Chapter 17 Evan
EVAN
Nate only called five times today. I tell myself it’s getting easier to ignore him and his messages. But I’m lying to myself.
Every time I see his name flash up on the screen, something twists in me.
I keep telling my ma and Stacie he’s busy, but I’ll have to break the news that he isn’t coming around here anymore at some point.
By that time, he will have moved on, come to his senses.
Realized he has a future, and I don’t. Maybe, eventually, he’ll be grateful that I did him a favor and gave him an out before he ruined it all for something that’s not worth it. Someone who isn’t worth it.
Ma hands me the application form for the electrician course to hand in to Bob and I try to hide my lack of enthusiasm as she kisses me goodbye with a big smile on her face.
I thought I’d gotten used to this being my life, but now I’ve had a glimpse of something else, it’s crushing.
I look at the women around me my ma’s age or older, who’ve been doing this for years, even decades.
The men stooped from driving forklift trucks and carrying shit that was too heavy for one person.
Workhorses. I don’t wanna be like that. But fuck, what if I can’t be anything else?
What if Nate’s wrong about me and I’m not as smart as he thinks I am?
What if I flunk out of this stupid course and then I’ll know for a fact, this is it? Forever?
Bob comes and finds me once I get set up.
He asks me to follow him into his office.
I think he’s going to ask if I have the application form, but before I can pull it out of my pocket, he tells me to take a seat and I know instantly something’s wrong.
He’s usually pretty upbeat, despite the fact that he sits in this grimy, drafty office all night, watching us sweat at the conveyor belts downstairs.
But right now, he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.
“I’m so sorry to have to do this Evan, but …”
Fuck. No. My stomach drops.
“Head office heard about the fight outside. They’ve told me to give you a disciplinary.”
I open my mouth to say something, but Bob holds his hand up, his face apologetic.
“I know it wasn’t your fault, you’d best believe I gave them a piece of my mind. I told them, we have witnesses who’ll attest to the fact those thugs just jumped you. But apparently, they got wind of you not being cooperative with the police and want to make an example of you.”
“What does this mean? Am I gonna lose my job?”
“No, not if I can help it.”
What the fuck does that mean?
“But you gotta keep your nose clean for a while. Very clean.”
“And what if those guys come back?”
Bob swallows. “You could try being more cooperative with the police. Maybe pressing charges, handing over names, addresses.…”
I shake my head before he even stops speaking. “I can’t do that. They know where I live. Where my ma works, where my sister goes to school.…”
“Evan, if these guys are really that dangerous, then you should report them.”
“It’s not about that. They’re just idiots. But idiots can hurt people. And I won’t risk my ma and Stacie getting hurt for my stupid mistakes.”
Bob frowns and clasps his hands over his belly. “What do you mean? What mistakes?”
I shake my head. This guy is my boss. I can’t tell him half of what I’ve done.
I’d be fired on the spot if he ever found out I brought anything illegal into the warehouse.
He sits up with a sigh, letting his hands drop.
“Evan, I’m going to do everything I can.
I know how much you need this job. And I know your mother.
I know how tough your dad’s death has been on you all, and his illness … ”
I try to tune his voice out. Anyone talking about my dad feels like nails being drilled into my head.
I thought I’d gotten so good at tuning it out—but it’s so loud right now.
It feels like everything is closing in on me.
Like I’m letting my dad down. Letting my ma and Stacie down.
If he were here, if he’d never gotten sick, he wouldn’t have let us get to this point.
He’d make it better. He could fix anything. …
“Evan? Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I shake my head, the world coming back in sudden, vivid clarity. “I’ll keep my nose clean. You’re right, I really need this job.”
I’m not even thinking about the application form until I’m about to leave the office and Bob calls me back. That apologetic look on his face is even more intense now.
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to hold out on applying for the electrician course. Employees under disciplinary action aren’t allowed to apply for education and training programs.”
I tense my jaw. “It’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You can apply once your disciplinary’s gone through … ” I turn around and leave before I can say something I might regret, rushing to the bathroom before anyone can stop me.
I feel like screaming. I need to hit something.
I pull the form out of my pocket instead.
Glance at the questions I spent ages answering at the kitchen table last night while Ma hovered excitedly around me, pretending to wash dishes while peering over my shoulder and reminding me of all my good qualities.
The action of ripping it to pieces is satisfying at first. I rip it until its unrecognizable and then kick the pieces under my heavy boots. But it’s not enough.
When Ivan—the forklift truck driver—comes in I’m in the process of bloodying my knuckles on the stall door.
I stop what I’m doing. He studies me for a second and then walks over to the urinal and starts taking a piss.
Blood trickles over my knuckles while I stand there, panting, waiting for him to leave.
“Want me to help you tidy up in here?” he asks, gesturing to the pieces of application form shredded all over the dirty tiles.
I shake my head. If I try to speak right now, I’m gonna cry. And that’s the last thing I need.
Ivan shrugs before heading back out onto the floor. I take a shaky breath before bending down to pick up my mess.
The first few times I walked out of work after leaving Nate that day, I kept expecting to find his SUV parked up when I came out the back door. I told myself I was relieved when I didn’t, but my heart sinks when I don’t find it here now.
I’m doing the right thing, I remind myself. Nate deserves so much better than what you can give him.
But fuck me, I could do with seeing him right now. More than ever. And yet, I’m even more of a loser now than I was a week ago, two weeks ago. Five years ago.
Ma’s still up when I get home. She’s sitting at the kitchen table and I swear I smell cigarette smoke in the air.
She looks tired. Dark rings around her eyes. She glances up at me when I walk into the room.
“What are you still doing up? It’s late.”
“Sorry, Ma,” she says, flashing me a weak smile.
I sit down at the table and put my hand out to her and she squeezes it with both of hers.
“How did it go tonight? Did you hand the form in with Bob?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and grit my teeth before lying to her. “Yeah.”
That smile that ghosts over her lips almost sets me off. I bite the inside of my lip so hard it hurts.
“I’m so proud of you, baby.”
Fuck, stop.
“I love you, so much,” she says, pulling her hand out from under mine to stroke my face. “Your dad would be so proud of how you’re keeping everything together.”
“Stop it, Ma.” I pull away from her touch and stand up with a harsh scrape of my chair legs on the vinyl floor.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Nothing’s happened, everything’s fine, Ma.” I swipe at my face so she can’t see that a few stray tears have escaped. “I just don’t wanna talk about Dad, that’s all.”
“Evan, baby, you’ve got to talk about him sometime. It’ll drive you crazy if you keep it all bottled up. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Your dad wasn’t strong all the time.”
I spin on my heels, a muscle ticking in my jaw. “Yeah, he was.”
She cocks her head. I can’t stand the sympathy in her eyes. “Evan, your dad was a man. He was human. He wouldn’t expect you to be anything other than that.”
Memories of a big man in blue overalls flood to the surface.
The smell of his woody cologne and cigarette smoke on his clothes.
The warmth of his chest when he’d pull me in for a hug.
My chest aches. I can’t look at her anymore.
My gaze flits over the table. A pile of new letters. An envelope with a big red banner.
“Is that another final reminder?”
Ma makes a feeble attempt to cover the letters up without looking to see what she’s doing.
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out.”
She stands, running her hand over my head before putting her arms around me. I’m stiff as she rests her head on my shoulder. Her familiar perfume overpowered by a strong smell of smoke and something chemical, like gin or vodka.
“Get some sleep, okay? I love you.”
“You too, Ma. Go to bed.”
There’s a lump in my throat as she leaves. I try to make a sandwich before bed, but I’m not hungry anymore. I put the knife down mid-spread and hold onto the counter for support while waiting for all the memories threatening to break through to pass.
I’m about to turn my phone off when it lights up with another message from Nate. It’s late and I can’t sleep, and I know the later it gets, the stronger the desire to call him is. The weaker my resistance. My thumb hovers over the last message as I read the start:
I’m not giving up on you. Not this time, I’m never…
I turn my phone off, shoving it under the pillow before turning over to try and get some sleep.
I don’t think anyone’s in the kitchen when I come downstairs the next morning, but then I hear Ma, swearing to herself from somewhere.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”
“What’s happened?”
She’s on the floor, her head in the cupboard under the sink.
“Sink’s leaking,” she says.
“Here, let me take a look.”