Devastate Page 5

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just Evie letting me know she has to go into work for the afternoon shift so she won’t be home until later,” he explains.

  I can’t seem to shake it, but this is one of the moments that tells me there’s more to Elliot and Evie. It makes no sense for her to constantly check in with him, and for him to seem so disheartened every time he talks to her. He always seems so crushed after mentioning her, and I’m desperate to find out why.

  “Did you guys have plans?” I ask, trying to draw some sort of logical answer out of him.

  “No, we never have plans.” He looks at me with a stunned expression on his face, like he can’t believe the words slipped out of his mouth. My shoulders start to tense with the realization that no matter what I think I feel for Evie, if there’s a chance Elliot is hung up on her, I have to step down.

  “When are you going to put me out of my misery and tell me what’s going on between you two?” I keep my voice light hearted, even though my heart is thumping against my rib cage in anticipation of the truth. The closed space makes it harder for him to become distracted and avoid my line of questioning.

  “There’s nothing to tell. She’s my brother’s wife and after he died I felt like I should be taking care of her.”

  “Were you and your brother close?” We reach the ground level and the swarm of people waiting outside the doors interrupts our conversation. Once we push our way through, we head toward the big glass doors that open onto the street and make our way to the pizza shop.

  “Well?” I coax. He stops in the middle of the footpath, his body on the defensive.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “You’re a mess every time you speak to her, so I’m just trying to figure out why?” I’m not really lying to him, but it’s clear he’s not being honest either. We stare at each other. Toe to toe, almost like we’re sizing one another up. There’s only so many times I can ask him to tell me the truth about them. If there even is a “them”.

  He walks off first, and again I feel like we’re in this constant push and pull. I’m going to have to hand in my man card if this shit goes on any longer. Clearly women are onto something when they say men aren’t great at talking about their feelings. Right now I just want to eat my fucking pizza.

  Walking in silence, we get to the pizza shop and the line is spilling out the door. I pull out my phone to check the time and figure out we will have to eat the pizza while walking back, there’s no chance we will be in our offices on time with the amount of people here.

  “Damn, this line is huge, this pizza better be worth it,” he says.

  “Right. Either way, you looked like you could use the exercise.”

  “Fuck you,” he says with a laugh, and just like that, all is forgotten.

  * * *

  The rest of the day at work is long, by the time five o'clock hits I’m ready to down a few beers and spend the rest of the night watching ESPN Highlights. Like clockwork, Elliot and I find ourselves in the building foyer at the same time. I’m about to ask him if he wants to have drinks at our usual spot, when he beats me to it.

  “Want to go out for a drink?” he asks. “Maybe we can finish that talk.”

  “Sounds good to me.” If Elliot needs alcohol, it means he’s about to drop a bomb.

  Sitting on opposite barstools we settle in with our beer bottles in the middle of the table. I slowly start to peel at the label on the bottle, finding something to concentrate on while I wait for Elliot to start talking.

  “I never met my brother.”

  Narrowing my eyebrows together, the look on my face doesn’t hide my confusion at all. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, as you know I grew up with my mom in New Jersey. She was a single mother who busted her ass everyday of the week.” He lifts the beer to his mouth and takes a long pull before continuing. “She got me into the best schools and helped me pay for college. There’s nothing that woman wouldn’t do for me. Except talk about my dad.”

  “So, you didn’t even know who he was?” I ask.

  “Nah, nothing, and Mom refused to talk about him. When I got my first big job, I stashed some money aside and hired the best private investigator I knew. I was determined to find my deadbeat dad. I had questions to ask him.”

  The waiter comes by with another two fresh bottles of beer. We come here enough that the conversation exchange is limited to please and thank you.

  “Did the PI find your dad?” My interest is piqued. My brain selfishly scrambling, trying to work out how this story leads to Evie.

  “He found his death certificate. He died from liver failure. Which is expected when you find out your dad was a junkie.”

  He takes a huge breath of air like he’s refueling before delivering the final blow. “I thought it was all over once I found out he died, but the PI informed me that records showed I had a brother.”

  “Evie’s husband?”

  “Yep. But by the time I got all my ducks in a row and came out to see him; James was dead, and I was watching this woman I didn’t even know fall apart before me.”

  “How did he die? Was he sick?” I can see in Elliot’s body language this isn’t the part of the story he is comfortable talking about. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, while his mind puts together what appears to be the hardest thing he will ever have to say.

  “He committed suicide.”

  My shoulders feel the weight of his words as soon as they leave his mouth. I knew Evie had secrets, I knew she was in pain, but this is nothing like I imagined. She’s fragile, anyone with eyes can see that. She holds onto her hurt like a lifeline; uses it to guard herself against the possibility of anyone trying to get close. For the most part her efforts work, but there are cracks in her armor. There’s a little bit of light that sits dormant underneath the protective shield. Asking if she’s ok seems futile. It’s obvious she’s not, but for the sake of knowing more about their relationship I persist with the questioning.

  “So you just showed up on her doorstep and stayed?”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I felt like I owed it to my brother, you know? To make up for a lifetime of not having each other’s back.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and I’m surprised he continues talking. “Or maybe I felt like I owed it to Evie because he just left her like that?”

  “Do you know why?”

  He shakes his head furiously. “That’s what kills me the most, she never talks about him. Nothing about their life. The only thing she spoke of was his estranged relationship with his mom and our dad.”

  The more he talks, the more of an understanding I have about their situation. While I haven’t completely ruled out Elliot’s feelings for Evie, I’m a hundred percent sure their perception of one another is extremely different to their realities.

  “How long has it been since he died? Maybe you could talk to her again?”

  “It will be two years soon, and some days she looks as broken as when I found her.” His phone rings. “It’s Evie,” he says, looking between the name on the screen and me. Finally he answers her call, and I shamelessly listen.

  “Yeah, I know the place. It’s not far from where I am now,” he says. “Lior and I are just having after work drinks. No, I can find something at home, it’s not a problem. Okay, speak soon.” He hangs up and I don’t even bother worrying how my interest comes across.

  “Does she tell you every step she takes?” I ask, jealousy clouding my mind.

  “Evie and I had a routine. I just made sure she got from A to B. I’ve been protecting her the only way I know how. She wants space I give it. She doesn’t want me to talk or pry, I don’t. And then one day this attractive chick comes knocking on our door with the mother of all smart mouths and a cell phone for Evie.”

  “What do you mean a cell phone? She didn’t have one?”

  “No, she wanted space,” he reiterates. “So the irrational part of my brain turned myself into her shadow, walking he
r to and from work; making sure she was ok.”

  “So, what’s the story with the work friend?”

  “I don’t know, she just comes over almost everyday or they go out for dinner after work.” His voice drops and he rubs his hands down his face in frustration. “Was it silly to think that when she decided she wanted to change that she would come to me first?”

  I sit there speechless, unsure on how to help my friend out. I understand his annoyance, but as an outsider, I can also see why Evie makes the choices she does. Unknowingly she may have felt smothered. Or maybe she liked the idea of someone who wasn’t connected to her past.

  “So, what did she call for?”

  “Just letting me know her and Courtney are going to eat Chinese for dinner at Kam-Yings over by that bakery on Seventh.”

  My legs move before I even have the chance to explain to Elliot my thoughts. “Well, what are we waiting for let’s go eat Chinese food.” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I noticed how you mentioned that her friend was hot, maybe you can also get to know her friend?”

  “What, so we just intrude on their dinner?”

  “Yes. Exactly that.” I take my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out three ten dollar bills and place them on the table. Lifting the beer bottle, I chug the last bit remaining and leave the bottle on the bills. I look at Elliot slowly sipping his beer, and impatience gets the better of me. I’m so close to seeing Evie and he’s fucking stalling. “Dude, are we going or not? Hurry the fuck up.”

  We walk out and he elbows me in the stomach. “You sure you’re not the one who is eager to meet Courtney?” he asks with a chuckle. The answer comes out of my mouth with no filter, no warning, and stuns us both into silence.

  “No. I’m ready to see Evie.”

  8

  Lior

  If I could run to the restaurant, I would. Desperate much? Absofuckinglutley. Elliot and I can discuss the fallout of my confession later. I gave him so many openings to just come out and say it, and he didn’t. So, now like a Neanderthal, I’m staking my claim.

  The bell above the door rings as we walk inside, my eyes roaming around all the tables looking for Evie. Even with her back to me, I could pick her out of a crowd on any given day. I see her sitting opposite a woman who I suspect is Courtney. Blonde next to brunette, physically they are the complete opposite of one another. I finally manage a glance to Elliot and try to gauge where he and I stand. His face is a blank expression as we walk toward their table. Because her chair faces our direction, Courtney notices us first. I recognize her immediately from the last time I saw Evie at work. She pays me no mind, her attention immediately zeroing in on Elliot. Does he even notice the way she’s looking at him right now?

  She must kick Evie under the table to grab her attention. When she finally looks up at her, Courtney cocks her head to the side and her eyes widen. Evie picks up on the cues and looks around the restaurant. By the time her eyes settle on me, I’m only a few feet away from their table. Her cheeks are flushed with color, while her dusty red lips part in surprise. Lost in this moment, her eyes unknowingly invite the idea of possibilities.

  I reach the table certain that speaking will break the connection between us. But the sound of Elliot’s voice manages to achieve what I was trying to avoid.

  “Hey,” he says, directing his greeting at Evie only. It isn’t until she hears his voice, does she switch her attention and focus on him.

  “Hey, what are you guys doing here?” she asks.

  I look at Courtney who is still focused on Elliot, and realize this could be the little push he needs to venture out of his own head.

  “Well Elliot couldn’t stop talking about Courtney, so I figured what better way to meet her than crash your dinner plans.”

  All eyes are on me as I continue to play out this ridiculous story, I just need Elliot to go along.

  “Really?” Courtney asks.

  “It’s not everyday you meet a woman that captures your attention from the very beginning,” I explain. Courtney’s eyes flick between Evie and me, a little smile appearing on her lips as she picks up on the double entendre. I continue on with my elaborate explanation in lieu of Elliot and his silence.

  “Can we sit down? Have you guys ordered yet?”

  ‘“I’ll ask the waiter to bring us extra chairs,” Elliot chimes in. I glance at him and give him a knowing nod.

  “Sounds great.”

  With Elliot gone, I look back at Evie who has shock written all over her face. I extend my hand for her to shake. “Evie.”

  With no hesitation, she grabs my hand and returns the gesture. “Lior.”

  My name rolls off her tongue with comfort and familiarity. “You remembered?”

  “It’s not a name you forget.”

  “Oh look, Elliot’s coming back with the chairs,” Courtney says, cutting the conversation short.

  The rectangular shaped table has room for one person on each side. I reach for a chair and strategically place my chair next to Evie.

  We all sit in silence and look through our menus. Two minutes later a waiter appears and we all pass our orders on to him. Between the four of us, there will be enough food ordered to feed a small army.

  To an outsider, the four of us sitting here looks like we’re on a typical double date, but bubbling beneath the surface is a tremendous amount of tension and anxiety, blanketed with superficial conversation about vegetable versus duck spring rolls.

  “You don’t know if the duck is real. So it’s better to get vegetable spring rolls,” Courtney explains.

  “Who cares. If it tastes good, I’ll eat it,” I tell them. “Life is too short to worry about what I’m consuming.”

  “I usually just wait for someone to take the first bite and then if they say it’s ok I’ll eat some of theirs.” Courtney shrugs nonchalantly.

  “No way. I don’t share food, so someone else here is going to have to give up their food for you.”

  “Everyone shares food,” she deadpans.

  “I don’t even think I would share my food with the President.”

  “Well, not this one,” Elliot jokes.

  I notice Evie allows herself to hide between the three of us, using nods and head shakes as her preferred method of communication. It’s like she regresses in Elliot’s presence and I don’t like it. He isn’t someone I plan on avoiding; he’s my closest friend and her deceased husband’s brother. Whether they like it or not their lives will forever be entwined.

  Our food comes quickly and we all dig in. Courtney manages to cure the apprehension by telling us about a customer she had at work today who was color blind, and she had to work out what item of clothing they meant because the color they demanded had never been in stock. We continue to talk about many different topics. Each conversation a segue into the next; lighthearted and funny banter.

  “Do you guys want dessert?” Courtney asks. “The fried ice cream here is sensational.”

  “I don’t know if I can do fried ice cream, but I could do with some coffee.” I’ll drink or eat anything in order to spend extra time in Evie’s presence. Courtney tells the waiter our order and we begin to discuss the technicalities of frying ice cream.

  “I still don’t get how it doesn’t melt when they fry it,” Elliot says.

  “I love how it’s hot on the outside but still cold on the inside, it totally spins your senses out,” Courtney describes animatedly.

  Elliot laughs. “I’m gonna have to take your word for it until I try it myself.”

  “You won’t regret it,” she assures him. I look toward Evie, whose small smirk indicates she’s enjoying our night out. “Have you had it before?” I ask her. Every question I ask triggers a memory from before. I see her recall it and hide it away, before she answers, A little clue into her life before now.

  “Yes, but it was so long ago, I wouldn’t be able to tell you whether I liked it or not.”

  A vibration on the table halts the conversation. With f
our phones sitting on each corner of the table, we spend a few extra seconds working out whose phone it is before Elliot reaches for his, swipes the screen and puts it on his ear. His eyes catch Evie’s as he greets whoever is on the other line. “Yeah, she’s here with me.”

  Evie must know who he’s talking to, and it makes her mood dampen immediately.

  “We’re just out for dinner.” Silence. All our attention is on Elliot. “Thanks Jane, we’ll be there soon.”

  He hangs up and the silence becomes uncomfortable. Evie doesn’t break it with any questions. If anything, it seems she would rather the whole exchange never happened.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t tell your mom you got a cell? She’s at the apartment.”

  She doesn’t bother responding, but whatever her and Elliot exchange means they’re leaving. He stands up first, and she follows his lead. Placing her cell in her bag, she gets up, hangs the satchel off her shoulder and walks out, without a second glance.

  “See you later, guys,” Elliot says. He goes to pull out money from his wallet and I shake my head at him.

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Thanks.” He looks at Courtney, “See you another time.”

  Just as they leave, the waiter brings out the fried ice cream. The sound of the porcelain hitting the wood breaks the silence.

  “I guess that’s more for me then,” Courtney says, trying to lighten up the mood. She pulls the plate closer to her and starts breaking apart the casing on the ice cream.

  I grab a spoon and slide the other serving of dessert toward me. “Mind if I eat this one?”

  “If you have to,” she says with a challenging smile. “But you better like it, because if you waste it there will be hell to pay.”

  “Noted.” I stick my spoon inside and scoop out the ice cream, taking a portion of the outer layer with it. When the two different textures hit my tongue, I know exactly why Courtney loves this dessert so much. The flavors and different temperatures complementing one another perfectly.

  “This is really good.”