The Other P-Word Page 20

  “Did you go through my stuff, Billie?”

  I followed his gaze toward the table where the wooden box lay open. In my rush and guilt to put everything back, I must have missed the order of it. And he’d noticed.

  My heart picked up speed and my throat went dry at the same time. “Um…I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

  “But you did?” He pounded his fist against the wall.

  I jumped back. “Maybe if you talked about what happened, it could help.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to fucking talk about it. Did you think about that when you invaded my privacy? Do we really need to have a fucking rule about personal boundaries? I figured you were smart enough that it didn’t need to be said.”

  My fingernails bit into my palm. “You don’t get to speak to me this way, Evan. No one does.”

  But he continued as if I hadn’t said anything. “Is this your strategy? You trying to worm your way into my life?”

  “Calm down, Evan. What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “Something besides you? You want more, don’t you? You said as much. You’re breaking my rule, Billie.”

  And you’re breaking my heart, Evan. “I just want to be there for you.”

  He turned to me, his face emotionless, his mouth tight. “You are a good fuck for me, nothing more.”

  My lower lip quivered. I bit it so hard that I bled a little. “We don’t have to have any more talks or rules, because I won’t be here.”

  “Billie, wait.”

  I stomped out of his apartment, keeping the tears locked inside. I heard glass shattering. Evan swearing and storming out, slamming the door so hard that the windows clattered.

  And me all alone and completely confused.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I tried to be a brave girl in the cold days that followed. I slid his key under his door the next night. He did the same with mine. At work, Evan ignored me. I’d say he treated me like any other co-worker, but he didn’t even do that. His hand was bandaged, but he still managed to play, although he winced occasionally. I heard him tell someone he cut it, probably when he picked up the shattered remains of the picture. He still sang songs to me. For instance, tonight he sang Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

  Asshole.

  At night, he didn’t strum anymore. I lay awake listening and hating myself for it. I bet he slept soundly. How could he react that way? The box wasn’t my business, but he hadn’t even let me explain anything. I hid my tears, burying my face in my pillow. Only a thin wall separated us, but it stretched as far as a distant horizon line.

  The girls made passes at him as they always did. The jealousy jabbed my gut, but I pretended to be unaffected by it all.

  “You okay, sweetie?” Tilla asked after one horrible night. I watched Evan walk out with a clingy redhead as Mike sang the closing song. “I’m sure he’s just getting her a cab.”

  I nodded, wiping the same spot I had been for the last five minutes.

  “Are you trying to remove the varnish?”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  She sighed. “Take a break.”

  She poured us two glasses of wine.

  “What’s going on with you and Evan?”

  “You noticed.”

  “Honey, everyone noticed.”

  “Evan’s not being himself,” I blurted.

  “Billie, this is how Evan usually is. He changed when you came into his life.”

  “I guess I’ve worn off then.”

  She clasped my hand. “It’s not like that. I think he feels guilty.”

  “About what?”

  “About his feelings for you.”

  I laughed. “Don’t joke.”

  “I’m not. This is new territory for him. Did he tell you about his family?”

  “He told me what happened, but he doesn’t really talk about it.”

  “I was there when it happened.”

  I looked up at her. “You were the girl, weren’t you? The one he stayed back for?”

  She shook her head. “Is that what he told you?”

  I nodded in confirmation.

  “I don’t think so. I don’t really know why he stayed behind. I loved Evan, but we weren’t in love. We were young and dumb. He was fighting with his dad a lot. I remember that. His family was pissed he bailed on the vacation, but he stood firm.”

  “He has survivor’s remorse.”

  “Evan was always the life of the party, playful and funny.” Her description didn’t sound quite right. Evan was all that in the present tense. “You’d think a boy from Alabama wouldn’t fit here, but he did. The guys all wanted to emulate him and the girls just wanted him. He was instantly popular the moment he stepped inside our high school.

  “Mike had a big party at his house, the day the news broke about the tsunami. Someone called Evan over to the television. None of us could believe it, especially him. He held out such hope. He booked his ticket right away. Mike booked one too. But there were no flights for a week. They both thought they were going on a rescue mission. Evan swore he’d bring his family home.”

  “I can’t imagine it.”

  “I remember making calls. We called everyone we could—the embassy, the police, the hotel, news stations. All of us trying to get information, but it was slow in coming. That was torture. When the news did finally come, it wasn’t all at once. There was nothing merciful about it. I watched him crumble and die a little more with each confirmation. His mother and then a day later his father and brother. His sister, Erin, was last. Then there was no more hope left. By the time Mike and Evan left, they weren’t going on a rescue mission anymore. Evan was going to bring them home for burial.”

  She handed me a tissue. I hadn’t even realized how hard the tears were coming down my face.

  “And his mom’s and dad’s families argued like the reincarnation of the Hatfields and McCoys. One side insisted they be laid to rest in Alabama but the other wanted Chicago. All those decisions fell to Evan. Mike and I did our best to help with the arrangements. No eighteen year old should have to bury their family.”

  “I’m glad he had you guys.”

  “He did and he didn’t. Everyone grieves in their own way, and for Evan that was leaving everything behind. He settled his parents’ estate. The three of us sat on the floor of the empty house that last night. Mike said when we graduated college, we should open a bar together. Evan suggested we name it The Lost Souls’ Club—a place where every lost soul could stake a claim. He took off the next day and left us a note saying that if we ever opened the bar, he’d come play.” She ran her finger around a knothole in the polished bar top. “Sometimes I think Mike wanted this place just so Evan would come home.”

  “You kept in touch, though.”

  “We didn’t hear from Evan for a year. Eventually, the postcards started coming. He’s sent us one from all of the different places he lived. Back then, Mike and I weren’t very close, except for our connection with Evan. He would ask me if I’d heard from Evan. I’d ask him the same. I suppose in retrospect, Evan brought us together. We worried he wouldn’t approve.”

  “How did you tell him?”

  “We found out he was opening for a band in Cleveland. We went to the show and told him the news, both of us nervous as hell. Not only was he happy for us, but he stood up at our wedding.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, but the thing is…he’d changed. I suppose living a lifetime’s worth of tragedy in a few days will do that.” She clasped my hand. “Don’t give up on him.”

  “He gave up on us, Tilla. It’s over.” I took my glass to wash it, but she stopped me.

  “I’ll take care of it. Go on home.”

  Tilla must have been right about the girl, or else Evan was very fast for once, because I saw him in the hallway, unlocking his door, when I took out my trash about a half hour later. I struggled with the emotion that rocked through me based on what Tilla had told me and how he was acting. I’d never ha
d an urge to hug and hit someone at the same time.

  “Do you need help with that?” he asked, staring at the trash bag.

  “No,” I said, brushing past him.

  “It’s late. Either I take it to the dumpster or you can wait until the morning.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Billie Marie…”

  “Don’t! Don’t call me that,” I snapped. “You call me Billie like everyone else. You don’t get to call me anything special or different from anyone else.”

  I threw the bag over my shoulder and bolted down the steps. He followed behind me.

  We both stood awkwardly in the alley, the sounds of distant traffic surrounding us. It was a humid and damp night. A steady stream of rain fell on both of us. “Did you fuck her?” I hated asking him. I hated how much I needed to know.

  “Who?”

  A spiteful laugh rose and died in my throat. “The girl you left with.”

  “I didn’t leave with her. I fetched her a cab. She was drunk.”

  “Like you got me a cab before?”

  “No, not like that at all.”

  The dumpster was high. I wondered how I’d ever gotten my garbage in it before. Then I realized I hadn’t. Evan always took out my garbage when he took his. Fuck him. I threw the bag with all my force, aiming for the opening. It hit the side and tumbled back to the ground. Evan picked it up and tossed it with no effort.

  “I never wanted to hurt you, Billie.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re really good at it. What do you care anyway? I’m just another stupid, stupid girl for you to play with.”

  He winced at my words, shaking his head slowly. “You were never that.”

  I ran upstairs. I could feel him right behind me. I slammed my door in his face. I promised myself I wouldn’t give him my tears, but once they started, I couldn’t turn them off. I cupped my mouth, but somewhere deep inside something was howling to get out in a violent way, causing my whole body to shudder. He was at my door. He heard everything.

  “Billie, are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay, but don’t worry, I will be.”

  “Let me in…please.”

  I ran to the door, confirming I’d locked it. Then I slid the chain in place.

  “Leave me alone.”

  I didn’t want him to hear me cry anymore. My tears no longer belonged to me. They were for him too. For the boy who’d lost so much that he couldn’t even deal with life. I turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes. I braced my arms against the walls as the hot water ran over me, but soon I couldn’t do that anymore. My legs shook. I sat on the floor of the tub, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be loud as I rocked back and forth.

  The steam made a nice thick cloud around me, and the curtain was pulled close, but I still heard him…felt him in the room. I didn’t even acknowledge him at first.

  “How did you get in?”

  “You left the window unlocked. You shouldn’t do that.”

  I pulled back the curtain. His expression, broken and sad, actually wrenched at my heart, but my bitterness protected me. “Apparently.”

  “I know it’s wrong for me to be here.”

  “It’s a violation of my privacy. I thought you were all about that.”

  “I’ll leave if you want.” He gripped the edge of the tub. “I just had to make sure you are okay. Let me stay. Please, angel, let me stay with you.”

  I didn’t answer because I did need him. The one person who’d made me feel this way was the only one who could make it better. Maybe he understood that, because he got in the tub behind me, fully clothed, except for his shoes, as if that was a normal thing to do. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my back.

  “I’m so sorry, Billie Marie. Please forgive me.”

  I don’t know when my tears ended and his began. They landed on my shoulder and felt several degrees hotter than the water falling from the showerhead. I crawled into his lap and held him until both of us were spent of the emotions.

  “Evan, will you talk to me?”

  “Let me take care of you first.”

  He stood and turned off the shower. He wrapped me in a towel and carried me to the bed. I watched him clean up all the drips we’d made. Then he stood on a towel and removed every article of soaked clothing from his body.

  He wrapped his arms around me, spooning my back against his chest.

  “I can’t stay here, Billie. I’m so sorry, but I don’t want to lose you. Will you let me stay…in your life right now? Will you take my key back?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  I’d have given him the key to my heart if I wasn’t worried he’d throw it back in my face.

  He twirled a piece of my hair between his fingers. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. There is something wrong with my heart.”

  “There is nothing wrong with your heart, Evan. You’ve been through a tragedy, but you need to talk about it because you’re choosing to suffer alone. That will only destroy you.”

  He nodded before kissing my forehead. “I know, but right now can we go to sleep? I haven’t slept in three days.”

  “Why not?”

  “I needed my cuddle buddy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was mid-afternoon. I awoke to Evan’s lips against my shoulder. “Morning, sunshine.” He cupped my breast, his thumb flicking my nipple.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I guess I’m trying to apologize some more.”

  “With sex?”

  “With actions.”

  I turned to face him. “Talk to me, Evan. I need your words right now.”

  He sighed, backing away from me. “What do you want to know?”

  “First, I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to go through your stuff like that. I put everything back once I realized I was snooping. And honestly, the photo wasn’t—”

  He placed a finger over my lip. “I overreacted on both accounts. It’s a beautiful picture. I replaced the glass and I rehung it with an anchor so it won’t fall again.”

  “It fell? I thought you smashed it.”

  “No, I punched the wall and it fell. I shouldn’t have done that either.”

  “Why did you?”

  “The last good memory I have was Orange Beach. We spent Thanksgiving at my grandmother’s, like we always did. My dad thought we should try to find our surfing legs again since we were going to Sri Lanka in a month. We went to Orange Beach all the time as kids, but we hadn’t been since moving to Chicago.”

  I waited for him, afraid that if I interrupted he might stop talking. I stroked his hair. His hand rested on my hip. “My sister, Erin, was eleven. Only eleven, Billie. She died before she even lived. I combed the beach for hours with her. She’d search for shells and tell me about all her big dreams to become a marine biologist one day. She would have done it too. She was determined like that. She told me all these facts about…” He tilted his head as if trying to recall it. “Starfish.”

  “Starfish?”

  “Yep. How they regenerate their arms and carry a special armor on their bodies. I remember thinking she was growing up and I loved getting to see a glimpse of the smart, confident woman she was going to be. Then she told me about this boy she liked at school. And I hated that she was growing up. I wanted to put armor around her.”

  “You were a good brother.”

  “You know who was a really good brother? My brother. His name was Owen, like the book.”

  “A Prayer for Owen Meany?”

  “Yeah, he was the one who recommended it to me. I did finish it on that vacation. I fell asleep near the tide. When I woke up, the book was out to sea.” He winked at me. “Don’t tell Arty.”

  I did a ‘zip the lip and throw away the key’ motion. “I promise.”

  “My brother’s dream was to go to West Point. He wanted more than anything to serve our county like my dad did.” />
  “Your dad was in the military?”

  “You didn’t see the dog tags in the box?”

  I shook my head.

  “Yeah, he served in the middle east for two deployments. He never pressured us to join, but Owen was all about it. He idolized our dad. I never told Owen how much I loved and respected him. He may have been two years younger, but he was my hero, all the same.”

  “I’m sure he knew that, Evan.”

  “I hope so, Billie. We went to Orange Beach all the time. But that trip was really amazing. Erin surfed her first big wave. Owen and I taught her. We chartered a boat and went fishing too. My dad caught a gag grouper. You ever seen one of those?”

  “No.”

  “It’s huge—the kind of creature God created just so men could have fishing stories. Owen, Dad and I all took turns reeling her in. By the time her sixty-pound body flopped around on the deck, our arms were stinging from the pain. Dad said it was a family catch.”

  “Wow, sixty pounds?”

  “No exaggeration. I never got to tell that fishing story.”

  “I’m happy you told me.”

  “Did I ever tell you my mom was a writer?”

  “No.”

  “She wrote about food.”

  “Like cookbooks?”

  “They had recipes but they were more about the relationships people have with food. She loved to travel and get new ideas. Her excitement when she talked about visiting Sri Lanka was all about the food. When I think about my mom, I can still smell the sizzle of onions and garlic and butter in a skillet. I kept this spice mix she made. It’s in a little metal container in that box. Sometimes I open it and sniff the scent because it smells like home to me. She cooked the grouper that night. We all agreed it was the best meal we’d ever had.”

  I realized what the box was then…he’d kept something from each of them.

  “It sounds like a wonderful time.”

  “It was. These are all good memories, but I have a hard time with them. With all of it. Especially the way I’ve used these last ten years. Seeing that picture just brought all that back. I took that out on you, and I wish to God I could take it back.”