38. Evelyn
38
Evelyn
“ I can’t believe you drove to Manhattan and grabbed a chess board,” I tease as I lose again. I don’t care, losing to him is winning in my book if it means we can spend time together.
It’s been two days since he went to the city. The last two mornings he’s had to spend taking phone calls with clients. A benefit of his recent vacation is that many of them have been working with other associates and partners at his firm so the transition will be less painful.
During this time, I’ve headed off with Quinn and Oliver. This morning, we left Hartsfall on a mission to visit where they filmed Dirty Dancing , only to realize part way through the drive that it was actually filmed in North Carolina and Virginia. Still, we ended up going on a gondola ride at one of the expensive resorts in the area.
“I had to change outfits since I was going to meet with my boss. Well, ex-boss. I grabbed it so we could play here,” he explains and starts to reset the board. The pieces are metal, bronze and silver instead of white and black, and the board is painted to look like marble. My heart keens knowing that even when he was in the middle of changing his life, he was always intending on coming back and sharing this with me.
“What’s next? After you have everything with your clients ironed out.”
“I still technically have an agent to help with the occasional deal for our music in movies and my likeness being used for things. I’ll probably reach out to her. I still don’t know what I want this to look like. The first time around I was part of something, one of four people making the decisions. I was never alone in it.” He puts the final piece into place. “You go first.”
I take my first move and advance a pawn. Garrett quickly follows by moving his own pawn.
“You don’t have to be alone in it. If you want me there, like we’ve been, I’m in.”
“Have you decided what you want to do with your contract?” he asks.
My stomach sinks as I pick up one of my knights. “Not yet. In the mean time all I want is to enjoy making this album.”
My fingers hover as I consider my next move then I reach for my next piece.
“Wait,” Garrett says, stopping me before I make my selection.
“What is it?”
“If you make that move the game will end.”
“After two moves you can’t be serious,” I say in disbelief, but even so I pull back from the pawn.
“You move that piece and you give me a direct path for my queen.” My eyes snap to the board and trace the path he’s indicating when I look up his lips tug upward. “It’s called a Fool’s Mate. Or maybe you might be more familiar with the name Fool’s Gambit.”
“Are you telling me you named the band?”
“I might have made a suggestion.”
“And you chose a losing move?”
“It’s a move that makes you vulnerable. A risk. Sometimes you need to be brave enough to dream,” he says with a wistfulness that sounds like a memory.
Without hesitating, I pick up the piece and place it how I intended. Garrett counters with his Queen but from the gleam in his eye I know we’re on the same page. A risk worth taking. A dream worth having.
We continue to play. Well, I continue to lose over and over again while Garrett humors my efforts.
“What will you give me when I finally win?” I ask as I give in for the evening and reset the board a final time.
“So you can redeem it in a hundred years?”
“Rude.” I press my foot against his under the table.
He presses back, his eyes intensifying. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“You’re a brave man.”
“Based on the fact I’m already prepared to give you anything you want, I think I’ll survive.”
“You don’t really mean that. What if I ask you to grow a mustache or be a part of a flash mob?”
“Okay, you might have a point. Mustache maybe. Flash mob, I think those should never have been invented and I would happily live in a timeline without them.”
I throw my head back in a laugh as my phone chimes with an incoming text message.
Oliver
Do you have a minute?
Instead of texting back, I immediately call. Last time he played this exact scenario out, he was in the ER. He wasn’t hurt but his roommate’s appendix had burst and he was trying to manage all of it by himself.
“I’ll be right back.” The words rush out of me as I climb to my feet. I nearly topple over, but catch myself on the arm of the couch because my leg feels like TV static after falling asleep from how I’ve been sitting.
I press the call button as I teeter into the hall and Oliver picks up on the first ring.
“You didn’t have to call,” Oliver says by way of greeting.
“Knowing you, you’re likely trying to act as a first responder without any training, so I think I did,” I say. It’s part of the reason we’ve always complemented each other. Neither of us like asking for help, but the other would always know exactly when it was needed.
“I was CPR certified.” He pauses for a moment.
“Ten years ago, when you were a camp counselor," I say. "What’s going on?”
“Quinn’s period hit and you know how bad it gets the first few days,” he says.
Quinn has endometriosis. Her cramps and nausea can keep her in bed for days, especially if she doesn’t have all the small things with her. They don’t make the pain go away, but definitely better.
“Shit. Do you need me to go to the store?” I ask as a grocery list starts to form in my mind. Even with birth control and painkillers that help with the worst of her symptoms, Quinn frequently called out of work sick.
“I’m at the store, but when I got here I realized I have no idea what she regularly uses and she was asleep when I left so I don’t want to ask her. I’ve been standing in front of a wall of tampons and pads for ten minutes.” His words cause me to smile because who else would rush out like that without batting an eye to pick up feminine care products? I know it’s because of all of his younger sisters, but not every brother is like that.
“I’ll meet you there, give me a few minutes and I’ll make sure we get everything she might need,” I say before hanging up.
Garrett is studying the chess board as I reenter the living room.
“I need to go run a quick errand with Oliver. Will you be here when I get back?”
“Of course.” He nods. “Go.”
Oliver is still standing in front of the pads and tampons when I find him at the small grocery store. The grocery basket slung on his arm is empty. His expression eases the moment he spots me.
“Thanks for coming,” he says. “I’m seriously blanking. I actually loaded up with the stuff I’d usually grab for Kate and Yosalin, but then remembered that’s not who I’m getting anything for.”
I inspect the aisle for a moment searching for the exact brand that Quinn prefers as well as the size. “These. Super plus is what she needs on the first few days. Let's grab some dark chocolate and see if they have a heating pad.”
We find a heating pad a bit further down the aisle because all the health items are all in one spot. The box doesn’t fit in the basket, so I carry it as we start walking toward the candy section.
“You’ve always been a good boyfriend,” I say, then try to back track. “Shit. I mean, not everyone would come out and do this. I know you’re chill with it, but I know it must still mean a lot to her.”
It’s taken years for me to put words to it, why Oliver and I could still be friends after the break up. Really, we just wanted someone to belong with. We gave each other the stability that we didn’t have in our families, but had proven through our friendship we could provide to each other. We found that stability again after, even if it looked slightly different. But he made me realize wanting to belong with someone isn’t enough of a reason to actually be with someone. It’s haunted me a bit, made me second guess what my future will look like.
In some ways, being Lyla has been a crutch. Being her lets me always have a reason to question my relationships, hold back just enough to evaluate if I’m scratching an itch or actually falling. With Garrett, without that crutch, I think I finally am.
“It’s okay.” He laughs. “This is odd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I laugh, relieved we can admit it.
“I feel like we skipped past the awkward stage and it’s finally crept up on us.”
“All at once,” I add.
“When we’re finally with other people,” he says.
“Was it really not weird for you? It was for me, at least for a while, and then you just seemed fine and I guess it helped me feel fine,” I say.
“I mean, I wasn’t.” Oliver’s voice turns scratchy. “I watched my dad implode so many times and let us all scramble to keep everything together while he forgot to get groceries and shit. So, I guess I just shut down. I didn’t want to be him, so I wasn’t.”
There would be nights when we were out having the best time and the energy would be high until Oliver got a call from his dad. He’d walk outside for half an hour and then pretend he was okay, like he didn’t have his father needing to lean on him for emotional support at the slightest inconvenience. Quinn and I would always work harder to bring up the energy after, not to make him forget, but more to say “ we see you, and we're here. ” With Oliver’s need to be the happiest person in the room we tried to compensate so he didn’t feel like he had to do it all alone.
I should have realized that was exactly what he was doing for me; instead, I used it when it was convenient. I knew he would act happy, the same way I have so many times, and pretended he was actually okay because that’s what I needed to think.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, knowing no matter how many times I do it will never be enough.
“I know you are,” he acknowledges. “You were back then too.”
The two of us turn the corner and walk past vibrant packages of sour candies and the jumbo bags that are on display for Halloween. There are five options for dark chocolate with varying percentages of cacao.
“Talking to Quinn about it is what helped in the end,” he says as we stand side by side reading the labels. “Not that we were together or anything. Especially not back then. But you know how she is, cutting through the bullshit and saying what you need to hear.”
“We’re definitely better for it. How many times would we have been left without the extra dipping sauce we ordered?”
“She saved us from such tragic fates.” He looks at me and we share a tender look before shifting our attention back to the chocolate. “But yeah, she basically told me that if I wanted it to work I could and to not ignore emotions so they didn’t go nuclear.”
“I’m happy we have her and I hope she’ll be happy to have this chocolate,” I say as I grab a bar to stop stalling.
At the checkout I insist on paying even though Oliver tries to slide the cashier his card. He might be Quinn’s boyfriend, but I’m the best friend who hasn’t been there to step up for a while.