Dismantling Evan

by Venessa Kimball

  My body and voice are shaking from the adrenaline spike. “I was trying to look at his eye. He is bleeding, Brody.”

  Brody angles his head as Gavin bows his own, holds his eye with both hands now, and rocks back and forth. “Gav, I need to see your eye. I won’t touch it, I just need to make sure you are okay.”

  Gavin’s wailing has softened more and he whimpers out, “Please don’t touch me.”

  I am lower than shit that I have caused Gavin to sound so frightened and upset. “I’m sorry Gavin.” I say pleadingly, hoping he can hear that I am really sorry.

  The sound of my voice only gives rise to his anxiety and his whimper becomes a low wail again. “No, don’t touch me!”

  Brody yells over him, sternly now. “She isn’t going to Gavin.”

  Brody looks back at me giving me a warning to shut up. I just want to bury my head in my arms and cry.

  “Lia, you and Evan get in the car,” he demands.

  Lia pats my arm and whispers softly close to my ear, “C’mon.”

  She leads me to the car, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she walks by my side. I try to justify my touching Gavin, “He was hurt Lia. I saw the blood and my first instinct was to check how bad he was hurt.”

  She opens the door and I sit down in the front seat as she stands in front of me. “I know you were. It will be okay. Let’s just wait here for a bit.”

  Feeling the soreness settling in on my chest bone, I lean my head against the head rest and close my eyes. The sound of shuffling feet on gravel, have me wide eyed again. Brody and his brother approach the car. Gavin’s hand is no longer clutching his eye, and I see that he has a cut that runs along his left eye brow. Oh thank God it didn’t cut his eye!

  My eyes dart from Gavin to Brody. Brody looks at me only for a moment, then looks down at the gravel as he and Gavin round the front of the car. Is Brody mad at me now?

  I get up and lift the seat for Lia to get in, then flop back down in the front seat.

  I flinch when Brody yanks his seat forward a little too roughly, letting Gavin climb in, sets the seat back, then flops down on the driver’s side seat.

  “We’re going home,” Brody says, curtly, as the car’s engine roars to life.

  The drive is silent; not even the sound of the radio to fill the void that splits the four of us from any form of communication on the forty-five minute drive home. I look down at the floor, making sure I have my camera bag and tote. I don’t remember putting them in the car. I guess Lia grabbed them.

  I want to look over at Brody, to see if he is clutching his steering wheel, working his jaw angrily, or giving me the evil eye for causing Gavin to blow up like that.

  By the time I gain enough courage, we are pulling into his driveway. As soon as he puts it in park, he hops out, flips his seat up, and Gavin and Lia climb out his side. Brody pushes his seat back into place and looks at me hard. “Come in.”

  He doesn’t ask me, he tells me in a voice that says - if you don’t do it, I’m going to be even more pissed than I am right now.

  I grab my tote and camera and open my door. When I rise to my feet, my legs feel like Jell-O, most likely from the fear of Brody’s voice. What is he going to say? That he never wants me to talk to his brother again? Never talk to him again? Is he going to tear me a new one for not minding my own fucking business? I wouldn’t blame him. I screwed up. I did something I knew I shouldn’t have... couldn’t do, even if I was trying to care for Gavin, because I do care about Gavin and his wellbeing.

  Brody moves ahead of Gavin as he walks toward their front door and Lia hangs behind a little. “I’m going to head home,” she says like she is uncomfortable going into the house after what has happened.

  Brody looks over his shoulder at her as he works to unlock the door. “K, see ya later.”

  This is my chance to say that I should be getting home too, so I can just crawl under a rock and hide.

  Like Brody has heard my plan to avoid him, his eyes dart to me as he pushes the door open and Gavin passes in front of him and goes into the house. I don’t take a single step forward nor backward.

  His voice is even but strong when he says one word. “Evan.”

  He isn’t just saying my name though. The voice in my head tells me what those two syllables are really communicating, get in here, there is no avoiding this.

  The Ferguson house isn’t what I expect. I mean, I’m not expecting it to be trashed or unkempt in any way, even though the appearance could use some help. Just thinking about that makes me remember that Dad does all our handy work and since Gavin and Brody’s dad isn’t here, there’s really no one to work on the house. Brody’s already in the kitchen wetting a wash cloth as I shut the front door. He wrings it between his hands, his muscles along his forearms flexing with each squeeze.

  Not appropriate timing, Evan. He hates you, remember? Idiot. The way their kitchen is set up, there is a bar on the opposite side of the sink with three wooden stools. Gavin sits on one, shoulders hunched, staring down at the countertop in front of him.

  I move into the living room, but stay close to the door and watch Brody shut the water off, shake out the hand towel and fold it over as he walks around the bar to Gavin. He puts the wet towel on the counter in front of Gavin. “Here, put this on your eye, Gav.”

  He sounds upset with Gavin too. Shit, this is getting worse and worse. Now I’ve made Brody mad at Gavin.

  Brody opens the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?”

  I’m not sure who he is talking to.

  “Evan,” he calls as he continues to look in the refrigerator.

  Oh! “Um, no...thanks.”

  His question throws me a bone, like I am a welcome guest, but obviously I am not. Any moment now he is going to unload a ton of shit on me; how I know better than to touch Gavin; how stupid I am; how idiotic he is to think he could trust me with his brother; how I should just go back to California and leave him, his family, his friends the hell alone.

  I want to be invisible.

  He walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, sitting down on the rocking chair across from me. He sits his bottle of water on the wooden coffee table, sits back folding his hands in his lap, and stares at me.

  “What?” I ask defensively feeling the pressure of his heavy gaze.

  He looks sideways to where Gavin sits, eye covered with the towel now. “Gavin, what do you have to tell her.”

  Shit, he was going to make Gavin apologize to me for knocking me on my ass for touching him. That isn’t what I wanted. “It isn’t necessary,” I quickly say hoping Brody will let it drop.

  Brody looks back at me, “It is,” then over at Gavin, “Gav, do you want me to tell her?”

  I start to ramble feeling the pressure Brody is putting on Gavin, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have touched him.” I take the opportunity to talk directly to Gavin, “I’m so sorry Gavin. I saw you bleeding and I wanted to take care of you. I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to help you.”

  Suddenly, the front door opens and Mrs. Ferguson appears in the doorway. She looks at each of us, then asks, “Hey everybody.” She is carrying her purse and a grocery bag in her hands. “What’s going on?”

  She does a double take a Gavin, noticing the slight red streak on the towel, “Oh my God. What happened?”

  She puts her purse and grocery bag down on the empty chair next to Brody and walks around toward Gavin.

  “Ma, I’ve got this.” Brody says, but she ignores him and walks toward Gavin.

  “What the hell happened, Gav?”

  All of a sudden Gavin gets up off the stool, and rushes around the corner down a hallway. Mrs. Ferguson follows after him, disappearing down the hall. I look up at Brody as he stands in the middle of the living room, his hands on his hips and his head hung low. I hear Mrs. Ferguson knocking on a door. “Gavin, open the door honey. I need to check on your eye. Gavin!”

  Brody calls after her, “Mom, stop it.”

&nb
sp; She knocks a couple of more times before she appears back in the living room, arms crossed over her chest.

  A shit storm is about to hit, I can see it in her eyes, and I consider getting up and slipping out the door until she looks at me.

  “Evan, what happened?” she asks, her eyes pleading for me to tell her what is going on.

  Screw it. “It is all my fault. We were out at Hamilton Pool and we were walking up the canyon when Gavin walked into a hanging branch.”

  Mrs. Ferguson’s eyes widen and Brody tries to take up for me, “It didn’t cut his eye or anything.”

  I talk over him, not wanting any help from him at this point, “I didn’t know if his eye was cut or not and my initial reaction was to check. I touched him. That is why he is so upset right now.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest like she is closing herself off from everything I have said. Brilliant! Not only have I pissed off Brody, hurt Gavin, but now I am going to be shunned by Mrs. Ferguson.

  Brody grumbles as he runs his fingers through his hair angrily. “It isn’t your fault, Evan, damn it.”

  “Brody Ferguson, don’t you dare speak to her that way!” Mrs. Ferguson commands.

  “Sorry, but Ma, it isn’t her fault.” Brody shoots back at his mother just as strong.

  “Then whose is it?” I ask, utterly confused and at my wits end.

  “Mine. It is my fault.” I’m surprised to hear Gavin’s voice as he walks past his mother and into the living room. He looks at Brody and nods, “I’m ready to tell her.”

  For the love of God, what in the hell is he going to tell me?

  Gavin sits down on the empty chair and Mrs. Ferguson comes to sit down next to me. “I am sorry for pushing you, Evan. I know...”

  Hearing him apologize for something he has little physical control over has me ready to burst into tears for him and I want to stop him from talking. “Gav, it is all right. I shouldn’t...”

  “Evan,” Brody says, gently. I glance from Gav to him. “...please just let him tell you. I promise you it will be good for him.”

  Good for him? To tell me that he is sorry for being him? I shake my head from side to side, but Brody’s nodding for me to accept it continues as he repeats tenderly, “It will be good for him.”

  Gavin clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. He sits with his knees together tightly, back straight as a board, but head hung just enough to make eye contact with my smaller frame. The intense dark brown eyes that appeared frightening to me at Hamilton Pool when I touched him have transformed into a gentle shade of soft brown.

  “I never meant to hurt you. When I felt your touch, I felt....different. It felt different.”

  I notice Mrs. Ferguson look from Gavin to Brody to me, then back to Gavin as he continues.

  “When someone touches me, it feels sticky, heavy, like it will never come off no matter how much I wash it. Sometimes it feels like an electric shock and frightens me.” He shakes his head. “Stupid.”

  Mrs. Ferguson says his name, “Gavin,” in her mom voice.

  He continues, “When you tried to pull my hand away to look at my eye, it felt different. Your touch wasn’t sticky or heavy or electric. It was small and light and feathery... but still a touch... something I don’t like at all. Something I have never liked... but yours, yours made me wonder if I could like it someday. I was confused and even though I knew you were trying to help me... I have always avoided touch. That’s when I pushed you away and I am so sorry, Evan.”

  His voice is shaking as is his body as he looks between the three of us surrounding him.

  “I forgive you, Gav,” I respond, my voice just as emotional as his.

  All of a sudden, Gavin rises from the chair, breaking the tension, and walks stiff-legged through the living room and back down his hall, softly closing his door.

  When he is sure Gavin is behind closed doors, Brody clears his throat. “He told me while I was calming him down at the pool.”

  He shakes his head in what seems to be a mixture of amazement and frustration. “I didn’t expect him to say that and I was ready to strangle him for hitting her. God, Gavin,” Brody says aloud as he looks up at the ceiling.

  Mrs. Ferguson has a look of shock on her face as she says, “Brody... this is a good thing.” Her eyes shoot to me. “It’s like he felt your intention, your compassion for the first time ever.”

  Brody continues, “Yes, but he didn’t know what to do with what he was feeling. He reacted without thinking, Ma. He could have hurt her. It could have been a stranger.”

  Mrs. Ferguson looks at me. “He said he was sorry,” then back at Brody, “He said he was sorry.”

  Brody closes his eyes. “He is sorry now, but then... he reacted aggressively and without thinking.” Brody’s voice starts to get louder. “What if he does that at school? Next year, I won’t be there. I won’t be able to keep him under my thumb like I have been doing for the past three years.”

  Mrs. Ferguson looks back at me. “I’m sorry Evan. I hope you don’t think I’m being insensitive to you. It’s just he has never shown this type of care. Are you hurt sweetheart?”

  Still shocked by the discussion, I nod and say, “I’m fine.”

  Brody continues, “It is getting worse, Ma.”

  Mrs. Ferguson rises from her seat, picks up the bag of food and carries it around to the other side of the kitchen. “What do you want me to do, Brody? We can’t afford all the medications he needs. We had to pick and choose the ones he needed most!”

  I hear the strain in her voice as she tells both Brody and I that he needs these medicines, but can’t afford them because of what happened... with her husband and their father... his mysterious disappearance in Afghanistan.

  Mrs. Ferguson pops her head around the corner to look into the living room at me. “Evan, honey. You did nothing wrong, darling. If anything you have given Gavin something he has never experienced on his own accord. His psychiatrist, God bless him, told us at the last visit that he saw Gavin making great strides. This is the first we have seen of it for ourselves and it was because of you.”

  She walks back to me, sits down, rests her hands on mine and smiles. “It is because of you I am seeing emotion in my son that I have never seen before.”

  Her smile and her words should give me peace of mind, but Brody’s words have me torn about how much I have helped Gavin and how much is still needed.

  He isn’t a kid that is being medicated just for the sake of achieving more focus in school or to cure issues with being mildly depressed, like me. His need for medication and assistance is imperative for him to function. Multiple disorders afflict Gavin, from all I have gathered over the past two months: first from Brody the night he trusted me enough to tell me about Gavin. How help for him cost money and time: counselors, doctors, psychologists, assistance at school and medication for his disorders. Now Mrs. Ferguson is saying that the cost of the medication he needs is too much for them to handle.

  “We need to find a way to get him help, Ma. The doctors, the medicine... he needs them.”

  Mrs. Ferguson closes her eyes and looks up at the heavens like she is pleading with some higher force before she looks pointedly at Brody. “Maybe you should walk Evan home Brody. It’s getting late.”

  That is my cue to get up and leave. She doesn’t want me hearing about the financial burden they have and I’m embarrassed for making her feel uncomfortable in her own house. I rise nervously. “I should get going. It is getting late.”

  I have no idea what time it is and that is a bad thing because I haven’t checked my phone once. What if Mom has texted or called?

  “Bye Mrs. Ferguson.” I extend my hand to shake hers and she graciously smiles, takes mine in hers and says, “Don’t be a stranger, Evan, and tell your mama I said hello, all right?”

  Her southern twang comforts me. “I will Mrs. Ferguson.”

  She rises from the sofa and walks away, into the kitchen as Brody comes to my side. “Let me g
et you home.” He places his hand on my back to guide me toward the front door.

  His touch sends chills down my spine and stirs me into motion, getting me out their front door quickly with Brody close behind.

  I’m leading the walk down his driveway by a few strides when I turn to him, bringing him to an abrupt halt. “I shouldn’t have been in there when your mom and you started talking about Gavin. I could tell it made her uncomfortable.”

  He steps closer to me now. “Yeah, I just got worked up. Sorry about that.”

  Looking him over, noticing the tension in his walk, I back away. I walk beside him as we pivot onto the sidewalk and move at a snail’s crawl. I’m partially to blame for the snail’s crawl. Even though this day has taken a dramatic turn, I don’t want to go home.

  “Hey, um...what are you doing tonight?” Brody asks, nervously.

  He must be talking about the typical late nights sitting out on his porch. “Porch time?” I say jokingly.

  “I was actually thinking of changing it up a bit.”

  I’m confused. Does he mean like the “D” word; a date? No, that is stupid Evan! A date with Brody Ferguson? “What do you mean?”

  His brief silence has me on pins and needles as I wait for his response to the burning thought. What if he does ask me on a date?

  I look over at him, just as his eyes meet mine. “What about your porch?”

  “Oh,” is my immediate response.

  So much for not getting my hopes up. I should have known better. Why would Brody Ferguson want to go on a date? I mean, he has dated the beauty queen known as Celine O’Keefe. I’m sure Brody isn’t lacking in the experience of dating; unlike me... the undated.

  “It’s cool if you don’t want to meet any more,” he says, sounding disappointed.

  “No, um... no that would be good,” I answer quickly, not wanting to make him think I don’t want to spend time with him. I did, I mean, I do.

  “Really?” he asks, bowing his head to catch my eye with his. When I see that sexy crooked smile taking shape on his lips, I look up into the sky mainly because that smile excites me, but partly because I can’t stand seeing that smile without my own smile pulling at my lips and making me look like a lovesick fool for Brody Ferguson... which, of course, I am not.