17. Garrett
17
Garrett
T hrough the phone, Wes’s voice muddles into nonsense as Evelyn’s waving captures my full attention. It’s like the world shrinks, it’s just her in the flower shop window, framed by draping vines and vases of roses.
She gave me a glimpse of something in the museum. It was similar to what I hear in her music. Raw emotion that she tried to dismiss. She might not think she’s the type of woman who deserves love letters, but I think it’s a crime no one has written one for her yet.
I almost did.
The thick handmade paper that we got with our tickets is resting on my desk at Alina’s. I might have written something if Alina herself didn’t call me downstairs to help her open her arthritis medication.
“It wasn’t a threesome,” Wes says sharply, forcing my attention back to our conversation. I move from the window and go back to surveying the displays for the forget-me-nots that I came to get for Alina. She gets frustrated about not being as independent as she used to and the flowers always brighten even her worst days.
“That is the least important part of this entire scenario.” And after knowing him for nearly two decades it’s not all that surprising. Wes likes to press a big red self-destruct button whenever things get too good. He tends to be seconds away from this whenever Avery is nearby. We’re opposites in that way. I freeze and he reacts. It’s not exactly balanced, but it’s what we’re used to at this point.
“It’s very important for me, okay?" he says. “I think being clear about your sexual history is very responsible.”
“I think most health teachers would agree. But what about missing rehearsal?”
“Okay, not the most responsible, but I don’t know…I couldn’t look at her.”
“Didn’t you promise you’d try to play nice?” It feels like forever since I left Manhattan. Time feels like molasses in Hartsfall when before I was struggling to fit in all my work.
“I wasn’t planning on going to the party.”
“But you did.”
“It sounded fun.” He pauses. “She said she was going on a date with her guitarist.”
I pick up and inspect a bouquet of delicate blue flowers. “Did she?”
“Maybe.” If he isn’t sure, I’m guessing that Avery’s date was never real. Neither of them shoulder all the blame for the tear in their relationship. But if this were a poker table, Wes would be the one to raise every damn time. “I don’t know. I was at the party.”
“And?”
“I sent her flowers.”
“Not an apology,” I tell him, remembering my own slip up with Evelyn and the timer. “You’ll be on an entire tour together. Figure out how to string a few civil words together.”
“Words aren’t exactly my thing.”
“You sing for a living, they’re your entire thing.”
“Well, I don’t have to mean those.”
“Glad we cleared that up. I have to go.” I hang up before he can protest.
At the counter, Sara wraps my flowers in an old newspaper and then secures them with twine.
For the first time, Evelyn shows up before I do. When I arrive, a woman is being swung around in the gazebo as the clock tower chimes marking a newly engaged couple.
I used to think the resentment would pass, the thoughts of that means nothing and what are you trying to prove? I thought I would be desensitized to it the same way cat owners get with litter boxes or baristas are with steam wands. It’s still there no matter how much I wish it would go away.
There’s always one person I feel for the most. There’s a woman out there who came to this town with her partner only for him to cheat on her with Lana. It’s the reason I’ve never felt particularly motivated to hunt down my birth father. I’m all but certain that woman doesn’t know I exist but every single time I remember how I got to be here, I remember her. On some level I’m jealous of her ignorance and hope she’s happy. But mostly, I hope she left him.
Evelyn’s tender expression tells me she doesn’t think about anything other than a happy ending. I don’t begrudge her this. I just wish I was able to see those happy endings, even occasionally. After all, I’m the walking manifestation of what happens when Hartsfall doesn’t follow through on its lofty promises.
“Is there something you need?” I sit next to her in the space I presume she left for me.
She starts talking and immediately bypasses my question. “You know what this reminds me of?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” I say, pretending I’m annoyed instead of constantly wanting to hear every thought that crosses her mind.
“ When Harry Met Sally. ”
“The movie that infamously taught you how to fake an orgasm,” I say, and this earns me a twitch of her lips.
“The very one. I’m so happy that you’ve taken such an interest in my major milestones.”
“I’d like to state for the record that I learned that information against my will.”
“Well, there’s this scene where Harry and Sally’s friends are married and lying in bed and then Harry and Sally call them about different sides of the same issue. Us just now reminds me of that,” she barrels on.
“And in this hypothetical we’re a married couple.” I shut down the image before it has the chance to form in my head.
“Only in the hypothetical. I know from your publicized track record that long term commitment and emotional vulnerability aren’t your thing,” she says.
I’ve heard versions of those words hundreds of times, but this time they sour the air around me. Maybe it’s the couple still lingering at the fringes of the gazebo. Or it’s her, and I don’t want her to see me the way other people do. I don’t want to be the person who is unable to be with someone longer than a handful of nights.
There was this guy who was getting his master’s in counseling who I slept with a few times. I’m convinced he only kept seeing me because he was interested in the psychology of one-night-stands and short term relationships. After the third time we were together he said, “I hope you find someone worth letting in one day,” and somehow it only gave me more reason to secure my walls and walk away, like the only allure came from my unattainability.
I look at Evelyn and nod. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
“Oh, absolutely. I’m not under any illusions that I will be able to change you. Every good town needs a closed-off grump, and I can’t deprive Hartsfall of theirs.”
“They do just fine without me,” I say. “As you’ve reminded me a few times, I’m the dark cloud on a sunny day.”
“I mean, dark clouds bring rain. I like rain.”
“You dance in it, don’t you?”
She slides me a look. “You know me so well, Larson. Don’t go getting obsessed. I know I’m absolutely irresistible. I bring a lot to the table.” Too late for that.
“You’re sure about that?”
“With this fashion sense? I’m a catch.” She makes a sweeping motion with her free hand.
“I don’t think my feelings are in danger of changing any time soon.” My fucking feelings won’t change for her no matter how convenient that would be.
“So the flowers aren’t for me? What a shame.”
“Alina’s arthritis is flaring up. Flowers always cheer her up when it gets bad. When she was performing she’d have forget-me-nots in her dressing room waiting for her after every performance. She told me once that as long as there were forget-me-nots she’d know the show wasn’t over yet.”
“Besides when you play with her, does she ever still sing?”
“For the festival. If you’re here, you’ll love it. She does this rendition of ‘Funny Valentine’ that’s something else.”
“She really means a lot to you, doesn't she?”
“Yeah, she does. But she pulled some strings to make it happen,” I say. “That same thing she pulled with you that first day with the package she did that to me with a letter in the mail. I returned it and the next thing I knew I was being given my first piano lesson. I kept getting her mail until I would come regularly, then suddenly the mix-ups stopped.”
“That’s sweet.”
“She was just bored.”
“Why do you brush off people when they obviously care about you?” she asks.
“Why do you lie to the people you love?” I retaliate against the sting of her words.
Alina cares, but that’s not how it started. She saw a kid who needed help and it wasn’t like they could push me away.
“That’s not fair,” Evelyn says.
“I’m pretty sure that both questions have nearly the same answer so if you take a minute or two to think about them hard enough.”
“You're telling me that we have something in common? That’s kinda cute.”
“More that you might understand exactly why I hate saying shit like that out loud because you also like to avoid it.”
“And the existential-asshole bit is back.” She draws out the words to be comedic but I can tell she’s hiding the fact that I went too far—again. God. This is exactly why I don’t get into situations like this.
“Sorry,” I say. Tension builds behind my eyes and I pull off my glasses and rub a knuckle between my brows before replacing them. “I got that call from Wes and then the stuff with Alina. Shit. I just hate that she’s getting older. I forget it sometimes then it just hits me. I know it’s normal. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“Knowing something or it being normal doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it all by yourself. Do you have a minute? It won’t take long. I just want to show you something in the gazebo.”
“I swear, if you’re going to fake a proposal I will stop talking to you.”
“No. And be real there’s no world where you’ll ever figure out how to get me to stop talking to you,” she says.
“If I see you getting on one knee I’m leaving,” I warn.
“Not very progressive of you. But I'll even check my shoes right now to make sure they’re tied.”
Evelyn makes a point of checking her shoes before starting toward the gazebo. Through the years, boards have been replaced and paint has been reapplied, constantly combating the natural consequences of time. Just another piece of the fantasy. Nothing can stay broken here.
“I came by here the other day to wander around and get another look at everything.” She points up and my eyes follow to where she’s indicating. “Look.”
There’s a ledge where the roof of the gazebo connects to support beams. In one of the corners of the octagon, there’s a collection of twigs and dried leaves. Something flutters and there’s a downy head that peeks out.
“I found the nest and I just stood here for so long I must have looked crazy. You know, I didn’t know what to do with myself when I first got to the city. I always liked people watching before, but I really got into it after the move. I think it was more because I finally had all this free time. I went to the MET and the MoMA and I really tried to read the plaques and be a good educated museum goer but the people were just more interesting. I loved it, you know, just remembering that the world is so big and we’re just here. There are these little birds and that’s just amazing. I might feel like shit about everything I’m dealing with, but there will always be baby birds or people in museums.”
I can’t pinpoint the moment I stop looking at that nest and start looking at her. There’s this creeping understanding that I let in, just this once. She might have baby birds and museum people keeping her going, but right now, I think I might have her.