Chapter 17
August
“Who did this to you?” I’m desperate for answers because I just watched, in real time, a woman I’ve come to care about deeply shrink to about half her size in a matter of seconds.
We’re right outside of my car and the frustration I’m feeling is enough to want to smash this car in with my bare hands.
The breezy night air is a balm to my burning skin, but I don’t let that level of anger show.
I attempt to keep myself slightly composed for Evangeline because someone in her past didn’t.
I’ve never wanted to mutilate someone before so I don’t know what that desire feels like, but I’m fairly certain I’m toeing the line of that desire right now.
I see her cower and it practically rewrites my DNA.
That kind of reaction isn’t something someone is born with.
That reaction is bred. At some point, someone, probably her worthless excuse for an ex-husband, took this beautiful, colorful, compassionate, and patient woman and broke her down to rubble to rebuild at his bidding.
It feels like someone has reconfigured her to fear people and I’m deciding now that I want to help Evie regrow into the brilliant, thriving woman she was born to be.
Her tears that sit on my thumbs carry pain she was never made to have and I viscerally pity the man who did this to her if I ever meet him.
“August, I-” She cuts herself off and shakes her head out of the light grasp I had on it.
She steps back the most infantismal amount before the back of her legs hit the bottom of the car’s door jam and it might as well be a chasm of space for how far away she feels now.
“I’m sorry for crying.” She shakes her head again and looks back down, something I won’t stand for.
She is a force and she will look me in the eyes.
She said she partners with her student’s parents, and I know this wasn’t the capacity she was talking about, but I will help this woman feel like a partner, an equal to me.
“Why are you apologizing for crying?” I don’t pull her chin back up to me again despite how much I want to because someone else forced their hands to Evie before and made her this way.
I won’t think I’m righteous in forcing her, but in the other direction.
I’m going to give her a safe place to decide that this is the move she wants to make.
And my heart explodes when she does. When she hears my question melt over her heart and warm her enough to look up at me again with her most beautiful, blue doe eyes.
Evie seems to mull over all her possible answers in her mind and I’m praying she’s not looking for the answer I want to hear, but rather whatever the truth is.
Something inside of me tells me she’s been groomed to give the answers that placate people rather than her truth.
I hope that despite all my jaded shortcomings, I’ve somehow shown her that I’m a refuge for her honest and broken answers.
Touch seems to put her on edge right now, but I’m desperate to hold her even a little.
I want to give her something solid to hold on to if that’s what she needs.
“Evie, can I hold even just your arms? If that’s too much, I understand. But I’m here for whatever you need and want to think through.” She nods the slightest amount and I could fall to my knees in relief, but she needs strength right now so I can’t do that.
This is such a different Evie than the one I playfully sparred with in my driveway. It must be an overflow from everything that’s happened tonight and it guts me.
I gingerly set both of my hands on either of her biceps.
I want to pull her into the deepest embrace and hold her there until all of her pieces fit back together seamlessly.
But we’re not there at the moment, and more importantly, Evie isn’t there.
And I don’t want all of her pieces together as if they were never shattered, that’s not the true Evie.
I want to help put back together the most beautiful mosaic of her life.
I want to put her broken pieces back into the captivating picture of herself, and help her reignite the rays of light behind it.
“Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Evie, you don’t need to be told what to answer.
You are safe to answer any question you want or none at all.
I’m here, however you need me.” A few beats pass between us while we hold eye contact the entire time as she decides how and what and when she wants to say whatever’s weighing her down.
She crosses her arms in what must be a resolution to speak and I rub my thumbs on her biceps, still supporting her and offering what quiet comfort I can.
“I think you already know that I’m divorced, right?
” The whole town knows she divorced just like they know I am too.
I hate how some women in the community look at her like damaged goods because of something that probably wasn’t even her fault.
But they look at me like I’m up for grabs. The hypocrisy of it is disgusting.
“I do know.”
“Well, my ex-husband was less than a kind man.” I keep the anger inside of me tamped way down because based on her reactions tonight and that I’ve seen in all of our recent interactions, it’s safe to assume that ‘less than a kind man’ is putting it very lightly.
I hate that she still feels some need to defend and be loyal to him.
She did the same thing with the man in the parking lot.
“You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I know that sharing past hurts is difficult, and it’s not something I’m going to remotely try to force out of you.”
“I know. Thank you. I just…” She takes a deep breath and kicks some dirt around on the ground like her answer is somewhere down there.
“I’ve only talked to Thea about it and I feel like it’s something I wake up and have to process all over again every morning.
” Even the air feels like it’s waiting for her response.
“My ex was perfect until he wasn’t.” She could leave her story at that and I would already hate it so much.
Those few words already tell me so much about what happened to her, and the manipulative coward her ex was and probably still is.
“The entire time we dated he was hilarious and thoughtful and charismatic. Everyone loved and got along with him. I felt like we were a power couple. Beaming and the life of the party wherever we went. It wasn’t until we got married that everything started to change.
It didn’t happen overnight, it was slow and gradual.
Eventually the snowball of his manipulation rolled faster, more powerful, and more out of control.
“It started with little comments like, ‘Are you sure you need to be eating that?’And I chalked it up to caring about my health because he was my husband and why wouldn’t he care about that?
“But then it turned into more. I couldn’t hang out with my friends because he wanted me home.
Again, that was easy to justify because I told myself I loved that he wanted to spend every free moment together.
” She takes another beat to regroup herself.
I want so badly to pull her in. Hold her.
But I’m letting her set the pace right now.
“I’m so sorry, Evie. I’m sure this is stuff you’ve already heard and have tried to work through, but none of that was your fault. It’s impossible to see a narcissist for who they really are. They are the greatest camouflage and I hate that he chose you as his prey.”
“I know. I tell myself all the time that it wasn’t my fault. It’s just hard to believe sometimes. It was all so subtle. Months went by and I eventually felt like an island. All the while he could still hang out with his boys while I stayed home.
“Questioning every little thing I did became worse and more frequent like interrogations were the only conversations we were having anymore. Who are you talking to? Why are you on your phone? Who are you texting? What friend is that? Well, do you even need to be talking to a friend this late? Even though it was always my girlfriends, he had complete access to my phone even though I couldn’t touch his, and he would be on his phone just as late, if not later.
The interrogations turned into yelling.” She stops for a breath and her tears are a deluge down her face and I’m breaking with her.
I use both of my thumbs to attempt to stop the streams of pain rushing down her face, but it’s almost in vain.
It makes me wonder if she’s ever been able to open up and break down this thoroughly before.
“The yelling turned into training. Look down when I’m talking to you.
You will respond to me with ‘yes, sir and no, sir.’ And if I didn’t, I was…
physically reminded how to respond properly since my verbal instructions were not enough.
” Evie is on the brink of hyperventilating.
This recount is taking everything out of her and it’s making me sick.
I can’t even believe he could call himself a man.
No man would ever treat a woman they love that way, or any woman in general.
But it’s obvious enough to everyone that he never loved her.
I’m so proud of her bravery to share all of this with me.
“Evie, you can stop if you need to. If this is too much or you need a break, please don’t feel like you need to keep going.” She takes what looks like a deep, full breath and nods her head.
I decide then that it might be a good time to hold her completely to keep the fracturing pieces of her together.
So I do and she tenses just a little until she lets her muscles relax into me.
I know there is nothing I can say to erase the irreparable damage done to her.
Trauma doesn’t work that way. The fact that Evangeline gets up every day and smiles at her students even a little is a testament to how strong she truly is, and I don’t even know the full story.
I let her sob into my chest as long as she needs to.
I remember my mom telling me to never be the first person to break a hug, so I’ll stand here until Evie and I are statues if that’s what she needs.
But she eventually starts the slight move to pull back and it's then I grab her face slowly with both my hands on either side.
“Thank you, August.” Is all she whispers. Honestly, she didn’t even need to. I should be thanking her.
“No, Evie. Thank you for feeling I’m worthy enough to hold your story.
” We stay there for a few beats, both our hands connected on both sides of her face.
Small tears continue to stream down the apples of her cheeks and it ignites me.
She finally drops her hands from on top of mine and shuffles a little.
“I’m sorry I dropped all of that on you with no warning.
You have your own things you carry and you don’t need to hold on to mine too.
I’m always here if you want to share any part of your story too.
” She tells me this like she’s begging for that connection between the two of us.
She’s built her half of the bridge and she’s waiting for me to meet her halfway. And I will, but not tonight.
“We have lots of opportunities for me to dump my trauma, but tonight is for you, it’s not for me.
You’ve had a long evening and I’m certain you have a lot you want to process.
We can leave my story for another day when we’re both ready for it.
” Because am I ready for it? Her past is heavy and broken, but mine is toxic and ever present.
But I suppose hers is ever present too, scars she can’t escape.
“I think I should head inside. It’s getting late and Maple and Thea have been waiting a while.” She sounds reluctant but she does need to get inside and rest.
“I understand. Are you sure you’ll be okay tonight?
” I ask while reaching out and grabbing her hand, rubbing my thumb hopefully in comfort.
“ You don’t need company?” Do I sound as desperate as I feel right now?
I know she has Thea she’s probably going to confide in tonight, but I don’t want to leave this spot.
I want to hold her hand as long as she’ll let me, knowing full well I might not get to hold it again.
I want to stay in our bubble a little longer.
“I’ll be okay. You’ve already done way more than you should’ve even had to. Thank you so much for everything tonight.” She says wiping sniffles away with her other hand, never letting go of mine.
“Anytime, Evie.”
“Goodnight, August.” She states while slipping out of my hand and I turn to give her space to walk by me. She turns around to give me the smallest wave.
“Goodnight, Evie.” And I round my car and get in feeling freer than I’ve felt in years. Allowing myself the liberty to care and carry something for someone else. I watch her until she unlocks her door and slides inside. I fear the protectiveness I now feel for Evie will be constant and insatiable.