“I’m Nate, by the way,” he said as he passed me, holding out his hand. I took it, even though we were too close to actually shake hands comfortably. For a moment we stood, squeezed close to one another, just holding each other’s hand, smiling at each other. When he pulled away, I took my hand back and pushed it through my hair, trying to convince myself it hadn’t been a severely intense moment.
“My name’s Evelyn.”
“Evelyn, huh?” he asked as he knelt next to the washing machine, moving the handle of his hammer out of the way of his thigh like he did it one million times a day, without even looking. “Were you named after a relative or something?”
I laughed a little because it wasn’t the first time someone had insinuated I had an old-fashioned name. “Nope. My mom just thought it was pretty.”
“Well, she was right,” he said, reaching behind the machine, his smile making my face heat and heart flutter. “Looks like the line to your washer split.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused, then I caught on to the change of subject, now blushing from embarrassment. “Oh, yeah. Right. I came home and there was water spraying everywhere. It was a mess.”
“I can imagine.” He stood and moved around the room, then came back into the hallway, looking at the floor, then kneeling low again to look at the walls. “You’re gonna need new floors and new drywall.” He looked back at me without standing up. “You’re lucky you caught it when you did. If the water had gotten into the kitchen, it could have hit electrical and then you’d really be in a mess. This shouldn’t take more than a few weeks to fix.”
“A few weeks? That’s a good estimate?” I asked, laughing a little. “That seems like a long time.”
“That’s kind of how it works. We gotta tear it all out before we put the new stuff in. But we have to dry it out first.”
“Oh, right! The fans. Devon is out getting fans right now.”
He stood at my words and a little bit of light was gone from his eyes. “Fans’ll be good. Once it’s all dried out, we can start working.”
With impeccable timing, I heard the front door open and turned my head to see Devon walking through the kitchen with two strange looking contraptions in his arms. The two men saw each other and a frost came over the room. I watched as Devon eyed Nate, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew Nate was doing the same thing. It was tense and strange, and I was painfully uncomfortable.
“Devon, this is the contractor the insurance company sent over to look at the damage.”
“I gathered that,” he said, catching me off guard by his short and sharp words. He put the things that I assumed were fans down, and then reached his hand out toward Nate. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice,” he said, his tone not any nicer. Nate grabbed his hand and I winced watching their forearm muscles bulge. It was obvious they were both squeezing the hell out of the other’s hand.
“That’s my job,” Nate replied, smiling at Devon, but not the friendly smile I‘d gotten. No, he gave Devon a smirk. They shook hands for way too long, neither one of them seeming to want to give up first, but when they finally let each other go, it was with a sharp thrust. “As I was telling Evelyn here, you’ll need new flooring and new drywall. It’ll take a few weeks. I can probably start once everything is dried out.”
“Well, are those the fans you needed?” asked Devon, motioning toward the ones he’d brought in with him. They looked kind of like snails, rounded with a lip at the bottom. I’d imagined the kind of fans you’d use in your window on a hot day.
“Those’ll work, if it’s all you’ve got,” Nate said to Devon.
“I don’t usually keep a supply of industrial strength fans on hand,” he replied.
“Well, why would you?”
“Okay, boys, let’s calm down a little. Let’s get the fans set up, and get the drying process started. I’m sure we all have places to be.” I’d never had to defuse testosterone before. I reached for one of the fans, surprised by its weight.
“Here, Evelyn, let me do that.” Nate took the fan from me and turned to walk back to the laundry room.
“Her name’s Evie,” Devon said, the coldness of his words sending shivers down my back.
“Not what she told me,” Nate called from the laundry room.
“Devon, stop it,” I whispered, hoping Nate couldn’t hear me. “You’re acting like a child.”
Nate walked back into the kitchen, grabbed the other fan, and left again, his eyes darting back and forth between us. I kept staring at Devon, willing him to stop acting like an asshole. A moment later, the loudest fans I’d ever heard started up and I almost had to cover my ears. Nate came back in the kitchen and stopped just short of the dining table.
“Leave those fans on twenty-four-seven. I’ll come back in two days to check on the progress.”
“They’re really loud,” I said, still fighting the urge to cover my ears.
“Industrial,” Nate said in response.
“How are the kids supposed to sleep through that?”
“You’ve got kids?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine, and I could have sworn he sounded a little disappointed. Before I could clarify, Devon butted in.
“Two kids. Small ones. Need their sleep.” Great. Now he wasn’t even using complete sentences.
“You can turn it off when you’re sleeping if you need to, but it might take an extra day to dry in that case.” He looked at me, and then his eyes moved back to Devon, hardening. “I’ll be back Monday morning.” With that, he walked to the front door and left. I had an unfamiliar urge to stop him before he made it to the door, to explain everything that Devon had so conveniently left out, but it didn’t matter. I did, however, turn to Devon with daggers in my eyes.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, yelling partly because of the fans, but mostly because I was irritated by his behavior.
“What?” he answered, yelling back, obviously irritated as well.
“You totally made that guy think we had kids together!”
Devon rolled his eyes and walked out of the kitchen into the living room. He went to the front windows and pulled the curtains over, watching as a truck drove by that I assumed belonged to Nate. “I didn’t do anything of the sort, Evie. That guy was a douchebag.”
“What exactly did he do that made him a douchebag?”
“You didn’t see the way he was looking at you.”
“What?” I exclaimed, my voice shriller than I’d ever heard it before. “You’re insane. And even if he was looking at me, you don’t get to be all assholey to people for that. I’ve never seen you act like this.”
“I come home to find some stranger in my house, ogling you, nearly fucking you with his eyes, and I’m just supposed to sit back and act like nothing’s happening?”
“YES!” I screamed, my breath panting, heart pounding, hands shaking. “You’ve got no right doing anything about it! Besides, he was perfectly respectful. Nice, even. You didn’t have to go all Neanderthal on him. He thinks we’re married for Christ’s sake!”
“You’re upset because I chased off the contractor? Were you going to date him, Evie? You don’t date, ever.”
“I date.”
“Not since Elliot.”
His words sliced through me and my mouth fell open at his. He knew I didn’t like talking about Elliot.
“I talk with him sometimes,” he continued, his eyes mean, purposefully trying to hurt me. “He hates you. Hates what you did to him. You’re the reason he left the country, you know. He couldn’t even stand to be on the same continent as you.”
“Shut up,” I whispered, shocked at the acid dripping from his voice, the anger I’d never heard from him before.
“Why should I? I think it’s time we talked, got everything out in the open. You and I have been silent for too long.”
I shook my head. “I’m not talking to you while you’re like this, while you’re hurtful. I don’t know who you are right now.”
“This is
me, Evie. This is me after years of torture. You think a person isn’t changed after going through what I did? Watching my wife die? Watching someone I thought I could protect be taken right out from under me? There was no order in her death. No reason. Nothing I could piece together to make any sense. So I just had to watch.” He took an angry step toward me. “And then, there’s you. Always pretending to be something you’re not.”
I gasped. “I’m not pretending to be anything,” I whispered. “You’re upset, Devon. I get that, but don’t take it out on me. I haven’t done anything.”
“That’s exactly the problem. You haven’t done anything. Ever. Besides pretend. You’ve been pretending since the first day we met. Pretending there wasn’t this thing between us. Pretending it didn’t cloud every single time we’ve ever been in the same room. It’s exhausting pretending not to be drawn to you.”
“I’m not pretending,” I said, my voice thick with the cries I was holding back. He came closer.
“You are. All the time. Even now. And I’m tired of it.” He kept walking toward me and I kept retreating, until I was backed into the refrigerator, only to watch as his hands pressed flat against it right next to my ears, blocking me in.
“Elliot won’t tell me what you did to him that made him hate you. Says it’s not his secret to tell. But I can hear in his voice how much you hurt him.” His eyes were darting back and forth between mine, and his face was so close. I wasn’t afraid he’d hurt me, but I was afraid that whatever was happening in that moment was going to change everything forever. “But I know your secret. It’s the same secret I’ve kept all these years.”
“Please, Devon. Don’t…”
“Don’t what? Be honest for once? Be real? What are you afraid of? Elliot’s gone. Olivia’s gone. It’s only us now. We’re the only ones we can hurt anymore. We can only damage each other.”
“I don’t want to hurt anymore,” I pleaded with him, begged him with my eyes to let whatever tirade he was on go, to let us slip back into that place of un-acknowledgement, where we let our problems lie just under the surface and fester.
“We’ve been hurting each other for years, Evie.”
I nodded. “I know,” I whispered. His forehead came to rest gently against mine, his breath passing over my face. I reached forward tentatively and gripped his t-shirt in my fingers, wanting to touch him but afraid of how hard it would be to eventually let go.
“We were both trying to be the better person for so long, and then Ruby came along, and life happened. And I swear to you, with everything that I am, I loved Olivia. I loved her and the family we made together. Not once did I think I’d made the wrong choice, Evie. I still don’t think I made the wrong choice. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever think about what my other option was. Didn’t wonder how life would have been with you. If only…”
“Please, don’t do this. We can’t do this.”
“If only I hadn’t walked away from you that first day.”
I finally let out the cry I’d been holding in for what seemed like days. Years even. I dropped my forehead to his chest, pulled his t-shirt closer, and cried. I’d cried a lot in prior months, losing a best friend would cause that to happen. But those tears might have been the most gut wrenching I’d felt in a while. How many times, in that first year of knowing Devon, had I wished for the exact same thing? Wished he’d asked for my number, made an effort, and pursued me, done anything that would have given me a claim to him over Olivia. Given me even one sliver of hope that what I’d felt for him was real.
I cried against him and I felt his hands cradle the back of my head, holding me close to him. I felt his lips press against my hair, heard him whisper soothing words to me, telling me it was going to be all right. When the tears finally stopped, it wasn’t because I felt like I’d exorcized all the feelings I’d held inside for so long. No. The crying stopped because I was able to close the door that had been holding them in again. I felt the wall go back up, brick by brick, I tucked my heart away just like I had so many years ago. It was the only thing to do – the only way everything could remain the same – and I wouldn’t end up losing anything more.
I slid away from him quickly, my hand coming up to wipe the tears his shirt hadn’t caught, as I grabbed my purse and left the house. I walked out the door listening to him calling my name, chasing after me. I slammed the door behind me, hoping that would be enough to deter him from following me. I made it to my car, but then realized I was crying too hard, making it difficult to find my keys in my purse. When I finally did, I started the engine and pulled away from the street, speeding one mile down the road before I pulled over. The tears were so thick I could hardly see the road, so I pulled into a gas station parking lot and cried until I was too exhausted to cry any more.
When I finally pulled up to my studio, hoping to salvage the day and get a little bit of work done, I realized I’d left my camera sitting on the kitchen island at Devon’s house. So I cried all over again.
Chapter Eleven
Evening of Olivia’s Bachelorette Party
“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” I grunted, carrying most of Olivia’s weight, her arm wrapped around my shoulder, unable to walk on her own. I’d worn a short, black, cocktail dress, and impossibly high heels, per Olivia’s dress code for her bachelorette party. Of course, I’d complied; I didn’t want to be the only woman at the party who stood out like a sore thumb. However, now that I was practically carrying Olivia and contemplating trying to launch her onto my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the outfit choice was looking like a poor one.
“I am very satizzfied,” she replied, her speech slurred and sloppy. “Between the pregnancy and having a small baby at home, I haven’t been able to get drunk in a very long time, Evelyn.” She said my name like I’d done something wrong, like somehow her getting pregnant was my fault.
“Well, I’m glad you were able to have fun,” I said in response, not really sure what I was supposed to say. As far as Olivia’s new life went, I understood it was a very sharp contrast to her old life – new baby, new fiancé – but in general, I found it hard to feel sorry for her. I was unable to deliver the sympathy she longed for from me. Sure, I put on a guise of feeling sorry for her because otherwise, it would cause a ripple in our relationship, but her life was a product of her choices and behavior. In addition, Devon had proposed to her, wanting to give her and their daughter a normal, family life. Well, I could find nothing terrible about that. So, my sympathy was reserved for people who actually needed it.
I made it to the door of the apartment she shared with Devon. They were planning to buy a house soon, but for now, the two of them lived in the same one bedroom apartment Olivia had moved into last summer, only now they had a baby. Little Ruby. The sweetest, tiniest, and loveliest little baby girl I’d ever known. She was perfect. And I never thought of Olivia as particularly maternal, but watching her with her baby made even my ovaries squirm a little. Olivia was a natural mother and Devon was a nervous, but doting father. I could tell he wanted to do everything he could, be a good father and also a good provider, but it was sweet to see him hold his daughter with a little bit of fear in him, not wanting to hurt her.
Not surprisingly, I could also tell there was strain on their relationship. It was only natural to expect some issues when you got pregnant one year into your relationship, only being twenty-ish. They became engaged during her pregnancy for two reasons: because they loved each other, but more so, because they both felt like it was expected of them. I didn’t feel like they should be getting married, didn’t feel like it was a good idea to enter into marriage simply because of the baby. However, I never found the nerve to express that to Olivia. I knew, on some level, if I told Olivia I thought the timing of her marriage was a mistake, it would be the beginning of the end of our friendship. I knew she’d see past my reasoning, even though it was sound, and pick out the bigger reason I might object; because of Devon. Because even watching him promise to be wit
h her forever, even after watching him hold their baby, tears in his eyes, smiling at his fiancée – my best friend – there was still no absence of my feelings for him. Even though I loved my boyfriend. Even though…
I leaned Olivia against the wall next to her door, took her purse from her shoulder, and found her keys. I opened her door and was not surprised to find it dark and empty inside. Devon was out for his bachelor party and the baby was with his parents. I knew the boys would be bringing him home eventually, but I wasn’t surprised we’d beat them. I took her by the arm and led her into the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom.
She flopped down on the bed, lying straight back, arms flailed out to the sides.
“That was an epic night,” she said, not really sounding like she was speaking to me directly, but throwing it out into the universe.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I said sincerely. I might not agree with her marriage, but she was still my best friend and I still wanted her to be happy. “I don’t think you’ll think it was so epic come tomorrow morning.”
“I never get hangovers,” she slurred.
“That’s a lie. Plus, it’s been over a year since you’ve been drunk. Maybe all the baby hormones have made you more susceptible to hangovers,” I said without much thought as I tried to undo the buckles on her high heels.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Her tone was less playful, serious even.
I let my hands fall away from her feet. “Excuse me?” I whispered quietly, more than a little surprised by her comment.
“You’d love it if I woke up miserable. Face it, Evie, you want everything I have and the idea of me waking up with a hangover would put a smile on your face.” She sat up a little, surprising me with a smile on her face. “You’d think it served me right to wake up miserable.”
In the two years since I’d met Devon, since he'd started dating her and they’d been together, never had Olivia and I discussed the tension that existed between us all. I was at a loss for what to say in response to her. I never imagined she would call me out, confront me about it.
The Absence of Olivia Page 11
