46. Evelyn
46
Evelyn
I nstead of driving myself to the airport I ride with Quinn while Oliver drives my car. Besides the fact that out of the three of us I’m the worst behind the wheel, I’m also drained. I’ve turned off my phone so I don’t have the urge to check social media or my texts.
I’ve been better these last few weeks about not checking for Lyla in the headlines, but this is more personal. It’s me, or at least about me, because the few that I saw did address me as “bandmate’s sister.” The way it was phrased poked at a long-term fear that only recently went dormant. It’s not just my life that would be under the lens if I went public as Lyla West.
I would be putting Drew under that old scrutiny all over again. The people who I care about didn’t sign up for their lives to be torn through and their privacy invaded.
“Didn’t you want to see the festival?" Quinn asks. "That’s part of why you came here in the first place."
“I can come back next year.” I feel detached from my words as I look out the window.
“Will you, though?” Quinn presses.
“If I can get the time off, I don’t see why not,” I say as I sink further into my seat. “It’s just a festival.”
“You really want the job?”
“It’s the best option.” It’s the one that works. It’s a solution instead of the Band-Aids that I’ve been constantly reapplying to the situation. This can be permanent. I need it to be.
“Fuck. Fine. I guess we’re doing this right now,” Quinn mutters under her breath. It’s the only warning I get before she jerks the wheel to pull over to a small rest area. I grapple for the handle above the door as my body slams to one side.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, eyes shifting around us.
“No,” she bites out. “It’s not, Ev.”
What the hell? Does she not want me back there after all after this weekend? At the same time, it feels like she’s wrestling with herself, not me.
A call comes in with Oliver’s name flashing on the display. “Did you guys just pull off? I think I just passed you.”
“Yes. We did. I’m going to talk to Ev and tell her what we came here to discuss in the first place,” she says with no room for argument. “See you at the airport.”
“Wh—” Oliver starts but Quinn firmly presses the hang up button before he can continue.
“Quinn, what’s going on?” I ask. What they came here to discuss... I thought we already talked about everything.
Quinn turns in her seat. Her seatbelt digs into her shoulder as she leans toward me with blazing eyes. “You’re acting like an idiot.”
“Excuse me?” I’m still too startled to be anything other than confused.
“You’re out here repeating history. You’ve already done this,” she starts, her voice raising with indignation. “You’re running away from what you really want. Why? Because you have an easy out? Because it’s easier to leave before it gets too real?”
“Are you mad at me for something? If you are, can you at least explain to me what the hell you’re upset about so I can understand what’s going on?” My mind starts to race in time with my heart. I’m tired, not just from today, but the weight I’ve been carrying for years is pressing down harder than ever before.
“Yes, you know what? I am.” Quinn unbuckles her seat, turns off the car, then stomps around it. By the time I follow suit she’s already working to open the trunk. “Where the hell is it?” she mutters to herself as she starts to dig through Oliver’s blue duffle. She pulls out clothes that have been recklessly shoved into the bag and then dips her hand into an unzipped side pocket.
My pulse quickens, thundering in my ears, drowning out the sound of cars breezing past us. The only thing I can think of…but there’s no way. Yesterday when Garrett and I performed, he was the only one who sang. She can’t know. I’ve been careful. If she knows then all of it is over. The damage, the lies, all of it has been for nothing.
I gasp for air trying to break free of where my mind has jumped to in way of explanation.
She holds up the embossed floral journal like it's a weapon to be wielded against me.
“You know what this is?” she asks. I do, but my mouth has gone dry and I’m not entirely sure I’m asleep and this is some sort of dream. The journal in her hand is the one I used to write “Seeing Double” and a few other songs that I never followed through on. I lose my footing, my body tilting until I catch myself on the side of the car.
No. There’s no way.
That’s supposed to be with the rest of the notebooks I brought with me to Hartsfall. “This is what Oliver found in a box he forgot to unpack after he moved out. That time I was off work for a week because I had pneumonia. I was actually just so pissed at you that I couldn’t risk coming into work because there was a chance I would leak your secret to everyone.”
“I brought you soup,” I say, my mind reeling, scrambling to play catch up. Quinn and the journal. To parts of my life that don’t make sense sharing space with each other.
“You did, and honestly that’s part of the reason I tried to be patient with you. But I’m so fucking over it.” She frustratedly tosses the journal back into the car and it lands with a soft thump. “Evelyn, I really need to fight with you right now.”
As someone who grew up around parents who never got along and made that clear to anyone within earshot, Quinn avoids fighting. It’s part of the reason the three of us worked together for so long. We all had our own reasons to avoid confrontation but now I’m wondering if that stunted our relationship, deprived us from our full potential.
“Okay, then let’s fight,” I agree. I owe her this and I need this. I need to take this and face what I’ve been sprinting away from at a full tilt for years. If she wants to fight, I’ll fight with her, even if it’s the last thing we do as friends.
“Why didn’t you trust us? What the hell did I do to make you think you couldn’t come to me?” Her voice doesn’t waver as her words hit home.
“Nothing. You did nothing! I just didn’t want anything to change. I wanted everything to be the same and keep going out with you guys and not make you carry around a secret with you. What else are you mad at me for?” I demand. I want to get it all out. I want to carve out the bad parts and finally make room for the good.
“I’m mad that you stopped talking to me. You’re my best friend. I’ve never had someone like you in my life and then it was like you didn’t want to talk to me. Yeah, there’s Oliver, but I wanted to be around you sometimes because you let me be an ass when I need to and borrow your stupid T-shirts and order too much pizza. And I knew you were in New York to chase your dreams, and I sent the damn email anyway.”
“Did you not want me to reply?”
“Of course I did! I wanted you to tell me all about your life and that you were happy so I could finally be happy for you. I wanted you to say you made the right choice so I could know that all the secrets were worth it!” She stamps her foot on the ground kicking up a cloud of dust.
“But you don’t want me to do the interview. If you want, you can just leave me at the airport and you don’t have to see me ever again,” I choke out around the knot in my throat.
“No. That is the last thing I want you to do. I’m mad because I want you to stay in my life and you fucking left over something we should have talked about ages ago,” she says. Guilt fissures through me, cracking the walls I’ve spent so long building to protect me from this. “I want you to have everything you want and that’s not waiting for you in that damn office in Nashville when you can make music with a man who looks at you like you hung the damn moon. Honestly, I don’t think you made a mistake breaking up with Ollie. I think you need to talk to him about why and tell him the truth so he can get closure. You guys never pushed each other. You lived in this no-conflict bubble and you two were good together, but both of you deserved more.”
No sinkhole opens to swallow me whole. Fire doesn’t fall from the sky. The world keeps spinning and Quinn doesn’t hate me. I was petrified by the thought of this happening for so long, bracing for the collapse of my relationship with my favorite person. But she’s still here, standing her ground, explaining to me how ridiculous I’ve been. And I’ve been so stupid not to trust her with this. So fucking stupid.
“Can you forgive me for any of this?” I ask.
“Yes, but only if you don’t make this same mistake again. I’m so tired of seeing you not go for what you want and not leaning on anyone. Tell me what you want, Evelyn. I know you know, so tell me,” she says firmly.
And for the first time, it feels like it’s all in reach. This. This is what I’ve been bracing for and running from.
“I want to have you and Ollie back in my life and share everything I’ve been doing. I want to make music. I want to be with Garrett, even if it scares the shit out of me that it might not work,” I tell us both.
“Okay, then what’s stopping you from having all of that. Who said you had to choose?” she asks, which seems to give my building tears permission to fall because they start to stream down my cheeks.
Me.
I’m the one who told myself that I had to pick. Is it really that easy? Just asking for all of these things that I want.
“I really got in my own way,” I say.
“Sure did. I am proud of you, too, you know.” A smile teases the corners of her lips.
“You are?”
“Of course I am. My best friend is an internationally renowned superstar and I’ve been waiting ages to tell her how talented and gifted I think she is,” she says like it’s obvious. I’m not sure if I would have done this differently if I knew, but the fact of the matter is that we have right now and that’s what’s important.
“Even if she’s an idiot?” I check.
She rolls her eyes and pulls me into a hug. “Yes, even then.”
“Do you know how much I missed you?”
“I think I might.” She squeezes me tighter and it feels like all my fractured pieces are mending themselves. Quinn’s shoulders start to shake and I pull away, but instead of tears streaming down her face I find a wide grin.
“All good there?”
“I was just thinking how I nearly got a tattoo of your song lyrics, you know before I found out?”
“I don’t think that’s a reason to stop you.”
“Nah, I have to keep your ego in check.” Her smile softens. “I know you weren’t there all the time but when I listened to your music, it was always like you were.”
“But I should’ve been there.”
Her hand slips down and finds mine. “We have time.”
We stand lost in the relief of having everything out in the open, until we can’t justify it anymore because Quinn still has a flight to catch. There isn’t enough time to head back to Hartsfall and Oliver is driving my car so I have to get to the airport anyway.
Quinn speeds the rest of the way to JFK and once we arrive, it takes us half an hour to drop off Quinn’s bags and shuffle through security. All the while I’m buzzing with anticipation to turn back but I need my keys to do that, and I need to talk to Oliver even more.
We find him at the gate, balancing a cardboard drink holder on his lap. A tea for me and a sugary frozen drink for Quinn are nestled into opposite corners while he sips his own drink and flips through the first few pages of one of those thrillers that only seem to exist in airport bookstores. He fits here so perfectly, softly. I’m happy I get the chance to talk to him now.
We’ll always belong to each other like the first and last chapter belong to the same book, different parts of the same story.
“Hey, Ollie, walk me to arrivals while Quinn watches our stuff?” I ask, my heart caught in my throat.
“Sure thing.” He closes his book and hands us each our drinks.
I give Quinn one more hug and it feels good knowing it’s far from the last one and that there’s so much less distance between us. Oliver and I set off for the arrivals area so I can get to my car.
“Quinn told me you guys know,” I say.
His hand nervously runs through his hair. “Yeah, that was one wild thing to find out.”
“Why did you tell her not to ask me about it?”
“How do you know it was me?”
“Because you always look out for me, for both of us,” I remind him as I think about the choice he made. He didn’t owe me time to process this but he chose kindness. He chose to trust me in a way that I wish I trusted him.
He shrugs. “There wasn’t any other way I could think about it. You’d told us about your brother and all the stuff with your family and I think I got it. Music was something you loved but you also knew that it could be something that ruined things. Not saying that I love the choices you made, but I’ve had time to sit with them.”
“I am really sorry. I should have told you. I left and I know I hurt you.”
“You did, but I really don’t think about it as much as I did three years ago, but if I think about it really hard, I’m still hurt,” he admits. “The important thing is you’re telling me now.”
“If you need to talk about it more…I can and I will. I’ll put in the work I should have in the first place,” I promise. It’s the least I can do.
“What about your family? Do you think you’re ready to tell them?” he asks.
Yesterday, it was an impossible question, but talking to him and Quinn has made it less daunting. “I think I need to figure out how to. But talking to you both has helped me learn I’ll live, even if it isn’t perfect.”
And it won’t be. Mom will no doubt volley questions at me like they’re fiery arrows trying to convince me the choices I’ve already made should be taken back and reconsidered. Dad will give me a look of silent support. Drew, well, I wonder how my brother will take knowing that I have more Grammys than him, but otherwise I know he’ll be in my corner. But I know their happiness isn’t my responsibility, no matter how much I’ve tried to take on that burden.
“I’m glad you’re able to work through it.” He nods.
“Thanks to Quinn.” I have to give her credit. If it weren’t for Quinn none of this would have happened.
At her name Oliver’s expression fades a shade, his lip tipping downward. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“You know, you could go for it.”
“I don’t think she’s interested.” He shrugs.
I think about what Quinn said, how Oliver and I didn’t push each other. It’s true, I’m not sure if that would be the same for them. Quinn needs a soft love, and Oliver needs someone to tell him he can do more than he thinks he’s capable of.
“Or she’s scared to take the leap. I know my best friend. She wouldn’t just pretend to be with just anyone. And seeing you two together made sense. I can’t think of anything better than you two being happy together. I meant it then and I do now,” I tell him. I want them to have the same joy I’ve found with Garrett, the type that can only come when you break past the fear of being seen to find the one person who makes you feel known.
“And it won’t be weird?”
I laugh then lightly shove his shoulder. “I think we’re way past that. These last few weeks helped us get that out of the way. We all survived it,” I say and mean it on many levels. We survived this, on the other end we’re rebuilding what worked and what needs to change. Because change is needed and it’s perpetual.
“Somehow, yeah, we did.”
“I do mean it, we can talk more about this if you need.” I reach out to grip his free hand and give it a squeeze.
“I will at some point. I’ve gone to a lot of therapy, so really, I’ve been talking through this for a long time and I also had Quinn to talk about this to. But I’m happy to know that door is open whenever we need it.”
It makes me feel a little better. I put him in this situation so there’s only so much relief I can allow myself to accept.
Eventually, we reach the doors to the arrivals that say no reentry beyond this point. The point of no return and I’m finally brave enough to see what the other side has in store.