“Evan...”
Ignoring him calling my name, I continue, “I know you don’t think I am at fault and I get that, but it still could have triggered one of his seizures and I am at the very least sorry for that.”
Brody nods, then looks at me in a way I haven’t seen before; a look of tenderness, passion even - love. The silence around us isn’t empty, but filled with a chill that gives me goosebumps on top of goosebumps.
Typical of me, my next thoughts just spill out of my mouth without me thinking them through. “Um, we need to turn off the lights.”
Brody looks at me appraisingly and I immediate realize my choice of words have taken this situation in an awkward direction. So this is what it feels like to want to melt into the floorboards beneath me and disappear.
I try to save face, “What I mean is we have to turn them off because we need to develop the film.”
“Oh, okay,” he says as he rises off the stool and walks behind me. When he turns off the light, I sense the warmth of him behind me.
“You need to flip on the safe light?”
“The what?” he asks almost laughing.
“Safe light. It is the switch to the right of the other,” I say.
He turns on the safe light above me first, then turns off the other. “Is it because it is safe for exposing the film or something?” he asks as he walks behind me and stands next to me, shoulder brushing shoulder.
I swallow hard, nod, and begin to remove the film from the rewind compartment. I have to stop thinking of Brody’s arm touching mine. Go through the steps, Evan! Distract yourself!
I pull the film and put it into the developing tray.
Brody speaks again, “The seizures can get bad, Evan. I know it might be scary for you. I’ve gotten used to them...” He pauses and runs his hand along the counter top nervously then says, “...I guess ‘used to them’ isn’t exactly right; they scare the shit out of me every time they happen.”
I stop shaking the developer tray and sit it on the counter. “Why did you stop the medication?”
Brody shakes his head. “Evan, over the past seven years of Gavin’s life, he has been on an unimaginable amount of medication. The seizure medication is one that we depended on insurance to cover because it is so fucking expensive. When the insurance froze, we had to cut him to the bare minimum just to keep him functioning where he is right now.”
I think of all Gavin’s oddities, quirks, escalations, stiffness, ticks, and can’t imagine him functioning with more than what I have seen.
“You haven’t seen Gavin at his worst, Evan. I have... and it is heartbreaking, gut wrenching. The simplest thing can set him off. Other times, it takes more to push him. It changes day to day, minute to minute, and I am just trying to keep up. He doesn’t respond to ma like he does me.”
He pauses, looks out the small window, then back at me. His hazel eyed gaze has my whole attention. “I would love to have him back on all the medications. I would love to have help for him. I’d love to be able to not have to worry if Gavin is going to be safe at school, on the streets, in life. Right now, it isn’t possible.”
He looks down, “There is one thing... A light at the end of this tunnel. Mom’s job has made her full time, so she’ll qualify for insurance soon, hopefully.”
“Really? That means he will get help!”
Brody nods then raises his voice in anger, “Yes, but with Dad’s... disappearance, we’re stuck in a holding pattern with the new insurance until our old insurance releases us.”
“Why?” I don’t understand how one insurance can be holding up another.
Brody leans his head back, closes his eyes and tightens his jaw as he groans, “Paper work, a whole bunch of stuff. It’s complicated, Evan. Can we just talk about something else? Please?”
“Yeah, sure.” I twist off the lid of the developer tray and scramble for a new topic. “Where did the name Brody come from? Is it a nickname?”
Yeah, it was an odd question, but I would take anything do get Brody out of his frustrated mood.
He scoffs, “Yeah, it’s a nickname.”
“For what?” I place the film into the basin of water with the tongs to rinse it, then transfer it to the tray with the fixer in it. I’m waiting for an answer from him, but I’m not getting one so I look across, the red bulb sets his face aglow.
“Broderick. Brody is short for Broderick.”
I think of his full name as I say it out loud, “Broderick Ferguson.”
“Don’t laugh!” he warns, lightly.
“I wasn’t going to. To be honest, just saying it... well, it suits you.”
“Really? How is that? Sounds nerdy to me.”
I could watch his smile forever and it still wouldn’t be long enough.
“It is a strong name and you are the strongest person I know, so it suits you.”
“That remains to be seen, Evangeline,” he says raising one eye brow.
I try to control my breathing as I shake the film in the fixer. I count each shake to distract my mind from the thoughts. My mind wanders and I see only his eyes, his jaw, his lips, his hair... Count Evan! 1,2,3,4...
“Where did Evangeline come from anyway?” Brody’s voice is soft, sultry even, but I overlook it and focus on the topic. The memory of Dad naming me melts away all the swooning, thank God.
“Longfellow wrote a poem, “Evangeline”. Dad was a huge fan of his work and the name stuck with him. When I was born, he said that he knew I would be an Evangeline.”
“Well what does it mean?” Brody asks
“The name?”
“What does it symbolize in the poem?”
To be honest, the last thing on my mind was an analysis of a poem. “I haven’t read it in a while.”
“Oh,” he says as he looks down at my hands, still shaking the fixer tray. “Is that ready yet? You’ve been shaking it a while.”
I stop shaking it and set it down. “Yeah, sorry.”
I take off the lid, remove the film with the tongs, and place it in the basin of water again.
“Okay.” I say
“Now what?”
“Well, I have to pour the developer and fixer back in the canisters and throw out the water. After that I can enlarge the photos.”
Realizing the time has passed and it is probably getting really late I say, “We can do that tomorrow though. Gavin might like to see that.”
“Yeah, he would love that. Do you need my help cleaning up?”
“No, I’ve got this. Can you turn on the light?” I ask as I reach down to pick up the developer and fixer containers to put the left over liquid back for recycling.
“Yeah, sure,” says Brody, but I don’t notice him move to turn it on.
When I come back up, set the containers on the counter, I look at him. He is staring at me with a red-tinted smirk on his face, cast from the darkroom safe light.
“What?” I ask, smiling a little... his smile just does that to me.
“That night you saw Gavin out front with me. You were looking out your bedroom window weren’t you?”
I nod, lost for words.
“I was in my bedroom before that. You said you heard her my mom call me to help with Gav.”
Again, I just nod...still speechless. I know where this is going.
“Were you watching me, California?” he asks in a thicker than normal Texas draw. He unfolds his arms and moves in toward me.
I swear I can hear the sound of me swallowing like those silly Tom and Jerry cartoons. “Uh, huh.”
No! Stupid, stupid! You just told him you were watching him like some kind of stalker!
He smiles and moves his eyes from mine to my lips. If I could read his mind, I would think he was considering kissing me, but he is Brody Ferguson... why would he want to kiss me?
He comes in closer, keeping his eyes on my mouth. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m not. I was hoping that was your bedroom window, Evangeline Phillips.”
The warm pad of
his thumb runs alongside of my face and I close my eyes just as his soft lips rest on mine. After too short a kiss, he moves away from me and flips on the light. “See you tomorrow, California.”
The click of the door shutting behind him pulls me from the trance of being kissed by Brody Ferguson.
November, 2013
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
J. R. R.Tolkien, The Two Towers
It’s like Tolkien was talking about me when he wrote this. The peril? Things all around me; chaos of students pumping into me in the halls, getting close to me, talking loud, calling my name. Chad and Spencer flipping the hat my dad gave me off my head. Celine talking to me in her high pitched voice and me telling her to stop, but her just laughing and continuing to blabber. Spencer picking on Evan when she defends me in class. I wish she didn’t then he would leave her alone. She says she doesn’t care about that, but if I were her it would hurt, just like it does to me. She says not to tell Brody and I don’t. I don’t want him to get kicked out of school again. That would be bad. Still, I hate they are doing this to Evan because of me; all because of me.
The dark places? I have a trick that Evan doesn’t have. She can’t disappear, hide, like I can. I don’t know how I do it, it just happens. Maybe it is like some strange super power, my defense mechanism. The thing is, when I come out of the dark place, I don’t know what has happened since I entered it. Brody says it’s me getting stuck. I have heard Mom say it is a seizure, which scares me more than Brody saying it is getting stuck.
It is another place, I’m sure of it. A place where I can’t get hurt. I won’t get hurt.
What is fair? Brody, sweet Lia, Asher, Nikki, and Evan are.
Evan is the fairest, but she doesn’t know it. It’s all right... I know it. I can see Brody knows it too when he looks at her and she looks at him. She is his Ophelia, like Lia is mine.
Photography and the newspaper, they are fair for me anyway.
But, that is all that I can see as fair.
Mom crying at night, that isn’t fair.
Dad being lost in Afghanistan, that isn’t fair.
Brody...my dear brother Brody being all he can for everybody...that isn’t fair.
The feeling of drowning in my own head, that isn’t fair.
The hurt, the chaos, the bullying, every day... that isn’t fair.
My friends being hurt because of me... that isn’t fair.
From this, what could grow perhaps the greater though? That is what I would ask Tolkien if I had a moment with him. What greatness can come from this peril?
Finals are soon. Brody and I have worked out a studying schedule for me. “You need to be organized Gav,” he always says.
I have it pinned to my wall above my desk. I wanted him to set it in thirty minute increments rather than hour increments. It’s just the way I wanted it....he asked why and I told him not to. He didn’t ask again, he just did it. I asked where his was. He said that he was going to make his when he was done with mine. I guess he has. I don’t go in his room so I don’t know. I guess it is hard because of his work schedule at the shop too.
My thirty minute break between Science and History is almost up. I have ten minutes and thirty-three and a half seconds left on my break and I need to use the restroom and get a snack before I get back to studying.
Bye.
-G.F
“SETTLE DOWN, SETTLE DOWN,” MR. Thompson barks over the loud talking as he shuts the door behind him. I look over at Gavin and he is sitting up straight as a board, legs crossed at the ankles, reading Lord of the Rings: the Twin Towers.
“Hey Gavin, whatcha reading,” Spencer hisses then laughs.
“Probably that Lord of the Rings shit,” Chad snickers; they both chuckle.
I glance over at Gavin, he is oblivious to their nagging words.
“News flash, just watch the friggin’ movies, nerd,” Spencer says and they both chuckle louder.
“Asshole,” I say under my breath.
“Hey beautiful, nobody likes a foul mouth,” Spencer chides having heard my slip of the tongue.
“Not even Brody Ferguson,” Chad comments, getting in a dig.
“Yeah, Celine can tell you that,” Spencer covers his chuckle with his closed fist.
“Mr. Morietti and Mr. Schuster. What is the problem back there?” Mr. Thompson’s voice cuts their laughter short.
Spencer clears his throat. “No problem sir.”
“I am passing back the remainder of your assignments for the semester since you will need them to review for your final, which is in less than a month.” Mr. Thompson speaks to the entire class.
“I can assure you Mr. Morietti and Mr. Schuster, there will be very little to laugh about when you see your grades.”
Gavin puts his book mark in his book and closes it, placing it to the side of his desk as Mr. Thompson passes out the graded assignments.
The past three weeks I have noticed everyone becoming more focused on studying, school, reviewing, peer group meet-ups, and raised anxiety in general. I have also noticed that since the night in the shed, when Brody kissed me, he has been keeping his distance and, in turn, so has Gavin. After that night, I expected to see them at my work shed late at night or on the weekends. But, that never happened. Once I was tempted to knock on their door and see if Gavin wanted to come over so he could watch me enlarge the filmstrip of Hamilton Pool that Brody and I developed that night. It was quiet over there and Brody’s and his mother’s car was gone more often, so I talked myself out of it. I still haven’t developed the film.
So, Spencer’s and Chad’s comments about Brody not liking a foul mouth stings and is perfectly well timed to get under my skin, even though I know I have done nothing to make Brody and Gavin upset with me. I’m not alone in noticing Brody and Gavin’s absence. Nikki notices too; she sticks up for Brody, saying he is pulling more hours because of Christmas and his mother is working full time now to get benefits. Asher commented a few days ago about Brody only being able to study when he isn’t working or helping with Gavin. I can only imagine the limited studying time he has. I don’t think I could think about studying with all the shit he has on his shoulders.
I find myself thinking of that night again; the flirting conversation, talking about his name and mine, talking about Gavin, his father, my sheer embarrassment from him discovering that I am a self-proclaimed peeping Tom and surprise that he had wanted the window across from his to be mine. I am thinking about that tender kiss again when Mr. Thompson drops a stack of assignments on my desk. He does the same on Gavin’s.
I sift through mine: eighty-six percent, seventy percent, fifty-six percent, forty percent. I only get through half of them and quickly put the eighty-six at the top of the stack not wanting to peruse and see how much lower the percentages get beyond the forty.
Gavin glances across briefly then goes back to his own stack, holding them rigidly as he sifts through each of them. One of his feet begins to tap, nervously.
I put the stack in my binder and close it, not wanting to look at them again until I have to. Mom and Dad have been on my ass for the past two weeks. They notice my lack of motivation in the homework front. After my Hamilton Pool adventure, with the not-so good influences in my life, Mom called, but couldn’t get an appointment with, Mrs. Larson until this weekend, tomorrow actually. Honestly, it has been three weeks since the damn pool thing, but each week becomes more urgent as alerts for my grades start trickling into their email boxes. The dark circles under my eyes from the days on and off sleep are getting obvious even to me. Under Mom’s watchful eye, I take the pills, but hide them in my mouth then spit them out in the toilet morning and night; day dose of antidepressant, night dose of Xanax to sleep. My two little pills fare nothing compared to the number of pills Gavin needs, truly needs, to function.
G
avin is still sitting stiffly in his chair, leg shaking vigorously; his eyes scan each assignment as he sifts through them one by one, first slowly, then quicker. Mr. Thompson starts distributing another packet, saying, as he snakes between the aisles, “Take this review packet and use your assignments to fill it in. Find the answers to the numerous questions you got wrong on the assignments, then study it like your life depends on it. Seventy-five percent of the test is going to be on factual definitions and figurative language, straight from this semester’s assignments. The other twenty-five percent will be based on your analysis of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. You won’t know the topic until the exam is in front of you, however, you will have seen parts of the topic in the review. I suggest you form a peer group and work together.”
“Gav, you all right?” I ask in a low tone. Mr. Thompson places a packet on my desk then Gavin’s, and stands before us both. He looks from me to Gavin and says, “I’m surprised Gavin. I thought recommending you for senior English was the right choice.”
Gavin looks up from his paper and directly at Mr. Thompson. The hurt in his eyes is crushing.
“I’m not sure you will be successful in this class, Mr. Ferguson,” Mr. Thompson continues. I hear Spencer snicker then cough to mask his laughter at Gavin’s expense.
“I... I am sorry Mr. Thompson. I will do better. Please...” Gavin’s plea is clipped with emotion. Emotion that isn’t typical of Gavin. Emotion that is bordering sadness and anger, aggression even.
Mr. Thompson takes it a step further, “Until you can take your education seriously Mr. Ferguson, I don’t think...”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, astounded at the arrogance of Mr. Thompson. “Do you even have a clue as to what Gavin has to overcome? He is the most brilliant kid in this class, and you are criticizing him for...” I take the stack of papers from Gavin and look at them one by one. “They are all average grades, except for one or two!”
“Ms. Phillips, you of all people shouldn’t be lecturing me on anyone’s average. Yours is nothing to write home about,” Mr. Thompson scoffs, and returns his gaze to Gavin.
Dismantling Evan Page 24
