to achieve.
I have to go.
“Thanks for the drink; I’ve got classes this afternoon.” I’m lying, but the small house constricts around me. One thought echoes in my mind: this is where I could’ve ended up.
“Already?” The hurt in her eyes could be Lucy’s, and this pisses me off. Am I going to be reminded of the woman every time I look at my sister?
“Yeah, sorry.” I edge towards the door, willing Faye not to cry.
“And you won’t come back again?”
I blink at the childish tone to her voice, as if I’m the parent leaving her. She has no right to demand anything from me.
“I’ll bring Lucy. But I don’t want to be involved. You’ve met me now. I want to move on.”
Pulling open the flak
ing front door, I breathe the fresh air with relief. Get me out of here.
“I’m so sorry, Evan,” she says as I step out of the door.
I freeze and turn. “Sorry?”
Tears spill from Faye’s red-rimmed eyes, and I clench my teeth. No. She gets nothing from me. I walk away; don’t say goodbye. I don’t remember her saying goodbye to me fifteen years ago.
The familiar petrol and fast food smell of my car is calming, and I grip the steering wheel, attempting to put the last half-hour in the box of ‘shit I can’t deal with’. Deep down, I am aware this box won’t stay closed. Because of Lucy. Lucy wants her mum back and the fall out destined from her actions is yet to come.
A girl walks along the street, holding the hand of a little boy. I’m crap at guessing ages, but she looks around the same age as my twelve-year-old cousin Sarah, and the boy with her is maybe three. The girl has brown hair pulled into a ponytail; she’s skinny in tight jeans. The little boy has a buzz cut and a confused expression. The girl crouches down, zips up the jacket he’s trying to remove, and wipes chocolate from his face with her thumb. He eagerly stuffs more of the chocolate bar in his mouth and she shakes her head.
I pull my phone from my pocket to return Ness’s call. As I put the phone to my ear, the children walk up the broken concrete path. Towards Faye’s house.
The world retreats into a senseless dream, and I turn the ignition.
Today never happened.
Chapter Sixteen
NESS
Evan returns from his visit to Faye, but as predicted, he’s silent on the subject. Any attempt to get an answer from him about what happened is shut down. He’s shut down. I recognize the rawness in his expression, and know I should support him, but not push him. He’ll talk to me when he’s ready. At least he told me where he was going today.
We have a MedSoc Christmas function he agreed to go to. I don’t think anything would’ve stopped him from coming with me after the disaster which followed the cocktail night. For so many reasons, I’ve blocked the night from my mind.
