44 EVIE #2
I don’t know about beating down my door, but things had been going okay.
In my twenties, my career had been everything.
But after that fell apart, I didn’t know quite what to do.
Steve’s career had completely taken off, whereas mine had died a slow death.
In the process, I’d discovered that the only thing I loved more than my career was being a mom.
It was okay. Truly. I’d felt grateful to be able to stay at home with my kids.
But the lines between Evie the woman and Evie the mom were pretty much gone.
When the kids got a little older and things started to go downhill with Steve, I’d slowly started working from home, pitching stories and taking freelance jobs, writing about pretty much anything I could get paid to write about (except music, that is—strictly no music).
It didn’t make my heart sing, so to speak, but I was proud of it, and it paid the bills while letting me still be there for the kids.
I looked at my watch and toward the darkened back door, waiting for Lainey.
Steve followed my glance from the door, then toward Lucas, who was quietly snoring in a pillow nest on the sofa.
He lightly rustled our son’s flaxen hair.
The two were like twins, born thirty-odd years apart.
The evening had gone late, past Lucas’s bedtime, and he didn’t stir.
“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I take Lainey now, and I’ll get Lucas in the morning. ”
“Really? You sure?”
“Yeah. He’s wiped out. Let him sleep. I’ll carry him up before I go. Just let him know I’ll be here for him after breakfast. Sound good?”
“Okay, if you don’t mind. I’d hate to wake him.
He was up a couple of times last night, couldn’t sleep.
” Fighting a yawn, I looked up again at the antique clock that hung above the mantel, inherited from Steve’s grandmother.
I supposed he’d want to take it eventually, but we hadn’t yet started the process of sorting to that degree.
“Looks like he wasn’t the only one. Not sleeping again?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine.” In truth, it was just after eight o’clock and I was already dreaming of my bed. I collected a few half-dressed Barbies from a side chair, content that the room was sufficiently neat, and plopped down to wait for Lainey.
Then I heard it.
At the sound of his name on the television, a familiar jolt ran through me.
His face lit up the screen, bringing with it an ache that I’d long ago learned to manage.
It was always like that. I’d be walking through my normal life, doing my normal everyday things in my normal everyday world, when there it would be.
Like walking into a glass wall. I suppose I’d grown somewhat used to it over the years, though; their music was everywhere, after all.
I tried to look away, but my eyes stayed fixed to the screen.
He was wearing a slim-cut tuxedo and dark sunglasses as he walked down a red carpet with a stunning brunette draped on his arm.
My god, you look so handsome in that tux, I thought as a wistful smile crossed my lips, my breath momentarily stolen.
All black. No bow tie, of course. Obviously.
But still, a tux. I blinked back a prick at the corners of my eyes, a product more of affectionate pride than anything else.
“Is Carter Wills finally settling down?” the newswoman quipped.
I swallowed, leaning forward just barely.
“In this month’s issue of Rolling Stone , Wills talks about his tempestuous rise as the front man of one of the world’s biggest bands.
In the rare interview, the singer comes clean about his life with girlfriend and actress Iliana Billings.
Sources close to the couple say that an engagement is happening and wedding bells are in the future. So, ladies—”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes with a deep breath.
And just like that, the ache returned right to the center of my sternum, where it settled in for the night. He was getting married.
“Hey, there’s my girl.” Steve stood, tossing the remote to the side just as Lainey walked in, eagerly chattering about the new turtle.
The TV switched off. “Okay, Lainey Bear, just you and me tonight, kiddo. This little guy didn’t make it.
” Steve nodded toward Lucas as he scooped Lainey into his hip.
“We’ll eat lots of candy and popcorn and stay up late watching scary movies that are too grown-up for you.
How’s that sound, Mom?” He nudged Lainey conspiratorially and winked, trying to get a laugh out of me when we both knew that he was the stricter of the two of us when it came to such things.
“Mommm-yyyy.” Lainey waved her hand in front of my eyes, which had remained distracted somewhere in the middle distance.
“What? Uh, yeah. That sounds good, guys. Here, I’ll help you.
” Steve gave me a curious look but let it go.
We passed through the foyer where a small lamp was lit, and I opened the front door wide, letting the crisp night air in to clear my head of the newscaster’s words.
I helped gather Lainey’s things while Steve carried Lucas up to bed.
There was a blur of goodbyes and hugs. “Be good for your dad.” “Love you.” “See you Sunday.” When the door closed, I leaned against it, the sudden quiet only serving to magnify the thoughts in my head.
A half hour later, the house closed up for the night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
In the dark of the room, I heard the newscaster’s words echo again.
Wedding bells. Engagement. For a brief moment, I smiled as I imagined myself beside him.
He’d smile at me, and I’d catch a glimpse of his eyes from behind dark lenses. A warm kiss on the cheek.
A car passed outside, and the headlights danced through the room.
Images flashed before me. The secrets I’d kept.
The mistakes I’d made. It was a long time ago.
Had it really been ten years? Ten. The time I’d spent with them all had become a part of my life that was so far away, it was hard to believe it had ever existed.
It was nearly impossible to believe that woman and I had been the same person.
As if on cue, I heard a small knock at the door and the uneven steps of a child in footed pajamas padding across the deep-pile carpet.
Lucas rubbed his bleary eyes. “Mommy, there’s something scary in my room.” His tiny voice quivered with distress. I smoothed his wispy hair and asked about his dream as I walked him to his room.
“There was a big orange lizard in my bed, and it was trying to get me.”
“Well, let’s go see that lizard and tell it to get out of your nice room.
” I snuggled him back under his covers and made a dramatic show of looking around, checking the closet and peering under the bed.
“Hmm. I don’t see any lizards here. I think they’re all gone now.
” I sat on his bed in the dim room, a LEGO night-light in the corner casting a soft yellow glow on the walls.
My shoulders felt heavy, and I wore a faded T-shirt and cotton pajama pants that probably had once been cute but had faded into old favorites.
It was one of those nights when I felt older than I was.
I thought of her in a barely there dress, his hands warmly on her waist. She was exquisite, while I sat with my hair piled on top of my head at the end of a long day.
It’s so young, of course, midthirties. I know that now. But in the thick of it, when each day felt a lot like the last, it didn’t seem that way. I was just an average and unmemorable mom in a quiet suburb. Nothing special. But still, just fine.
From a distant, contrasting land, an image of a man in his tuxedo and the lovely young brunette on his arm passed through my mind.
I shook my head clear of it, looking around the room—at the steady world I’d created—to plant myself on firmer ground.
I placed Lucas’s small, delicate hand in mine, enjoying the fleeting smallness of it.
The sleepless hours ticked on. I often thought I was a fool, perhaps, with my eyes sometimes glancing toward the past like it was a place that actually existed rather than an empty space of what once was.
Nonetheless, I’d always felt drawn to the comforts that lay there.
I still do. The idea of forgetting frightened me, and after years of trying, I’d paid the price.
Details had nearly slipped away. Like the exact texture of his hair between my fingertips or the green-and-gold flecks in his eyes that appeared in a certain light.
The specific way he once laced his fingers through mine.
The sound of him whispering in my ear as we lay beneath warm sheets.
The sense of belonging I’d had with them.
The filmmaking career that I’d been on the verge of.
The thrill I’d begun to feel as we planned to travel the world.
I’d tried to let them go, and mostly I had.
But my memories were my own to enjoy without guilt, I supposed.
I’d trained myself not to think of those things most of the time and had made a totally different kind of happy life.
But no matter how wonderful and wondrous the memories of those earlier years are, if I could time travel and pick just one night to go back to, it would be a night like that one at the end of summer, playing in the backyard.
A regular, average day. A mom playing with her two young children and our dog in the backyard and picking up toys.
I know the story I’m telling you might make you believe I’d choose a different time, but I promise, it’s true.