Breakaway (19 page)

But what I’d like to do is pound my head on that table. Pound it until there’s nothing left of stupid, selfish, impulsive Jessica Maree McIntyre.

I listen while he tells me about his gradual awakening. His dawning realization that what he really wants from life is to be a youth pastor. He’s going to enroll at Bible college in Saskatoon next fall.

“So when you go to university we’ll at least be in the same city,” he explains. “You are planning to go to U of S, aren’t you? Your mom thinks you are.”

“There’s a good chance I will.”

“I’m not cut out for medical school,” Evan says. “It took me a long time to realize that.”

Oh no, it didn’t, my little voice says. It only took two months of Jessie Mac’s Road Show to convince you.

“Evan, this is pretty sudden.”

“I know,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you don’t have any other options for next year. If you decide you want to go to university someplace else, I can find a different ministerial program. The only thing that matters is that you and I will be together.”

He’s been under too much pressure, I tell myself. It isn’t just me. It’s all those science labs. The coach who doesn’t get him. His parents pinning all their hopes and dreams on him. His determination to get the best grades, so he can get scholarships to pay for medical school. I am part of it, but I’m not all of it.

Nice try, my little voice says.

He yawns, shakes his head, and beckons, urging me to sit in his lap. “Let’s talk about you for a while,” he says.

That’s definitely something I don’t want to do. Not yet.

“How about a cookie? They’re not homemade, but they’re pretty good.” I open a cupboard and remove a package with trembling hands. “What did your parents say when you told them?”

“I haven’t told them yet.” Evan’s brow gets wrinkly. “I drove straight to your place from Calgary.”

“When did you leave?” I put some cookies on a plate.

“Four this morning. I was supposed to be get on a plane for Victoria, but I ended up driving here, instead of meeting the team at the university. Isn’t that strange?”

I set the plate in front of him. “Evan, you need to talk to your parents.”

“I’d rather talk to you.” He pats his lap again. “Please come here.”

“No. You need to call your parents. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go put on some jeans.” I point to the phone on the computer desk. “I’ll be right back.”

I hurry upstairs, stumbling on the second last step because my legs are so weak. What am I going to
do?

What you should have done a long time ago, my voice says. They all tried to tell you, didn’t they?

In my room, I kick off my pajama pants and dig under the clutter for a pair of jeans. Mom folds my clean laundry and brings it to my room like a burnt offering, but she refuses to put it away.

“I’m not going to try to figure out what’s clean and what’s dirty,” she always says. “That’s up to you.”

Well, I know what’s dirty.

My soul is, and I am going to hell.

I kill time in the upstairs bathroom, washing my face, cleaning my teeth, freeing my hair from its pony, and brushing it out. Occasionally I lean into the hallway, listening for Evan’s voice on the phone, but I don’t hear a thing.

Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe he’s listening to his parents’ advice. Maybe it isn’t too late for him to put his life back together.

When I return to the kitchen, Evan’s still sitting at the table, dangling the phone by the antenna. The cookies are untouched.

“Did you call them?” I ask.

He nods. “I talked to my dad.”

“What did he say?”

“I’m going to meet him and Mom right away,” he says. “Dad doesn’t want to talk about this in front of Breanne, so we’re going to Houston’s. I’d like you to come along. Would you mind?”

“I can’t.”

“Maybe you could come later.”

“No.” I suck in a deep breath. “Evan, I’m not serious about you. Not like you are about me. I’m not even sure I like you
that
way.”

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. I wonder if he heard me.

“I never should have said I wanted to go out with you,” I say. “I was wrong. I
wanted
to like you more, but I...”

“Stop it,” he says. “Just stop it, okay?”

He’s staring out the kitchen window. It’s a sunny fall day. The leaves are clinging to the trees, but only for a little longer.

He bows his head and exhales. “I’ve been a fool.”

I want to tell him he isn’t. I’m the fool.

Shut up, my little voice says. Let him talk.

“All this time I thought you felt the same way. But you don’t. When you didn’t return my calls, I made excuses for you.”

“I’m sorry.” My eyes and my nose are running, and I’d reach for a tissue if I could.

His next words are so quiet I scarcely hear them. “I told you not to do it.”

“I know.” I sit down across from him and reach for his hand, but he pulls it under the table. “I’m so sorry, Evan.”

The phone jangles, startling both of us. He gives it to me.

It’s Mom.

“Oh good. You’re home.” She sounds like she’s out of breath. “Have you heard from Evan? His mom got a call from his coach. Evan never showed up at the airport this morning, and nobody knows where he is. His roommate says his car is gone but...”

“He’s here,” I tell her, as gently as I can. “He’s okay. He just talked to his dad.”

“Oh.” Mom sounds confused, and I don’t blame her.

“I have to hang up now, Mom.”

“Call me later,” she says.

I set the phone down. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I could make things better, but I can’t. I didn’t know you’d feel this strongly about me.”

“You had to know, Jessie,” he says. “How could you
not
know?”

“Okay, I knew, but I thought I could make myself feel the same way.”

I try to remember why I wanted to go out with him in the first place. Was it really because of a
song?

He stands, pushing the chair back and cracking the vertebrae in his long neck.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so far away, it would have been different,” I tell him.

“I’m here now,” he says wryly. “Is that making a difference?”

“Is it too late for you to go back?” I ask.

His face darkens.

Wrong question.

“Oh, that makes sense,” he says. “I have three midterms next week I’m not prepared for. Yesterday after practice I wrote an email to the athletic director telling him exactly what I think of my coach.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh yes I did.”

I decide not to push him. Maybe his parents can help him work something out. Maybe I could write
another
letter – to his coach. To the university.

You do that, my little voice says.

“Do you want a sandwich?” I ask.

“I’m not hungry,” he says. “I don’t feel like much of anything right now.”

The way he says it makes me wonder if he’s talking about himself.

“I have to go.” He moves out of the kitchen, heading for the front door.

My guts start churning again as I follow him outside. The wind is cool, and I wrap my arms around myself. He walks to his car and opens the driver’s door.

“Evan, I’m so sorry!” I call out, shivering.

He climbs in and drives away.

–

E
van’s dad drops by a few hours later to burn me in effigy. He alternatively sits, stands and paces, and I let him rant, too emotionally drained to say a word.

At the moment he’s pacing. “Do you have the slightest idea how much you’ve hurt him?” he demands.

There’s nothing of the mild-mannered pastor I know. Rev. Gedak’s an Old Testament prophet, raining down the wrath of the Almighty. And I deserve every minute of it.

“Yes.”

“How could you be so thoughtless? Did you enjoy leading him on for the past two months?”

I’d like to ask him if
he
feels at all responsible for Evan’s meltdown, but I know better than to provoke him.

I hear the muffled sound of the garage door opening.

“That’ll be my mom,” I say.

Rev. Gedak sits down and puts his head in his hands. “He worked so hard to get that scholarship,” he mutters. “It was all for nothing.”

“Maybe it isn’t too late for him to go back,” I suggest. “Could you call his coach or the university and see?”

“You’re missing the point,” Rev. Gedak says bitterly. “He doesn’t
want
to go back. Even now.”

Mom and Mrs. Gedak enter through the kitchen. Mom’s as white as a sheet. “How’s it going?” she asks.

“How do you think it’s going?” Rev. Gedak stands and begins pacing again. “Your daughter has ruined my son’s life!”

“Don’t you raise your voice in this house,” Mom says. “Has he been yelling at you, Jessie?”

“She deserves far worse!” he shouts.

I blink rapidly to hold back the tears.

Mrs. Gedak moves towards her husband. “Honey, you’re making the situation worse. And your blood pressure will be going through the roof. Let Diane handle it.”

“That’s the problem. She doesn’t handle it!” He jabs his finger at me from across the room. “She lets this girl run
wild!
You think I haven’t heard the stories about that
party?
This town isn’t big enough for you to hide in, Missy!”

Oh great.

Mom folds her arms. “I’m asking you to leave.”

“Let’s go home,” Mrs. Gedak pleads, tugging on her husband’s hand. “Evan needs you.”

The reverend’s shoulders drop, and the anger drains from his face. The resemblance between father and son kicks me right in the stomach.

Why can’t I feel about Evan the way he feels about me?

Felt about me.

He’s so good, and I’m going to hell.

As if reading my mind, Rev. Gedak says, “We should ask for God’s intervention.”

My phone starts playing Gary Glitter, and we all look at my purse.

“Maybe that’s Him now,” I say.

Rev. Gedak glares at me.

“Or maybe Evan.” I know damn well it isn’t because his number plays Creed, but I’m looking for any excuse to leave the room. I dig out my phone and check the screen.

Liam MacArthur.

Better than nothing.

“I have to take this,” I say, gliding out of the room.

“Jessie,” Mom says.

“I’ll just be a minute!” I sit down at the kitchen table, right where Evan sat a few hours ago. “Hey, Liam.”

“Hey, Jessie,” he says. “I was wondering what you’re up to this afternoon. Want to come out to my place?”

“I can’t,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Can I call you later?”

I wish I could let him do that. He’s so easy to talk to, and right now, I could use a friend.

So one day you can make him feel like shit too, my little voice says.

“Not tonight,” I tell him. “See you at school.” I discon
nect.

I sit there for as long as I dare, staring at my phone.

When I go back into the living room, no one has moved. It doesn’t even look like they’ve said anything. Rev. Gedak’s lips are moving in prayer.

Mrs. Gedak turns lifeless eyes on me. “Jessie, I just want you to know how disappointed I am. I never dreamed you were this shallow.”

Ouch.

She stands up. “We’ll be going now. I think it would be wise for you to avoid all contact with Evan. He’s very confused and hurt and fragile, thanks to you.”

After the Gedaks are gone, Mom wraps her arms around me. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I have a feeling he would have quit school even if you hadn’t been dating.”

She’s shorter than I am, so I rest my cheek on top of her head. “That’s the problem, Mom. I don’t think we ever
were.”

–
Chapter
Twenty-seven
–

“
L
et’s ta
lk turkey,”
Kathy says. “My dad made ours in one of those deep fryers in the backyard. Nearly set himself on fire. Good thing he was wearing insulated coveralls.”
“My mom forgot to take the bag out of the neck again,” says Crystal. “It was so gross, I wouldn’t eat the dressing.”

The girls keep yacking until I think I’ll go insane. The fate of our team hangs in the balance. Sue and Bud are meeting with our parents and the Estevan Minor Hockey executive right now.

The only player who says nothing is Whitney.

And that’s as it should be, I think. Her bad decisions and big mouth got us into this mess.