Chapter 17 Evie
EVIE
“Wanna go out to Coney Island?” I ask him as we walk through the halls. It’s the last day before our holiday break, and it is absolutely dragging. He doesn’t respond. “Keat?”
“Hmm?” he asks. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I, uh…” his voice trails off as we turn down the next hallway. “I’m a little…”
“Bruh,” I hear this guy Connor say as soon as he sees us.
Well, as soon as he sees Keaton. No one sees me, despite how much I’m with Keaton.
I think it’s because, around these types of people, most relationships and friendships are superficial.
So they assume ours is too. Not worth getting to know me.
Keat sucks in a breath and looks at him.
“Is this true?” he asks, holding his phone out. I see Keaton reading a text message on Connor’s phone, but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks by.
“That’s fucked up, Everett,” Connor calls down the hallway. “It’s fucked up.”
Keaton picks up the pace, and I pick mine up to follow him. My stomach is churning. We turn toward the cafeteria, and Macy walks up to us.
“Keaton, was it really that many people?” she asks.
He looks at her, but again, he doesn’t answer.
He just politely pushes past with me in tow.
When we walk into the cafeteria, it feels like a scene from a teen movie.
The entire room literally gets quieter. People from every table turn to look at us.
Some people are whispering; some are just sitting and staring.
Some are glaring, like he just kicked a puppy in front of them.
I don’t know what’s going on, but my body is screaming at me to do something. I grab his arm and tug him back out of the cafeteria, down the long hall, in the direction of the side door where his security team usually picks us up.
We break out of the doors and through the courtyard, and all the while, I’m clutching onto his hand.
Russ sees us and immediately opens the back door for us to get in. He climbs in the driver’s seat and looks at us in the rearview mirror.
“Everything okay, Keaton?” he asks. Keaton doesn’t answer. He just sits and breathes. Or maybe not. I think he’s hyperventilating.
I turn toward him, throwing my backpack off my shoulders and putting my hands on his.
“Look at me, Keat,” I say. He finally does. I mimic long, slow breaths for him, and after a few more sporadic ones, he follows suit. He clutches onto my hands, and I let him.
“Talk to me, Evie,” Russ says. “Where am I going? What’s going on?”
I look back at Keaton.
“Do you want to go home?” I ask, knowing that’s a loaded question. He shakes his head.
“Fuck no.”
I think.
“Coney Island?” I ask him.
He shakes his head again.
“No,” he says. “No people. I can’t… I don’t know where—”
“Can you take us to my Nan’s, Russ?” I ask. Russ looks at Keaton in the rearview. After a few moments, Keaton nods.
In about twenty minutes, we’re pulling up to my Nan’s old apartment building.
I get out first, looking around for any sign of anyone who might recognize Keaton.
But in this neighborhood, that’s less likely.
He gets out behind me, and I wrap an arm around him as we walk inside.
He’s never been inside the building, but he doesn’t seem to be taking much in right now.
I lead him up the five flights of stairs to her door.
I use my key to open it, and when we walk in, she looks up from the newspaper she’s reading in her recliner.
“Hi, honey. What are—oh,” she says when she sees him. She knows that we’re friends. She’s the only person I really talk to about it. I’ve told her about his family, how we spend our time together, how he makes me laugh.
The one thing she never does, though, is ask me about his money. She doesn’t ask me if I’m bringing enough to the friendship. Nan is just happy I have someone.
“You must be Keaton,” she says, standing up. She walks toward us and brings me in for a hug. Then she looks at him.
“You must be having a very, very long day,” she says sincerely. He nods slowly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. She takes a step forward then slowly wraps him in her arms. And to my absolute shock, he starts to cry. Nan holds him, rubbing his back and patting it. Then, she motions for me to come over to them. I do, and she hands him off to me while she goes to grab some tissues.
So I just stand there in my Nan’s apartment, and I hold my big, tall, billionaire best friend while he cries.
When he calms down, I had him a wad of tissues.
Nan reappears again with two mugs of hot tea, and she leads us further into her living room.
I sit down on the couch and motion for him to sit with me. He does, letting out a long breath.
Nan slowly lifts her paper up.
“Does it have anything to do with this?” she asks.
I read the headline.
SEVEN THOUSAND EVERETT ENTERPRISES EMPLOYEES LAID OFF TWO WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, it reads.
My eyes grow wide.
“Oh, Keat,” I whisper, reaching down to squeeze his hand.
“He told us over dinner last night,” he says. “So matter-of-factly.”
I hold his hand with both of mine.
Nan leans forward in her chair, listening intently.
I’m so glad I have my Nan. I’m so glad to have someone in my life who shows me how to show up for people.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“He just said that they were reallocating some funds on the operations side—whatever that means,” he says. “He told us it was necessary so they could expand some other factions of the business. But I think it’s some move that’s going to cover up the fact that he’s paying his rich buddies more.”
I bite my lip.
His father is so cruel.
“I just…seven thousand employees. That’s just…two weeks before Christmas?” he says, pushing himself to stand. “And the worst part is that it included some mid-level executives. Some of whom have kids at our school.”
Oh, God.
“Keat, it’s not your—”
“I know it’s not,” he says. “But if I were in their shoes, I’d hate me too.”
There’s a long pause.
I can’t imagine anyone ever hating him. I can’t imagine him ever being deserving of anyone’s hatred. The thought alone makes my blood boil.
I scoot forward and stand up, walking over to him.
“It’s not your burden to bear, Keaton,” I tell him. “I know you want to help them. I know you want to fix this. But this is bigger than you right now. One day, you’ll be able to. But right now, let’s just play seven card rummy and have some tea. Yeah?”
He sniffs, rubbing his temples between his thumb and pointer finger. Then he looks at me then Nan.
For the next four hours, we sit with Nan, eating, drinking tea, and playing cards. After a while, Nan pulls out her photo albums, and he spends a long while laughing hysterically at pictures of me in my *NSYNC nightgown.
It feels good to see him smile. His laugh does something to me.
And I know in this moment that I would do anything to keep that smile on my best friend’s face.
The worst part is that he doesn’t even know how much joy he brings me.
That, on some days, especially when I don’t get to see Nan, he is the only source of joy in my life.
He’s the only person who I can count on. Who makes me feel seen.
And I want to be that for him.
I can’t get seven thousand jobs back. I can’t help him pay for thousands of holiday gifts. I can’t help him with any of that.
But I can remind him that he’s not alone in it. And maybe that’s worth something too.
He and I are so similar in that way. Both so alone, despite how different our backgrounds are and our journeys to each other were. And yet, when we are together, it doesn’t feel lonely. It feels like the missing piece. Like, when nothing else makes sense, he does.
Russ checks in with us every hour.
Cato has apparently been asking for Keat’s whereabouts.
Russ has given him our location and has ensured him that we are safe.
That seems to be enough to appease Cato. He is having himself a busy day.
Or, at least, one would think.
Unfortunately, though, according to the news that Nan very quickly turned off, Cato was spotted at one of his golf courses in Florida today. While seven thousand people here are being delivered life-altering news, he’s fucking golfing.
Seven thousand people now have to figure out how to make ends meet, how to cultivate the holiday spirit while trying to pay the rent, how to afford healthcare for their loved ones.
But Cato is golfing.
Meanwhile, his kids are still here in the city, bearing the brunt of the anger, bearing the shame of their father, feeling all the feelings that Cato should feel but doesn’t.
And I’m going to sit right here with him, feeling it too.
Finally, it’s after ten at night, and he sighs.
“I guess I need to go face the music,” he says, swiping a hand over his face. Nan stands to give him a hug.
“You can come here anytime, honey. This place is your place too, even if she doesn’t come with you. We don’t need her,” Nan says with a playful wink. He smiles back then looks down at me.
“Yeah, we do.”