Devastate Page 4

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can pick you up wherever you eat at, you don’t have to walk home alone,” he insists.

  “It’s fine. I’ll see you at home.”

  “Ok. Talk later.”

  “Bye,” I say. Slamming the phone down on the receiver a little harder than necessary, I find myself irritated at Elliot’s reaction. I know he’s worried and this is out of the ordinary, but I never resigned adult status and became a child that needs to check in. Did I?

  “Is everything all right?” Courtney asks, forcing me to shelve my annoyance.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to start cleaning so we can get out of here at a good time.”

  “No worries, I’ll begin the till count as soon as I can.”

  * * *

  I take a look at my surroundings and catalogue how odd it feels to be in a Mexican restaurant on a weekday after work. I watch Courtney comfortably and subtly signal the waiter over. She promised me a complete Mexican experience since I was unsure on what to eat. I pour us both a glass of water and wait for the inquisition, interested to see where the conversation takes us. With the flutter of apprehension sitting in the pit of my stomach, making the conscious choice to hold a conversation doesn’t make the reality of the content any easier to talk about.

  After Courtney finishes ordering our food, she turns to me and smiles, and because I don’t know the reason she’s smiling, the whole ordeal just feels like an out of body experience.

  “I’m not stupid enough to know there’s stuff you don’t want to talk about,” she admits.

  “So let’s have a Fifty Shades lipstick outline moment and set some rules.”

  I’m sure a blank expression sits on my face because the way she’s staring at me indicates I should’ve picked up on the Fifty Shades reference. Her hand slams the table. “Again Evie? No cell and no Christian Grey?”

  “Sorry?” I say. Unsure of the response that would make Courtney feel a little less disheartened by my shortcomings.

  “Not now you’re not, but you will be when I drag your ass to see that fine specimen on the big screen.”

  My mind is swirling and on overdrive, filled with all the things I didn’t realize I was missing out on. My apartment is my bubble, and Elliot’s way of life has never forced me to step out of it. He almost lives as much of an archaic existence as I do, convincing me that the world is as lonely, quiet and slow as I am.

  Fingertips begin tapping on the table, I look up and realize Courtney is patiently but not quietly waiting for me to get my head out of the clouds and be here at dinner. With her. I do my best to appear interested, I have no idea what I look like, but my face feels all sorts of awkward and out of place. It’s like exercising for the first time, coercing your muscles into stretching outside their normal realms of movement, and feeling the exertion after. Clearing my throat, I tell her my rules.

  “You can ask any question, and I’ll more than likely only give yes-no answers.” I inhale loudly, bite the bullet and offer up my only stipulation. “Don’t ask me any questions about kids.” Her eyes widen at the tone of my voice and the certainty on my face. Even I’ve surprised myself, but after my encounters with Lior and yesterday’s visit to the cemetery my emotions are at an all-time low.

  “Got it,” she says. “I’ll ask questions and if at any time you want to ask me one, just cut me off.”

  Our food arrives just as I gesture a double thumbs up to Courtney. The smell of beans and beef floating around us has my mouth watering. I can’t even remember the last time I ate to enjoy it, versus eating just as a necessity. The waiter puts down a few dishes and Courtney wastes no time putting things on a plate for me.

  “I don’t usually enjoy sharing my food, but I’ll make an exception this time. I got a few appetizers to get you excited for the main meal.”

  “This looks great,” I say, grabbing my fork.

  “No fork, use your hands,” she instructs.

  I watch her get right into her food, getting lost in the taste and a slight chuckle escapes me.

  “I feel like I’ve just stepped into a 101 on life skills,” I tell her. She takes her time swallowing her food and then deadpans. “Well, you better take notes, Evie, because you’re not allowed to fail.” We both stare at each other, well aware that the serious tone from earlier has resurfaced. I’m not sure why she’s so invested, but this definitely feels like a significant moment between us. It will be another time in my life where someone asks what were you doing and how did you feel, and I’ll be able to recall every. Single. Detail. Because today is different. Right now I might be hurt and heavy, but for the very first time, I’m tired of feeling this way.

  6

  Evie

  “Courtney. I’m paying.”

  “How many times tonight am I going to tell you it’s Court. Friends call me Court.”

  “Friends, also pay for other friend’s meals,” I insist.

  “Okay, whatever. Pay for the meal, but be careful because a girl can get used to this kind of thing.”

  I slip the cash into the check holder and leave it in the middle of the table. Sliding my chair along the wooden floor, I give myself room to stand up without knocking myself into anything. Grabbing my coat off the back of my chair, I slip my arms through each sleeve and wait for Court to lead the way out.

  “You want to share a cab?” she asks as we step outside onto the sidewalk.

  “Isn’t it out of your way?”

  Leaning on her right leg, she places her hands on her waist and cocks her hips to the side. “Let’s get things straight. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. If I make an offer of some sort, I want to do it. So let me ask again, you want to share a cab?”

  “Has anyone told you that you’re occasionally bossy?”

  “Many times. Holler if you see a cab will you, my feet are killing me in these shoes.”

  In a short space of time, I’ve become accustomed to the way Courtney‘s focus changes with every word that leaves her mouth. While with her I can’t fall into the easy habit of giving one worded answers and being dismissive, but her welcomed blase attitude means the conversation was kept light and trivial, and not at all centered on all the baggage I often walk around with.

  I see a cab turn the corner and walk toward the curb with my hand in the air, signaling for it to stop. The driver puts his indicator on and pulls over to the side of the road, right where I stand. The glass window begins to slide down and I lower my head to be able to tell him where we need to go.

  “Hey, we’re looking to make two stops. First one--”

  “Your place first, Evie,” Court says from behind, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Can you please take us to the corner of Getty and Lindt, and then my friend will let you know of the next stop,” I ask him.

  His gaze is trained forward, but he still manages to give an answering nod. Courtney takes it as an invitation to open the back door and slide on in. I jump in after her and the driver begins to make his way to our destination. I lean my head on the glass window, the motion of the car combined with the silence, relaxing me.

  “Tell me about this guy you live with,” Courtney asks. Sometimes I think she’s allergic to silence, and even though I’m filled with mostly positive emotions about today and her, I’ve hit a wall. Dinner might’ve been light-hearted banter about Courtney’s teenage years, but I’ve pushed myself, and I’m itching to return to my apartment and have some alone time.

  “Come on, tell me,” she persists.

  “I live with Elliot. He’s my husband’s brother.” I look out the window to see how close we are to my apartment, hoping that I can somehow avoid the million questions she’s just about to ask.

  “You have a husband?”

  I refuse to turn around and look at her. If I have to talk about this I’m doing it my way. “Had a husband,” I correct her.

  “Divorced?” she asks, her voice a little louder than a whisper.

  “Dead.”

 
I’ve stunned her into silence and I think the conversation is over when she unexpectedly grabs my hand and squeezes it.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Evie,”

  “Me too,” I whisper.

  * * *

  Standing in front of my beloved Keurig, I wait for the coffee to finish brewing. I hear Elliot’s bedroom door creak open and his feet shuffle across the hardwood floors.

  “Coffee?” I call out across the room.

  “Please,” he responds before I hear him close the bathroom door.

  Grabbing two coffee mugs off the wooden stand, I place the first one in the allocated alcove on the machine and wait for it to stop churning. A loud knocking sound has me looking around the kitchen for the culprit, but a second and even louder knock indicates it’s coming from the door. A puzzled looking Elliot walks out of the bathroom and toward the door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Is that a trick question,” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

  He opens the door, and a gorgeous looking Courtney is standing in our doorway dressed to kill. Holding shopping bags in one hand and a small, delicately wrapped box in the other, Elliot looks at her and then back at me. “I’m guessing it’s for you.” He leans forward, and takes the box out of her hand. “Here let me help you,” he offers. “I’m Elliot.” Sticking her free hand out in front of her, she introduces herself. “Hi Elliot, I’m Courtney. Evie’s friend from work.” Elliot is quick to shake her hand, even though his face is full of surprise.

  After dropping the bombshell on Courtney last night, I went to bed feeling weak and drained. She was silent for the rest of the drive, and any progress we’d made was now overshadowed by my long list of secrets. I was sure she would shy away, put it in the too hard basket. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but I’ve never willingly spoken about James and Bella before. And when she offered her condolences, it was the first time I’ve ever felt the urge to shield someone else from the pain of what had happened. As she stands there next to Elliot, genuine smile in tow, I realize she’s not letting me or my baggage off the hook anytime soon.

  “Come in, you’re just in time.” I grab another mug and lift it up to her. “Coffee?”

  She walks further into the apartment with her haul and comfortably places the bags on the dining table, before sitting down in the middle of the couch. She fits right in.

  “Do you have any green tea?” she asks. I answer her question with silence.

  “Coffee it is then,” she says with a defeated exhale. Something I’ve noticed she does when she is stunned by the things that come out of my mouth. Actually, more so the things that don’t.

  “I’m just going to grab this and go work on some stuff in my room,” Elliot says.

  “You don’t have to go,” I insist. “Sit with Court and I.” I can see Elliot's thought process play across his face, shock the most obvious. I make my way toward the couch leaving him to make the decision on his own. Having someone else in the apartment besides my mother and sister is something new for the both of us, and I can feel Elliot’s eyes on my back, wondering what changed and when. The three of us sit scattered on the different couches clutching our coffee cups, and as expected Court is the first one to break the silence. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

  “Why, when I’m sure you’ll eventually tell me.”

  “Fine. Be that way. I came bearing gifts, do you want to see?”

  “Gifts for me?”

  “Unless Elliot also doesn’t own a cell phone, you’re the only one receiving gifts today.”

  “You got her a cell phone?” Elliot interrupts. Court turns her body to him, and I know her sassy attitude is coming out to play.

  “Well, how else do you expect me to contact my friend?”

  He turns to look at me, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “Since when do you want a cell phone?”

  I look over at Court with widened eyes and try to direct the conversation back to her. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” I feel like a teenager, stuck between pleasing her parents. Elliot has every right to sound so perplexed, one of our only arguments revolved around me getting a cell phone. I still don’t feel like I need one, but I’m not going to be rude to Court either.

  “That’s cool,” Elliot says. “Just give me the number when you set it all up. I’ve got to get ready to meet a friend.” He tries to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, but it’s obvious he’s hurt.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”

  His bedroom door slams a little harder than normal, and the tension stretches between Court and I.

  “Does it help that it isn’t actually a brand new cell?” Her attempt at light humor makes me grateful she’s got thick skin and hasn’t run away screaming.

  “Is he going to be okay?” she asks, concern evident in her voice. “I didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.”

  “I didn’t know there were toes to be stepped on.”

  “You really are in your own world, aren’t you?

  “At the risk of sounding selfish, yeah I am.”

  “Elliot’s in love with you.”

  “What?” I whip my head from side to side making sure he’s nowhere in sight. “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Whatever. I’m still working you out anyway. I can work on him another time.”

  I lean over the coffee table and grab hold of the small box. “You know gifts aren’t necessary.”

  “It’s nothing, I had a spare cell lying around the house. I cleaned it up and restored the settings, maybe we can go to the store and find a sim card?”

  “You’re not going to take no for an answer are you?”

  “Well it’s either that or we sit here and talk about all the things you don’t want to talk about.”

  “You don’t fight fair.”

  She shrugs innocently, knowing full well she is anything but. “Okay, give me a few minutes to get ready. I’ll be out soon.”

  I walk myself and my thoughts into my bedroom, I want to ignore what Court said about Elliot, but it’s there; lingering at the back of my mind. I know what we have is unconventional, but the possibility of what she said is impossible. He’s just upset. The topic of a cell phone was an issue when we discussed it the first time and it’s an issue now. Things with Elliot are uncomplicated, that’s why it’s always been so easy to be around him. I might be open to the possibility of change, but none of that means I’m ready to unpack the last eighteen months with Elliot.

  I search through a pile of clean clothes and find my black skinny jeans and a chunky V necked grey knit that falls mid-thigh. Running my fingers through my knotty hair, I untangle it as best I can and throw it into a messy bun on the top of my head. I quickly find a pen and paper and scribble a note to Elliot, telling him I’ll be back later. It’s the first time I’ve automatically thought a text message would be easier. Maybe getting a cell isn’t the worst idea.

  Grabbing my black leather satchel, I swing my door open to find Elliot and Courtney standing close together, and whispering at one another in deep conversation. I can’t hear what they’re saying but there’s no denying they’re both trying to assert their authority. After a day with Court, it’s easy to see she doesn’t let anyone walk all over her, and if she’s got something to say there’s absolutely no holding her back. Elliot, on the other hand, has never been anything but polite and accommodating. The last few days have brought about a different side to him, neither good nor bad; just different. I’m beginning to wonder if my decision to change has subconsciously changed the way our relationship works. Either way, there’s no denying times are changing. For all of us.

  7

  Lior

  It’s been a week since I left Evie and walked out of the store. Seven nights where her eyes are the last thing I think about before I lay my head down to sleep. The trepidation, the fear, but above all the curiosity. It’s there, I saw it. I felt it, and deep inside I know it’s my ticket
to breaking down her walls. I’m well aware that this seems obsessive and borderline crazy, but I can’t shake it; no matter how hard I try. My mom always told me to go with my gut. She said my body will tell me the truth before my mind will; so I’m running with it. Different scenarios consume my mind, ways to “accidentally” bump into her, but all my ideas seem juvenile. I just need to man up and ask Elliot, maybe the three of us can all go out for a drink sometime. Surely having him there will ease the tension for her, being in the presence of someone familiar usually helps. There’s no point trying to pretend to work, I look at the time and decide I’ll go see if Elliot is down for an early lunch.

  I walk to his office and barge in, as usual.

  “Hey, you want to head down to that new pizza place for lunch? I’m starving and could do with a few slices.”

  His head pops out to the side, no longer covered by his computer screen. “Firstly, when are you not starving? And thanks for knocking.”

  “Why do I need to knock? You’re doing the same shit on your computer you do everyday.”

  “I could’ve been on the phone?”

  “Stop trying to sound more important than you are, and let’s go and eat.”

  “Dick,” he mutters under his breath.

  I can’t help but laugh at his last comment, this is us everyday. He fiddles around on the computer for a little bit longer, before rising from his chair. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  As we stand outside the elevator waiting for it to reach our floor, Elliot’s phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket, I can’t help but peek at the name flashing across the screen. It’s Evie.

  He walks away while talking to her, and I use all my willpower to stand in the one spot and not eavesdrop on their conversation. He ends the conversation, pulling his phone away from his ear and staring at the screen in deep thought. The ping of the elevator seems to shift both our focus back to the present. There’s no way I can hold off asking him about Evie now.