Finding Evan (17 page)

Sheffield city centre is deserted, the bright lights and warmth of the fast food place beckon from between two closed stores. I walk in, blinking at the vivid colors and surprising number of patrons. Wow. Great place for Christmas dinner. Lucy sits in a corner with the two children next to her. Empty wrappers and half-full drinks surround them, and Brandon plays with some crappy plastic toy you get with the meals. The girl must be Jade, and she stares into space. Lucy is on the phone. She cancels the call when she sees me.

“I still can’t get hold of her,” Lucy says as I slide onto the plastic bench seat next to her.

The girl eyes me suspiciously. “This is Evan, your brother,” Lucy says.

I bite back my desire to tell Lucy not to call me that. Jade’s eyes widen and she looks away. “Hi,” she says in a small voice.

Brandon watches me. “My Dad says he’s going to bash you.”

“Where is your dad?” I ask.

Brandon spins the toy. “Dunno.”

“He hasn’t been around much,” Jade says.

“What about your mum?” I ask as gently as possible. Jade is skinny, like she doesn’t eat enough, and her face is pale. She’s sitting close to her brother and fiddling with the wrappers, folding them into neat squares.

“She hasn’t been home for a couple of days.”

I look to Lucy. “Did you try the hospitals?”

“Don’t bother. She does this all the time,” Jade says quietly. “But she comes back, eventually.”

Anger builds in my thumping head as I’m confronted with the reality of what Lucy dragged me into. I have to get away, before I upset them by shouting. “Does anyone want anything to eat or drink?”

“I’ll have a Coke!” pipes up Brandon.

“No, you’ve had enough Coke.” Jade looks sternly at her brother.

He pouts, then wriggles. “I need a wee.”

“I told you you’ve had enough. Come on.” Taking his hand, Jade stands, and they walk towards the back of the restaurant.

Waiting until the pair are out of earshot, I turn back to Lucy. “Have you called someone? Like some kind of authority?”

“Can we call them tomorrow? We’re family. We can look after them for today. They can still have Christmas at ours? When Faye gets in touch, we can tell her.”

Family. Why can’t she get into her head we’re not? Yet this reaction makes me a hypocrite. Because why am I here? Because of my little half-brother. And the boy in the photo on Lucy’s wall.

“Things aren’t as simple as that. How do you know what she’ll do when she finds out you took her kids?”

“I didn’t take them! I’m looking after them! I told you, the house is freezing. There’s no way we could stay there.”

Arguing with Lucy is as pointless as ever. “And Dad? What will you say to him?”

Lucy twists her drink cup in her hand. “The truth, I guess.”

“Wow. That’ll add fun to my already awesome Christmas.” I slump back against the seat and pull my phone out, on the deluded off-chance Ness may have called.

Lucy watches. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what we’d have done. Sorry for dragging you away from your day. And Ness.”

“Don’t even go there,” I snap.

She shifts in her seat, picking at her half-eaten burger, saying nothing.

Christmas carols play in the false plastic happiness, a million miles from the Christmas card village where I left the person who’s the centre of my world. The uneasy churning inside returns as I remember her words, the intensity in her eyes. I think she meant every word; she doesn’t want me to go back. And who could blame her?

Chapter Twenty-Five

NESS

New Year’s Eve. I’d planned to take Evan to the party at Tamara’s with Abby. The idea of partying when I haven’t spoken to Evan since Christmas Day doesn’t appeal. I’m not him; I won’t fill my emptiness with alcohol. There’s a hole in my chest, punched by Evan, and dee
pening every day. In typical Evan style, he sent a text to test the water the evening after he left, but by then, I was too upset to respond. There’s been no communication for a few days now, which both infuriates and upsets me. But doesn’t surprise me. I’m not sure I want to talk to him anyway; I can’t ride the Evan roller-coaster anymore.

So, I plan a New Year’s Eve at home with movies and a bottle of wine. I asked Abby not to come over, and told her she should go to Tamara’s party, but she turned up with wine, popcorn, and chick flicks. I know she’s trying to help, and chick flicks are her solution to break ups, but I don’t want to spend an evening watching couples in love.

“We’re such party animals,” grins Abby, setting a huge bowl of popcorn between us.

“In sexy party clothes,” I mumble.

I’m in my flannel pajamas, hiding under a blanket, and Abby is dressed in yoga pants and a huge jumper. I laugh when I see she’s wearing the huge pink, fluffy bunny slippers I bought her for Christmas.

“Can we watch these instead?” I ask her, and throw a couple of DVDs at her.

“These are from the last century?”

“I don’t feel like watching any of those. These are classics. I can’t believe you’ve never seen The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay, but only if you promise to watch the fireworks at midnight.”

“Of course.”

Abby pours two glasses of wine and hands me one. “So, have you spoken to him yet?”

“No.” I clamp up. I don’t want this conversation.

“I know what he did was wrong, but is this worth breaking up over?”

I pull the blanket closer. “This isn’t just about Christmas, is it? This is because of what his choice means.”

“What does it mean?”

“That Lucy’s more important than me. I thought we’d sorted things out. I told him I couldn’t be in a relationship with both of them.”

“I don’t think he means to be like that. He loves you.” Abby sips her drink. “You guys are special; I’ve told you before.”

“Yeah, right. Since we came back from Europe, half of our weekends have been apart because of his pull to his past. And we don’t get much chance to see each other in the week because of my studies. And now this whole Christmas fuck up. I don’t want a relationship like this. This is all too much. Or too little.”

“But finding his mum, Ness. That must’ve hit him hard. Give him a chance.”

I shove a handful of popcorn into my mouth. I’ve been okay with the extra trips to help Lucy, and his irrational jealousy, but he knows Christmas was the deal-breaker for me. A chance for him to prove that, outside of all that crap, our relationship matters more. That he knows when Lucy needs him, and when to let her sort things out for herself. And he couldn’t give me one day. I’m too young to carry his baggage. These thoughts run on repeat in my head, convince the old, logical Ness I’m doing the right thing by backing away.

But I love him more than I realized. Like the snow he talked about, he transformed my world too. The sudden memory of those words sends tears sliding down my cheeks. I never thought I’d react physically to losing someone, but I’ve hardly eaten, want to hide away, and permanently feel sick and dizzy. His texts said he wants to talk - explain - but we’ve been here before. And I can’t keep going here. The tears flow, and the pain pushes through the numbness.

“Oh, Ness…” Abby hugs me, and I bury my face into her scratchy jumper. She still wears the perfume from her teen years and the scent pulls me back to those days. The days when I did the comforting and never understood how overemotional she got.

I pull back and wipe my face with my hand. “How’s things with Jared?”

“Pretty good. He’s in Scotland for New Year.”

“
Scotlan
d
?”

“That’s what I thought. Some draughty stone castle? No, thanks. He’s at some school reunion, so I think he’s relieved I didn’t push him into taking me.” She pauses. “And at least only guys will be there. And Ollie will look after him.”

Trouble passes over her features before she steps up and grabs a DVD. Her silence and mine is an unspoken end to talking about boyfriends. Ex-boyfriends.

***

“Ness!”

I startle awake and knock the half-empty bowl of popcorn onto the floor. Abby stands over me, and in the distance, exploding fireworks crackle.

“We fell asleep! You and your crappy eighties movies!”

“Or maybe the wine?” I indicate the two bottles on the table, one half-empty.

“Come on, we’ll miss them!” Abby grabs my arm and pulls me towards the French doors at the back of the room.

Thawing snow remains on the ground, patches of grass show through. I hover on the patio, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. We missed midnight. Fireworks shoot across the sky, throwing
colors into my dark world.

Abby claps, the big kid who loves fireworks. “Happy New Year, Ness.” She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek.

“Happy New Year!” I grin.

“I have to call Jared!” She drops her hold on me and skips inside.

The noise of the fireworks fades as the New Year begins. While Abby chats and giggles on the phone to Jared, I toy with the idea of calling Evan, then reprimand myself for being weak. But I pick the phone up anyway.

There’s a missed call and a text. From Evan.

‘
Happy New Year, butterfly girl. Tu me manques. I love you.’

A sob catches in my throat; I don’t want to cry in front of Abby again. I’m too tired and had more wine than I intended. So I know if I do speak to Evan, we’ll end in another argument, which I can’t cope with.

Lying on the sofa, the aching emptiness left by Evan consumes me again. But I can’t let him back in because the empty space he leaves behind grows each time this happens.

The fireworks continue, slowing now.

A new year. A new start.

Chapter Twenty-Six

JANUARY

EVAN

How can life turn so black?

The guilt over leaving Ness on Christmas Day switches to confusion when she won’t speak to me. I know what I did was wrong in her eyes, but if she won’t let me explain, how can I fix this?

Why doesn’t Ness want to sort this out?
I thought after a few days she’d calm down and we’d talk about this. Between Christmas and New Year, I constantly got her voicemail. Then New Year’s Eve, I sent her a text. A text she never responded to.

Although I understand what I did wrong, I can’t figure out why we’re over. How she can tell me she loves me, then freeze me out again so easily. Yeah, I fucked up, but enough to throw everything away?

The old insecurities creep in. At the end of the day, I’m not good enough for her. Too complicated. She’s taken the final step into the new world I was on the edge of, and left me behind. The hurt turns to anger – anger at her immaturity. I think Ness has big problems about letting people get attached to her. I should know; I spent years the same. Look at how she holds everyone at arms-length. Not just me, but friends too. Ness asked me to let her in, but never quite allowed me to have all of her. Why did I set myself up to be ripped apart? What the fuck happened?

I return to Leeds. Retreat. I don’t try texting or calling again. Why should everything be down to me? She’s obviously given up on us or she’d reply. So I switch off and stop thinking about Ness. Or try to, because every morning, she’s the first thing in my mind, and every night, she’s in my head as I fall asleep. This girl burrowed into my soul and I can’t get her out.

Gradually, the weight of carrying around the pain and confusion lightens. The more I manage to pack away in the corner of my mind, the less I think about things.

So I turn my attention to the other person who fucks with my head. Lucy. I need to be free of both of them; otherwise, I’ll never find the strength to become who I am.

***

EVAN

Snow remains on the Pennines as I drive back to Lancaster, back from the
counseling session, with Lucy by my side. She doesn’t speak, sniffs occasionally, and when her bracelets jangle, I know she’s wiping tears. Sometimes the truth hurts.

Talking to the
counselor about mine and Lucy’s relationship has dredged memories of Ness back up. My chest hurts as soon as I allow her into my thoughts. Ness won’t speak to me. Still. Four weeks since Christmas. I blocked Lucy out too, but as usual, this didn’t stop the phone calls. I started drinking again…all the time. Wiping out the few months of happiness by blurring them. My life rewound eighteen months, and I don’t want to be there again.

One thing Ness did leave me with is the knowledge I can’t live Lucy’s life instead of my own. Anyone’s life. That’s been broadcast in glorious Technicolor since the day the girl who put the stars in my sky gave up. So I told Lucy we’d go and see the
counselor together so she could hear from someone else why I’ve pushed her away.

We arrive home, and Lucy goes straight into the garden to find her cat. I rinse two dirty mugs in the sink and watch. Lucy sits on the bench, cuddling the black cat who always accepts her suffocating love. Her mouth is downturned, eyes pink from crying. She heard things she didn’t want to, and I guess I did too. I have to do this.

The cat jumps from Lucy’s knee as I pass her the mug, slinking away, the black figure blurring into the bushes. Lucy doesn’t look at me.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she says quietly, “and I know you need to do this.”

The mug is hot; I place it on the ground. “And you need to.”

“I know.”

“Things are better now. You’re medication is working; you have control over this. Life is moving on, but you’re not.” I want to say what the counselor hinted at; the Lucy clinging onto me doesn’t need my help, and I’m making her this way by doing what she asks. Putting her first.

“So I give you space? What does that mean? You won’t see me anymore?”

Her words are odd, as if I’m breaking up with a girl. Which I suppose I am in some ways. “I've decided I’m only coming back to Lancaster in the holidays. Or if I’m visiting friends. You need to take control of this.”

Lucy looks as if she’s about to say something, but I stop her. “Your doctor has my number. If you relapse, you’ve given permission for him to call me. But you’ve been well for a while; it’s good news, Lucy. You can focus on the future.”

Like I was. And now I’ve lost the future I wanted.

“I heard. I’m scared, though. Of being on my own.”

At least she’s backed away from Faye. Christmas finally showed Lucy why she shouldn’t be involved. But I worry that because of the children, she’ll get pulled back in. They’re in foster care; Faye left them alone one time too many and social services got involved. Even though I disagree with her involvement, Lucy is in touch with Faye’s children. Lucy’s channeling time into them, giving the love she’s filled with to someone else.

“You’re at college. You have friends; like the
counselor said, get involved. Don’t focus on me. I won’t hold your hand anymore.”

Ironically, Lucy takes my hand and I resist the urge to pull away. “Don’t be angry with me anymore.”

“I’m not angry with you.”

“About Ness? You are.”

I close my eyes, blinking away the memories. “I’m angry with myself, the situation, and yeah, I was pissed off with you, but we both have to change. This is my fault, not yours.”

“Do you think you’ll get back together?”

My stomach churns. I carry Ness in my head and heart, and will forever. “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about Ness.”

Instead, I stand and walk towards the edge of the garden and look back to Lucy. “If I won’t see you, return your calls straightaway, or fix your problems, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But it’s what I’m going to do.”

I’m going to make the new start I tried for when I first left for Leeds. The one I didn’t have the strength for. I know where the strength to do this really came from. And I threw her away.

The cat catches my eye; he’s stalking something in the long grass, and when I see what it is, I don’t know whether to laugh at the irony, or cry. A white butterfly flits into the air, circling the disappointed cat. A distant memory of catching butterflies as a kid flickers across my mind, the days when we were only brother and sister, and life was normal. Lucy has to be my sister again. The butterfly settles close by and I want to reach out, catch it, but seconds later, the butterfly disappears over the fence. Lucy watches too and smiles weakly at me.

I walk back into the house, ready to walk away. This isn’t the end of mine and Lucy’s problems, but it’s a start.