by Kait Nolan
“Look,” Caitlyn pointed to the bottom of the picture, “there are little feet made from fondant so it looks like the baby’s feet are pressing up against mama’s skin.”
Evie felt a bit nauseated. Something about cutting into a cake made to look like a human body part was not so appetizing. “Let’s hope it’s not red velvet,” Evie said.
Caitlyn looked at her quizzically.
Evie smiled and offered, “Why don’t I take care of ordering the cake?” She took the picture, and folding it, put it into her pocket. “I know a great lady who does cakes out of her home. And they are delicious. You won’t be disappointed.”
Caitlyn forced a grin. “I told your sister not to worry. That I had it under control.” She took a sip of her sweet tea. “But I am glad that we got to have this lunch.”
Evie recognized the look on Caitlyn’s face. The slightly furrowed brow, the lips pressed in a straight line. Evie nervously touched the phone in her pocket. Before she came to meet with Cait, she had put in a request with Luc to text her this hour. But the phone had been frustratingly silent. She didn’t know which she should worry about more: that Luc was busy texting other people, or that she would have to suffer through the pity talk alone.
“Cait,” Evie started to protest but Caitlyn raised her hand to silence her.
“You know I love you,” she said. “And I know, better than anyone, what a hard road you’ve had of it.”
“I’m fine.”
Caitlyn shook her head. “Evie. You can say that to the rest of the world. You can put a smile on your face. But I know the truth. You don’t have to be brave with me.”
Evie wanted to say so much, but she just offered a weak smile. “Thank you for saying that.”
“Are you still having your episodes?”
Evie frowned. “I wouldn’t exactly call them that. Sounds so dramatic.”
“Evie! It was dramatic. You can downplay it all you want, but when you start calling the cops in the middle of the night because you keep hearing ghost noises and claiming things are moving in your house, then I start to get worried.” Caitlyn softened her voice, which was reaching a fever pitch. Evie’s cheeks began to burn. “When I think of you alone in that big old house, I just don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m fine,” Evie repeated.
“Are you still taking your medication?” asked Cait, twirling her straw in her glass, nonchalantly, as if she were asking what kind of mascara Evie was using, not if she were still taking the anti-anxiety meds that a doctor had given Evie after she proved she couldn’t stay in her dead husband’s house without succumbing to debilitating panic attacks and possible hallucinations. “There’s no shame in it,” Cait continued. “I’ve taken Lexapro more than a few times in my life. Lord knows I can’t even think of getting on a plane without those little pills.”
Evie’s phone chirped in her pocket, and she looked to the ceiling silently thanking the Verizon gods.
LUC: Hey there sexy. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Evie’s heart skipped a bit, though she told herself it was just the rescue from the conversation that she was enjoying, not the thought of Luc.
EVIE: Me too. ;)
LUC: Ooh. Well please tell me what you are thinking about? My abs of steel? My dreamy eyes? Preferably you and me in a wrestling match without our clothes?
Evie’s cheeks went from hot to volcanic in a matter of seconds.
“Everything okay?” Caitlyn asked. “You look flushed.”
The sound of Cait’s voice made Evie jump; for a moment, she had forgotten that she was sitting in public.
Her phone buzzed again.
LUC: I can tell you what I’ve been thinking about. Or maybe I should just show you.
A smile blossomed across Evie’s face.
EVIE: You have no idea how much I want that.
Caitlyn leaned over, reaching her hand across the table and putting it over Evie’s. “Are you texting a boy?” She didn’t even attempt to keep her voice down. Evie instinctively pulled the phone to her chest, wanting desperately to make a snarky remark about Caitlyn’s use of the word boy like they were schoolgirls. Then, remembering why she needed Luc in the first place, she relaxed her grip and passed the phone to Caitlyn.
Caitlyn scrolled through the messages, eyes widening. Thankfully, Evie didn’t have to do much acting. She was blushing from her chest to her forehead.
“And who is Luc?” Caitlyn exclaimed, passing the phone back to Evie. “Sounds exotic.”
“Just a guy I’ve been seeing.” Evie stuffed the phone back in her pocket.
“Nah uh,” Cait said, shaking her head. “You’ve got to give me more information than that. Who is he? Where did you meet him? Is it serious?”
“Just a guy. Through friends. And I don’t know.”
Cait pursed her lips. “You know that ain’t gonna cut it.”
Evie sighed and went through the invented story of how she met Luc. She tried not to beam when she saw the look of utter shock on Caitlyn’s face as she listened.
“Well,” Cait finally said. “You have to bring him to the party. Everyone will want to meet this guy.”
Evie bit her lip. The bliss of coupledom couldn’t last long. Eventually, she’d have to come clean, explain to everyone that she had lied. Or fake a break-up, which would probably only illicit more of these pity lunches, which made Evie’s stomach clench into knots.
“Sure.” The word escaped Evie’s mouth before she had time to think about what she was saying.
Shit.
Chapter Four
Luc texted her the entire way back to her house, alternating playful banter with some seriously steamy messages. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it. She flopped on her couch and typed a quick text.
EVIE: You don’t always have to play around with me. I’m not with anyone here. Just bored.
LUC: Is that not a good enough reason to talk to me?
Evie smiled in spite of her mood.
EVIE: You know what I mean. You don’t have to keep it up.
LUC: Sometimes it’s nice just to have someone there.
Evie frowned at the phone. Every part of her brain was telling her to walk away, but right now, in the overwhelming silence of her house, she just didn’t want to. She didn’t have the strength to.
EVIE: It was nice seeing the look of utter shock on Caitlyn’s face when she thought I was texting my new boyfriend.
LUC: You were texting your new hot boyfriend. Emphasis on the hot.
EVIE: Simmer down now.
He sent her a picture of a smiling emoji with little devil’s horns.
She rubbed at her hand. Between the paint roller and now the sudden increase in her texting, her wrist was beginning to ache. She moved to her MacBook and opened iMessage for easier typing.
LUC: Is that all I am then? A ruse for your family?
EVIE: That’s a good word. Ruse. People don’t use it enough.
LUC: You are evading my question.
EVIE: And you are cheeky.
LUC: I can be. ;)
Evie chewed the inside of her mouth for a moment. She didn’t know how much to open up to him. He was, after all, a complete stranger. She should be cautious, if not for her own safety, then for her own sanity. Still, something in her deeply connected with “Luc,” whoever he was on the other side of the screen.
EVIE: You are a ruse. But I could also use the company. This house can be lonely.
She nearly added “especially at night,” but deleted the thought before she finished typing. Acknowledging the empty house at night made her feel naked, and not in a good way. Plus, she didn’t want him to think she was being forward. Whatever relationship they had, she was positive she didn’t want it to turn into late night sexting.
LUC: You live alone then? Me too. I tried the roommate thing, but I don’t always get along with others.
EVIE: So naturally you take a job where you have to talk to other people daily?
Makes sense.
LUC: I meant I don’t do well with other people in my space. I can be a bit OCD. A clean freak. Makes me sound so appealing.
EVIE: Better than a slob.
LUC: True. Why do you live alone?
Evie exhaled. She didn’t know how much of herself she should share. “Screw it,” she muttered, and put her hands to the keyboard.
EVIE: I’m fixing up an old house. It does get lonely. I don’t do roommates, either. Would rather live alone. But I guess I just got used to a constant companion in my husband.
LUC: So you’ve been married.
Evie stared at the period at the end of his sentence. An odd choice, she thought. A question mark would’ve been the most logical choice, at least in her mind anyway. But he wasn’t asking a question. The text bubble appeared, indicating he was typing more, so she didn’t have much time to formulate a response.
LUC: I’ve seen it a lot. Divorce is hard. Almost harder than never being married. People get used to seeing you as part of a couple. They don’t like seeing you a single woman again.
A hard lump began to form in Evie’s throat. He was right. People did get used to seeing her as part of a couple. They wanted to see her happy again, sure, but if she was part of a couple, they could all relax and begin to forget the awkward social situations that inevitably occurred when entertaining a widow. People always seemed to skirt the issue with her, afraid that she would break, and it always left gaping holes in the conversations, places on the social map where people were afraid to go.
LUC: Did I just make it too personal? Just tell me to back off if I did.
EVIE: No, you
She stared at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to type next. After a few moments, the words came in a flood.
EVIE: No, you’re right. People do get used to you as part of a couple. It’s like they can relax more around you if you’re part of a team. It’s as if being single is some sort of catching disease. Especially in my case. My husband died. Two years ago. I’m okay, I really am. It took a while but I’m finally beginning to heal. But everyone else seems to want to see me married again, or at least dating. And not for me, either. They can’t see that I’m okay being alone for now. They want to see me with someone to reassure themselves that life is as it should be. I’m the constant reminder that bad things can happen to the happiest of people.
She hit SEND and sat back against the couch cushion, looking at her words on the screen. It felt good, if not terrifying, to get those thoughts out there in the world, to express them to someone else.
It seemed a lifetime for Luc to begin to type, but finally the bubble appeared, followed by his response.
LUC: Evie, I am so sorry. That must have been hard on you. Can I ask how it happened? How he died?
Evie was a bit taken aback. Most people offered condolences when they heard of her husband’s death, but most changed the subject nearly immediately. They wanted to be decent people while avoiding any of the dirty details, though she could tell in their silence that most people wanted to know at least some of the story.
EVIE: I’m glad you asked. Most people don’t. It was a brain aneurysm. It was quick, which I guess is a good thing in the end. He had gone to bed with a bad headache. He had been complaining of one for a few days. His neck was bothering him, too, along with his back and knees. But we were in the midst of a house renovation, so nothing seemed all that abnormal. Plus, he was so stressed by his family. It was the first time in a few years that he was near any family. I just chalked it up to that. Told him to take a hot shower and get into bed. He never woke up.
Evie stared at the screen, less looking for Luc’s reply and more just letting the weight of the words balance on the page. She felt lighter somehow, as if she had put down the heft of her grief for just a few moments.
LUC: Shit.
EVIE: Too much?
LUC: No, not at all. Thank you for sharing that with me.
LUC: You know I’m here if you ever just need to talk. Masks down. No ruse. Just you and me.
Evie smiled at that. It was something her husband used to always say. “It’s just you and me, kid.” He called her that a lot. Kid. And it used to drive her crazy. But he thought he was Humphrey Bogart, and that was more than a little endearing. A shiver went down her spine at the memory. The room seemed suddenly bigger, darker, or maybe she just was feeling smaller.
EVIE: Thanks. Maybe just talk to me for a little bit more tonight? I don’t want to go to bed yet.
LUC: Sure. What do you like to do? When you aren’t playing Ms. Fix It around the house.
EVIE: You mean besides tricking my family and friends into thinking I have a hot boyfriend?
LUC: Yes. I know you read. Do you like movies?
EVIE: I hate the term film buff, but that’s totally what I am.
LUC: Okay. First, what’s wrong with film buff? And what kind of movies do you like?
EVIE: Sounds too pretentious. And horror movies. Though I’ve been trying to watch fewer of those lately.
LUC: Nice! But which ones do you like? Fair warning here…I love horror movies, too, and I am judging your answer.
A laugh escaped Evie’s mouth, almost surprising her. She sat up straighter and looked intently at the screen.
EVIE: No pressure there but challenge accepted. Lately I’ve been rewatching a lot of Ti West. He’s actually what put me off horror movies for a while. Watching a girl alone in an old house get ravaged by Satan worshippers is not the best thing for your psyche if you are, in fact, a girl living alone in an old house.
LUC: I can see how that could be a problem. But points for House of the Devil. It’s one of those movies that I love but not many people have seen. So well done.
EVIE: It really is. Have you seen The Sacrament? I went and saw it at a film festival up in Memphis. So good. He took the Jonestown Massacre and made it like a Vice crew was there, documentary-style. Not exactly horror, but truly horrific.
LUC: No. I’ve read good things about it, though. Did you see him in You’re Next?
EVIE: Ah! I love that movie. It’s like Home Alone, but all grown up and very, very wrong.
LUC: Never heard it described that way, but sure I can see that.
EVIE: What about you?
LUC: Movies? I watch a lot of them. I would tell you that I’m a huge Truffaut and Hitchcock fan, but you’ll probably call me a snob. I did just watch a couple of horror movies that I really liked. Cabin in the Woods was fantastic, but really, can Joss Whedon do any wrong? And What We Do in the Shadows. I hear they are making a sequel.
EVIE: I don’t think I saw that last one.
LUC: Well, then, you have to watch it right after we stop talking. Or better yet, I think it’s on Netflix. We could watch it together.
EVIE: Are you asking me out on a date?
LUC: If that’s what you call two people watching a movie together, then sure. I got time. We can text while we watch. Trust me, you’ll love it. And it’s more of a comedy so no nightmares for you tonight.
Evie bit her bottom lip. She could have another night watching infomercials or Lifetime movies, or she could keep this night going with Luc. If she was going to be awake watching television, she might as well do it with someone else to keep her company, even if it was just over text messages.
EVIE: Let me see if I can find it on Netflix.
LUC: I’ll wait. Tell me when you do so we can start it together.
Evie opened her browser, and in a few keystrokes, had found the movie on Netflix. It was one of the first ones that popped up under “New Releases.” She eyed the cover art, which showed a line-up of coffins, with rather hipster-looking vampires nestled inside.
EVIE: This is a vampire movie? If this is some sort of Twilight parody then I’m going to have to say goodnight.
LUC: It’s not, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s got one of the guys who was in Flight of the Conchords, if that tells you anything. You got it up? Ready to hit play?
Evie shook her head. “I guess I’m doing this,” she said aloud.
EVIE: Ready.
~*~
Luc had been right. The movie was just what she needed. She laughed especially hard at one scene, where the vampire roommates had tried to cover up a feeding-induced blood bath by hypnotizing some cops who came knocking on the door. And Luc had been funny in his messages, making her feel like she was in the middle of a Mystery Science Theater roadshow.
LUC: Well? Thoughts?
EVIE: It was good. Especially like the Nosferatu throwback.
LUC: Yep. And not all that scary.
EVIE: I think I will be nightmare-free tonight. And no Lifetime fluff movie required. Thank you.
LUC: No worries. And I mean it, you can text me any time. Or just dream about me. That will do, too.
EVIE: Thank you again. I know you mean that.
LUC: I do. Both about the texts and the sexy dreams.
EVIE: Oh so now they are sexy?
LUC: ;)
LUC: I meant that wink to be sexier.
EVIE: Groan. I think it’s time to say goodnight.
LUC: Goodnight then.
LUC: ;)
LUC: Dang it. Why can’t I make my emoticon sexy?
EVIE: Goodnight.
LUC: Night.
Evie stared at the computer screen for a long while before closing her laptop. Looking around the room, she did feel better about the night. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone to say goodnight to.
Her stomach clenched with anxiety. That was trouble, though, wasn’t it? She couldn’t get comfortable in this. As nice as “Luc” was, he wasn’t real. For all intents and purposes, he was someone that she invented. Sure, there was someone on the other end of the phone, but that was just a voice, a hired actor, and she had to be careful that she remembered to make that distinction.
It was late, and she suddenly felt tired, but the thought of the empty bed upstairs was something she just wasn’t ready for tonight. Some nights were easier. Some nights, if she dared admit it, she almost liked the big bed all to herself, the space to stretch and sprawl as she wished. Other nights, like tonight, she felt that expanse before she even entered the room.
