Finding Evan Read online

  Evan’s face brightens when I come downstairs ready to go. I know why: the black velvet dress I’m wearing hugs the curves he loves so much and is cut low enough to be sexy, and just high enough not to be slutty. I’ve even braved heels tonight, and when he comes over, the extra height means I’m closer to his eyes. Eyes suggesting he wants to drag me back upstairs.

  “Gorgeous, Ness,” he says, sliding his arms around my waist.

  I wind my hands around his and he leans in to kiss me. “Lipstick!” I warn and back off.

  Evan smirks. “As if you’re ever bothered about spoiling your make up.”

  I run the back of my hand against his freshly shaven face, and the butterflies surge inside again. This guy does things to my insides with barely a word or touch.

  “The dress code is formal. I want to look perfect.”

  “Med students do formal? Since when?”

  He’s right; the formalities will likely descend into debauchery once the alcohol flows. Evan looks around. “Isn’t Abby coming?”

  “She’s gone already. Having a few drinks first with Jared and company.” I still feel awkward using Ollie’s name in front of Evan.

  “I thought you said he was a bit of a man-whore?” teases Evan.

  Pulling him towards me by his fresh blue shirt, I bite his lip. “Some of them can be tamed.”

  Evan groans and grabs my rear. “There’s no one home. Don’t make me show you how untamed I am.”

  Laughing, I detach his hand from my backside, before my more–than-interested body allows him to spoil more than my make-up.

  ***

  Evan returns to his introspection as the evening progresses. I ensure I pay him as much attention as those around me, but interacting is tricky when he’s barely speaking. What happened when he saw Faye? He keeps his hand on my knee, or wound around my fingers throughout the evening as we eat from plates piled with turkey, vegetables, and Christmas fare. Abby and Jared are still together, and I have to allow myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she is taming him.

  I look to my Byron, remembering the snark from last year, and how far we’ve come since then. We’re both trying to let our barriers down; we’re just not quite there yet. I’m making allowances for Evan’s clinginess since our conversation a couple of weeks ago. He’d be furious if I suggested his recent jealousy comes from the mother stuff, but it’s not a difficult conclusion to make. The situation certainly puts things into perspective for me. I can accept some of his recent behavior wasn’t a return to last year. He’s dealing with some huge stuff, whether he wants to or not.

  Ollie is seated with the four of us, and Sunita, but Ollie’s quiet too. This isn’t unusual for him, but I sense more of an uneasiness around him tonight. His attention is anywhere but our group, and he constantly checks his phone.

  The evening progresses to dancing, with Santa hats and party poppers littering the dance floor. Abby and Jared are in the midst of the crowd, and the wine swilling my system encourages me to join in. Evan’s not interested. His mood sinks along with his posture as the hours pass. Ollie looks miserable too. I know what’s wrong with Evan, but I’m concerned about Ollie. And the empty seat beside him.

  Evan wanders off to the bathroom, and I switch seats, get closer to my morose friend.

  “What’s up, Ollie?”

  He frowns at me. “Nothing.”

  Is this a stock male response? “Who are you waiting for?” I indicate the phone. “Your girlfriend?”

  “In the nicest possible way, can I ask you to keep out of my business?”

  I can’t hide the stunned reaction, and Ollie shakes his head. “Sorry, Ness. Christmas is hard for me. That’s all.”

  I wonder if this is due to his invisible girlfriend. “Okay, sorry. You can talk to me if you want to.” I place my hand over his. I’ve never seen him so down. Ollie pulls his hand away. “Not a good idea.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t be bothered with your boyfriend’s schoolyard jealousy tonight.”

  “That’s unfair; we’ve sorted through that.”

  Ollie smiles, and the patronizing look he gives me gets my back up. “Sure you have.” He drains his wineglass and picks up the bottle to refill mine and his. “She was supposed to be here, but she couldn’t make it.”

  “Who?”

  “Isla.”

  “That’s your girlfriend?”

  “Yep. She never made it back here.”

  “Back?”

  “She lives in Australia.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a long distance relationship.”

  He makes a soft noise in his throat. “I’m not sure we have one anymore. Otherwise, she’d be here. It would’ve helped if she’d told me she wasn’t coming back. Oh…maybe earlier than the day I’m supposed to pick her up from the airport.”

  Does this mean he wants to talk about things? I don’t want to push him, but he’s opening up about something I’m not sure he has to anyone else. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just get drunk and forget about her. That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it?” He drains his second glass of wine in ten minutes. “Fucking Christmas.”

  I suspect he has a lot more he wants to talk about, but Evan returns. He glances from me to Ollie warily, then looks away. I think Ollie’s right. The jealousy hasn’t gone anywhere.

  ***

  EVAN

  I could’ve done without Ness’s med school friends tonight. An evening alone, or one lost in Ness, is what I need. Instead, the boredom allowed room for the morning at Faye’s to spool on repeat in my head.

  The kids. I can’t stop thinking about the kids. Does Lucy know?

  I tuck a drunk Ness into bed, amused by her attempt to drag me in with her. Normally, I wouldn’t need any encouragement, but tonight I’m numb from alcohol and the pain of today. She falls asleep before I get back from the bathroom anyway. I unwrap the tinsel from Ness’s hair and kiss her forehead. She mumbles and swats me away. Small Ness things like this fill the gaps in my soul with love. I climb into bed, wrap my arms around Ness’s waist, and hug her tightly. The warmth of Ness and the softness of her skin soothes me. Grounds me in all that’s good in my life. Her. Us.

  Following a restless night, as soon as the sun creeps through the gaps in the curtains, I creep downstairs to make a coffee and call Lucy. She’s an early riser; I’m not, so her voice is wary when we speak.

  “So, I went to see Faye,” I say.

  “You did?” Her voice brightens.

  “Ness said I should.”

  “And me. I told you we should get to know her.”

  “Uh. No. I went to see her; I never said I wanted to get to know her.”

  “She’s nice.” Lucy sounds as if she’s attempting to get me to try an exotic dish. Nice?

  “You’ve seen her again since I took you?”

  The pause is telling. “A couple of times.”

  “Why?”

  “I just said. Because she’s nice.”

  The conversation we should have can’t take place on the phone. This is the first time I’ve broached the subject with Lucy since the day I took her a few weeks ago. Lucy’s tone suggests she’s eager to discuss her long-lost relative with me.

  Outside, the everyday begins. Cars and people pass. Mundanely. What secrets and lies are in their lives? I rub my tired eyes. This has to be said.

  “Lucy. Does Faye have other children?”

  In the time it takes her to respond, my mind screams at me for asking the question. Stepping further into this.

  “Yes.”

  The softness of her voice doesn’t stop the impact of her words. I don’t hear anything else. She’s telling me something, but the words don’t register. Mumbling something about calling her later, I hang up and put the phone on the bench. My chest hurts, heart ripped into pieces.

  Why wasn’t I good enough for my mother, but these k
ids are?

  I don’t know how long I stand gripping the edge of the bench, summoning up the dim memory of the two children, and attempting to block the memory at the same time. Gradually, my heart-rate returns to normal and I sneak back upstairs. Ness’s heavy breathing indicates she’s still sleeping and I climb into bed, snuggle against her, and bury my nose in her vanilla-scented hair. She murmurs in her sleep and wriggles against the tightness of my grip. The sun continues to flood through the curtain; the noises of the outside world take on their familiar tune. Everything in my world is unfamiliar and dark. Apart from my butterfly girl in my arms.

  Chapter Seventeen

  EVAN

  I can’t speak to Ness about this. The kids. I told her I visited Faye and left everything else unsaid. I think Ness understands; she didn’t push me to say more. The fury at Lucy intensifies with this new revelation. I hate her for doing this. Lucy has taken over my world for years, and now this. I know she’s selfish, but doesn’t she understand the consequences of what she’s done?

  I cope by pushing away the news, and by focusing on studying and Ness. Suddenly, the jealousy over Ollie sharpens into focus. No wonder I’m fucked up. Look at my life. And look at Ness, standing beside me, worrying, knowing when to hold me but not push me.

  So Ness understands my need to return to Lancaster again so soon, even though I know I shouldn’t go. I tell her I’m going because of Lucy, and I guess partly I am. Underlying the layers of my hurt and fucked-up head is the real fear of how this could affect Lucy’s mental health.

  Lucy’s out when I arrive at the house. As is Dad. When do I tell him? He’s going to find out; better he has time to prepare himself. Although he’ll probably do the same as me. Ignore how he feels. Yeah, now I know where I get my coping strategies from. I haven’t seen Dad since I saw Faye. I can’t remember the last time I saw him; even when I come back from Leeds he’s hardly around. I’m positive Lucy won’t have said anything to him about her actions. Maybe if our Dad had been there for her more, Lucy wouldn’t have gone looking for Faye. Who knows?

  The good thing about Lucy’s room is the mess she lives in, so when I go in to check on a few things, she never notices. This is my ritual. Every time I come home, I go the drawer where she keeps her medication. I check the prescription dates on the boxes and I look at the contents. To my relief, she’s taking them. But I’m concerned by the number of her diazepam gone since I last checked. If she needs more help controlling her anxiety, this is not a good sign.

  A mural of photographs covers the wall opposite the window, covering the peeling paint where she’d added and removed posters through her teen years. I study them – she’s arranged photos in a spiral, circling outwards. The ones on the edge are of her and friends from college, and in the centre is one of the two of us. Tracing along the spiral, I spot gaps where she’s removed some. I haven’t looked carefully before, so I’ve no idea who or what the missing photos are of.

  Notably, there’s not a single photo of our mother. I’m not sure any exist in the house.

  Near the centre of the spiral, one catches my eye: me and Lucy sitting on swings in the playground, wearing identical blue parka jackets and identical grins. Dad stands behind Lucy, smiling too. Which means Faye is the person taking the photograph. We must be around three-years-old, like the boy I saw. The Evan in the picture has curly brown hair, and in our matching clothes, we look more like identical twins, not brother and sister. I close my eyes, not wanting the image to stay. In case the Evan in the picture connects with the image of the boy I saw outside Faye’s.

  The front door slams and I edge out of Lucy’s room and peer downstairs. Her large bag is dumped next to the door and she sings in the kitchen. When I walk in, she turns and grabs me in her Lucy bear hug. I wriggle out of her grasp.

  “I’m glad you came again,” she smiles, pushing her curls to one side.

  “I came to talk to you about Faye. I can’t talk to Ness about the kids.”

  Lucy’s eyebrows draw together. “Why not?”

  Good question. I’m getting around to figuring it out. “Once I find out what I need to know, I’m not getting involved anymore.”

  Lucy rubs the side of her face and fixes me with her determined gaze, one telling me this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. “What did you want to know?”

  “About the kids. Have you met them?”

  She turns away and pulls out a loaf of bread. “Sandwich?”

  “No. Have you met the kids?”

  Lucy butters the bread and doesn’t respond, so I lean on the bench next to her and look around her curls to her face. “Lucy?”

  “Once. But they don’t know who I am.” Placing the bread together, she bites, refusing to meet my gaze.

  “Why? Does Faye not want them to know?”

  “Their Dad doesn’t want them to know.”

  “Dad? Their Dad is around?”

  Lucy clamps up, eating her sandwich with her far-off-Lucy-look in her eyes.

  “Have you met him too?”

  “No. Just the children. I wanted to meet them.” There it is. The reality of all this - the pale anxiety in her features. No wonder she won’t look at me. I touch Lucy’s hand.

  “Lucy, this was such a stupid thing to do. What getting too involved could do to you…”

  She drags her hand away. “I’m fine!”

  “All this – the stress, the emotion – none of this is good for you. We don’t want you sick again. Finding Faye was bad enough. But now, I find out we have a brother and sister!”

  Tears shine in her eyes. “Their names are Brandon and Jade. I’m glad I found them. I wanted to know where my mum was and why she went. And now I have another brother and sister too.” Her voice is tiny. “I want her in my life again, even if you don’t. Can’t you understand?”

  I bite back the words I want to scream at her, that I’ll be the one picking up the pieces as usual.

  “You need to tell Dad,” I say.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Running my hands through my hair, I stare at the clock on the wall. The one that’s been there since I can remember. Talking to Lucy about this is pointless.

  “I’m taking my meds,” she says, as if this is some kind of peace offering.

  I don’t respond. Lucy’s cat appears, and winds around my ankles as he always does when I arrive. I don’t like the creature; reminds me of how I almost fucked things up with Ness last year. Lucy bends and picks up Charlie, cuddling him to her chest.

  “I’m going for a walk; I need some air,” I say, grabbing my jacket from the back of the kitchen chair.

  “I’m going to see them again,” says Lucy. “I’m taking them Christmas presents.”

  “Christmas presents?” I stare at her open-mouthed. “This isn’t fucking happy families!”

  Lucy pulls out a catalogue, leafs through to the toy section, and burbles about what she might get them. I don’t pay attention to her, but listen to the alarm bells in my head instead. If Lucy won’t back off from Faye and her kids, I have to get Faye to back off from Lucy. Because I am rebuilding my life and I don’t have the energy to rebuild Lucy’s when everything comes crashing down.

  ***

  EVAN

  The next morning, I drive straight to Faye’s, telling Lucy I’m going home early. Halfway there, I realize I should’ve called first, but I’m not functioning at a hundred percent. Selfishly, I want this episode done with. I’m strong enough now to help Lucy through the inevitable upset when she finds out what I’ve done. I might not have the strength if this carries on and Lucy goes downhill.

  I park in my usual spot. Usual spot – the thought prickles. Then I call Faye. She’s surprised, and an edge enters her voice when I inform her I’m outside. The curtains of the house twitch as she looks to my car. As I climb out and head up the path, I conclude my brain has left me. What the fuck am I doing?

  What I also failed to consider was who would be in the house. The front door swings
open, and I come face to face with the boy. The child from Lucy’s bedroom wall, but with short hair. My stomach knots and the stupidity of my actions in coming here hits.

  “Who are you?” he demands, pulling a sour face.

  “Evan.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You can’t see my mum.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Cause my Dad’ll bash you.”

  Faye ushers him away from the door, and I stare after him. “Ignore Brandon.”

  Brandon. I have a half-brother called Brandon. No. Not real.

  Faye is makeup-free this time; her skin is pallid, and dark shadows sit beneath her eyes. She pulls the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands as she hovers.

  “What do you want?” she asks.

  She looks through the door to outside, and then closes it. Her hands shake and her breath smells of alcohol again. This isn’t the welcoming, want-to-get-to-know-you woman from last time. This is the real her.

  “Is he my half-brother?” I ask.

  “I have to go out. What do you want?”

  Brandon only has his vest and underwear on; I doubt they’re going anywhere.

  “I want you to leave Lucy alone.”

  Faye walks into the small lounge room. Clothes are piled on the chairs, the floor strewn with toys. In the corner, a TV blares a brightly colored kids TV show. Brandon positions himself on the floor in front.

  “She came looking for me! I didn’t ask her to.”

  I follow her. “So you don’t want her in your life?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. This is hard.” Faye picks up a packet of cigarettes from the table. Lighting one with trembling fingers, she inhales, and then turns back to me. “I wish she hadn’t, but I’m glad she did. But I know she shouldn’t get involved with us.”

  “That’s what I’m telling her. You need to tell her too. She won’t be able to cope if you hurt her again.”

  Faye’s eyes flick to mine, and I have to look away when I see the tears. How dare she cry about what she did to us?

  Faye looks to her other son. “Brandon, get dressed.”

  She rummages on the floor, finds a handbag, and stuffs the cigarette packet inside. “If Lucy calls again, I’ll tell her to leave us alone. Okay?”