Ever (The Ever Trilogy)

by Jessa Russo

  After we’d ordered dessert, Jessie excused herself to the bathroom, and her not-so-stealthy nod to follow her was hard to ignore.

  “Wow, Ev, I can see what you see in him. He’s so quiet and mysterious, but you can tell there’s so much going on inside that head of his. It’s like he’s watching and analyzing everything. He’s like a puzzle just waiting to be solved! And he’s so your type. I totally give him my ‘best friend stamp of approval.’”

  She giggled and turned her attention to her reflection in the mirror. I hadn’t known I had a type since it had always just been Frankie, but I was glad she approved. Plus, I had to agree with her; he was pretty fantastic.

  “I’m just happy to see you’ve focused your attention elsewhere. You know, away from—”

  “Yeah, Jess. Thanks for bringing him up.” I shook my head, staring at her in the mirror.

  She had the dignity to look apologetic and change the subject.

  “So, oh my gosh, can you believe Toby’s ex was a psycho? I wonder what that’s all about. Like, do you think she was just a stage five clinger, or like … an actual crazy person who chased him down the street with a candlestick?”

  “Easy there, Jess. This isn’t a story waiting to be discovered.”

  “Fine. You don’t let me have any fun.” She turned back to the mirror and puckered up. Halfway through reapplying her pink lip-gloss, she added, “Well?”

  “Hmm? Well, what?”

  “Geez, Ev, what do you think of Greg? Isn’t he amazing?”

  They’ve already sent Gregor.

  Toby’s dad’s words randomly floated through my head. No. It couldn’t be. Could it? That would just be way too weird. Greg. Gregor.

  “Helloo, Earth to Ever? Is anyone home?”

  Whoops. Of course she wanted my ‘best friend stamp of approval’ as well.

  “Oh, yeah, Jess, he seems pretty cool. And he’s definitely your type.”

  “I know, right?”

  Pleased with my response and my approval, as lackluster as they were, she gushed about Greg for the next five minutes before we finally made it out of the restroom and rejoined the guys. The tension was still there, hanging in the air between them, but Jessie was oblivious to it again as she slid back into the booth next to Greg. Gregor? I looked at him then, really looked at him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. If they were even supposed to fit together in the first place. I was probably just being silly.

  I turned away when Jessie grabbed his face and pulled it to hers for a kiss—a very uncomfortable kiss to witness. I briefly wondered why she had bothered reapplying her lip-gloss.

  Toby, sensing my discomfort, distracted me by tickling my side, and then the dessert arrived, saving me from anymore of Jessie and Greg’s PDA’s.

  After the bill was taken care of, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

  Once the distraction of Jessie and Greg was gone, we were left to our thoughts, and we spent the rest of the evening in silence. Fortunately for us, movie theaters are the perfect place for that, though I had a hard time concentrating on the movie.

  Toby was probably still reeling over the fight with his dad, and frankly, I was too. I tried multiple times to figure out a way to ask him why his dad disliked me so much, but I couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound insecure or narcissistic. Or an alarming combination of the two, I thought dryly. No thanks.

  Maybe his ex was an insecure narcissist.

  On top of the issue with Toby’s dad, I couldn’t stop thinking about Toby’s weird reaction to Greg. I mean, nothing had happened or anything, and nothing had even been said, but there was no mistaking that I’d seen something pass between them. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew each other, and what they knew was not pleasant. Not to mention the mysterious ‘Gregor’ that Toby’s dad referred to earlier. Of course, I wasn’t supposed to have heard that, so I couldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t want Toby to think I’d been eavesdropping that long. And yet again, I reminded myself of his psycho ex. Super.

  By the time the movie was over, I’d decided that I’d make myself crazy if I continued trying to analyze it all myself, so I’d be better off leaving it alone. Maybe Toby would choose to tell me what was going on when he felt ready to. Maybe nothing was going on. Maybe it’s none of my business.

  Walking back to the car, my curiosity finally beat out my better judgment. As it often did.

  “Toby?”

  “Mhmm?”

  “Um, do you know Greg from somewhere?”

  He stopped walking and turned to face me, a confused expression on his face. “What? No, I just met him tonight, you know that.”

  “Really? Because the way you were looking at him … it was … I don’t know, I could have sworn you didn’t like him. I mean, I could probably even go as far as to say you were pissed to see him tonight. Like, angry. Really angry.”

  “What? Really? That’s weird. Nah, he seemed like a pretty cool guy. And Jessie seemed to like him. Why, do you not like him?”

  “No, no, I mean, he’s fine, and you’re right about Jessie—I’ve never seen her like this over a guy.”

  “Good. She should be happy too, right?” With that he picked me up and twirled me around, making me laugh as I squirmed, trying to get down out of his grip. He stopped spinning me around and lowered me to the ground.

  “You’re happy, right, Ever?”

  “What? Yeah, of course. Why would you ask that?”

  “No reason. I’ve just … well, I’ve never been this happy.”

  I stretched my neck up to kiss him, a smile making its way quickly across my face. He’s never been this happy? I barely registered the rain drops sprinkling on my head during our kiss, but I was far too thrilled to care. What was a little rain when I’d just found out my boyfriend had never been this happy?

  Of course, by the time we stopped kissing and got to the car, we were sopping wet.

  Maybe there was a bit more than a little rain.

  After what was probably the most wonderful date in the history of the world—the strange parts of the evening purposefully forgotten so I could focus on our mutual happiness—we were driving home from the movie theater, holding hands between us, both of us content in our silence. I kept catching him staring at me and had to remind him to pay attention to his driving.

  “Ahem. Eyes on the road, please.”

  A police car zoomed past us, lights and siren on full blast.

  We continued heading down Chapman, and just after we passed the roundabout in the center of the Orange Circle, we had to pull off to the side to allow a second and third police car to whip past us, an ambulance trailing closely behind them.

  Slowly, we pulled back onto the road and proceeded a little further.

  Toby reached over and squeezed my hand, just as my stomach turned over and I felt an unfounded tightening in my chest. I looked over at him, and his lips were pressed tightly into a grim line, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

  What’s going on?

  The accident was about half a mile up ahead of us. We were just close enough to see the glare of the lights and the commotion in the street. The rain made the flashing red and blue lights glisten and dance in the darkness.

  Toby slowed down, glancing worriedly over to me and then back at the road in front of him, never making full eye contact. He pulled off to the side of the road and parked, much to the annoyance of the cars behind us, who honked as they drove past.

  Toby put the Mustang in park and turned in his seat to face me. He took my hands in his. The radio was off, and all I could hear was the rhythmic swoosh-swoosh sound of the windshield wipers, and the click-click of the hazard lights he’d turned on when we stopped.

  “Why are we stopping? What’s going on, Toby?” I couldn’t control the high pitch in my voice as the look in his eyes told me something was terribly wrong.

  “There’s an accident
up ahead.”

  Well, that much is apparent.

  “It’s not good, Ever.”

  “What? What do you mean, Toby? What’s going on?”

  He leaned over and tried to pull me toward him, but I looked past him and saw my dad standing on the other side of the street.

  “It’s my dad!”

  “It’s your dad.”

  We said the same words, simultaneously, though how Toby could see what I was seeing, I had no idea. I didn’t stop to ask how Toby knew my dad was standing on the street behind him. In a flash, I was out of the Mustang, racing to the other side of the street through moving cars and curious onlookers who stood in the rain under vibrant-colored umbrellas.

  My dad had also been standing in the rain, but he hadn’t had an umbrella, and … he hadn’t looked wet. He hadn’t smiled at me when he’d seen me in Toby’s parked car. He’d just stood there, staring at me, a sad look in his eyes.

  And where is he now? I searched the street, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, Toby’s arms were around me, and he was telling me something. Get back into the car, maybe. I’m sorry, I think he said. I didn’t know what he was saying. There was a pounding in my head that I couldn’t seem to shake. The thumping became louder, like a drumbeat picking up tempo. The next thing I knew, I was out of Toby’s arms, running at full force, rain splashing down on my face. I heard Toby shouting my name behind me. My jacket was in the car, so within seconds, my jeans and my sweater were soaking wet and plastered to my skin.

  When I reached the area where the emergency lights were flashing, all I could see through the hordes of onlookers and passerby were fire trucks and emergency response vehicles. Police officers donning bright yellow raincoats were spaced out in a loosely formed circle, trying to control the commotion of the surrounding crowds.

  I pushed my way through the crowd, elbowing the nosy onlookers who stood in my way. The pounding in my head matched the thumping of my heart. It was maddening. I ignored the grunts and snide remarks from the people I shoved aside, with one thing on my mind. I had to see something. I had to see… .

  It’s not my dad. It’s not my dad. It’s not my dad.

  From the front of the crowd, I saw the entire accident scene. A fire hydrant had been hit and was spraying water with full force, like a fountain shooting water up into the heavens. An elderly woman sat on a stretcher nearby, her burgundy Oldsmobile half on the curb and half on the street, its front end busted from the collision with the other car.

  An overturned silver SUV.

  No, not just any SUV, a Honda CR-V.

  My dad’s car.

  It’s not my dad.

  A wail escaped my lips as I told myself again that it wasn’t my dad, knowing with every ounce of my being that it was.

  I pushed past the caution tape and was grabbed by someone. My fists pounded blindly into the chest of the police officer who tried to restrain me. I shouted repeatedly, words that may or may not have made any sense. Eventually, realization hit him, and his face softened as he looked at me. His brief hesitation was all I needed to push past him.

  I ran to the body-shaped lump in the middle of the intersection.

  It’s not my dad.

  Raindrops beaded up on the surface of the plastic covering before quickly streaking down the sides.

  It’s not my dad.

  I was vaguely aware of voices shouting around me and people running toward me as I reached down to lift up the yellow tarp.

  It’s not my dad. It’s not my dad. It’s not my dad.

  He was covered in blood and a deep gash ran down the length of his face, from his forehead down through his temple, and ended in the beard stubble on his chin. His graying hair was mottled with blood and glass. His glasses were still on his face, though cracked and bent beyond repair. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see me.

  They would never see me again.

  Daddy!

  Blackness crept up around my vision, as if a dense fog was spilling into my eyes. I heard screaming nearby and wondered who could be so upset about my dad that they’d be crying so horribly loud. They don’t even know him! The blackness continued to creep into my vision until I had only a tiny pinhole to look through. I stayed there, squatted next to my dad’s body, rain pelting down on me, my hair plastered to my head, and that awful screaming blaring in my ears.

  Why won’t they shut her up? Please, please shut off that awful screaming!

  Toby’s arms were around me when I collapsed.

  As my eyes closed, giving into the blackness claiming my vision, the awful screaming finally stopped.

  My screaming.

  It was quickly replaced by another scream.

  My mom’s.

  When I woke up, I was in dry pajamas, tucked snuggly into my bed. It was light outside, so I knew I’d slept through the night. I looked around and saw that Frankie was in the chair at my desk, watching me intently. His eyes were sad, and his lips were pulled down into a small frown. I stretched my limbs and cringed. My body felt as though it had been folded into a pretzel and stuffed tightly into a cocoon. Since Frankie was there, I realized I must have had another nightmare. It was weird though, because I didn’t feel any of my usual fear or worry, and I didn’t remember waking up in the night searching for him, or calling out his name.

  “Was I screaming again, Frankie?”

  “No, Doll.”

  Okay. That’s weird. I briefly wondered why he was in my room if I hadn’t been calling for him, but then he spoke again.

  “I’m so sorry about your dad, Ever.”

  My dad?

  Oh god.

  With Frankie’s words, the awful memory of what happened came rushing back to the forefront of my mind. The car … the fire hydrant … my dad’s broken glasses … it all flooded back to me with such force that it felt like a herd of elephants had just rammed into my chest. I could barely breathe. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

  Seeing me begin to panic, Frankie came to sit by me on the bed. Looking up at his translucent form, a thought occurred to me. A thought that to anyone else would have been downright crazy. But to me, it made perfect sense. My anguish was quickly replaced with an intense feeling of hope.

  Oh! Of course! I jumped up and ran from the room, leaving Frankie behind.

  “Dad? Dad!” I called his name, running from room to room, frantically looking for him. “Dad! Where are you?”

  As I entered the kitchen, my mom reached for me and swallowed me up into a firm embrace as she cried into my hair.

  “He’s dead, baby. Daddy’s dead.”

  I pushed away from her. “Mom, I know that! But where is he?”

  She paused, a quizzical look on her face quickly being replaced with understanding, then making way to pain as she slowly realized what I was thinking.

  “Oh, honey. I see. Daddy’s not here, Ever. He passed on.”

  He passed on.

  With those three words, my heart sank, and my knees grew weak. I dropped to the ground.

  “But … but I saw him. I saw his … ghost.”

  “No, baby. You’re confused. Daddy’s gone.”

  “No! I saw him! You weren’t there!”

  “Crisis apparition.”

  Toby’s voice startled me, and I quickly turned around to make sure Frankie wasn’t standing behind me in the doorway to the hall.

  “You saw him when I pulled over, didn’t you?” Toby asked.

  “Yes.” My voice sounded soft, far away. I almost didn’t even recognize the sound.

  “I think it’s what they call a ‘crisis apparition‘. It’s like when a person is close to death, the ‘ghost’ of this person can appear to a loved one. In this case, your dad appeared to you.”

  I shook my head. He didn’t know about Frankie. He didn’t know that my ghosts stay with me. My dad has to be here. He has to be. I looked up at my mom. Surely she understood. Surely she knew. But she looked at me with pity, tears streaming down her face.

&nbs
p; “No, baby”—she got down on the floor with me and lowered her voice so only I could hear her—”Daddy’s in heaven with Estelle now.”

  My dad was dead. And he was gone. Really gone. Like my sister, he didn’t want—or need—to stay with us. My dad was gone. Forever.

  Once again, the realization of his death consumed me. My mom cradled me in her arms as I broke into a million little pieces. She sobbed into my neck as she rocked me back and forth.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay,” she said as she soothed me.

  But I wasn’t the one crying. Not anymore. I wasn’t the one needing to be soothed. My anguish was slowly being replaced with … with nothing. Empty space. Numbness.

  After a few minutes, my mom realized I wasn’t crying and composed herself again, her sobs ebbing momentarily. She explained briefly what happened to my dad. Toby came to sit with me on the floor, and I leaned into him, suddenly exhausted.

  My dad had been driving home from the mini market, after getting some olive oil that he and my mom had forgotten at the store earlier in the day. A quick trip that he’d made many times before, but somehow, this time had been different.

  The old woman hit the hydrant. Then she hit him. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. My dad. Wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I couldn’t even fathom it. It seemed like the worst kind of irony ever.

  Mr. Responsible. My dad wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. Of all people.

  ”Oh, Ever, I’m so sorry you saw that. I’m so sorry we both saw that.” She choked out a sob and began crying again.

  This time I soothed her, rubbing her back and telling her it would all be okay.

  “It will be okay, Mom.” No it won’t. It won’t be okay. “Shh, Mom. It’s okay.” It will never be okay again.

  My dad is dead. And he’s gone.

  Eleven days.

  That’s how long it had been since my dad died.

  Dead. Gone.

  Between my mom, Jessie, Frankie, and occasionally one of the neighbors, I hadn’t been left alone for very long unless I was sleeping. And even then, who knew? Even my showers were interrupted frequently by a knock on the door, or someone poking their head in—not Frankie, by the way. Everyone had been hovering around poor Ever, worried that if left alone for too long, I might hurt myself or do something crazy.