The children hadn’t stirred. “Ruby, Jax, time to get ready for school.” My voice sounded harsh and angry, even to me. Ruby stirred, groaning, but I had to shake Jax awake, gently moving his shoulder back and forth. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go.”
“Auntie Evie?” I heard Ruby ask, her voice thick and gravelly with sleep.
“Yeah?”
“Last night you left before we finished my mummy.”
My pulse thrummed through my veins, beating hard in my ears. “Yeah, sorry, Ruby. I had to go home.” I walked to Jax’s dresser, opening drawers, pulling clothes out for him, trying to keep myself busy so I didn’t have to look into the eyes of my best friend’s daughter.
“Daddy said you weren’t feeling well. Do you feel better today?”
“Yeah, baby.” I lied to a child.
“Daddy wasn’t very good at making my mummy. He didn’t really know what he was doing.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Ruby. Come on, time to get dressed. Jax, you awake?”
“Yeah,” his tiny voice rang out.
“Okay, get up, kids. I’ll go get breakfast ready.”
I walked down the stairs, hands trembling, heartbeat racing, knowing that in just minutes I’d be seeing Devon. I’d tossed and turned all night trying to come up with a good way to play this situation. Avoidance? Should I stay away forever? Denial? Should I pretend like nothing happened? The direct approach? Should I confront Devon and force us to talk about it?
None of the options I came up with sounded like a good solid plan so, in the end, I decided just to follow his lead. Minutes later, as I was placing bowls of cereal on the table, I heard his footsteps on the stairs and I froze. Something that felt perfectly akin to fear ran through my veins like ice. I was petrified. Absolutely terrified to face him. I heard him make it all the way to the kitchen, then his footfalls stopped, and I knew he was stalled in the entrance, could feel his eyes on me.
“Evelyn.” The fact that he used my full name might as well have been a knife right through my back. He never used my full name. Well, not usually. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here this morning.” The proverbial knife twisted counter-clockwise.
“Well,” I managed, my voice only trembling slightly, “It’s a good thing I came, otherwise your children would probably have been late.”
“Evie,” he sighed, and I heard two footsteps bring him closer. “I didn’t mean that to sound like I didn’t want you here.”
“All you have to do is tell me not to be here anymore, and I won’t be. I told Liv I’d help take care of her family, but I won’t stay some place I’m not wanted.”
“Please, Ev—” he said, stepping toward me, but I turned around and held up my hand to stop him.
“No. No apologies. I couldn’t take it if you apologized again.”
His hands dropped to his sides, his face fallen in defeat. “Please, tell me how to fix this.”
I turned around and moved toward the kitchen island, inwardly cringing, knowing I’d moved to the exact spot I was standing the night before when he’d touched me. I started to mindlessly make the kids’ lunches, trying to keep my eyes on anything besides him.
“There’s nothing to fix. Let’s just move on and pretend it never happened.”
Devon never responded, just stood in the doorway for a few moments, then sighed, and moved further into the kitchen, prepared his coffee, then walked out the door.
I’d never sighed as loudly or heavily as I did moments after he left. Never, not even when Liv passed away, had I had such stinging tears burning in my eyes. I couldn’t help but hate myself a little more for that fact. Hands braced against the counter, head bowed, breaths heaving, I fought hard to keep the tears at bay, to keep them inside me where they mattered less than splattered on my dead best friend’s countertop.
And, as if I couldn’t hate myself any more in that moment, I realized I was angry with Liv for being dead. If she were alive, this never would have happened.
I couldn’t keep the cries in anymore. They fell out of me, clawing to get free, until I heard the voices of Ruby and Jax coming down the stairs. With strength I never knew I possessed, I harnessed my sobs and reined in my emotions. I was in control just enough so that when the children entered, they were only slightly convinced I wasn’t upset. Children, no matter how often we try to tell ourselves otherwise, are observant and smart. They just lack tact.
“Are you crying?” Ruby asked as soon as she saw my face.
“I stubbed my toe.” More lies to a child.
“But you’re wearing shoes,” she questioned. See? Smart. Observant.
“I stubbed it really hard. Here. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”
The children did as they were asked, and didn’t question my splotchy face.
“Jaxy, today is a half day at preschool, so I’ll be there to pick you up, okay?”
“M’kay,” he answered, his mouth full of the kind of sugary crap their mother would never have fed them. Liv would have gotten up early and made sure her children had a well-balanced breakfast before they went to school.
“Ruby, I’m gonna go take a look at your mummy. Where did your daddy put it?”
“It’s in the laundry room. Daddy said he could turn the fan on in there and it would dry faster.”
“Well, that was pretty smart.” I walked away from the kitchen table and headed toward the laundry room. When I peeked inside, I nearly got whiplash from the rapid change in emotion. One second, I was morose and riddled with guilt. The next, I could hardly hold myself up from laughing so hard. Sitting atop a collapsible drying rack was, what looked to be, a mummy that had been completely disfigured and then put back together in the wrong order; kind of like a Mr. Potato head if it had been put together by someone who had lost all feeling in their hands. And was blind. And possibly drunk. Nothing about the mummy looked great. But it was dry, so not all was lost.
I walked back to the kitchen, examining the poor mummy, still smiling at the mental image of Devon, still in his work clothes, sleeves rolled up, attempting to papier-mâché a tiny person.
“Rubster, I’m sorry, but this mummy is going to have to do. Just tell your teacher you were trying to portray the people as they’re drawn in the hieroglyphics.”
“The what?” The wideness of her eyes indicated she had no idea what hieroglyphics were.
“What kind of education are you getting where you’re studying Egypt, but not hieroglyphics?”
“Uh, the kind where they teach speaking English,” she answered, with more snark than I’d like to hear from a seven-year-old.
“Touché, kid.”
“Why do you keep using words we don’t understand?” Jaxy asked, just before he shoveled more cereal into his mouth.
“Hieroglyphics were drawings people made in ancient Egypt that told stories. They were kind of like the first stick-people drawings. And sometimes the people they drew looked a little funny.”
“Like my mummy?”
“Exactly.”
“What does too-shay mean?” Jaxy’s asked and I smiled at his pronunciation.
“It’s the same as saying ‘good point.’”
“So, why didn’t you just say ‘good point?” Ruby asked, again with the snark.
“Because then we wouldn’t have had this enlightening conversation.” Both kids looked at me with a question in their eyes, probably wondering what enlightening meant, but then they both smiled at the same time, with the same smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. They had their mother’s smile. Two tiny Liv’s were smiling at me, and I couldn’t find a way to be upset in that moment.
All the anger and guilt washed away when those children smiled. Liv knew I wasn’t perfect, and she didn’t expect me to be the perfect fill-in for her. She just wanted me to be here and love her kids. I was doing the best I could.
And so was Devon.
Suddenly, I felt terrible about the way I’d treated him. The last thing he needed was someone making
him feel worse about a mistake he already felt terrible about. Even the instant it occurred, I knew he was sorry, knew it wasn’t intentional, and I shouldn’t have made him feel worse. I had no idea what it felt like to lose a spouse.
I continued to smile because I was glad I’d resolved the situation in my mind, but I knew I still had to resolve it with Devon. I sighed, resigning to get the kids to their respective schools, complete my work for the day, and hopefully come up with a solution by the time he returned home that evening.
With Ruby on the school bus and Jax safely delivered to preschool, I headed toward my tiny studio. I paid more for rent on my tiny studio space than I did for my apartment, but it was my most favorite place to be.
I unlocked the deadbolt and reached to my right, flipping on the lights. They flickered on, brightening up the small space. I walked to the left side of the open room to where my desk was, which only served as a catch all most of the time. Hanging on the wall above my mess of a desk were some of my most favorite photos I’d ever taken. Liv’s face was there, along with the faces of her children. A picture of Liv and Devon on their wedding day. There was also a black and white photo, shot downward, framing a man and woman’s legs, tangled in bed, a sheet covering them until the knees, then just feet. It was intimate, yet tasteful. Elliot had been asleep when I’d snapped the photo. I’d always just loved the way our bodies fit together – even our legs. Every time I saw the photo, my heart ached a little. I missed Elliot, or I missed having someone to be with. Elliot and I were never built to last; we wanted different things. But he was a good man and I was lucky to spend the years with him that I did. Every time I saw that picture I thought about taking it down, but in the end, it gave me more warm and happy feelings than sad.
I jumped when the phone rang, then took in a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“Evelyn Reynolds photography, Evelyn speaking.”
Thus began my day of running my own business. Three new clients made appointments for shoots, and I scheduled two more appointments to proof photos with existing clients. I was deep in editing the photos of Shelby I’d taken the day before when I heard the alarm on my phone go off, signaling it was time to leave to pick up Jaxy.
My mind was swirling with thoughts of the conversation I’d had with Shelby, the fight I’d had with Devon, and the memories I’d shared with Elliot. The drive to Jaxy’s school seemed to fly by, and truthfully, I didn’t even remember it when I arrived. I tried not to drink too much coffee, but it was apparent I needed something to snap my mind out of its funk.
Jaxy came bounding out of his preschool, his usual enthusiasm shooting him along like a rocket aimed right for the backseat of my car.
“Hey,” I said with a smile as he settled into his booster seat. “How was school today?”
“Great! I colored a picture of a tiger. But I wanted a purple one, so I made it purple.”
“Very creative,” I said with pride, hoping that perhaps some of my creativity had rubbed off on him.
“My teacher told me tigers weren’t purple and she made me color another one black and orange.”
“Really?” I didn’t like the idea of preschool teachers stifling his natural instincts to be different. “What did you do?”
“I colored the new one every color of the rainbow.”
“That’s my boy!” I turned and held my hand up, smiling as his little palm slapped against mine in an epic high five. I watched as he leaned back into his seat, pulling his seatbelt over his chest, clicking it into place. “I made my teacher mad a lot today.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, finding his face in the rear view mirror as I pulled out onto the street.
“Well, earlier, we were supposed to draw a picture of our family. My teacher said my picture was wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“Yeah. I drew Daddy and Ruby, and Mommy with a yellow circle over her head. One of those hollow thingies.”
“You mean a halo?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion at the thought of tiny Jax drawing his angel mommy.
“Yeah, a halo. Then I drew you standing next to us and when I showed my teacher, she said you weren’t a part of our family. I told her you were, but she just shook her head at me and told me I was wrong.”
“She what?” Surely there must have been some mistake. “She told you I wasn’t a part of your family?”
“She said that unless my daddy was married to you that you weren’t family.”
Before I could rein in my emotions, the car was pulling a U-turn, heading back in the direction of Jaxy’s preschool. I parked in the parking lot and then opened Jaxy’s door, holding his hand as we walked into the building. I headed straight for his classroom, but stopped outside the door, kneeling down to look in Jax’s eyes.
“I want you to stay out here in the hallway, okay?”
“Are you gonna punch her?” His eyes were wide and worried.
“No, I’m not going to punch her,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “No more action movies for you, buddy.” I rubbed my hand up and down his arm, trying to comfort him. “I’m just going to talk to her for a minute. But I need you to stay out here.” He nodded his head, still looking worried, so I ruffled his hair as I walked past him and into his classroom.
I saw his teacher sitting at her desk, stacking some papers into a neat pile. She heard me walking across the room and her eyes came up to meet mine. She looked perplexed for a moment, but then I saw the recognition come over them. She stood, a tight smile pulled across her face.
“Hello, Ms. Reynolds,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.
“Please, call me Evelyn.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I was just taking Jaxy home and he told me he was having some trouble in class today. Something about a purple tiger and a picture he drew. He said you told him I wasn’t a part of his family.” I used my fingers to make air quotes around the word, trying to emphasize the ridiculousness of her assertion. She opened her mouth to speak, but I was amped up on adrenaline and not willing to let her stop my rant. “I know you’re aware of the tragedy his family has been through this year, but what you might not know is that I have been in that boy’s life since before he was even conceived. I held his mother’s hand when she took the pregnancy test. I was in the room when he was born. I was the very first person his mother trusted to babysit him when he was just three weeks old. I have loved that child every single day of his life.” I paused, trying to take in a breath, but it shuddered on the way in, and I felt tears threatening.
“Evelyn, please, let’s sit down.” She motioned toward the tiny chairs built for four-year-olds.
“No!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I could feel the emotions flowing through me like lava; slow and smoldering, getting hotter and hotter as more anger piled up on top of itself. “Jax lost his mother. His only mother. She was my best friend and I promised her I would take care of him and his sister.” I took one more step toward her desk, which she was still standing behind, drawing my hand up, my index finger pointing at her. “Who the hell do you think you are telling him I’m not a part of his family? You don’t get to make those decisions. You don’t get to tell him things like that. Luckily, he’s a smart boy and he knew you were full of it, but the fact remains that you had no right. You had no right to tell him that.”
“I never meant to imply-”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t, but maybe next time you open your mouth, you’ll think about everything he’s lost. He lost a lifetime of love. He lost his mother. Don’t try to take more love from him. As far as I’m concerned, he could use all the love he can get. I can give him so much love. Don’t ever try to tell him I’m not a part of his family.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Her tone, contrite and remorseful, caught me off guard. Then she was silent, obviously waiting for more verbal abuse from me. I was suddenly exceedingly tired.
“Okay then,” I sighed, my fingers coming up to rub my forehead. “I d
idn’t mean to be such a bitch.” I cringed at my own words. I was in a preschool classroom, swearing at Jax’s teacher.
“No apologies needed. Really. Jax is lucky to have you.”
“Okay. One more thing?”
“Hmm?”’
“Please don’t tell him tigers can’t be purple. He’s four. Let him believe in purple tigers for a little while. It won’t hurt anyone.”
She gave me a sad yet friendly smile, and then nodded in agreement.
“Okay, I’m going to go.”
“Have a good rest of your day.” Her voice sounded full of pity and concern.
“You too.”
I turned and walked out of the classroom to find Jax right where I had left him. He looked sad and bewildered.
“Hey, buddy,” I said kneeling down to his level again. “I’m sorry if you heard me yelling. I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have. Yelling doesn’t solve anything.” I felt terrible; obviously, I was the worst role model ever.
“You really love me that much?” His small voice soaked into the tiny cracks of my heart, like water flooding an engine, and my heart just stopped. My hand came up to caress the side of his round, little face.
“Sweetie, I love you more than I could ever put into words.”
“More than my mommy loved me?”
“No, Jax,” I said with tears welling in my eyes. “No one will ever love you as much as your mommy loves you. But I still love you more than you could ever imagine.”
“I miss her sometimes.”
“I know, baby.”
“But I like that you’re around. You help with stuff that only mommies know.”
My heart started sputtering back to life, aching like it might explode. I wasn’t a mommy, but somehow, I’d picked up on some secret mommy things. Perhaps I had a maternal bone in my body after all. “I like being around. And I’ll be around until you tell me to go away, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, sniffling and wiping a tear away that had escaped down his cheek.
The Absence of Olivia Page 6
