by Natalie Ward
There’s a moment of silence and I don’t breathe, too afraid of what he’s going to say now that he knows who it is. I’m afraid that the next sound I’ll hear, is that of him hanging up.
“Evie, baby, thank fuck you’re okay,” he breathes out, surprising me. “God, I’ve been waiting forever for this phone call.”
I finally exhale.
That’s all it takes.
He’s been waiting for me all this time. I’ve punished him for four long years, knowing he was out there and choosing not to go home to him, but still he’s been waiting for me. And the first thing he says is, Evie, baby, thank fuck you’re okay.
My protector.
The tears are falling without me even realising and it’s only when Ben speaks again, that I notice they’ve turned into full-blown sobs.
“Baby, don’t cry, please,” he says, his voice pleading, but gentle. “It’s okay, where are you? Just tell me where you are and I’ll come to you, right now.”
“Ben, I’m sorry,” I cry, my voice choked by tears. “I’m so sorry, so very, very sorry.”
“Evie, it’s okay,” he says, his voice achingly familiar and sounding so much like home to me. He is where I belong. Not here, not anywhere else. “Just tell me where you are, baby, please. We don’t have much time.”
And we don’t. We only have a couple of hours.
“I’m in Oxford,” I say, “with Sarah.”
I hear his laugh now, can feel his smile, even through the phone and when I close my eyes, I can picture it too. I can see his warm face and the messy brown hair that he never seems to get under control. The piercing blue eyes that see right through me, through all of the Evies. And his mouth and the gorgeous smile that stretches across his face, giving me that cheeky grin that always makes me smile. I can see all of it now and I want it, want him.
“God, I somehow knew that’s where you really were,” I think I hear him say. “Okay, I’m obviously in London,” he adds on, bringing me back to the present, the present that’s quickly running out.
“And you’re at work,” I say, knowing there’s no chance he can just leave and come out here.
“Yes, but you can come to me,” he says, as though I’ve just said the last part out loud. There’s a determination in his voice now, as though us not finding a way to see each other isn’t an option. “Come to Paddington station, okay? Let me know what train you get and I’ll wait by the entrance, near WH Smith,” he says, an urgency in his voice because he knows we don’t have much time. “I’ll be waiting, Evie, I promise.” Ben speaks as though he knows I will get to him in time and that he will be there, waiting for me. It convinces me instantly. Somehow, without a shadow of a doubt, I know that he will.
“Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll get the next train, I’m leaving right now, I promise.”
I know he’s smiling again. “I know you will, babe. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “And thank you, Ben.”
There’s a few seconds of silence and I’m about to hang up when Ben speaks. “Evie,” he says, his voice serious.
“Yeah?” I ask, not sure what else he possibly wants to say. We don’t have much time and I have no idea where I will end up tomorrow.
“I love you, baby.”
But when Ben says these words to me, I know, that even if we somehow miss each other, if for some reason I don’t make it and we run out of time, at least we got to say these words.
“I love you too, Ben.”
Because this and what they represent, what they mean to both of us, is really all that matters.
I’m standing by the door on the train. We’ve been sitting on the tracks for over an hour now and I’m about ready to scream. Everyone is impatient and frustrated, but they have no idea. I watch as people check their watches and sigh with annoyance. One woman is complaining loudly, voicing what the rest of the carriage is all thinking. They’re all in a rush, but they don’t even understand the meaning of it.
Nobody does.
Nobody understands what it means to rush when you only have five minutes left in this life. Five minutes left to see the love of your life, to try and work out a way to find each other again when you disappear to the next life. They don’t understand the meaning of time, and missing something or someone.
Not like I do.
Finally the train starts to move again, a voice over the intercom apologising for the delay. I glance at my watch and see it’s thirty minutes to midnight. There’s time, there’s still time.
The impossible chug of the train seems to take forever and I’m convinced that we won’t make it, that I’ll be standing by the door of the train, and then I won’t be. I’ll be somewhere else and the people around me will be left wondering if I was ever here at all.
Ben will be left wondering if I really did come to him.
And I’ll be left wondering whether he really can keep waiting for me.
“Thank god,” a man beside me says, as the voice announces we are now pulling into Paddington Station. I look around, trying to see if Ben is waiting on the platform, knowing it’s unlikely, as he’d have to buy a ticket to get through the gates. I smooth down the front of the dress I wore out tonight. The one I didn’t have time to change out of as I yelled goodbye to Sarah and Adam before I ran to the station to catch my train. I face the glass window and tuck my hair behind my ears, run my fingers under my eyes as I prepare to see the man I love, for the first time in four years.
The train doors finally open and I immediately step down, running for the end of the platform. It’s crowded, so crowded, as London commuters return to the city for their week of work. I’m on the last carriage, which was a stupid mistake, because I now have a swarm of people in front of me as I try to run the length of the train. I’m done with being polite, as I start to push my way through the crowd, ignoring the comments directed at me.
“Evie!”
Ben.
His voice is instantly recognisable to me, and when I push up on my toes, I see the man who is always recognisable to me, in every life. The man I hope to see every night I close my eyes, regardless of where or who I am.
“Ben,” I call out, my eyes on him as I push my way through the people, wondering why the hell they can’t just get out of my way.
“Hurry, baby,” he calls out, his eyes darting to the clock that sits above the arrivals board.
It’s close, too close; we’re running out of time.
I start shoving people out of the way now, impatient, longing to touch him, to kiss him, longing to feel his arms wrap around me.
I don’t need Ben to survive; I do that by myself every time I disappear. But I do want him. He’s the reason I want to survive and there’s a huge difference. Ben has been in my life for as long as I can remember. Every change, somehow, I find him again and for whatever reason, he always remembers me too. He doesn’t question where I go and he doesn’t ask why, he just accepts it, and me. It’s always been that way, for as long as I can remember.
And in every single one of my lives, he loves me, just like I love him. It’s the one thing I can always hold on to. And it’s become the one thing I’m always trying to find my way back to.
“Evie,” he says again and I can’t help glancing up at the clock now too.
It’s late…time is running out.
“Ben,” I call out to him again, stuck at the gate as the person in front of me tries to find their ticket. “Fuck, hurry up, please hurry up,” I say to the woman, not caring how rude I sound.
Ben is on the opposite side of the gate. He is so close to me, I can almost reach out and touch him.
But he is so far at the same time, separated by what feels like a million people.
We are facing each other. People surround us.
The station is lit up with noise, but Ben is all I see.
Tomorrow is my birthday; tomorrow I turn twenty-four years old.
I hear my watch beeping and I know.
To
day is my birthday; today I turn twenty-four years old.
My eyes are still on Ben, standing on the other side of the gate. I want to push through now, jump the gate if I have to. I don’t care about the people or the British Rail inspector; I just want to touch Ben. I’m just about to when the woman in front of me finally straightens, inserting her ticket into the gate.
She passes through.
Then I blink.
And Ben is gone.
As I blink into the darkness though, I realise Ben is exactly where I left him and it’s me who’s gone.
And then everything goes black.
And I have no idea where I am.
29th February 2000
Twenty-four years old
The sun shines into my room and today I turn twenty-four years old.
As I open my eyes, I’m greeted with the sound of heavy traffic and the obnoxious wailing of a siren. The noise makes my heart stop as a wave of fear washes over me. And as the sun disappears behind a huge black cloud, a cold sweat breaks out all over my body. Within minutes, it’s pelting down with rain.
It all feels strangely ominous.
I glance to my left and see the other side of the bed is empty. A part of me thought there might be someone there, but now that I try to picture who…I can’t. The room is cold, as though the heating has turned off in the middle of the night, and as I throw back the covers, I hustle towards the thermostat and turn it all the way up. I hear the heating switch on and picking up a long grey cardigan from the chair, I walk towards the window where I press my legs against the radiator, wrapping myself in the jumper as I stare outside, trying to work out where I am, and why this all feels so unfamiliar.
London.
The buildings, the traffic, the sounds. It’s the only place I could be. I can’t quite work out where in London I am yet; none of the familiar landmarks, like Tower Bridge or the Millennium Wheel, are visible from my window. I’d have to be rich to live in an apartment with views like that.
The heating finally starts to kick in, warming my body up. But as I stand at the window staring out at the cold grey day, an uneasy feeling settles over me.
A missed encounter.
A lost opportunity.
Wasted time.
I can’t quite figure out what it is. It feels like something is missing though. Like I’ve misplaced something that’s very important to me, only I don’t know where it is or what I’m even supposed to be looking for.
Shaking it off, I turn and take in the rest of my flat.
Definitely not rich.
It’s a tiny one-room place that has one corner for the bedroom, one for the kitchen and one for the living room. The fourth corner has a door, which I presume and hope leads to a bathroom. Just as I’m walking towards it, the sound of a phone ringing breaks the silence of my flat. Turning, I see the mobile phone vibrating on the bedside table and I hurry over to pick it up, the name Nick flashing on the screen.
“Hello?” I say, having no idea who Nick is.
“Hey, sis, happy birthday, you old fart,” a guy’s voice comes through the phone.
I smile, realising Nick must be my brother. “Thanks,” I say.
“We still on for tonight?” he asks me.
“Tonight?” I ask, stalling as I try to work out what tonight might involve.
“Shit, is the Alzheimer’s setting in already?” Nick says laughing. “You, me, couple of our mates out for dinner and drinks?”
“Oh right, yeah, sorry,” I say, trying to make out as though I know what he’s talking about. “Bit slow, just woke up.”
“Geez lazy bones, it’s after ten,” Nick says, still laughing. He sounds nice, my brother, friendly and warm and I wonder why I can’t picture him or remember more about him. “Alright, go, enjoy your day and I’ll see you tonight, okay? The Porterhouse near Piccadilly in case you’ve forgotten already.”
“Thanks,” I say, breathing out with relief. “Around eight okay?”
“Sure thing, Evie, see you tonight,” he says, hanging up.
I end the call and walk towards the kitchen to make myself some tea. I’m slightly anxious about tonight as I realise not only do I know nothing about the man who has been my brother for the last twenty-four years, I also have no idea what he even looks like.
But most of all, I have no idea why I can’t remember any of this.
When I finally arrive at the pub, it’s eight-thirty, but I’m glad I’m late. I hope this means I’ll walk in and my brother will see me first. It’s crowded and I can hear music coming from the other room, the sounds of a live band floating through. I head towards the bar, figuring a drink is probably a good move.
“Evie,” a male voice calls out as I’m making my way over there. I turn and see a guy who’s probably a couple of years older than me, waving at me. He doesn’t exactly look familiar, but I guess if you had to guess, you could say we’re related. I smile and wave back, watch as he says something to the guy sitting next to him before he gets up and walks towards me.
Shit, is this my brother or is this one of our friends? Why the hell can’t I remember him?
“Happy birthday, sis,” he says as he reaches me, enveloping me in a huge bear hug.
I wrap my arms around his waist, my face buried against his shoulder. He smells strangely familiar, whatever the scent is. “Thanks, Nick,” I say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Have you been waiting long?”
Nick pulls back, his hands on my shoulders now as he smiles down at me with green eyes that are similar to mine. “Not too long,” he says. “I wasn’t quite at the stage where I thought you’d forgotten me again,” he adds on, teasing me about this morning’s conversation.
“Ha ha, smartarse,” I say back, smiling at just how nice my brother is. The easy banter we share is friendly, and weirdly familiar.
“Come on, let me buy you a drink,” he says, his arm around my shoulder as he walks us towards the bar. “What are you having?”
I wrap my arm around his waist. “Umm, maybe a G&T,” I say.
After Nick buys us our drinks, we head back towards what is evidently our group of friends. It looks to be a group of six, eight if you count Nick and me, but for some reason, I don’t recognise anyone. I’m pretty sure we all know each other though, so I’m going to have to try and work out everyone’s names at some stage.
“So, I’ve got someone I want you to meet,” Nick says, pulling up an extra stool as we reach our group. Everyone hugs me and wishes me a happy birthday and I thank each of them, wondering who any of them are.
“What?” I ask, sitting next to my brother.
Nick smiles. “He’ll be here later. Just give him a chance okay?”
I nearly choke on my drink as I realise my brother is trying to set me up with someone. “What are you, my pimp?” I ask, swallowing half of my gin and tonic in one go.
Nick laughs. “No, just your amazing big brother,” he says, whacking me on the back as I start to cough.
“I don’t need dating help, Nick,” I say, having no idea why my brother would chose do set me up with someone.
“Evie, please,” he says, a smile on his face that lets me know he’s being kind. “You haven’t had a boyfriend in forever, and at least this way, I know it’s going to be someone decent and not a complete wanker.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
When was the last time I had a boyfriend? I can’t even remember.
“Evie,” Nick says, his face softer now. “He’s a nice guy, really. Just give him a chance, yeah?”
I look at my brother. Somehow I know I can trust him, trust his judgment on this.
“Okay,” I say, shrugging, even though the idea of meeting someone doesn’t feel quite right.
7th March 2000
Twenty-four years old
“So, you’re at least going to give him a go, right?” Nick asks, smiling as he sits across from me.
I roll my eyes. “Is he at least going to show up this time?” I ask, r
eminding him of my birthday a week ago.
Nick takes a long drag of his cigarette before picking up his pint. “Yes, he will, I promise. Last time wasn’t his fault you know.”
“Sure, sure,” I say picking up my beer. “It just doesn’t exactly bode well for a future relationship now, does it?” I’m only teasing him, but there’s a part of me that means it. A part of me that still doesn’t feel entirely sure about this.
From what I could gather at my birthday drinks last week, this isn’t the first time Nick’s tried to set me up. The others have all been watching his attempts and my rejections, and they were teasing him about it happening again. Deep down, I already know nothing is going to come of this, regardless of how nice the guy is. It all just makes me feel uneasy.
And something about it feels very, very wrong.
“Ev,” he says, reaching out to touch my hand. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. He’s a good guy, I wouldn’t set you up with a dickhead you know.”
I smile, trying to squash my unease. Despite still not really remembering him, I do trust Nick, I have from the minute I met him. It’s not just because he’s my brother, there’s something else about him, something that screams trust, loyalty. I like it, I’m glad I have him.
“I know,” I say, trying to reassure him. “So, you going to tell me anything about him, a name, maybe?”
Nick smiles now, his face full of mischief and humour. “Nope, you can just wait and see.”
I laugh, taking another sip of my beer. “Is he good looking at least?”
I watch as my brother rolls his eyes at me. “Geez, shallow much?” he asks, laughing.
“Whatever,” I say, suddenly distracted by Nick glancing at the door and waving to someone. I take a deep breath as I square my shoulders and prepare to meet the man my brother seems to think could be a match for me.
Within seconds a tall, brown-haired man is standing beside our table. He’s looking down, smiling as he holds his hand out to me. I’m not sure whether he’s actually said anything though, because I’m too distracted by the intense feeling of guilt that’s suddenly rising up inside me.
