Chapter Thirty-two
Evan
“For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”
Much Ado About Nothing
It was such a glorious November day for a drive up to Carter’s Mountain, perfect weather for warm apple cider overlooking Charlottesville. If only we’d done this yesterday, before I’d made an ass of myself.
With a glance up at Bas and Chelsea in the front seat, I turned to face Elizabeth. “Listen. About last night.”
Her eyes narrowed, like she didn’t quite trust me, cruel irony after all the time I’d spent doubting her. I deserved that. “I’m listening.”
I counted myself lucky she was giving me a chance. “There was nothing on that list that should have sent me over the edge. I don’t honestly believe you were collecting man trophies. That was my fear talking. Even if you were—like you said—that’s your business, not mine.”
She nodded, still stiff, but at least she was open to this conversation. For some reason, she’d granted me the grace I’d requested—so far. But I’d done nothing but pour hot water on thin ice, and I was going to have to earn back her trust now.
“So then what happened? You turned into someone I barely recognized. And I really don’t want to play whack-a-mole, explaining myself over and over.”
I fought the urge to smile at that. Even mad, she made me laugh.
But I wanted to impress on her how sorry I was.
I never wanted to be the person who’d hurt her like that.
“Honestly, I didn’t feel in control of myself at all.
I don’t want to make excuses, but I hadn’t anticipated the buried emotions those people would dredge up. ”
“Is that something you’re going to work through with your therapist?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’d already talked about Vicky. Now I get to explain how I was the bad guy all along.”
“You weren’t the bad guy, Evan. You were a kid. You didn’t have the tools to deal with that particular situation, and maybe you handled it poorly, but so did Vicky. Neither of you had all the facts.”
“And that’s probably what my therapist will say, but still. What else have I been wrong about?”
“Probably a shit load. Perception is reality,” she said, shifting toward me.
“Look, I know a trauma response when I see one. I haven’t spent so much time with that one”—she jerked her head toward her friend up front—“not to recognize when someone is acting from hurt and fear and not from rational thought.”
“And you stuck by her all this time?”
“Yeah, well. She’s been a good friend to me, too. But it took time to get here. I had to prove myself, show her my unwavering loyalty, to get beyond her defenses. I think maybe you’re a little bit alike”
I snorted. “You think I’m like Chelsea?” Maybe I was the villain in my own story.
“Not exactly. But I think your experiences have taught you to feel broken and unloved, and I know that’s not something anyone can fix but you. I know it takes effort.”
“I’m trying. I just wish it would hurry up.”
“That’s exactly why Chelsea has that list.” She slipped her phone out. “To challenge us, force us to use new muscles. For me, that means entering the land of the living, talking to human beings.”
That made so much sense, and I could appreciate the benefits of such a list as a therapeutic tool, which made me feel even worse for accusing her of using it for nefarious purposes.
“Let me see it again,” I said and began reading it from the top down.
And sure, there were things on there that would lend themselves to meeting guys, but mostly they were just things anyone might do.
Run a race, visit a museum, apply for a new job.
“Did you get double points for two job applications?”
She took her phone back, smiling. “But of course. The points we collect are a kind of score. Each one widens the radius on our next vacation destination.”
“Oh, you gamified it.”
“Exactly.”
“So what are you getting points for today?”
“Pick berries at a local farm.”
“Berries?”
“We allow for some creative interpretation. The intent is to find nondestructive ways to deal with negative emotions.”
“I could use something like that.” I wished I’d had the emotional bandwidth to have this conversation the night before. “I’m always a little jealous of what you two have.”
“Well, we have our ups and downs, too.” She frowned, and it struck me how rarely I’d seen her like this. She’d always rallied, even in the newsroom, but I’d managed to dampen her spirit. How would I ever recover her trust and make her smile again?
I stared out the window so she wouldn’t see me blinking back tears.
As Bas turned up the steep windy road, the landscape changed dramatically. The colors had already mostly faded to sepia tones, but the occasional bright yellow tree held out. It took me back years—to good times with my family and friends.
I turned back to face Elizabeth. “My parents used to bring me up here every fall when I was a kid to pick apples and go on the hayride. I’ve been wanting to return eventually.”
“I’ve only ever come up for the doughnuts.”
“What if we…” I shouldn’t even ask this.
“Yeah?” She pressed her lips into a line, but her eyes sparkled, giving me hope she cared about me still. The fact she was here should have been evidence enough, but I felt like I was on trial, and the verdict was still out.
“I was just thinking about your list. I mean, Chelsea’s list.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, and I registered her disappointment.
“No, I mean, I was hoping maybe you’d help me start one of my own.”
Her face lit up for a second, but I caught it. “I could help with that. What kinds of things are you thinking of?”
She opened a new document on her phone and then looked up at me, waiting for me to come up with some activity off the cuff. The only thing I could think of was where we were headed. “Would you go on the hayride with me?”
“Sure.” She typed, Go on a hayride.
My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten anything. With all the drama, Bas never cooked breakfast. “But maybe we can get some doughnuts first?”
“And coffee.” The smallest of smiles curved her lips, and for the first time since she’d walked out the night before, I thought there was a chance for us still.
If only I could defeat the monster that had been chasing me the last ten years.