Thirteen Evelyn #2
Our conversation flowed as I learned more about her, such as her having a younger sister named Elizabeth—which I pretended not to already know from my stalking.
In return, I ended up sharing a bit about my family, leaving out the part about my issues with my mother, which she too pretended she hadn’t previously picked up on.
Of course, Vanessa’s phone had to ring seven minutes unto our conversation, ruining what felt like a moment.
She glanced at me graciously, and I gave her a quick nod of understanding, signaling I didn’t mind.
She picked it up, tossing her hair out of the way to hold the phone against her ear.
She answered politely, as if it were work-related, before her expression shifted to annoyance and she hung up, placing the phone back down with a light groan.
Before I could ask her anything, a waiter came to take our orders.
Although not in French, the dishes were just as exotic as the other place.
But this time, I didn’t hesitate to order what Vanessa recommended, letting her choose for me.
In doing so, instead of feeling nervous, I felt excited—and I knew Vanessa could tell.
The bizarre moment passed, and Vanessa’s composed demeanor was back before I could ask her about the call.
I hadn’t ordered a drink, but Vanessa’s arrived in good time, served in an unusual curvy glass.
Vanessa had analyzed the descriptions of multiple wines before deciding on this one, for reasons I was too much of a novice to understand.
The red liquid was darker than any red wine I’d seen before, and she seemed satisfied with it’s appearance.
She took a sip, leaving a lipstick mark on the rim, and let out a content sigh as she processed whatever there was to process about wine.
“Since you don’t want me to order a whole glass, can I try a sip of yours?” I asked, meeting her curious gaze.
“I never said you couldn’t. You’re an adult—I trust you to make your own decisions.” She pressed her lips back against the glass, taking another small sip.
“Either way, we both know I’m not getting a whole glass of wine, and I don’t wanna miss the opportunity to find out what such sophisticated wine tastes like.”
“If you’re that curious, order a different one. Mine won’t appeal to your tastes.”
“You obviously like it,” I quipped, referring to the taunting way she’d just licked her lips.
“Evelyn, for the love of God, just get the glass of wine.”
“I’m not ordering a whole glass. I only want a sip,” I protested with a small pout.
“No one is going to make you finish it.” Her eyes narrowed, unamused, her relentless stubbornness only making me want to push her buttons harder.
“I’m not a wasteful person,” I replied with a shrug.
She let out a light chuckle, shaking her head to herself.
“Fine. Pacify yourself on it, if you must.” She slid her glass toward me with careful fingers.
I lifted the glass, intentionally sipping from the part where the lipstick mark was, praying she hadn’t noticed.
Too focused on the thought of indirectly touching her lips, I didn’t process the large amount of bitter liquid beginning to attack my taste buds.
I made a less-than-attractive expression, my face scrunching in disgust.
Her tender fingers slowly took the glass back from me, afraid I’d spill some in my surprised state.
“I’m glad we got that out of the way. Do you feel proud of yourself?” she mocked, tilting her head. I rolled my eyes, embarrassed by how I’d now proven myself unable to handle either the taste or effects of alcohol.
“What was that call about?” I asked, refusing to humor her mocking.
“Wow, that really did humble you.” Her velvety laugh made the humiliation worth it, but she didn’t need to know that.
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“Oh, am I? I didn’t realize,” she teased.
“You never let me avoid yours, so it’s only fair you answer mine,” I argued, crossing my arms.
“Oh? So that’s how this works?”
“Exactly. I’m waiting, so hurry up.”
“You can word that more respectfully, don’t you think?” she requested, her words holding no actual expectation.
“Vanessa, will you please answer my question?” I pleaded, blinking at her from under my long eyelashes.
I tried my hardest not to crack a smile, but once she bit her lip, clearly taken aback, I lost it.
She started laughing, not having expected me to oblige, and I began giggling too, surprised by my own actions.
“Well, you may as well know, since you already decided it was your place to stalk my ex.” Of course, she had to mention that. “To clarify, I’m speaking of Mia—just in case you memorized any of my other exes’ life stories.”
I gave her my best threatening look, which in no way compared to hers and had no effect on her whatsoever, but luckily she stopped teasing me anyway.
“If you didn’t pick up on it that day at the coffee shop, she’s very unstable. Long story short, a few nights ago she snuck onto my property to cause damage. It was a huge ordeal—”
“So that’s why you were out the other day,” I interrupted, trying to connect the pieces.
“Of course. I had to waste my time getting a restraining order, but apparently it doesn’t stop her friends from drunk-calling me using *67 like children.
Not that I should expect the people she hangs around to be any more mature—or less of a mindless snob—than she is.
” Her tone was barely bitter, more petty than anything.
I started giggling before I could stop myself. Her rant was so uncharacteristic. For a moment, she was just someone insulting their ex with immature names like anyone else. She shook her head to herself, beginning to laugh with me, realizing this side of her was completely new to me.
“Don’t stop talking,” I said, holding my hands up innocently.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go on a whole tirade.” She ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes at both of us.
“No, lesbian drama is interesting. Don’t leave me hanging,” I begged. She was clearly at a point where this situation was something she could laugh about with others.
“Of course you’d think so, but it’s not all that cinematic, other than her quite literally egging my home.”
“Oh please, if she egged your home she must be insane.”
Vanessa sighed, realizing I wasn’t dropping this and was instead loving every moment of the conversation.
“She’s just an emotionally unstable person who doesn’t want to change and isn’t capable of a healthy relationship.
But it’s all behind me now. Thank God. I learned to never get involved with someone like her—”
She must have noticed my demeanor shift as I began fidgeting with my napkin. I was still nodding along; only my smile had become forced. Most people wouldn’t have realized. I felt a lump form in my throat that I couldn’t swallow down. I felt sick.
“Sweetheart?” she checked in, her eyes scanning me for any hint of what may have bothered me.
“Yeah? How did you fix it?”
The restraining order.
But it was the first thing I could say to keep her talking and get the attention off me. Her eyes glanced down at my fingers’ furious movements before tilting her head as she looked back up at me, understanding etched across her face.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I was just remembering something I forgot to do at work—”
“Evelyn, when I say unstable, I mean threatening to starve and hurt herself, lashing out with violence. I mean that I’m never going to try with someone like that.”
I nodded blankly, too caught up in my own head to even hear the words leaving her mouth or their implications as she stroked her thumb over my restless hand.
“Evelyn, you’re not like her.”