Chapter 29
29
Evie spends the next two weeks falling asleep alone and waking up next to Theo. Her restless heart wakes her in the middle of the night and thrums his name until she’s on her feet. It doesn’t settle, her heart, until she slips under the duvet and curls her body around his, the big spoon, just like she would when they were kids. I love you, too. Obviously . When sunlight filters in from his east-facing window and her eyelids flutter open, the first thing she registers is her hand in his. How even in their sleep, their fingers twine together. Usually, she slips her hand out of his, slips out of his bed before he wakes. This morning, she chooses to stay, to hold on for as long as possible.
Because in a few short hours, Theo will board a flight to New York.
And Evie is staying.
Why is she staying?
“Morning.”
Theo’s laugh was once her favorite sound in the world. Now? It’s the sleepy rasp of his morning voice. Evie wants to bottle that sound, already so jealous of whoever gets to hear it next.
“Hey.”
“I miss you.”
Evie squeezes his hand, then lets go. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“I’ll Uber.”
“You sure?”
“ Ev .” She feels the ache of that one syllable in her bones. “I need to actually get on the plane.”
“I know.” She sighs, then slips out of his bed. “I miss you, too.”
It isn’t until Evie gets out of bed and closes the door behind her that she realizes: tonight, even if her half-asleep feet carry her to Theo’s bed, tomorrow she’ll wake up alone. Next week, it will be Mindy Singh’s room, Pranav’s sister who just earned a Ph.D. in rocket science and works at the NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Because of course Theo found a subletter, so Evie wouldn’t have to stress over her living situation, at least in the short term. They’ve spent the days before the inevitable goodbye packing up the boxes that will meet him in Bushwick and unpacking two decades of missed opportunities, what-ifs, and unbearable angst. Obviously . Evie conceded while wrapping the framed photos of them that he asked to keep that it’s easier to push than be left. Theo confessed while boxing up his kitchen gadgets that it was easier to go than to fall. As if I even had a choice . It’s hard. Boxing up his life. Their life. But these feelings will fade.
Eventually, she’ll have her best friend back.
Obviously.
Evie cries in the shower, then gets ready for work. Isn’t sure how her tear ducts are still operational. Asks herself again why she is staying. Pep and Mo are gone. Imogen is leaving. What is still here? Work? Doctors? Her pulse thrashes in her throat. Go. Go. Go. One step at a time, her feet carry her to Theo’s room. But it’s empty. She didn’t even hear the door close behind him and her heart twinges with understanding, imagining his quiet exit. I need to actually get on the plane.
He’s gone.
Theo left.
She wipes her cheeks.
Then, because Evelyn Bloom is someone who stays, she pulls herself together and goes to work.
She’s rummaging through a bin of shoes in search of boots with a block heel when Sadie says her name. Her assignment today is a step pass for Mr. Knightley , a miniseries based on Emma adapted by a team of men. Why? A perfect Emma adaptation already exists. A film that made Imogen, a lesbian, declare, I think I’m a ho for Johnny Flynn now? But alas, some network executives decided that this is what society needs right now. Jane Austen, from a male point of view.
“Sorry. One sec,” Evie says, assuming they’re behind schedule. “Have you seen the broken-in Clarks?”
“No. Ev—”
“Shit. I’m—”
“ Evelyn Bloom .” Evie drops the shoes and spins around when Sadie Silverman full-names her like… like a parent . “Can we talk for a second? In the mixing booth?”
Evie’s eyebrow twitches. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
Without further commentary, Sadie pivots and walks toward the booth. Evie follows behind, a little bit flustered and a whole lot confused because her mentor doesn’t just pause a session when they’re on a schedule. Inside the booth, Charlie is waiting, holding a cake-size chocolate chip cookie, It’s a girl! written in pink icing.
Sadie breaks. “ Charlie . What the fuck?”
Charlie shrugs sheepishly. “It was the only vegan option left.”
Evie still isn’t sure what’s happening, but the fact that Charlie Crosby has paid enough attention to her to know her dietary restrictions is enough to have her on the verge of tears. Sadie turns toward her, laughing so hard tears do stream down her cheeks. She takes a measured breath to compose herself, then says, “Your union application was approved, Evie. Congratulations!”
Charlie smiles at her. “Great work, kid.”
“Oh.”
Evie blinks, then bursts into tears. Because she’s in the union thanks to supportive mentors who she only has because of her best friend, who applied to a fellowship on her behalf, then married her so she could accept it. Evie worked her ass off for this. Earned it. But Theo’s belief in her got her into the room and it sucks that this moment isn’t theirs to celebrate. Sadie’s and Charlie’s expressions morph from pride to tender concern when she wipes snot from her nose.
“What is happening?” Charlie asks.
Fuck .
She sniffles. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Sadie rubs her back. It’s humiliating. “What’s wrong? Is it the cake?”
“No.” Evie hiccups, shaking her head. “Charlie, the cake is perfect. Thank you. This is so nice. Why are you being so nice to me?” She swipes at her swollen eyes. “I just… there’s someone I want to call right now, so bad, and I can’t and it’s my fault.”
“Ah.”
“Breakups suck,” Charlie says.
“It’s… more of a divorce.”
Sadie’s inhale is so sharp, she sputters, “Divorce? But… you are a fetus?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“A fetus!”
“It’s not… I did it for you.”
“Come again?”
Evie exhales. “So, um, this is a full-time fellowship. Obviously.” She runs her fingers through her hair, nails scraping her skull. Continues, “In order to accept this opportunity, I had to quit my job. Which, oh my God, I was so happy to do! But the fellowship doesn’t come with benefits. Like, health benefits. I’m sick. Crohn’s? It’s an inflammatory bowel disease and it’s under control right now, with minor flares here and there. I’m rambling. Basically, I can’t not have health insurance, so I married my best friend for his health insurance. So I could take the fellowship? Which… America! Still, it seemed like a good plan. Except, I fell in love with him. No. I’ve always been in love with him?”
Silence.
Sadie and Charlie look at each other. Then at Evie, who’s mortified and positive that her mentors did not wake up this morning and think a cookie cake would induce a teary trauma dump. Sadie’s eyebrows pinch together. “ What? ”
“I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional—”
“If you apologize one more time .” She crosses the booth, reaching for latte à la Sadie on her desk. Pops the lid and rips a sugar packet in half. “Just so I understand. You got married for… a fellowship?”
“Yeah.”
Charlie snorts. “No one can say that you’re not dedicated to your craft, kid.”
Sadie is not amused. “You. Out.”
Charlie raises his arms in defense. “I’m gone.”
Sadie sits and massages her temples, something that Evie’s used to witnessing in the context of a tight deadline. Her eyes settle on the gray hairs that streak Sadie’s temple. Are they becoming more prominent in real time? No. That’s impossible. “First of all,” she begins, “I’m sorry. I had no idea… I didn’t think. But I’m furious that you were put in that position.”
Evie shrugs. “This is an ableist industry.”
“It’s not an excuse.” Sadie squeezes her eyes shut. “Fuck, my head .” Evie produces a bottle of Tylenol from the top drawer of her desk. Sadie pops two. “Thanks. Okay, help me understand. If you love the person who you’re married to… what happened?”
She attempts to explain, but every excuse feels like just that.
An excuse.
I don’t want to be married.
I can’t move to New York.
I want this more.
She instead opts for a factual approach. “He left. But it’s not… I told him to go? Because his dream job is in New York and mine is here and—”
“ Evie .” Charlie cuts her off and she has no clue when he reappeared but here he is, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You love him?”
“I do.” She nods, then gestures at the studio, remembering some of the first words Sadie spoke to her once she saw Evie’s passion. If you want this, there isn’t room for much else. “But I love this, too.”
Charlie presses his lips together, understanding etched in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Well. Speaking as someone who has a few years on you, this…” Charlie mimics her, gesturing toward the Foley stage. “It’s just a job.”
“And it doesn’t love you back,” Sadie adds, and Evie’s eyes shift to her mentor, whose expression can only be deciphered as I think I fucked up . “The work. I spent thirty years married to this career—putting my ambition, the work , first—and it’s been wonderful and fulfilling and lonely. I believed there couldn’t be room for much else, and it did get me to where I am now.” Sadie’s eyes shift to Charlie. “Lately, I wonder if the journey didn’t have to be so lonely.”
“I—” Evie blinks, so disarmed by Sadie’s vulnerability. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
“What do you want to do?”
Sadie and Charlie leave her with this question because they have a schedule to adhere to and need to set up the stage for their afternoon session. Evie sits with their words, the gentlest of nudges. What do you want to do?
Her heart hammers in her chest.
Go.
Go.
Go.
She hesitates for only a moment before she’s at her desk and hacking into Theo’s airline accounts to find his flight info. (What? It’s not her fault that Theo has had the same three passwords since high school.) She pulls up the flight on her phone. The only seat left on the plane is a middle seat next to Theo’s seat and that must be a sign. She wants it to be a sign. Evie screenshots the seating chart and texts Imogen.
i… think i’m about to book the last seat on theo’s flight to ny??
10:42 A.M.
Imogen Bloom
!!!
10:42 A.M.
I AM SCREAMING
10:42 A.M.
THAT IS ROMANTIC AS FUCK
10:42 A.M.
FINALLY
10:42 A.M.
The next text is a photo of her sister Meredith Grey ugly-crying.
She laughs, then secures the ticket, exhilarated and terrified all at once. Sadie and Charlie pause on maneuvering a car door the moment she steps onto the stage and says, “I’m going to New York.”
Charlie’s eyes crinkle in the corners. “When?”
“In…” Evie glances at her watch. “Three hours?”
“Shit.” Sadie snorts. “What have I done ?”
“You’ve gone soft, Sadie.” Charlie laughs. “Go on, kid. We’ll call this a sick day.”
“ Day ,” Sadie emphasizes, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Rest of the week, tops. Not months .”
“Oh my God, I’m coming back!” Evie insists. Charlie’s eyebrows rise, like, Sure . But Evie isn’t done learning from Sadie Silverman and Charlie Crosby. “Seriously! You’re stuck with me for the rest of the fellowship. At least.”
Sadie laughs, then wraps her arms around Evie in a hug.
Evie holds on.
She wants to hold on to the people who matter to her.
“We know people in New York, kid,” Charlie says. “Just saying.”
Sadie releases her first, shoving Evie out the door because she has a bag to pack and a flight to catch and the next hour is hurried steps and tossed clothes and her erratic heartbeat. I love you, too. Obviously .
Obviously.
Obviously .
Evie settles into the back seat of her Uber in disbelief that she’s going to New York. Of course she’s going to New York. Evie listens to Billy Joel on her way to the airport as the ETA ticks up, up, up. Friday traffic. She arrives at the terminal twenty minutes before boarding closes and begs to cut the security line. Tears are fine. Her “I Can’t Wait” card is even more effective. Thank fuck for that accommodation. She has time to use the bathroom, the combination of stress and physical exertion resulting in an emergency situation. Bodies. They’re so fun. Evie arrives at her gate just as its final boarding call is uttered over the PA system.
She scans her ticket and enters the Jetway.
Whispers, “Goodbye for now.”
It is for now. Evie will come home to finish her fellowship. But after? Will her heart still be tethered here or pulled to New York? Who knows? She supposes it depends how this airplane ambush goes. Either way, she doesn’t want to waste another second pushing away the person she loves or denying that these last eight months pretending to be Theo Cohen’s wife haven’t changed everything. Evelyn Bloom is—has always been—someone who stays.
But for the first time in her life, she wants to know who she could be if she left.