Reviving Evan (A Dismantling Evan Companion Novella)

by Venessa Kimball

  I let go and adjusting my over-sized T-shirt that keeps slipping off of my shoulder; adjusting it has come to be a nervous habit, it seems, with my heart hammering in my chest from a brief touch by Brody Ferguson. I watch him hang the rest of the prints as carefully as I would handle them. He backs away slightly, looking down the line of all of them hanging on the clothes line. I’m sure the way he is appreciating them, is the same way I am staring at him right now. It is completely strange for me to be secretly happy that he is occupied enough right now for me to do this, right?

  “How was your day?” he asks, letting me know that he hasn’t completely lost himself in my prints and is still aware of my presence. To what degree of awareness, I’m not sure.

  Does he know I am gawking right now? Wait, is he really here trying to make small talk with me after being stealthy for weeks?

  I take the first tray on the counter and start to clean up as the wrong words, wrong question tumble out of my mouth.“Uh, good. Yours?”

  What I should have asked is how he someone goes from not speaking and giving another the cold shoulder to asking them how their day was? I mean, the only time I have seen Brody is through my window as I spy him leaving in the morning and coming home late at night.

  “Had to work late and by the time I got to Pembroke, visiting hours were over,” his voice trails off.

  “Sorry,” I say, barely making eye contact as I pick up the developer tray and try to keep my focus from asking him what made him decide to come see me tonight.

  He sits down on the stool in the middle of the room and yawns.“Not your fault.”

  “Yeah, I know, I was just commiserating with you I guess,” I say as I turn back to him and do a onceover from his dingy white work shirt that hugs his chest to the soiled jeans with spots of car oil splatter and his well-worn work boots. Even though I am pissed that he has waited until now to visit me, I don’t undermine that he works hard and he always does it without complaints.

  He stops mid-stretch and grins as he takes in my words.“Commiserating?”

  I roll my eyes at his sarcastic manner and remember how we used to joke like this; reminds me of old times. I wish there wasn’t old times.

  He smiles, realizing that he has gotten me right where he wants me with his sarcasm, and it forces me into a wide grin, just like he used to. I look down, trying to hide my smile.“Yeah, sympathizing for not being able to make it to see Gav.”

  His smile settles at the mention of his brother’s name, thenhe shakes his head before steadying his hazel eyes on me.“It’s okay. I’llstop by early tomorrow to see him.”

  The conversation seems to die out, but the elephant in the room is alive and well.

  Why is he really here?

  Brody tries to save us from the awkward moment by clearing his throat and changing the subject.“So, um, tell me about your day.”

  He holds his hands in his lap, one leg on the rung of the stool and the other on the ground, like he is genuinely getting comfortable to hear about my day.

  I can’t sit here and talk about my day like the last few months of silence didn’t happen.

  You shut me out and doubt about everything we are fills my mind and heart.

  “You want to hear about my day? Seriously,” I ask, still questioning his lucidity and wondering where the catch is. When is he going to tell me why he is here?

  He furrows his brow, like my questions is nonsensical and that is only logical for me to respond,“Yeah.”

  I lean against the counter, fold my arms over my chest, and play along.“I met with Mrs. Warren today.”

  “Yeah?About the article and the colleges, right?” His question is a confirmation.

  What? How does he know? It must have been Nikki. I turn away from Brody and look out the window.“Nikki told you?”

  “Yeah. She said that you and herboth have a shot at scholarships. Hey don’t be pissed at her, all right?”

  Scholarships? “We didn’t talk about scholarships,” I say instead of agreeing to not being pissed at Nikki.

  “Why didn’t you come over and tell me? I mean, UT, UNT, those are some big-name schools here in Texas,” he says.

  Shit, did she tell him everything? Better question, why is he able to talk to her, but can’t talk to me?

  Unleash it, Evan. Tell him exactly how you feel. Tell him you hate how distant he has been with you and how he has made it clear that he didn’t want you bother him.

  I turn back around and face him.“Well, the way things have been ... I mean,I barely see you anymore.”

  He is staring through me now and it scares me a little, so I cover.“Plus, I didn’t want to say anything ... like I might jinx the whole thing or something.”

  “Yeah” he says, nodding and casting his eyes down to the floor a few feet in front of him.

  Fail. Totally could have called him out, but you put in an easy excuse.

  “You know, you can’t jinx something like this, Evan. You have three colleges looking at you for your ability and talent,” he says sincerely as he holds my gaze just long enough for me to feel the emotion behind his words.

  Okay, if we are doing this“how are you doing? No, nothing is wrong between us” dance, this is my chance to see what he plans to do after high school.

  “What are your plans?”

  He shifts in his seat a little.“Plans for what?”

  He knows what I am asking, he is just dodging the question. He is trying to avoid the question.

  I don’t hold back.“What are your plans after high school? I mean, you are doing the work-study program. Are you going to apply for college?”

  He tilts his head back, like my questions is a stress he doesn’t want to face head on right now.“I haven’t thought about it. Too much going on.”

  The second part of his answer makes me feel like an asshole, but it also makes me think of myself with Mrs. Warren earlier; our answers could be identical.

  I don’t expect Brody to continue explaining, but he does as he shifts his gaze to the moonlit window behind me.“Right now, I need to concentrate on Gavin, finishing school, work, and get everything straightened out with insurance from my dad’s death and some survivor benefits shit. They are sending Dad’s urn home soon and that is going to upset Mom all over again.”

  Yep, you are a complete, full-fledged asshole for bringing this up, Evan. His father’s urn is being shipped back here from Afghanistan and you are asking him about college?

  “Look, Evan, I have thought about college. I have thought about going to UT and playing football. Shit, my coach said that I had a good chance at getting a scholarship last year before the suspension.”

  Brody looks down at his folded hands.“My chances at that are long gone.”

  “You still have a chance, Brody. You are only eighteen years old, for God’s sake. You can still change things, go to college, play football.”

  Shaking his head, he says,“Yeah, well right about now I feel like I’m forty!”

  The edge in his voice tells me I have stepped into territory he doesn’t want to talk about.“Look, Evan, I took the damn tests last year before everything went to shit. Now, with Gavin being in that fucking center, helping Mom deal with Dad’s stuff, Gavin’s, and her health.”

  His mother’s health?

  I guess he realizes that he has said too much, and can’t go back now.“She has been sick lately. That damn cough, it isn’t going away even though she has been seeing her doctor.”

  He rises from the stool and tucks his hands in his pockets.“It just isn’tthe right time to think about college and my life. Do you understand?”

  The way he looks, the pleading in his eyes, tells me how much he hopes I get some inkling of what is going on in his life. Compared to Brody, I have it so easy and he has so much to deal with. I don’t want him to throw away a chance at going to college though. After probing like I have, I hate myself for questioning him to the point of having to plead with me to understand him. I can’t he
lp but love that he took the time to talk to me ... really talk to me, the first time in months, and that is why I can’t find permanent anger with how Brody has acted for the past few months. Any logical person can see that Brody’s struggles have put him in this lonely place, a place I have been.

  He is watching me, waiting for me to answer him. I tilt my head and nod,“I understand ... that someday it will happen; your life will be yours again. No matter how long it takes, it will be waiting for you to invent it, make it what you want.”

  And I will be waiting for you.

  If only I was brave enough to say it out loud without sounding extremely stalkerish and just plain desperate for his attention.

  He scans the clothes line of drying prints and nods.“Maybe once I get all of this stuff sorted out, I guess.” His vague attempt at showing hope melts my heart.

  I wonder if the“this” he is referring to is really“us”?

  “When Gavcomes home, things go back to some kind of normal.” His voice fades off as he looks at me intently.“I want to get back to normal, Evan.”

  It isn’t my imagination and desperation, he is talking about us. Is that why he came tonight?

  “Why are you here?” I ask, somewhat dazed by my theory being accurate.

  His brows furrow.“What?”

  “Of all nights, all the days that havepassed since before winter break, what made you come over tonight?”

  I can see that I have caught him off guard; he has practically stopped breathing and as he turns around seeming to pace, I hear him whisper,“I miss you, Evan.”

  I step toward him, but before I can ask him to repeat himself, he changes the subject.“So, UT is looking at you?”

  I breathe in deeply to clear my mind of hopes of what he might have said as he stands with his back to me. The moment has passed and I can’t get it back.“Yeah, that is why Ms. Warren called me in today.”

  He turns around to face me, tucking his hands deeper into his pockets as he questions,“You got in?”

  His raised eyebrows and hopeful curl of a grin on the sides of his mouth pull at the corners of my own lips.“Yes, but only on probationary status; Nikki did too.”

  His smile widens, but then settles into a soft grin as he watches me.

  “What?” I ask, both self-conscious and anxious from his studying me.

  “You are going to do great things, Evan Philips.”

  The words should make me feel pride, joy, but they strike me as him feeling left behind.

  I won’t leave him behind.

  “You will too, Brody Ferguson.”

  He looks up at the ceiling, runs his hand over his jaw, snickers, thensteps toward me, fully focused.“Maybe, but you, you are too bold to remain invisible.”

  He has said that to me before. I had told him everything about my struggles, mentally. I was hiding it from him and everyone else, but decided to come clean and tell him everything. That is when he told me I was too bold to remain invisible. Him bringing up that phrase again has my breath coming faster.

  Brody speaks as he walks toward me,“You are so smart, so amazing.”

  I back up with each of his oncoming step as he continues,“You are going to go places, California.”

  I don’t want to go anywhere if he isn’t with me.

  I bump into the counter behind me like a clumsy little school girl, but save face, trying to shrug off the moment.“I wouldn’t say I was bold.”

  He stands in front of me, only giving me enough space to breathe.“No, you wouldn’t. It’s not like you to do that.”

  He runs the tips of his fingers along my cheek, softly. His light, feathery touch sends an electric heat through my entire body, a sensation I have missed but confuses me right now. Our broken friendship is teetering on being non-existent and now we are falling back into the“us” we had before everything went to hell? Wait, wait. Even though this feels so right, it isn’t this easy. How can he go from barely talking to me, disappearing from my radar for weeks, avoiding me, to touching my heart and soul like he used to and turning me into a malleable pile of putty in seconds?

  Partially incoherent from the trance I have succumbed to on account of Brody’s sensitive touch, I mumble,“What happened to our handshake?”

  “Handshake?” His other hand brushes my hair back and gently caresses my neck, his eyes burning deep into mine. I notice the quickening rise and fall of our chests match in time; so, I’m not the only one affected. His breath is a low hum running patterns along my lips, or is that my imagination? My desperate want for his lips to be on mine? It takes all of my will power to block the thoughts of him, his touch, his kisses, to remember the last painful conversation we had, the one that left us with a vacant friendship.

  His piercing hazel eyes and dark eyelashes have moved down to my lips, making my time of resistance limited at best. I don’t realize I’m breathless until I hear myself ask him,“The day you agreed to us being friends? We shook on it.”

  His eye meet mine now, but he doesn’t pull away. He stays close, so close I could lean forward and commit to my needing his touch. It wasn’t my imagination; I feel his breath as he speaks.“Yeah, I remember the handshake. I didn’t want that, Evan, and I don’t think you did either.” His hushed voice is deep, breathless, and captivating to my mind, body, and spirit.

  I keep up the good fight though, wanting a solid answer to what he really wants.“Then why did you shake on it?”

  He drops his hand from my neck and watches his fingers trail down along my shoulder, the length of my arm, down to my hand.“You wanted an answer to what was happening with us. It was the only answer I could give you then. I still don’t know what is going on. Even now, standing here before you, I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  Urgently, he places both of his hands on the counter on either side of me.“I haven’t seen you in weeks. How can I feel so close to someone I thought I have lost?”

  His voice is desperate for an answer, but the hurt on his face, in his eyes, show his true pain.“Tell me, Evan. Have I lost you?”

  My heart aches from his intensity and it all but breaks from the sorrow he feels because I share it too.

  I close my eyes to keep the tears from coming and shake my head.

  Don’t hide it, Evan. Tell him that you fear the same thing.

  I feel the warmth and softness of Brody’s lips on the edge of my lips and I open my eyes to see him pull away only far enough for him and me to look into each other’s eyes. The sharp tightening of my throat makes it hard to speak.“You haven’t lost me.”

  One second we are looking into each other’s eyes, the next his soft lips have captured mine in a kiss that takes my breath.

  Our breathing; soft, seductive, becoming heavier, then transforming to panting and gasping for each other kiss after kiss after kiss. Our hands; holding, then moving, cupping, then pulling and clutching like our life depends on it. This isn’t simple making out; this is more and I want that more than anything else right now.

  His lips scorch my neck with pure devotion, pure need. My stomach tangles and coils as his hand finds the hem of my T-shirt. Urgently, he runs his hand along the small of my back, pulling me into him and sending another wave of passion crashing over me. Shamelessly and on pure instinct, I slip my hands up the front of his shirt, finding my need to touch his chest, run my hands along his torso, fulfilled but not completely; I wanted more.

  The low moan he releases against my neck as my hands run along his defined six-pack only make me want to feed the craving of being this close to Brody. His lips find mine tenderly at first, but turn hungry as he slides his tongue into my mouth, stirring the tangles in my abdomen before melting them. The stirring tangle and the melting compete and struggle as waves of pure bliss rush through me. All of a sudden he pulls away.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he says, out of breath and holding my face tenderly between his strong hands. I can’t. I need to feel his touch, feel his kiss. I try to lean in farther, to br
ing my lips to his again, but he holds me from moving in. I search his passionate eyes as they look into mine, then look at my lips ravenously.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I keep my hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it beneath my palms as I wait for his answer. He blinks his eyes quickly like he has broken away from a trance. He leans in again, but this time he presses his lips against my forehead before turning away from me.

  “Things are going too fast. It’s too soon,” he says coolly as he stands in the middle of the work shed.

  Even though I am stunned by him pulling away, my need for him, for us, is still viable.“It isn’t too soon.”

  Just as I reach for him, he turns around and yells,“Evan, it is too soon! Shit!”

  I back away from him and hold my breath, hold the hurt. I’m not quick enough to hide the tears. He must see them as he throws his hands up, growls in anger, then takes a step toward me,“Damn it, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just ... I don’t know how to deal with everything happening right now. Everything has been tossed upside down!”

  With his hands on his hips, he focuses on the ground in front of him, not on me, as he says,“I shouldn’t have done that ... kissed you like that. I shouldn’t push you into anything that you might regret.”

  How can he say that?

  I close the gap he has made between us and let him have it.

  “Regret?No, don’t do that!” I beg of him, but he stands in front of me slowly becoming unreadable again, and I hate it! I hate that he can turn off like this and I can’t.

  “Don’t what? I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” he says, making his own logic out of what just happened.

  “In that position? You kissed me and I kissed you back! It wasn’t one-sided, Brody!”

  Brody tilts his head back and cups his hands behind his head.“Evan.”

  I don’t let him speak as I move toward him, closing the space between us.“Don’t make what just happened between us seem wrong because you can’t explain what is going on between us!”