20. Everett
CHAPTER TWENTY
Everett
THEN
Basketball season came and went, which helped ease my thoughts into a calmer, lighter state without the constant motion of practices and games and celebratory parties. I made my trip back up north to tour UC Davis, walking through my future school with a lingering edge I couldn’t place. I’m not sure if it’s the thought of being in another new place in another new school with an entirely different student body or if it’s because this time, I’m actually going to miss the place I leave. It feels like time and senior year and all the important milestones around me are happening while I just stand here, watching it fly by.
When I sent out college applications, I had a plan. My year in San Diego was meant to be temporary. But now that I’ve settled in, the last thing I want is for all of this to be temporary. I’ve been considering my options. What about a transfer? Somewhere closer to San Diego. Or maybe even a year off? Then Teeny and I can start college together, maybe at the same school? But then what would my parents say? My dad was so proud when I’d gotten into UC Davis, and my mom. She wouldn’t take the news well.
I tried talking to my mom about it, hoping she’d understand should I choose an alternative to my current plans, and maybe let her know why I’d grown so apprehensive about college and the reasons behind my lack of enthusiasm when she becomes excited about some minor detail. Like the student center equipped with a pool table and pinball machine or the Target within walking distance from my dorm. But when I tried to tell her how the impending changes to my life after graduation made me feel like there was a never-ending hamster wheel squeaking away in my insides, I’d clam up. I couldn’t explain it to her.
I was better at keeping my emotions under control before moving down here. I was able to breathe through the nerves that left me on edge. I was able to isolate myself in my room, listen to music, go for a drive, and it would be enough. But now, I feel like I’m constantly chasing after normal. It’ll be at my fingertips, I’ll touch it and maybe even grasp it, and then it’ll inch further and further away as soon as the dread of the future washes over me. And it leaves me feeling like my skin is crawling and my insides are going to spill outside of me.
I keep asking myself, what’s changed? What’s brought on this sudden dread of having to leave my new home? I realize it’s this shift. When I’m here, not thinking about what’s to come, I don’t feel like I’m on edge anymore. I feel grounded and…normal for a change. And it’s all because of Teeny. She’s become this unexpected anchor, holding me down instead of letting me drift off into the unknown where things are dark and scary.
It’s easy to forget about the future. In my room, where Teeny’s scent lingers on my bed. Short moments after school before her parents come home from work and long hours on the weekend when my mom’s out, we lie in bed. Our hands always touching each other, our clothes strewn on the floor, and I wish time could stop. Just so I could stay grounded a little longer. So I don’t have to release the anchor holding me down.
With plans to see Teeny tonight, and hopefully get some of that alone time I’ve been craving more of lately, I hop in the shower. My phone rings on my nightstand just as I’m getting out with a towel wrapped around my waist. I reach for it and see Diana’s number pop up on the caller ID.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi. It’s me,” Teeny answers from the other end. Her voice sounds meek and scared. “Um, can you meet me at the diner?”
“Oh, are you not going back home?”
“I—I’m here at Diana’s. We were just…I’m going to leave in about an hour or so,” she answers, her voice still low and distracted. “I’m…can you just meet me there? And we can go to the party after, I guess.”
“Sure,” I tell her, doing a mental count of our change of plans before heading to Jake’s pre-spring break party. “I just got out of the shower, and my mom needed me to get a few things at the store before I head out.”
“That’s fine. If I get there before you, I’ll just wait.”
There’s a pause between our back and forth. I hear her sigh a heavy breath. It sounds shaky and tense.
“Is everything okay?”
“Mh-hmm,” she answers. “I’ll just talk to you later.”
“Okay.” I hang up my phone, tossing it on my bed. I start to play out a dozen different scenarios in my head, worried that I may have done something wrong. Something that may have upset Teeny. My movements become hurried, wanting to get to her sooner than later. As soon as I’m dressed, I reach for my keys and wallet and head out the door. Just as I land at the bottom of the stairs, I hear my mom’s tense voice coming from the kitchen.
“Eddie, what are you talking about?”
I halt my steps, turning to the kitchen instead.
“Oh my god.” My mom’s voice sounds completely devastated. Like the ground beneath her gave out from under her. “Oh my god. I can’t believe this is happening.”
My entire body freezes, and my feet are bolted to the hard floor at the doorway leading into the kitchen. My mom’s back is to me, and I can see the fear and pain ripple through her whole body.
“Eddie, how could you do this to us? You have a family. What am I going to tell Everett?!”
She starts to sob, her cries wailing through the emptiness of the house. Her body sags, and I reach out to her just as she collapses to the floor. She doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m there, but she leans into my chest as I guide her to the ground slowly.
“Mom,” I call. Her face is buried in her hands, and I don’t know if she hears me. I’m right next to her, my voice right up against her ear, and I don’t know if she even realizes that I’m here.
I take the phone she’s dropped to the ground. “Dad?”
“Everett,” he answers. “Is your mom okay?”
“What happened? What did you do?”
“Let me talk to your mom.”
“Dad, tell me what happened!” I feel like my insides are thudding and pounding. My heart is beating so hard and fast that it rattles through my entire body.
He sighs through the line and my anger toward him starts to simmer. “Look, I wanted to tell you with your mom, but…I guess you need to know sooner than later. I met someone here.”
A numbness starts to course through my body.
“And I just found out she’s pregnant.”
“What?” My voice sounds like it isn’t even coming from my own lips. It sounds like it’s echoing off the walls, spoken by someone other than me.
“And this woman, she’s threatening to go public with this. She’s already spoken to the PR manager of the team. I?—”
I hang up the phone. I can’t stand to hear his voice anymore. Not while I look at my mom, her disheveled hair splayed over her tear-stained face.
“Mom,” I call, urging her to look at me. With my hands braced on her shoulders, I force her to look at me.
Her eyes grow misty and her chin trembles. “He said it wouldn’t happen again. He said…” The last of her words are drowned in an inconsolable wave of sobs. She cries and cries, and I hold her. I hold her until exhaustion takes over, and she’s just a heap of fatigue and betrayal. I don’t know what to do. I want to tell her everything will be okay, regardless if it’s the truth or not. I want to call my dad and yell at him. Tell him how royally he fucked things up and how I will never be able to look at him the same. I want to go to Teeny. The only person who could hold my hand and somehow make things okay. Even if she’s just sitting next to me, her hand in mine while we sip on a Coke float.
With my mom still crying, I walk her to the couch. She slumps into the cushions, her limbs heavy and lifeless. With her legs drawn up to her chest and her face pressed against the arm, she stares blankly. At the floor in front of her, at the coffee table scratched up from the years my grandparents owned a tabby cat, at my foot firmly rooted on the carpet as I watch her completely fall apart.
She slowly falls asleep, her breathing steadying, and her face growing lax. I reach for a blanket to cover her with and set about getting a hold of Teeny. As soon as I find Diana’s number on my phone, I walk into the kitchen to avoid waking my mom.
“Hello?”
“Hey, is this Diana?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Everett. Is Teeny still there?”
“She just left.”
Shit . “Okay. That’s fine.”
“Okay.”
I hang up, realizing I have no choice but to leave.
* * *
When I get to the diner, I find Teeny in our usual spot. She has two Coke floats sitting in front of her and has her arms crossed on the table with her chin resting on them. Her eyes look vacant, like she’s processing something in her mind that she can’t manage to wrap her head around in a crowded diner filled with clanking silverware and boisterous chatter.
For some reason, looking at her reminds me of my mom back home. The way her eyes don’t seem to focus on anything, not even the ice cream spilling over the rim of the milkshake glass or the crinkled straw wrappers scattered in front of her.
“Hey,” I say, reaching her and placing a small peck on her temple. “Have you been waiting long?”
She shakes her head, her gaze still in front of her. I reach for one of the Coke floats and take a long sip. The waitress comes to the table, asking if we want anything. After a quick glance at Teeny, I tell her no and thank you.
“Is everything okay?”
She nods again.
“Teeny.”
She finally looks at me, and her eyes look so sad, I think she might start crying.
“Hey,” I urge, standing from my seat across from her and taking the one by her side. “What happened?”
I’m answered with silence and a quiet sniff as she wipes the sleeve of my hoodie she’s wearing across the tip of her nose. My hand runs over her shoulder, attempting to soothe away whatever’s causing her so much difficulty to tell me what she needs to say. “Teeny, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Another swipe across her nose and she looks at me. “I’m, um…I think I’m late.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confusion lining my words.
Her fingers fidget on her lap, and she exhales a shaky sigh. “I hadn’t realized…I guess I was a little busy or something, but my period…I think I’m late.”
“Like how late?”
“I-I’m not sure,” she stammers. “A few days? Maybe a week? I don’t really keep track?—”
My heart plummets to my stomach. “You’re pregnant?”
“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’”
“I haven’t taken a pregnancy test or anything,” she explains. “I just know I’m late. And I was wondering if?—”
“What the fuck, Teeny,” I shoot back, my voice growing louder. This shit cannot be happening right now. Not right fucking now. “How could you do this to me?”
She starts to cry and a desperate sob breaks from her quivering lips. “Everett, I’m sorry.”
She reaches for my hand, but I recoil. I’m so fucking angry. So pissed at my dad, at myself. I rise from the booth, and stand there, needing to put some distance between me and her.
Another sob cuts into the space between us. She inches closer to me. “Everett, please,” she begs. “Please. Just sit down so we can talk.”
“I have to go,” I say angrily. My entire body starts to tense and spiral into a bulging knot of frustration, and I don’t want to say something to Teeny that I’ll regret. “I can’t be here.”
“Everett,” she cries.
“I’m sorry, Teeny.”
* * *
I don’t remember getting to Jake’s. I barely remember the four shots of Jameson I practically funneled down my throat within the hour I arrived and the bottles of beer I drank after. Even once I’ve slumped onto the couch in the living room, the TV playing some music video on MTV with the sound blasting through the surround sound speakers, my memory feels muddled in a foggy haze.
“Everett!” A high-pitched squeal, one that’s overzealous and fake, grates through my ears. It sounds stretched, like there’s four extra syllables to my name in addition to the given three.
I lift one eye wider, taking in a blurry figure with dark hair and a red dress, to see Angelica hover over me.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
A zap zings through my chest at the mention of Teeny. A garbled sound gurgles up my throat. Something like, “I don’t know,” though it sounds closer to, “ Ah uh no .”
I feel hands on me, sloppy grazes against my shirt reaching across my chest to my shoulder. A thud of a head landing on my arm followed by giggles. It’s so loud, I can barely make out anything aside from Angelica’s wobbly laughs with her cheek pressed against mine. I smell the acrid scent of alcohol on her breath, and my stomach churns. I try to turn away, lifting my arms to shove at her, but all I do is flop my hands. By the time I’ve given up on my fight, my hands land on her bare thigh, and my fingers itch to create some distance between us.
My head feels like it’s resting on a spring instead of my neck. The cushion behind me catches the back of my head as it lands with a soft thump. Everything starts to spin, and I feel like my insides are liquifying, making the alcohol spread all the way down to my toes. I don’t think I’ve ever been this drunk.
But who the fuck cares. Who the fuck cares if I end up in the hospital, my stomach pumped with my mom by my side, realizing how much of a fucking disappointment I am. How much I’ve become my dad with an illegitimate child on the way. I’m going to be a fucking dad . Right alongside my own. The man who single-handedly ruined our family is going to share this experience with me with his own baby. How did things get so fucked up? How the fuck am I supposed to be a dad? Oh god, my child and my brother or sister are going to be the same goddamn age. They’re going to grow up not knowing who’s Dad and who’s Grandpa. I feel sick just thinking about what our family dynamic will look like. All the judgy stares and whispered gossip about all of us. My dad, my mom, Teeny, our child. This is such a fucked-up situation.
And Teeny. I ruined her life. Forget her art, something that she’s passionate about with her entire heart. Forget college, not just for me but for her too. I can’t believe how I treated her. Leaving her in tears while she begged me to stay. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve held her and told her we’d figure things out. That we’d be okay as long as we stuck by each other. Regardless if this was a mistake, we’d make it work. Because I love her. I love her so fucking much, and if a surprise like this was the result of how much we love each other, then so be it.
There isn’t a problem with me wanting to be with Teeny. The idea of spending the rest of my life with her, living in our own home while watching our baby grow, springs this sudden thrill to course through my body. Forget my dad and his affair. Forget all the shit my parents are going through. My priority is with Teeny and our baby.
Everything feels dark. In the flurry of my epiphany, I see flash images of our future. Bringing an infant home, gingerly moving the car seat from the car to a rented apartment somewhere north of San Diego. Somewhere close to home yet far enough that we have a sense of independence. Me working and juggling school, tired but focusing on the reward of coming home to my family every night. Teeny finding time to paint in the moments I carve out for her by taking on responsibilities at home, so she doesn’t lose her zest for her art.
“What the fuck!” I hear a grating screech next to me. I start to sputter, ice cold water hitting my face and shooting up my nose. The darkness suddenly clears, a burst of cold and light crashing into me like a Mack truck.
I feel the heaviness of limbs over my chest and thighs, scrambling against me in a clumsy manner. My eyes pry open, and I see Angelica right next to me, her red dress darkened with water stains as she wipes away at it with her hands. I barely register her standing from the spot next to me and walking away. That’s when I see Teeny standing over me, an empty cup dangling from her fingers.
Even in my drunken haze, my blurry vision obscuring not only my sight but my judgment too, all I see is how beautiful Teeny is. Her face is red, the anger making her cheeks flushed. Her hair is tied up in a messy knot, and she’s swimming in my hoodie, and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her. I want to tell her how sorry I am and how badly I regret how I reacted to her news. I want to tell her about what happened with my dad so she’d understand and hopefully see how troubling it was for me to handle the news of our own possible pregnancy. I want to tell her that we’ll go right now to take a pregnancy test, just so we can confirm her assumptions and celebrate instead of dwelling over all the scary things that come with this unexpected surprise.
I want to tell her that I love the name Daniel for a boy because it was my best friend’s name in kindergarten, and the name is linked to so many happy memories for me. And last, I want to tell her that I can’t wait to watch her become a mother. To see her stomach grow bigger knowing it’s our baby in there while anticipating the day that I get to see her holding him or her.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, my mouth moves in slow motion when I say her name. “Teeny,” I slur, barely lifting a hand.
Then she chucks something into my chest. My hand moves by reflex, catching it as it tumbles down to my stomach. I lift it up to my hand, using a monumental amount of strength to clear my head and register what I’m looking at.
“It’s negative, asshole,” I hear Teeny say icily.
She walks away, and I blink about twenty times before I realize that what I’m holding is a pregnancy test. One line waves at me through the little window, and my body suddenly aches. Every bone, every muscle feels like it’s twisting and turning. When I look at where Teeny walked away, she’s gone.