No Wallowing Zone
EVIE
IT’S REALLY HARD TO BE A WUTHERING HEIGHTS HEROINE PINING ON THE WINDY MOORS, WHEN you’re staying with your great-grandmother in Stillwater, named one of the most charming small towns in Minnesota.
Since arriving here, I haven’t had five minutes to miss Viktor and figure out how I could have prevented our breakup.
When should I have told him about the Revenge Squad?
In the car that first night? Once I quit Alpha Z?
When he told me about Marko? Because none of those moments felt right.
And besides, I’m right, in the entirety of our relationship, it’s not that big a deal.
It’s like I wore a white blouse because he liked white, but what really counts is everything that happened after that.
But that doesn’t alleviate how awful I feel about Viktor’s pain. I tricked someone who already had trouble trusting women. And now that I know more about his horrible past, who could blame him? It’ll probably be years before he can open up to anyone.
Evelyn! Can you go to the store and get some cranberries for Christmas dinner? Nan hollers up the stairs of her lovely old home.
I stomp downstairs. Nan. Christmas isn’t for three days, and my mom and dad are arriving any minute.
I know exactly what you’re up to, and I’m fine.
She’s been assigning me a new task every five minutes, all of them completely unnecessary.
So far I’ve swept her already spotless basement, shovelled snow from a side path that no one ever uses, and hand delivered Christmas cards.
I even had to harness and walk her large cat, Bernie, an excursion that neither of us enjoyed.
Women in our family do not mope over men. Her hands are on her hips as she glares at me. Nan is twice-divorced with no regrets.
Viktor is not just anyone, I grump back. He’s the most accomplished man at Monarch. I’m never going to find another boyfriend that’s his equal. Now I regret my decision to aim high when it came to dating.
Do you think he’s moping about you right now? she demands.
Of course not. Viktor is probably out on a date with someone like Monique, just to prove to himself that he’s over me.
Then you do the same. She hands me a five-dollar bill and directs me to a specific market to get her can of cranberries. Luckily it’s only snowing lightly. And at least I get time to mope about how I miss Viktor with a soul-deep ache.
Soul-deep ache? Ugh, that sounds ridiculously sentimental.
I am too much like Nan and my dad to wallow dramatically.
Instead I buy a stress cookie along with the cranberries and eat it on the way home like a rebellious five-year-old.
The peanut buttery deliciousness is the first thing I’ve really tasted since I got here two days ago.
Nan is right, as always. I feel better for having gone outside and accomplished something.
I put the cranberries into her pantry, next to an identical can. Of course.
I wander up to see what Nan is doing. Her craft room is an organized riot of colourful fabrics. Bernie is lying on top of a stack of quilts and eyes me suspiciously in case I try to walk him again.
Nan has a new quilt going in shades of purple, and the pieces are pinned and laid out on the table. I peer closer. On the surface, it looks like a traditional log cabin pattern, but there are subtle pattern variations.
I squint at it. Nan! Does this quilt say ‘Fuck the fascists’?
Of course it does. And if you’re not aware that Minnesota has been one of the most persecuted states under this administration, then what is your fancy college even doing?
I can’t help giggling. Maybe I got my interest in crafts and political history from her.
She tilts her head. I think I hear your parents.
I peek out the window and see their rental car in the driveway. I go down the stairs two at a time.
My mother climbs the steps to the house, while my father gets their luggage from the trunk.
Mom, I screech as I fly onto the snowy porch.
She hugs me, enveloping me in her familiar scent of freesia and vanilla. Something tight loosens inside.
Evelyn, it’s so good to—oh, darling! Are you crying?
I sniffle. It’s just so good to see you. You too, Dad, I tell my father who is waiting for our reunion traffic jam to clear so he can get in the house.
Come in, come in, urges Nan. You’re letting all the heat out. Honestly, Evelyn, your socks are all wet now. Go change them and give your parents a moment to get settled.
I beam at my bossy great-grandmother and go up to my room.
It’s an attic room like Viktor’s, but the ceilings are so steeply sloped that there’s skull-cracking potential if I get out of bed too quickly.
Maybe that cozy familiarity was another thing I liked about sleeping at his place.
Or was it the brotherly teasing of his roommates who were like the big family I’d always wanted?
Or it was just Viktor. Especially that intimate time after sex, when we really talked. I swallow down the lump in my throat that forms whenever I realize that all my lovely times with him are over.
I know he said some horrible things to me that night, but did he really mean them, or was he just lashing out?
After my parents have had coffee and a chat with Nan, my father goes off to do some work, and I follow my mother upstairs to the guest room to watch her unpack.
Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? she asks.
How did you know? Maybe the crying was a clue.
Oh, I think I know you. My mother sits down on the bed and pats the space beside her. I flop down and tell her everything that happened with Alpha Z and Viktor. Well, not everything, of course. I haven’t even told Annie about how sexually simpatico I am with Viktor.
When I finish my long, sad tale, I wipe the tears and snot away and finally look up at my mom.
Oh no! You’re crying too. I’m so sorry. It’s not that bad. I’m already half-over the whole break-up thing. Don’t be sad, I reassure her.
She puts an arm around me and squeezes me so hard.
I just feel terrible that you’ve had such a tumultuous time.
And the worst part is my role in it. I was selfish to keep you with me when you could have moved back to Minnesota and gone to high school here.
And you know I don’t care about you being a part of Alpha Zeta Mu, right?
I kiss her damp cheek. My mother is such a loving person. It’s my own fault. I wanted to do something to impress you. But it would have been more impressive if I had stood by my own principles. I should have said no to the whole revenge scheme in the first place.
You’re only nineteen years old. You’re allowed to make mistakes, she reassures me. Your father and I have a tendency to be overprotective, to see enemies around every corner.
I nod.
But there are two ways to react to danger. I tried to prevent it, but he tried to prepare you to deal with it.
You two are a good combination, I reassure her.
Darling, Viktor sounds very impressive. She pauses, carefully considering her words. But he’s your first boyfriend. There will be more, many more, I’m sure. While it may sound cruel, it’s important to feel pain. Without suffering, we can’t appreciate our true joys.
I sigh luxuriously. Sure, I’ve been experiencing bouts of sadness and pain, but it’s not really in my nature. I live life on an even emotional keel.
When she pulls me close, I snuggle into her warmth and regress into my younger, more innocent self. Only momentarily though, because I’d rather be the new me, even if it hurts.
I’m flawed, but I’m learning. I wasn’t wrong to aim high and date Viktor.
Loving someone helps me know myself better.
Now I understand how fragile the bond of trust is between two people.
Everything I’ve learned from Viktor, I can take into my next relationship.
I should be healed and ready in, say, ten years.
I pull back. Thanks, Mom.
You’re welcome. Now tell me more about this Crafty Club that you and Annie founded. It’s very impressive that you started your own organization.
I’m showing off craft photos when Nan’s voice floats up the stairs.
Girls, I could use some help with dinner.
My mother peers into the cloudy mirror and tissues off the traces of her tears. I love that I’m still a girl when I come back here.
Dinner is delicious, of course. Buttermilk fried chicken, fluffy mashed potatoes, and a green bean salad. Nan and my mother do most of the talking, which is fine with my father.
The next day, Dad and I go to downtown Stillwater, purportedly to help him finish his Christmas shopping. But in reality, it’s a chance for us to chat privately. We head to a quiet coffee shop.
Ahhh. He savours his cup of dark roast. Your nan makes the worst coffee.
Well, she’s a great cook, so I guess you can’t have everything. I peel the paper off my apple cinnamon muffin. So, how is Mom these days?
She’s a lot better. She’s gotten involved with this refugee organization, and the work is both satisfying and important. Thank you for calling more often.
I wanted to. She was the one who said that I needed to become more independent.
He doesn’t reply, which is so like him. It means he disagrees, but he can’t be bothered to argue.
Evelyn, did your mother tell you about our plans? he asks.
I shake my head.
I’ve decided to take early retirement. Next year, when I turn fifty-five. We’re going to move back to Paris.
That’s where they lived when they were first married, and it’s my mother’s favourite city as well as mine. Oh, wonderful. I’ll get to visit you guys there. What will you do?
Well, I have a job lined up at the publishing house where I worked when we first lived there. Amazingly, it’s still run by the same gentleman, but he’s in his eighties now.