22. Evelyn
22
Evelyn
I need to stop asking for what I want. Or at the very least, I should keep it to myself.
When I said I wished Quinn was here, I meant it. But not in the way that I ever expected her and Oliver to push through the door to The Gas Station.
The moment I make eye contact with Quinn, the world rocks. She is dressed in the same matching olive green sweatshirt and leggings she's worn every time we used to travel. Her black hair is tossed up in a precarious bun. I almost expect her to look at me and say, “ I think ten pairs of underwear is enough for the weekend,” the way she would whenever I packed the hour before we left .
There must be some part of me that’s operating out of habit because I’m taking steps toward them. Before I know it, the three of us crowd the entryway. I don’t know where to look. My throat tightens, making me regret abandoning my water on the bartop.
“Hey, Ev,” Oliver says, and it shouldn’t shake me but it does. It’s so casual, so him, that I feel like I’ve been thrust back in time. What’s worse is his easy grin that causes a single dimple to pop on the right side of his mouth. His blue eyes are bright in the way that I used to love, the way that made everything feel like an adventure. But these are the first words he’s spoken to me in months.
I don’t count the happy birthday text I sent him in June, but maybe I should. In general, I haven’t texted him directly much since our break up, hoping to spare him the need to explain, Oh, she’s just a friend. Yeah, we dated three years ago and even lived together, but really, we’re only friends now and it’s not weird that she’s texting me.
Maybe if I put in more effort to our recent conversations, him being here, in a small town where I’m trying my damnedest to write an album that is in any way as impactful as the one he doesn’t know I wrote about our relationship, wouldn’t feel like some sort of karmic bitch slap.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, doing my best to sound natural. I don’t know if I can even remember what natural is supposed to sound like. Are you even supposed to sound natural when your ex-who-is-also-still-your-friend and your best friend who you have been avoiding walk into a bar? Is it rude to sound natural?
“We thought this was a gas station,” he says, explaining more about this exact moment in time and less about his and Quinn’s proximity to Hartsfall.
“You know that’s not what she meant.” Quinn cuts a glance in Oliver’s direction.
“Well. I guess the truth is...” His hand reaches out to the side and grabs hers. For a moment discomfort pinches her features, then she looks almost sorry? That doesn’t make sense unless…
“You’re here. Like, together ?” I ask, then trip over my next words. My heart does some Olympic level gymnastics in my chest, tumbling so violently that I’m hit with a wave of nausea. “I mean, that’s really cool…you two together. That makes perfect sense. You guys work so well together and you look great. I know it’s only been a few months since I’ve seen you but so much can happen. I mean, you could have dyed your hair or gotten a face tattoo or something. But this is so much better!”
The three of us were always close. With me gone maybe they got closer. And it’s not like I gave them any opportunities to tell me. The few times they asked to call I told them I was busy and would try later until they stopped asking. Is this what they wanted to talk about this entire time? It’s been three years since Oliver and I broke up, so it’s not like I have any claim over him or his dating life.
“Not that dying your hair is bad; it’s just it’s nice to see you both looking the same.” A hand lands on my lower back. The contact acts as a pause button for my rambling as a familiar warmth spreads through me.
“Hey, baby .” Two words and Garrett has sent me spiraling all over again, the moment of comfort evaporating. What feels like a kiss is planted at the top of my head and all I can focus on is staying upright. “You guys went to college with Eve. Quinn and Owen, right?”
For the first time in my life I empathize with an overheating computer screaming for proper air flow. God, I need to get outside and jump into freezing water or something to stop my skin from feeling so tight.
“Oliver,” I correct as I swallow the very important question of W hat the hell Garrett is doing?
Quinn shifts closer to Oliver and rests her head on his shoulder. She’s stiff, but she’s never been big on public displays of affection. She’s always been slow with her relationships, cautious.
How can they be this serious already? I ask myself, as if it’s only been one month since I last saw them instead of seven.
Oliver squeezes her hand, and she relaxes slightly into his touch.
“Yeah, college,” Oliver confirms, seemingly unfazed.
Garrett’s arm slings around my waist and I step back so my back rests against his hard chest. “Welcome to Hartsfall. Where are you two staying?”
“If we can manage to not get lost again, The Ives Inn,” Oliver says.
“Cute place for couples.” Garrett nods.
Couples . I might throw up. I might throw up and then never be able to show my face here again.
“Yeah, it looks like it. We were lucky they had a spot,” Quinn says. “Evelyn, you guys look cuter in person.”
“In person?” I squeak.
“Yeah, the pictures you sent,” Quinn explains. “From the farm.”
“Pictures. Yeah, I remember.” Shit.
“It’s good to see you.” Quinn gives a hesitant smile before looking to the side at Oliver. “We should get going. If you could point us in the direction of an actual gas station so we don’t have to leave our rental on the side of the road somewhere that would be great.”
I tune out the conversation as Garrett gives them directions. I need to get out of here. I need to run, but I can’t look like I’m running. I said that I’m good with them being together, so I have to act like I mean it, even if I’m not sure how I feel.
“You guys should tag along with our plans tomorrow,” I blurt, because I’m excellent at self-preservation.
“Oh,” Quinn stammers.
“That would be fantastic. We didn’t have anything planned,” Oliver beams. It’s oddly comforting that in this moment where everything feels flipped on its head that he still manages to make everything sound like the best idea.
“I’ll send you details,” I promise. I will send them. I just have to figure out what the hell those details are going to be. I originally planned on taking Garrett to a pottery class, but I’ll have to check and see if there’s more space.
I do my best impression of a statue as I watch them leave. The hand on my back pulls away and Garrett steps around to face me. To my relief there’s no pity in his eyes. He’s his same sturdy self, and I really need to lean on someone right now.
“Let’s go somewhere you don’t have to pretend to be okay,” he says, low and reassuring.
“I’m great.” The lie comes easily.
“You don’t have to be with me.”
“So, you have a time machine we can hop in and go back to yesterday?” I choke out.
“Fresh out of time machines.”
“Damn, then why do I keep you around?”
Garrett pulls into the same overlook he took me during our tour. Wordlessly, he turns off the engine of his truck and hops out. It’s oddly more intimate to be in the old Ford than Alina’s convertible. There are traces of him all over even though it’s pristine. The fresh, expensive smell of bergamot that clings to the air and the faded leather seats. How the gear shift has been rubbed smooth with a lasting impression of his steady grip.
My phone comes to life from where it’s resting on my lap, lighting up the cab.
Quinn
Sorry for the ambush. We were planning on getting a hold of you after we settled in.
Though the text is from Quinn it distinctly sounds like Oliver with the amount of tentative concern strung through the message. No doubt she handed him her phone.
Evelyn
All fine. Talk to you tomorrow.
I tuck the phone in my pocket then exit the truck, the door creaking as I push it open. When I find Garrett lowering the tailgate, he offers me his hand and helps me up. His hand feels like the only real thing, rough, warm, and familiar. Then he’s gone again, and I feel like I’m floating. A moment later he joins me, the vehicle dipping under his weight.
The night sky sprawls overhead, a sea of stars with the occasional island of a cloud. I want to get lost in all of it, swim away in the cosmos. I want to feel as insignificant as I do when I’m people watching. I want to feel like a speck of dust and that my problems can be carried away in the wind.
Garrett’s low measured voice breaks through the night. “You know, I’m fucking terrified of the day this truck stops working. Fletcher's dad was the one who gave it to me when I was sixteen. It’s like this deal with the universe. If I keep fixing the truck and if I keep coming back to help Alina with her house and play music for her, then I can still belong here. I can still keep coming back even though I promised I’d get the hell out and make a good life for myself,” he says. His words loop around me like we’re two rock climbers tethered on a mountain and he’s the only thing keeping me from hitting rock bottom. “When I came back for my first winter break, I was scared that people would just forget me. It sounds so dumb but I was fourteen and I didn’t have a house here anymore. My mother had moved to Florida on a whim, and I hadn’t heard from her for months. I told you I have a tough time with this place, that’s true. But I’ll never be able to let go of it because it’s proof that I’m worth something.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, awestruck by his rare moment of vulnerability.
“Because I want you to know that if you have things you feel like you can’t tell anyone else…you can tell them to me. You don’t have to, but you can.”
It’s like all the conversations I’ve never had rattle on the shelves where I store them in the back of my mind.
I try to return his leap of faith with the truth. “I just want them to be happy. I know that sounds like a cop out, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted for them. I think it was just the shock that rattled me. Like I was really coming to terms with all the distance between us.” For so long, not responding, not talking, has allowed me to pretend that the three of us were frozen in time. But that’s just a pretty lie. Of course, life kept going. Going without me. “We used to do everything together. Now, I guess, they’re doing everything without me. I should have known that already. I needed to see it.”
“I’m sorry.”
Guilt lances through me. I chose this. No matter how lonely I feel, I don’t get to feel sorry for myself. There’s an ache in me in the chamber of my heart I carved out for Oliver and Quinn. A monument. Over the last week, I started to forget it.
“It’s not like it’s your fault.” I nudge Garrett with my knee. “You didn’t have to do that in the bar. Pretend to be with me. Thank you, though.”
“I didn’t want you to deal with that alone,” he says. “And I’m pretty sure they thought we were together before they stepped foot into the place. You know me, I like to exceed expectations.”
“I swear, if I told people how funny you can be they’d never believe me.”
“Maybe that’s on purpose,” he says, looking at me in that secret way. No one would believe me because to them this man didn’t grow up here, getting his hands dirty as he learned how to fix trucks and coming up on weekends to help his neighbor. They only get the smallest possible piece of him.
But I get this, however much that amounts to.
“Still, you didn’t have to do any of that. I can figure it out.”
“I owe you for the Barlowes.”
“And they say chivalry is dead.” I huff a pathetic attempt at a laugh.
“Sounded better than saying I still need your help as my vacation expert and camera woman,” he says.
“You’re agreeing to pretend to be with me for purely selfish reasons? Got it.”
His eyes narrow, snaring my gaze. “Eve. When it comes to you, everything I do is selfish.” His voice threatens to liquefy me.
“Well, I’m glad I get to reap the rewards.”
His eyes hold mine until the whispering of the wind and rippling of the Hudson are drowned out by the unsteady thudding of my heart.
Bad idea. Bad idea.
A bad idea that’s never looked so good. One that made me feel alive when his hands brushed against mine as they danced along piano keys.
“But I mean it’s only for a week, since you’re supposed to be out of here next Monday, so you won’t have to suffer too long,” I remind the both of us.
“Yeah, just a week.” Garrett clears his throat. “I guess I should ask, what happened between you and Oliver? What did he do?”
“Nothing.” The thought of Oliver is sobering. I look away and draw my knees to my chest. “I was the one who left. Sorry to shatter your jilted lover image of me. I dug this grave.”
I told him part of the truth our first time at the museum. But the rest? That’s twisted into the fabric of my mistakes. Pull one thread and everything will unravel.
“So you left. You did what was right for you.”
“You’re still giving me too much credit.” A dam breaks and the force of everything I’ve been holding back rushes out of me in a flood. I need it out in the world, the reason I can’t trust myself with Garrett. Not when he’s starting to mean something to me. “I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did in the first place. I had been making music as Lyla officially for two years by then and I should have told him about it. He was the person I should have told because I was building a life with him. But he was finishing his master's then starting a new job. There was excuse after excuse. The truth was that we fit as Evelyn and Oliver. We didn’t fit if I was also Lyla. I knew if I told him he would stay because that’s the type of person he is. He’s someone who takes care of people, a good person. So he would have stayed and encouraged me to chase my dreams even if it went against his picture of a simple content life.
“I couldn’t promise him it would stay a secret. So I didn’t tell him. I stayed anyway. It was so fucking selfish.” My chest heaves as I relinquish the truth.
I think about the ring pressed into Oliver's hand. The weekend I spent in my childhood bedroom. Then two weeks after the break up when we were at our favorite bar and he was fine. I hated myself more that night than I did when I ended things. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted to mean something to him. But at least it showed we’d be fine.
Ever since, Lyla has been the shield I've used to never get close to anyone again. Never get close enough to hurt them with my own ambition. It’s dangerous with Garrett, there’s no shield. How can I know I won’t hurt us both when I get caught up in the idea of something I can’t follow through on, just because I want to be someone to someone?
“Sounds lonely,” he says, causing the back of my eyes to sting as the urge to cry tightens my throat. Part of me wishes that he said anything else. Instead, he’s cut me right to my core.
“It was my choice.” I shrug. “If you do want to pretend to be together, we should probably make some rules then, figure out how all this works so it doesn’t get messy…” I trail off sheepishly as memories filter in. Nimble fingers stroking keys in a way that caused my mind to wander. A flow of inspiration that blended with passion exploding between us. The way he left when I wanted him to stay.
“Not going to sleep with me?” he says teasingly. I appreciate how he’s trying to lighten the mood even if it doesn’t come naturally to him, but it causes heat to flare across my skin.
“I have this tendency to develop feelings hard and fast. So, unless you want to be stuck with me forever, maybe not the best choice,” I say.
“There are worse fates.”
“I’m glad being stuck with me isn’t nightmare fuel.” I roll my eyes, starting to feel a bit better. “I have to ask…how do you do it? I mean, just move on from someone and be okay. I feel like I’ve stopped being able to trust if I’m actually feeling something for someone or if I just want to be wanted so badly that I just throw my all into it. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“I go in knowing I’m not the type of person people end up with. It has to end, so it does.”
Before coming to Hartsfall, I had the impression he thought he was above it all. Better than something as feeble as love. It never occurred to me he thought there was something wrong with him, that he was never supposed to fit anywhere. His mom. The band. This town. He convinced himself he was the person others left behind, like it was a birthright.
Garrett must mistake my silence for offense, or something of the sort, because he adds, “I admire how much of yourself you can give others even when you keep parts so hidden. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to belong with someone. I think it’s the most human thing you can feel.”
“Do you want that too?”
“I’m not sure that matters,” he says. I see it in his eyes, lurking along the edges, that he does, even if he’s lived a life where survival was contingent on never admitting it.
“I think it does. I think you belong with someone.”
“Maybe.” But he says it in a way that makes me think he’s only playing along for my benefit. Like he really doesn’t believe he deserves what everyone else deserves.
“Maybe while we’re here, pretending, we can belong to each other for a little while.”
The corners of his lips flirt with a smile. “For a little while."