32. Evelyn
32
Evelyn
O nce we’re done with the farm’s handful of off-season attractions, Garrett goes to check on the beverage donations while the rest of us, including Lana, explore the two-story gift shop. I offered to help, but he insisted he could take care of it alone. Beyond that, he hasn’t spoken much. On the rest of the car ride, I looked over his shoulder as he played chess. Out of all the matches he played, he only lost once. The entire time his side was pressed against mine, and I couldn’t help but feel that I was an anchor to reality while his focus was devoted to the games he cycled through. I like being safe for him the way he’s become safe for me.
We got lunch at the cafe where we all had the shared experience of blueberry white cheddar grilled cheese sandwiches with a balsamic glaze. After, we explored the kids’ craft corner with its coloring sheets until the next tractor ride was available. It’s a far more touristy and less romantic version of the time we had with the Barlowes.
Now, I’m standing in front of a blueberry bath mat that turns blue when water gets on it with my phone tucked next to my ear. It rings twice before Avery picks up.
“Is Wes there?” I ask.
“Yes, my day has been going great. I even got a fake tan to look like I’ve been able to go to the beach between rehearsals. And, oh yeah, are you in a hostage situation because that’s a request I thought you were physically incapable of making?” Her voice remains fairly even until the last sentence. The reality is that if I were in need of a signal to covertly convey I had been kidnapped, asking about Wes would do the trick.
Since I don’t have Alina’s contact outside of the rental app and no other way to get information I might need, Wes is unfortunately the best option.
“I wish I could explain, but it’s not my business to share.”
“You promise you aren’t in danger?” Her voice lowers. “If you are, say Jeff Goldblum, and I’ll use the Find My Friends app to send authorities to your location.”
“I’m fine, now can I talk to Wes?” I ask.
There’s a muffled shout from her end as if she’s covering the microphone with her hand then a slight scuffling noise.
“I’m here, by popular demand,” Wes says.
“Garrett’s mom is here.” I cut to the chase, not wanting to waste any more time.
“Where’s here?” From the way his voice turns serious I know I took the right risk in assuming he would know.
“Hartsfall. Well, technically, a farm a few hours away, but she showed up in town this morning.”
“She’s not supposed to be there. God, I hate her,” he bites out. My stomach sinks. This is Wes, perpetually happy and carefree.
“You’ve met?” I ask.
“Once in Vegas, while we were on tour,” he says, and I briefly wonder if it's the same story she was telling us on the drive over. “I’ve never seen him the way he was—or not to that degree. Like he’s completely shut down and doesn’t talk unless he has to.”
“Yeah,” I confirm, thinking about the silence I used to expect from him, but feels so uncharacteristic now. “Is there anything I need to know?” I pick up a soap dish to do something with my hands.
“She’ll ask him for money,” Wes explains in a taut voice. “That’s the only reason she ever shows up, even though he gives her plenty already.”
“She'll what?”
“It’s not like we’ve really talked about it. But they had a deal. She would leave him and Hartsfall alone and she’d get an allowance. If she’s there, it’s not a happy healthy reunion. The sooner she leaves the better.” He releases a heavy sigh. “She might be his mother, but it’s that town that raised him. That’s the way I’ve come to understand it over the years, he’s not liberal with the specifics.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I promise.
“I appreciate it. I’m glad someone’s there with him,” he says. Wes hands the phone to Avery and I say a quick goodbye.
I leave the home goods area in the far corner, walking past overpriced hot pads, soap dishes, and a slushy machine. I wouldn’t be surprised if people who live nearby come here to shop instead of department stores if it’s closer.
“What are the chances we buy new outfits and walk out of here as walking blueberry advertisements,” I ask as I find Quinn in the center of the clothing section that contains everything from briefs to an interpretation of formalwear.
I scan the rest of the open area and spot Lana talking to an employee in the middle of restocking candy and packaged baked goods near the checkout counter.
“Out of ten?” Quinn asks.
“Sure.”
“Zero,” she says, then reconsiders. “Actually, one. It is the one thing I’m more likely to do than ask Lana about her tramp stamp.” We discovered the tramp stamp during the tractor ride when Lana convinced the driver to let her sit up front with him. The rest of us were in the attached wagon bracing for the moment when she managed to switch places and take complete control of the vehicle. It never happened, but I’m pretty sure if the ride was five minutes longer it would have.
The thing is, I get it. Lana is the type of person you meet in a bar bathroom and then go on an adventure with. She is pretty, funny, and stories pour out of her at a rate that should be studied in a laboratory setting. I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m not getting caught up in Lana and her stories is because I know Garrett. After talking to Wesley the sour taste in my mouth has only worsened.
“Because she’ll ask if you want to get a matching one?” I ask as I run my fingers over the plush fabric of a blueberry embroidered bathrobe. Not bad for something that would make you look like that one girl from Willy Wonka.
“Because she’ll offer to be the one to give it to me and then somehow convince me it’s a good idea. How the hell does she do that?” Quinn shakes her head in astonishment.
“I think it has something to do with her ability to deliberately ignore negativity,” I say. “I don’t think it’s technically considered gaslighting, but it sure as hell is disorienting.”
There’s no malice in what she’s doing, but it’s like being knocked off your feet over and over again until you convince yourself it was your idea.
“Whatever reality she’s in, I’m both terrified of it and want to experience it for about an hour so I understand it on an anthropological level.”
A dressing room stall door swings open to reveal Oliver in a novelty suit. “What do you guys think?”
“You look like Dionysus,” Quinn says, giving him a bemused once over.
“The god of grapes?” I ask.
“I think it’s more like wine in general.” Oliver does a turn, assessing himself in the full length mirror.
Quinn scrunches her nose. “You’re not seriously considering getting that.”
“If I can get it tailored, then it wouldn’t be so bad. I saw a matching dress over there. The perfect date night attire, don’t you think so, sweetie? Or maybe I'll wear it to Dad's tenth wedding.”
“The only thing that can fix that suit is a vat of black clothing dye.”
In my periphery Lana hitches her tote with her purchases over her shoulder and then saunters out of the gift shop. So far, her and Garrett haven’t been left alone together and on Garrett’s part that seems intentional.
“Hey, I’m going to be right back. If you find any berry paraphernalia you think I can’t live without, don’t hesitate to grab it for me.” I’m already moving. There’s a significant chance that Lana will be wandering off somewhere else or that Garrett actually wants to talk to her. Either way, I’m going to show up for him. If he doesn’t want me there, then I’ll leave. I’d rather him know I care than leave him stranded.
My eyes take a moment to adjust as I step out of the gift shop. The sun has crested in the sky and the world is glaringly bright. I head to where Garrett pulled the car around to help the workers load up the cases of wine and beer.
“We could go up to Niagara. I have my passport on me, make a whole trip of it,” Lana says, brightly.
“You came here to invite me to Niagara?” he asks, indignation coating his words.
“God, you’ve grown up so handsome. I can’t even remember what he looks like but I think you got the better parts of him.” Lana reaches out to pat Garrett’s cheek. I half expect him to flinch away, but it looks like she’s touching a statue. Her attention snaps to the side as a man walks by and she starts to pull away. “I’m pretty sure I met that guy at Burning Man once. I’ll be right back. If I’m right, he has these pictures I’ve been dying to get my hands on.”
Garrett stands there like even if a truck were coming at him full force he wouldn’t notice.
“Hey,” I say softly. He blinks then turns toward me, but it still feels like he isn’t completely here. “How do you feel about a blueberry themed home?”
“What does that entail?” he asks with an attempt at levity.
“Everything you currently have but covered in a pattern that slowly works away at your sanity.” I shrug. “Crock pots, dog bowls, towel covers.”
“When you put it like that, no.”
“I did want to check, how are you doing? Full transparency, I called Wes to help me understand the situation,” I say. I don’t want him to feel like I’ve gone behind his back.
“You hate him.”
“Sure, I hate him, but I like you more.” It’s the truth. We might never talk about last night and given the circumstances, I’d understand that. But that doesn’t change how I feel about him as a person. “Are you, I mean…not okay, but how do you feel?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. She feels like a stranger, and I’ve never been good with strangers. Then there’s the part where she absolutely shouldn’t be a stranger and I should already know all the answers to the most basic fucking questions, but I don’t.”
“Do you want to sit in the car?” I ask, because it’s the most private place I can think of.
“Sure.”
We slip into the back seat of the car.
Evelyn
Can you find Lana? I lost her
Quinn
AirTags were invented for people like her
Quinn
Would it be so bad if she ran off with the rodeo.
Evelyn
Please
Quinn
Fine. Only because Oliver is one minute away from getting me in the dress that matches his suit.
Evelyn
There’s nothing stopping you from trying it on
If you find her - text me and I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave
“We can stay here as long as you need,” I say. I want to take care of him but I’m lost on how to. So much of what I do is centered around avoiding moments like this. My whole brand is keeping it all together so other people can stay happy. Still, I know moments like this, the ones where the emotions hit you squarely in the chest and refuse to be ignored, are unavoidable.
He crumbles into me and I pull him close before he can back away and block me out.
“It’s so fucking embarrassing. I feel like I’m ten when my teacher had to come out and she asked if someone was coming to get me and I didn’t know how to answer. I don’t know how to react.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck and I squeeze him to me. “I used to be so jealous of you and Drew. At first I hated going to practice in your family’s garage. I knew at the end of the day you had somewhere you belonged, all I had was a dorm at school and a guest room. It was probably a year before I stopped feeling that way. Your garage, the band, that was the first place I ever felt like I belonged. Like I truly was wanted there. It wasn’t given to me out of pity, or charity. I earned it. I haven’t seen her for years. She doesn’t know me and it just reminds me how little there is to care about.”
“Garrett. It’s her fault she doesn’t know you. None of us think it’s your fault. It doesn’t make you look bad—it makes her look bad. It’s her loss for missing out,” I say, though the words aren’t enough. I want to pull him into me, let him hide if he needs to. I want to take it away.
“If you say so,” he dismisses.
“After the last few weeks and then nineteen years before, I think I have enough experience to say that you are worth knowing,” I say. “Also, there’s the fact that if I give Quinn the option she will leave Lana here.”
“She’d hitchhike back and somehow manage to beat us to Hartsfall.”
“Probably. Do you want me to get the others? We can leave whenever you want,” I offer.
“Let’s stay here. Just for another minute.”
“You can have as many of my minutes as you need.”