Finding Evan (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

EVAN

The grey clouds match my mood and turn the street from dreary to depressing. I park in the same spot as when I brought Lucy. I can see Faye’s door and wonder if she’s as nervous as I am right now. I know this has to be done – confront my feelings and put this whole pile of crap behind me. Which is why I called and arranged to see Faye.

So why do I feel sick?

Lucy isn’t with me; I couldn’t stand her to know I was coming here. This is something I need to do alone.

Heart thumping in my ears, I climb out of the car and lock it, walking into the December sleet. I pull my jacket tight.

The tarmac path to the doorway is cracked, and tatty brown curtains hang in the dirty windows. I ring the doorbell, but the little boy inside me wants to run back to the car.

The woman who answers the door isn’t what I expected. But what did I expect? The nervous eyes looking into mine are Lucy’s. And they’re filled with tears. Faye steps back to let me into the house, and I follow her in. I hope Faye’s not intimidated, because she’s small – smaller than Ness, who I wish was with me right now.

We step into a dim room; we could be in a student house. The furniture is crammed together and has seen better days. The place stinks of cigarettes and alcohol. Faye’s cheeks are flushed, her hands shaking. The wine glass on the table confirms the fact she’s been drinking.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.

My gaze shifts from the glass, back to her. Faye’s young, but I knew she would be. She was sixteen when me and Lucy were born. She looks a lot like Lucy, although her hair is longer. As I stare, I expect to be overwhelmed with some kind of emotion, but numbness remains.

“Drink?” she repeats.

“Um. No.”

Her face crumples to disappointment. “Okay. Yeah. Tea.”

She disappears into the kitchen, and I perch on the edge of the dirty sofa. The room has newspapers and junk piled in one corner, and a television in the other. An ashtray full of cigarettes sits on the table next to the wine glass.

My phone beeps and I jump. A message from Ness, asking me to call.

Faye returns with a mug containing weak, watery tea. She sits in the nearby armchair, and I sip the tea, the clock ticking in the quiet between us.

“I’m glad you came,” she says softly.

“I probably won’t come again.” I can’t look at her.

“I understand.”

A car passes in the street, the noise filling the silence.

“Oh! Biscuit. Do you want a biscuit?” Faye jumps up and disappears before I can answer, then returns with a selection box, freshly opened. Bought especially for me. “I’m not sure which you like.”

I don’t take one, and look at her. “I don’t suppose you would know what biscuits I like, would you?”

Faye’s eyes widen, and the glistening tears return. She rubs her mouth, and I notice a tattoo on her wrist. Words I can’t read. Not wanting to see her cry, I look the other way. When I look back, she’s refilled her wine glass.

“Lucy says you’re at university?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“And you have a girlfriend who’s going
to be a doctor?”

Why did Lucy have to divulge my personal life? “Yeah.”

Faye chews a finger and waggles her stocking-covered foot. Like Lucy. Oh shit; if she’s got mental health issues too, what the hell have I done by coming here?

“How about you?” I ask.

“Me?”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing. At the moment, I’m between jobs.” She gulps her wine and I spy the half-empty bottle on the floor. Eleven am.

“Oh. What did you do?”

“Bar work.”

I resist the urge to laugh at her. Sounds about right.

“So, what did you want? Lucy said you wanted to talk to me.” I can’t drop the hostile tone.

“I never expected her to look for me.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m glad she did.”

I suck air between my teeth; there’s so much boiling inside me, and every moment I sit, and with every tick from the clock, the closer I come to losing control.

I gulp down the tea and stand. “This was a bad idea, sorry.”

“Please don’t go, Evan. If I’m only going to see you once, stay longer.”

Faye’s tiny voice pierces my resolve. She stands and reaches a hand out to my face. I recoil, and her face moulds into hurt.

“Look at you, such a good-looking boy. Your Dad must be so proud of you. With university and everything too.”

I wish she’d cut the crap. “What happened?” I ask.

“When?”

“Why did you leave us? And never get in touch?” My voice cracks, as does the barrier in my mind against this shit.

Faye rubs her head and pours more wine. “I had to.”

“You had to abandon your five-year-old children?”

Her welling tears threaten to spill, and I will them not to. “Lucy didn’t say?”

“No, you say.”

“Because of your dad.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t love me.”

What kind of fucking pathetic excuse is that? I want to scream we loved her, ask why she didn’t take us with her. “And that stopped you from ever contacting us again?”

“I got messed up in some stuff. Jim told me not to contact him. He was hurt. I tried to send you birthday cards for a few years, but he sent them back. Said to keep away.”

“Messed up in what stuff?”

Faye slumps onto the sofa, draining her glass. “Drugs. The wrong kind of people – people I couldn’t have kids around.” She pauses. “It’s a good thing I left you. You wouldn’t want my life.”

This is beyond uncomfortable. The need to run from the place and never come back fills me as I gradually absorb more of the surroundings I’m in. The thing disturbing me the most: behind the sofa is a throw rug covering a pile of junk. And poking from under the rug is brightly-
colored plastic. Some kind of kid’s toy. My stomach turns over. Has she got kids? Other kids.

“You live on your own?” I ask, watching Faye’s face for the truth.

As predicted, her eyes shift. She inspects the wine glass. “I don’t have a partner.”

This isn’t a full answer, but I can’t deal with knowing about her life. I’m doing what I promised Ness: laying the ghost of my past to rest, and then leaving. Back to Ness. Back to my new life.

Faye attempts to engage me in conversation, but I can’t drag my gaze away from the strange pile in the corner. I study the rest of the room for more evidence of children. Then I appraise her more carefully.

Faye’s smart shirt and tight jeans hang on her slight figure, and her hair is dyed – a henna tone to the brown roots beneath. A
color Lucy once had. The color yellows her skin, and the dark shadows below her eyes betray more than tiredness. She has a drinking problem; that’s fairly clear, but is there more? The deep red lipstick and attempt to mask herself with make-up makes her look older then her years, not the younger look she probably hoped to achieve.

I have to go.

“Thanks for the drink; I’ve got classes this afternoon.” I’m lying, but the small house constricts around me. One thought echoes in my mind: this is where I could’ve ended up.

“Already?” The hurt in her eyes could be Lucy’s, and this pisses me off. Am I going to be reminded of the woman every time I look at my sister?

“Yeah, sorry.” I edge towards the door, willing Faye not to cry.

“And you won’t come back again?”

I blink at the childish tone to her voice, as if I’m the parent leaving her. She has no right to demand anything from me.

“I’ll bring Lucy. But I don’t want to be involved. You’ve met me now. I want to move on.”

Pulling open the flaking front door, I breathe the fresh air with relief. Get me out of here.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” she says as I step out of the door.

I freeze and turn. “Sorry?”

Tears spill from Faye’s red-rimmed eyes, and I clench my teeth. No. She gets nothing from me. I walk away; don’t say good-bye. I don’t remember her saying goodbye to me fifteen years ago.

The familiar petrol and fast food smell of my car is calming, and I grip the steering wheel, attempting to put the last half-hour in the box of ‘shit I can’t deal with’. Deep down, I am aware this box won’t stay closed. Because of Lucy. Lucy wants her mum back and the fall out destined from her actions is yet to come.

A girl walks along the street, holding the hand of a little boy. I’m crap at guessing ages, but she looks around the same age as my twelve-year-old cousin Sarah, and the boy with her
is maybe three. The girl has brown hair pulled into a ponytail; she’s skinny in tight jeans. The little boy has a buzz cut and a confused expression. The girl crouches down, zips up the jacket he’s trying to remove, and wipes chocolate from his face with her thumb. He eagerly stuffs more of the chocolate bar in his mouth and she shakes her head.

I pull my phone from my pocket to return Ness’s call. As I put the phone to my ear, the children walk up the broken concrete path. Towards Faye’s house.

The world retreats into a senseless dream, and I turn the ignition.

Today never happened.

Chapter Sixteen

NESS

Evan returns from his visit to Faye, but as predicted, he’s silent on the subject. Any attempt to get an answer from him about what happened is shut down. He’s shut down. I
recognize the rawness in his expression, and know I should support him, but not push him. He’ll talk to me when he’s ready. At least he told me where he was going today.

We have a MedSoc Christmas function he agreed to go to. I don’t think anything would’ve stopped him from coming with me after the disaster which followed the cocktail night. For so many reasons, I’ve blocked the night from my mind.

Evan’s face brightens when I come downstairs ready to go. I know why: the black velvet dress I’m wearing hugs the curves he loves so much and is cut low enough to be sexy, and just high enough not to be slutty. I’ve even braved heels tonight, and when he comes over, the extra height means I’m closer to his eyes. Eyes suggesting he wants to drag me back upstairs.

“Gorgeous, Ness,” he says, sliding his arms around my waist.

I wind my hands around his and he leans in to kiss me. “Lipstick!” I warn and back off.

Evan smirks. “As if you’re ever bothered about spoiling your make up.”

I run the back of my hand against his freshly shaven face, and the butterflies surge inside again. This guy does things to my insides with barely a word or touch.

“The dress code is formal. I want to look perfect.”

“Med students do formal? Since when?”

He’s right; the formalities will likely descend into debauchery once the alcohol flows. Evan looks around. “Isn’t Abby coming?”

“She’s gone already. Having a few drinks first with Jared and company.” I still feel awkward using Ollie’s name in front of Evan.

“I thought you said he was a bit of a man-whore?” teases Evan.

Pulling him towards me by his fresh blue shirt, I bite his lip. “Some of them can be tamed.”

Evan groans and grabs my rear. “There’s no one home. Don’t make me show you how untamed I am.”

Laughing, I detach his hand from my backside, before my more–than-interested body allows him to spoil more than my make-up.

***

Evan returns to his introspection as the evening progresses. I ensure I pay him as much attention as those around me, but interacting is tricky when he’s barely speaking. What happened when he saw Faye? He keeps his hand on my knee, or wound around my fingers throughout the evening as we eat from plates piled with turkey, vegetables, and Christmas fare. Abby and Jared are still together, and I have to allow myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she is taming him.

I look to my Byron, remembering the snark from last year, and how far we’ve come since then. We're both trying to let our barriers down; we're just not quite there yet. I’m making allowances for Evan’s
clinginess since our conversation a couple of weeks ago. He’d be furious if I suggested his recent jealousy comes from the mother stuff, but it’s not a difficult conclusion to make. The situation certainly puts things into perspective for me. I can accept some of his recent behavior wasn't a return to last year. He's dealing with some huge stuff, whether he wants to or not.

Ollie is seated with the four of us, and Sunita, but Ollie’s quiet too. This isn’t unusual for him, but I sense more of an uneasiness around him tonight. His attention is anywhere but our group, and he constantly checks his phone.

The evening progresses to dancing, with Santa hats and party poppers littering the dance floor. Abby and Jared are in the midst of the crowd, and the wine swilling my system encourages me to join in. Evan’s not interested. His mood sinks along with his posture as the hours pass. Ollie looks miserable too. I know what’s wrong with Evan, but I’m concerned about Ollie. And the empty seat beside him.

Evan wanders off to the bathroom, and I switch seats, get closer to my morose friend.

“What’s up, Ollie?”

He frowns at me. “Nothing.”

Is this a stock male response? “Who are you waiting for?” I indicate the phone. “Your girlfriend?”

“In the nicest possible way, can I ask you to keep out of my business?”

I can’t hide the stunned reaction, and Ollie shakes his head. “Sorry, Ness. Christmas is hard for me. That’s all.”

I wonder if this is due to his invisible girlfriend. “Okay, sorry. You can talk to me if you want to.” I place my hand over his. I’ve never seen him so down. Ollie pulls his hand away. “Not a good idea.”

“What?”

“I can’t be bothered with your boyfriend’s schoolyard jealousy tonight.”

“That’s unfair; we’ve sorted through that.”

Ollie smiles, and the
patronizing look he gives me gets my back up. “Sure you have.” He drains his wineglass and picks up the bottle to refill mine and his. “She was supposed to be here, but she couldn’t make it.”

“Who?”

“Isla.”

“That’s your girlfriend?”

“Yep. She never made it back here.”

“Back?”

“She lives in Australia.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a long distance relationship.”

He makes a soft noise in his throat. “I’m not sure we have one anymore. Otherwise, she’d be here. It would’ve helped if she’d told me she wasn’t coming back. Oh…maybe earlier than the day I’m supposed to pick her up from the airport.”

Does this mean he wants to talk about things? I don’t want to push him, but he’s opening up about something I’m not sure he has to anyone else. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just get drunk and forget about her. That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?” He drains his second glass of wine in ten minutes. “Fucking Christmas.”

I suspect he has a lot more he wants to talk about, but Evan returns. He glances from me to Ollie warily, then looks away. I think Ollie’s right. The jealousy hasn’t gone anywhere.

***

EVAN

I could’ve done without Ness’s med school friends tonight. An evening alone, or one lost in Ness, is what I need. Instead, the boredom allowed room for the morning at Faye’s to spool on repeat in my head.

The kids. I can’t stop thinking about the kids. Does Lucy know?

I tuck a drunk Ness into bed, amused by her attempt to drag me in with her. Normally, I wouldn’t need any encouragement, but tonight I’m numb from alcohol and the pain of today. She falls asleep before I get back from the bathroom anyway. I unwrap the tinsel from Ness’s hair and kiss her forehead. She mumbles and swats me away. Small Ness things like this fill the gaps in my soul with love. I climb into bed, wrap my arms around Ness’s waist, and hug her tightly. The warmth of Ness and the softness of her skin soothes me. Grounds me in all that’s good in my life. Her. Us.

Following a restless night, as soon as the sun creeps through the gaps in the curtains, I creep downstairs to make a coffee and call Lucy. She’s an early riser; I’m not, so her voice is wary when we speak.

“So, I went to see Faye,” I say.

“You did?” Her voice brightens.

“Ness said I should.”

“And me. I told you we should get to know her.”

“Uh. No. I went to see her; I never said I wanted to get to know her.”

“She’s nice.” Lucy sounds as if she’s attempting to get me to try an exotic dish. Nice?

“You’ve seen her again since I took you?”

The pause is telling. “A couple of times.”

“Why?”

“I just said. Because she’s nice.”

The conversation we should have can’t take place on the phone. This is the first time I’ve broached the subject with Lucy since the day I took her a few weeks ago. Lucy’s tone suggests she’s eager to discuss her long-lost relative with me.

Outside, the everyday begins. Cars and people pass. Mundanely. What secrets and lies are in their lives? I rub my tired eyes. This has to be said.

“Lucy. Does Faye have other children?”

In the time it takes her to respond, my mind screams at me for asking the question. Stepping further into this.

“Yes.”

The softness of her voice doesn’t stop the impact of her words. I don’t hear anything else. She’s telling me something, but the words don’t register. Mumbling something about calling her later, I hang up and put the phone on the bench. My chest hurts, heart ripped into pieces.

Why wasn’t I good enough for my mother, but these kids are?

I don’t know how long I stand gripping the edge of the bench, summoning up the dim memory of the two children, and attempting to block the memory at the same time. Gradually, my heart-rate returns to normal and I sneak back upstairs. Ness’s heavy breathing indicates she’s still sleeping and I climb into bed, snuggle against her, and bury my nose in her vanilla-scented hair. She murmurs in her sleep and wriggles against the tightness of my grip. The sun continues to flood through the curtain; the noises of the outside world take on their familiar tune. Everything in my world is unfamiliar and dark. Apart from my butterfly girl in my arms.