Finding Evan (4 page)

“It’s not like I can ask Dad,” she says and sniffs. “I don’t want to go alone the first time. Just once. Please.”

This is so fucking hard. I never expected to come back to England and face this after such an awesome summer with Ness. This new academic year is a fresh start, a future with Ness. Not a return to a past I can’t remember. Is this revenge by Lucy for leaving her alone all summer?

“Once?”

“I need to know, Evan. I need her to tell me why. I thought she must be dead for so many years; otherwise, why else would she stay away?”

I don’t respond. I want to cover my ears and stop Lucy from saying out loud the questions which swam around my brain for years before I built up the dam to keep the emotion out. To me, our mother did die. Because she killed a part of me – the part which trusts when people tell you they love you, and allows you to trust that person with your heart. This woman tore out my heart, and what I have with Ness is stitching together the wound. Now, Lucy’s sliced open my chest and handed the knife back to this woman Lucy says is our mother. And the worst part of all, I couldn’t find the words to tell Ness this afternoon.

I saw her with Ollie and my screwed up brain couldn’t cope with seeing someone else’s hands on her. My rational side saw how awkward she was when he hugged her, but this doesn’t quieten the raw Evan underneath.

Fuck. I want Ness. I don’t want to be here. When I’m with Ness, this shit doesn’t exist. But this isn’t going away anytime soon.

“Call her. Arrange something. I’ll take you and then I’m done.”

***

NESS

Abby crashes through the door. Well, I hope it’s Abby. I glance at the clock on my laptop. Eight pm. Surely she can’t be wasted yet. This year has seen a lot less party-Abby and a bit more of a considerate-Abby. Please don’t let that change.

“Ness!” she calls upstairs in a sing-song voice. The one that usually precedes her asking for something. At least she sounds sober.

Closing my textbook, I wander downstairs to find out what she wants, and spy the reason for the crash. Several carrier bags fill the space on the small dining table and she carts one into the kitchen. There’s a distinctive clink as she sets the bag on the kitchen bench.

“Abby…”

“So, I was thinking about inviting a few people over tomorrow night.”

“A few?”

She ignores me. “And I wondered if you wanted to invite those two guys from med school.”

My ears prick up. I
recognize the smile on Abby’s face and the twinkle in her eyes, and wonder which of my friends she’s thinking about. I can guess - the one who’s interested in her too. “Jared?”

Abby’s smile turns coy and she brushes an imaginary strand of hair from her jacket. “Maybe. If you invite them, I won’t seem so…”

I could choose any number of words. “Keen?”

“Keen. That works. You can invite more than two of course” She delves into the bag and pulls out an open bag of crisps. “As long as Jared comes.”

I haven't told Abby that he’s asked for her number; I’m not sure about him. I can’t figure out if he’s a genuinely sweet guy, or if I’m fooled by his charming persona too.

“Okay. But how many people are you inviting?” I ask.

“The other guy – does he have a girlfriend?”

“Ollie? I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen him with anyone.”

“Okay, well, I think Tamara would like him. Or maybe Nicky?” She munches thoughtfully on a crisp.

“I don’t think he’d thank you for matchmaking. He might not even want to come.”

“Yeah. He seems a bit up himself.”

I’m offended on his behalf. “You’ve only met him once!”

“Whatever. He doesn’t seem very friendly.”

“I think he’s just a reserved person.”

Abby shrugs, and then grins slyly. “Invite him anyway. And any other guys you’re friends with.”

“And the girls?”

“You don’t have friends who are girls.”

“True, I just tolerate the ones I have to.”

She pokes her tongue out and throws a crisp at my head. “So it’s okay if I have a small gathering then?”

“Just say party, Abby.”

“Only a small one. If you really don’t want to come, just go to Evan’s.”

I walk past her and flick the switch on the kettle. “He’s away this weekend. Coffee?"

“Again?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

The way she says okay proves she doubts him. But Abby would; her boyfriends don’t have a great track record. Evan knows I don’t approve of him running to Lucy when she snaps her fingers. She’s stable – has been for months – but she gave him such a hard time for going away for the summer. I think he’s trying to make up for his absence somehow.

Chapter Four

EVAN

I don't want this dragging on, so I attempt to call the woman who Lucy claims is our mother. No answer. All day Saturday I call, and not once does Faye answer. Every time I go and do something else in the house, Lucy appears, badgering me to try again. By the end of the day, I lose my temper with Lucy and ask why the hell she can't call the woman herself.

I'm absolutely fucking furious. I blew off time with Ness to do this, and for nothing. This is wrong. I've had enough sessions with the counselor to realize how wrong. This is a step back towards allowing Lucy to run my life. I guess I should see the guy more. Reinforce what I’m learning. If she's not unwell, she doesn't need me running around after her. Boundaries. But this is big stuff, not just Lucy. Long lost mothers? There's a whole year’s worth of counseling sessions right there. I snort to myself.

When I spoke to Ness this afternoon, she told me Abby has
organized a party. I know what Abby's parties are like. I went to enough myself last year and I can’t remember most of them. I expect Ollie and the other guy will go, and the thought pokes at the wasp nest of my insecurity. Mid-afternoon, I toy with the idea of going back, but my head is so fucked at the moment I need to be on my own. I should go back to Leeds, explain to Ness what's going on in my screwed up life. Before all this crap screws us up. But I can’t, not in this state of mind. Because then I'd have to tell her, and I'm not ready to yet.

Nine pm and nobody else is home, so I switch the TV on for company. I got very close to checking the local pubs to see if my old mates were there and getting wasted with them, but I don’t think that’ll help.
Wow, maybe I’m learning something.
The music channel plays an Arctic Monkeys track I recognize, one I played on repeat last year because the lyrics reminded me of Ness. When we first met and she turned me on by being so damn unobtainable.

Was that only a year ago?

***

NESS

I wish Evan was here, and that there were ten less people crammed into the small lounge room. Even though the party is subdued, by Abby’s standards, the numbers invading the house are unpleasantly large. And Abby is sulking because Jared hasn't arrived yet, as if I'm his keeper or something. I tell Abby he's probably in the pub and she repeatedly asks whether I actually invited him.

I give up, sit on a wooden dining chair, and drink a beer. A tall guy with short brown hair joins me. I don't recognize him and he attempts to make conversation, which I shoot down before he really gets a chance to begin. He's drunk. And stoned too, I reckon; he has the familiar glazed incoherence. The situation makes me think of the drunken Evan I met last year, and my stomach flips, as it always does when I think of him. My sharp tongue doesn't deter my would-be suitor, so I introduce him to one of Abby's friends who hovers nearby. Relieved by the ease he switches his charms to her, I disappear upstairs to call Evan.

I'm concerned. I've thought about the lost-Evan-eyes a lot since I saw him yesterday and when we spoke this morning, he sounded distracted. I don't want to revisit last year.

"You okay?" Evan asks when he answers.

"I just wanted to see if you were? And hear your voice. There's some annoying people at this party."

"Hmm. I hope there's no one in your bed," he teases.

Our first, disastrous meeting at one of Abby's parties. The night I came home from work and found a stranger in my bed, yelled at Abby for her stupid parties, and then a drunk, obnoxious Evan accosted me in the kitchen.

"Nope, and I kicked out the drunk guy who came onto me in the kitchen." I grin at my joke.

"What?" His response is sharp.

"Evan! I'm referring to that annoying guy who said I sounded like the Queen last year. Remember? You…”

"Oh. Sorry. I've had a bad day."

He sounds tired, and wherever he is, it's quiet, just the noise of a TV in the background. Unlike the voices and music I've shut out behind my bedroom door. "How's Lucy?"

He pauses. "She's okay."

Why is he there then
?
"I miss you. I hardly saw you this week."

"I'll try and get back tomorrow, a bit earlier."

"Are you sure everything is okay?"

Another pause. My skin prickles with the fear we are going backwards. “Yeah. Are you going back to the party?"

"Ugh. I don't know. There's no one here I recognize."

"Not your med school friends then?" The edge is back in his tone.

"They're supposed to be here. Abby has her sights set on Jared."

Evan laughs. "Poor Jared."

"That's my friend you're talking about!"

Silence follows, the faint noise of music from the other end of the phone. The prickling intensifies.

"Ness?"

"What?"

"'Tu me manques'."

The prickling turns to a flutter in my stomach. My Evan. "That's a new one. What does it mean?"

"It's French for 'I miss you' but if you translate directly, I'm really saying 'You're missing from me'. My missing part.” He sighs, “I wish I'd never come to Lancaster this weekend."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing. Lucy's pissed me off; that's all."

I could sit here for the rest of the night and talk to him, but it’s clear he’s not in a conversational mood. "I love you," I whisper, "and I wish you were in my bed."

"I'll come straight over when I get back. So don't have a late night, because you'll have one tomorrow."

My body flares at the connotation behind his words. "Shh. You not being here is bad enough."

“So you don’t want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you when I next see you?” he teases.

My heart rate increases as I wait for his next words, but instead, he laughs softly. "I'll go. Leave things to your imagination. Unless you feel like telling me what you want me to do to you?" I can hear the grin in his voice.

“No way. And you're making things worse.” I’m tempted to stay on the phone and continue the conversation. But as I’ve told him before, I’m not taking things in the direction of phone sex. If he wants me, he knows where I am.

“Spoil sport.”

"Night, poetry boy," I say firmly.

"Night, butterfly girl. I love you."

The love I have for this guy surges into me, and any irritation I have with him for his absence flies away.

The glow from the conversation with Evan follows me back downstairs. I scout the room for Abby and spot a familiar blonde head standing with her, facing away from me. Jared. Wandering over, I poke him in the ribs.

"Made it here then?"

Jared turns to me. "I had a tough time leaving the pub."

Abby's in full flirtation mode. She's close to Jared, touching his arm as if to claim him from the other girls around. He doesn't stand a chance, although I doubt that'll bother him. Jared flashes me a smile, and caught in its full beam, I see how his confidence and boyish looks work so well for him. He’s attracted the interest of others girls, as well as Abby.

"I'm glad you finally got here," I say, and pull a face at Abby. She gives me an apologetic smile. "Have fun."

I don't want to stay at the party; I'd rather go back to my room in case the guy from earlier is still around, waiting to pounce. Maybe I should’ve stayed upstairs and had phone sex with Evan. I smirk to myself as I wander into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“What’s funny?” Ollie sits on the kitchen bench, nursing a half-empty bottle of beer.

I turn pink and he looks at me curiously.

"Oh. I didn't realize you were here." Although where Jared is, he's never far.

"I'm hiding. Is she still there?" Ollie cranes his neck towards the door.

"Who?"

"God, I get here with Jared and your friend pushes some girl at me in a really unsubtle way."

I giggle and he frowns at me. "I'll check; what does she look like?"

"Blonde, short, big...um, well-endowed and unmissable in the dress she's wearing."

Poking my head around the corner, I spot a girl matching his description. She’s talking to the guy who came onto me before.

"I think she's found a replacement, sorry." I make a mock pout of disappointment and he smiles.

"Thank God."

"I guess you're not a random hook up kind of guy then?"

Ollie drinks his beer and doesn't answer me. He watches as I fill a glass with water. "Not staying around?"

"Nope. Going to bed. I don't know anyone."

"Hmm." He swigs from his bottle. "You could talk to me for a bit. I don't know anyone either. Apart from my cousin, who has plans with your friend I think."

The idea of sitting with Ollie and talking med school doesn't appeal and I start to think of an excuse.

"Tell me where you went in the summer. I might've been there too," he says.

"Spain. Italy. Greece. Then we ran out of time."

"We? Did you go with Abby?"

"Evan."

He opens his mouth to say something and changes his mind. I study him warily, weighing up whether to leave. Then I feel rude; he doesn't know anyone else. And I'm keen to hear his stories about his travels, so I pull my rear onto the kitchen bench next to him. "So? Did you go to Europe?"

Ollie shakes his head. "Europe didn't interest me."

"Where's the best place you went?"

"Australia. I ended up staying there for a few months. I'm thinking about going back some time."

"To visit?"

"Live, hopefully. After I've qualified. Got some experience." He picks at the label on his bottle.

"I was going to go there. Where did you go?"

"Not as many places as I originally planned. I spent a lot of time in Perth." Ollie launches into descriptions of places he went, things he saw, and the vivid images I stored on my laptop last year fill my mind as he describes his travels. I’ve never seen him so animated, and I wonder if he misses his life in Australia. Ollie doesn’t mention anyone he met, apart from the relatives he stayed with, and I wonder why.

"I wanted to go to Queensland. And Sydney," I tell him. Was that a small spark of regret?

"Last summer?" He looks surprised. "You should've taken a year – working visa. I did."

"I almost did, but changed my mind."

"Oh?"

"I decided to go to med school instead."

"Med school would've waited."

"I had other reasons I wanted to stay."

"Ah." Ollie sets his bottle down. "Evan stopped you from going."

It's a statement, not a question. "I stopped me from going. It's more complicated than you know." I bristle. Why criticize mine and Evan's relationship? Because that's what he's doing. Again. I can't figure him out. He's maybe a couple of years older than me, but he seems a world away. And he's edging into the territory of patronizing.

Even though I don’t respond, I think the look I give him makes it clear what I’m thinking.

He wrinkles his nose. "Sorry, I'd make such a crap parent."

"What?"

"I shouldn't try to get other people to learn from the mistakes I've made. Like parents do with kids. This is none of my business, but sometimes I can't help myself. Sorry." He jumps down from the kitchen bench. Is he comparing me to a kid?

"Did she hurt you badly?" I retort.

Ollie rubs his lips with his fingertips and looks directly at me. "Who?"

"Whoever made you so cynical about relationships."

"I learned not to try and fix people," he says, and leaves the kitchen before I can respond.

I shake my head, attempting to process our weird exchange. When I leave the kitchen, he's disappeared. Abby and Jared are bunched together on the sofa, and Abby's intentions are clear. Jared could wind up disappointed because it's unlikely he'll find himself in her bed, and I wonder if he's interested enough to stick around if she doesn't come up with the goods. I roll my eyes at her as I pass them, and she glances at me but doesn't respond. Jared's eyes are fixed solely on her, and they're close, but not touching. Memories of my first kiss with Evan and the snarky verbal sparring with each other resurface, and my stomach fills with butterflies again.

***

Luckily I'm tired enough to sleep through the voices and music downstairs. An exhausting week of study and the late night combine to work better than any sedative, and I fall asleep halfway through the book I'm reading. I'm jolted awake again as the door to my room opens, light from the hallway filtering through. I glance at my clock. Two am.

"Wrong room," I grumble, pulling the bed covers over my eyes, waiting for the unwanted visitor to apologize and leave.

Someone closes the door and approaches the bed. Instantly, I'm on alert, and I sit bolt upright, ready to scream. I thought we'd got over Abby's stupid drunk friends s
tumbling into my room at night.

"Damn, I didn't mean to wake you." Evan perches on the edge of the bed.