Chapter 3 #3
Except when Evan comes to the door, he isn’t a gangly fifteen-year old anymore.
He’s a grown-ass man in a ratty white vest and sleep shorts.
I swallow, remembering that thing I’d pushed down more than any other memory.
How I’d watch Evan smoking one of his dad’s Marlboros and think about his lips on the filter when he passed it to me.
Hiding my excitement from him when we stripped down to our underwear to jump into the sea. He scowls when he sees me.
“What do you want?”
I swallow, paste on my best smile. “Hey.”
“My ma’s not home.”
“I didn’t come here to see her.”
“What do you want?” he repeats, a little more exasperated this time.
I shrug. “I thought we could hang out.”
He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. “What’s wrong? Your frat bros all busy hazing kids in the basement?”
I’m momentarily stung, but remind myself that he’s just angry, and grieving. And he has every right to be angry at me. I got us into trouble back then. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me most. But I’m here now. Even if he thinks he doesn’t want me to be.
“We’re not that kind of fraternity.” I say evenly. “And hazing is illegal.”
Something flashes in his eyes and I force myself to hold his gaze, hoping he can see the apology behind them.
“Oh yeah?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. Something flips in my stomach. His pecs in that vest, his biceps. The definition of muscular shoulders. He didn’t look like that when we were kids. “So what kind of fraternity are you?”
I know he’s clowning me, but I go along with it anyway.
“The kind who does volunteer work at nursing homes and has long, boring meetings.”
The smirk falls from his face. He looks me up and down.
“So what are you doin’ here, Nate?”
“I told you, I want to-”
“Not the bullshit reason, give me the real one.”
I sigh, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my chinos. “Your mom asked me to keep in touch.”
“Pshht, I fucking knew it.”
He tries to slam the door in my face, but I put my hand on it, wedging my foot between the door and the jamb. I note the surprise on his face at how much stronger I am now.
“Wait. I wanted to come over here, too.”
His face is scrunched up into something I don’t recognize in him. “Nate, get the fuck out of my way.”
“Or what?”
His nostrils flare, and for a second, I actually think he might hit me. The Evan I knew would never, but I’m quickly realizing that this guy standing in front of me isn’t my Evan—not the parts I can see, at least.
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to let me in?”
The look on his face tells me he’s still not convinced.
“Just to set your mom’s mind at rest?”
“Pshht,” he says again. “Knew it.”
“Knew what?” I try a smile, my stomach doing somersaults.
“You’d be saying ‘Mom’ now. When we were kids, you called her ‘Ma.’”
“Pshht,” I try, but it sounds weird coming out of my mouth. If I spoke to my mom like that now, she’d have a fit. She’d also have a fit if I called her ‘Ma,’ though I did for years.
“Yeah well, she’s all fancy now. She doesn’t like being called Ma.”
“She’s fancy?” He looks me up and down. My Ralph Lauren polo and Abercrombie chinos. Heat floods my entire body as I feel his eyes on me.
“Are you gonna let me in or what? The neighbors will start to talk.”
“Nah, they’ll just think the Mormons are doing their rounds again.”
“What’s wrong with Mormons?” I ask, hoping this verbal sparring will distract him from slamming the door in my face.
“You’re right. They don’t hassle people half as much as you.”
I shrug. “I’m not leaving, not until you let me in.”
He swallows, the smirk dropping from his face.
“Ma’s home in an hour. You can stay till she gets back, show your face, then leave. Obligation over.”
I nod, my heart sinking.
He lets out a big sigh before turning and walking into the house, leaving the door open behind him. His bare feet slap on the vinyl on his way to the kitchen.
“You want a drink?” he calls to me. “Something to eat? We’ve got enough casserole for a year out here.”
I follow him out and lean against the counter while he pours two glasses of juice.
“You still drink store-brand, right?”
I pull a face and he almost smiles.
He puts the juice on the counter by the sink, just out of reach.
“Can I have that?”
Ignoring me, he says, “Shouldn’t you be playing tennis or throwing a frat party or something?”
“I’m off-duty today.”
He rolls his eyes and turns to the window, leaning against the sink and gazing out. The sun coming through the glass highlights the muscles in the backs of his arms.
“I met your boss at the funeral.”
He stiffens at the word ‘funeral’.
“Where do you work?”
“A warehouse. Why?”
“How long you been working there?”
“Since school.”
He pushes off from the sink and looks at me, a challenge in his eyes. “We don’t all have rich stepdaddies to pay for Ivy League colleges. Some of us have to contribute.”
I flinch, but he’s not looking at me to catch it. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.
I’m not only here because your mom asked me. When I saw you at … I realized I should have made more of an effort. I did go and see your dad at the hospital, but you were never there and-”
“You went to see my dad at the hospital?”
“Yeah, of course. Your dad taught me how to ride a bike. He was there more than my own dad was. My real dad.”
His face softens and he wraps his arms around himself.
Neither of us have touched our drinks. The silence starts to build.
I know somehow that it’s my responsibility to break it, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Hey, you still got GTA?”
He blinks hard at me, like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “The PlayStation’s in the living room, Stacie made me move it.”
“She made you?” I smirk.
“Yeah.” His lips quirk the slightest bit. “That’s what I said.”
“Wanna play?”
He swallows and licks his lips before casting a worried look towards the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Did I say something wrong? The realization hits me that the living room is probably where his dad slept, in the end. I start to apologize, but he cuts me off.
“You set it up, I’ll go and get the game.”