Deliver Us from Evie (7 page)

“Father’s right,” Mrs. Kidder said. “It’s none of our business. Forget I said anything about it.”

“We’re having apple pie for dessert,” said Angel. “And
I
made the crust. It’s made of graham crackers.” Finally, Angel and I got off alone together. We took a long walk around Sunflower Park.

“How come I got invited today?” I asked her.

“Daddy wanted to meet this person ringing me up so much.”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“I know. I was glad.”

“Why is that?”

“If you tell me why you couldn’t help it, I’ll tell you why I was glad.”

“Because you’re like some new color I’ve never seen,” I said. It was a direct quote from an Evie Burrman “statement.” Sometimes she’d leave her notebook somewhere downstairs. I’d sneak fast looks. I almost thought she left it there wanting us to see it. It must have been hard for Evie to try and keep it all inside. I couldn’t have.

Angel drew in her breath and shook her head, and let her breath out again. I could see it wisping ahead of us in the cold air. “I’m not that good at putting things,” she said.

“I’m not either, Angel. I don’t know where that came from.”

“From the heart,” she almost whispered.

“Yeah,” I said softly.

It was nice.

It wasn’t like any other moment. We both knew something had happened to us because of each other.

I didn’t even care that that was all there was to it.

More was coming, and I knew it.

A
ND HERE’S SOME STRANGE
news
, Doug wrote,
that I forgot to mention when we talked at New Year’s. Bella has become a vegetarian. She and some other Tri Delts made up their minds never again to eat anything that had a face. They have their own table in the sorority house
,
and they call themselves The Vicious Veggies—vicious because they’re vegetarians with a vengeance. They won’t date anyone who eats meat
,
fowl
,
or fish
!
So guess what yours truly has to live on
?
Pasta
,
mostly. I’ve got pasta coming out of my ears
!

Dad and Evie and I were riding back from a used-farm-equipment sale where we’d gotten a rotary mower we’d been looking for.

It was a dirty thing the farmer hadn’t bothered to clean properly. Its big blades were crusted with dried grass and mud, but it would mow the big pastures over at Atlees’ just fine once it was oiled and waxed and put in the shed until spring.

We kept everything at our place shipshape. Dad was best at appearance upkeep, and I helped him, but it was Evie who tackled anything mechanical. She was good at any kind of repair.

Evie always drove us anywhere we were going.

She was loosening the red scarf around her neck and laughing at Doug’s letter, which Mom had told me to take with me and read to them.

“The way Doug loves red meat? This will test him!” she said.

“That girl’s making mincemeat out of him,” said Dad.

“Not mince
meat
,” I said. “She’s turning him into a vegetable.”

“What’s got into Doug?” Dad said. “Hell, in high school he’d love ’em and leave ’em. He never got led around by the nose by any gal.”

“He’s a goner, I guess,” I said.

“If Angel told you tomorrow you couldn’t eat anything with a face, would
you
listen?”

“She wouldn’t tell me that.”

“But what
if
?” he persisted.

“It depends. If it was for health reasons I
might.
You gave up real coffee for Mom.”

“That’s
right
!” Evie said. “And she doesn’t have to know you take a thermos into The Paradise and fill it up coupla times a week.”

“Coffee’s different,” said Dad. “Your mother’s the only person thinks coffee’s a killer.”

“But the point is,” I said, “you gave it up for her, same as Doug gave up fish and fowl and meat!”

“Your mother is my
wife.
I been married to her all these years. I wouldn’t have made such a promise when we were just dating.”

“Parr’s got you.” Evie laughed.

“What about you, Evie?” I asked.

“I already gave something up, but nobody’s noticed.”

“What’d you give up?”

“You tell me,” said Evie. “I gave something up just yesterday.”

“What?” I asked.

“What’d you give up, Evie?” Dad said.

“You don’t know?”

“
I
don’t know,” I said.

“You been with me all day, and you still don’t know?”

I thought about it for a second and then I hit my forehead with my palm. “Cigarettes!” I said. “You haven’t had a cigarette all day!”

Evie laughed.

“She’s got one behind her ear,” said Dad.

“That’s where it’ll stay, too,” said Evie.

“You
haven’t
been smoking!” said Dad. “I’ll be darned!”

“I gave it up at midnight last night.”

“How come?” I said.

“I just did.”

“Yeah, but on your own steam,” Dad said.

Evie didn’t say anything.

“That’s different,” Dad said.

I was thinking: Patsy Duff must have been back at private school about two weeks now.

“Nobody could get you to give up
anything
,” Dad said.

“Don’t be too sure,” Evie said.

I jumped in with “Congratulations, Evie.”

“Thanks, Parr.”

Dad didn’t let go of it. I think it was sheer stupidity that made him pursue it, just dumb stubbornness.

He said, “I’d like to know who on this earth could get
you
to stop smoking. Cord doesn’t have any guts that way.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Evie said.

“Whoever did it did you a favor,” I said.

“I know it,” said Evie.

“You read an article?” Dad again.

“No, I didn’t, Dad. It doesn’t matter
who.
I’m just taking Parr’s side of the argument. You give things up sometimes if there’s good reason.”

“There was good reason for three or four years and it didn’t stop you smoking,” said Dad.

“I guess now I found a better reason,” said Evie, but she didn’t say what it was.

Dad finally got silent.

I said, “Dad, I’ll flip you for who cleans the mower.”

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“Since when?”

“Since when what?” He sounded glum.

“Since when do you make it so easy for me?”

“Easy’s better than hard,” Dad said. “Why not make it easy if you can do it?”

“Oh!” I said. “A little philosophy on the way home.”

“Snap up the offer while you can, Parr,” said Evie.

We both chuckled but Dad was silent.

Evie said, “Have Angel over for some venison steak this weekend, Parr. We’ll do a big dinner. I’ll invite Cord, too.”

“Angel’d bring one of her mother’s pies, I bet,” I said.

Evie’d been going a lot of places with Cord since Christmas. Movies. Bowling. She was in a better mood than I could remember in a long time.

I kept thinking about that Jane Doe mailbox over in King’s Corners. I’d think about it, and then I’d knock it off because I didn’t like mysteries I believed I’d never have the solution to. I might have come right out and asked Evie a time we’d been alone together if she knew why Patsy Duff would rent a box there, but I didn’t want to get Mrs. Kidder in trouble.

“I like Angel,” said Evie. “She’s got Anna Banana beat by miles.”

“It’s easy to beat Anna Banana,” I said.

“You know what I mean, Parr. Angel’s great!”

“I just wish I could drive,” I said. “I hate having to hitch a ride there and back. It cramps my style.”

“It doesn’t seem to,” Evie said.

Dad still wasn’t joining the conversation.

He was sitting next to me, staring out the window, twiddling his thumbs. His hands were so rough we could hear the thumbs going.

We finally pulled into our drive and started down the road just as it was getting dark.

Long lanes of smoky gray clouds were traveling past the top of the sinking sun. Pete and Gracie were running to meet the truck, barking greetings. The snowdrifts were piled up on both sides of us.

Dad pushed the ashtray back and looked inside, as though he expected to see some old butts in there, even though Evie always emptied it before we took off to go anywhere. Maybe he wanted to believe she’d been kidding. I didn’t know what he was doing that for.

We were walking up toward the house when Dad suddenly reached over and gave a little tug on the red scarf Evie had around her neck.

“That new?” he asked. Then, before she answered, he added, “You didn’t get that around here.”

“No, it was given to me,” said Evie.

“I never saw you wear it.”

“She’s been wearing it every day,” I said.

“Since when?” he said.

Evie said, “Since Christmas.”

“Oh,” he said. “Uh-huh.”

That was all.

Then we went inside.

W
E ALWAYS MADE A
big fuss on Valentine’s Day, maybe because winter was so boring.

Dad always bought one of those big, red, heart-shaped chocolate boxes from the drugstore at King’s Corners, along with a huge, mushy “To My Wife” card.

Mom and Evie and I made our valentines, and Mom decorated the table, put on the pink cloth, blew up some balloons, made heart-shaped cupcakes with red-and-white frosting, and put out red candles.

We invited Angel to dinner. Evie offered to drive her over to our place and back, but Mr. Kidder said he’d come get her after—Evie shouldn’t have to do all the driving.

Evie kept insisting she wanted to do the driving, but Mr. Kidder wouldn’t hear of it.

The trouble started about an hour before it was time for Evie to leave for the drive to Floodtown.

I’d shown everyone the valentine I’d made for Angel, with the promise they wouldn’t read what I’d printed inside.

“Is it a love poem?” Dad asked.

“It’s not a poem. Never mind.”

“I wrote your mother poems,” he said.

“Those days are gone forever,” Mom said. “Now Hallmark writes them for you.”

Mom had finished setting the table, and called up to Evie that she was coming up to shower before dinner.

Evie yelled back, “Me first. I’ll be fast.”

We all had our valentines out on the table except for Evie, who hadn’t brought hers downstairs yet.

I’d gotten one from Toni Atlee in Florida saying she didn’t miss anything about Duffton, including me, signed “Love and kisses, T.”

Cord was off in Kansas City going to some lecture sponsored by Reed Joseph International, bird and predator control experts. We were trying to get rid of the pigeons and starlings on our land, because they caused hog disease.

Mom told Dad the timer was set for the casserole in the oven, and to pull it out when it dinged.

We went upstairs together. I wanted to show her the locket I’d picked out for Angel before I wrapped it. I hoped she’d offer to wrap it and she did, but we couldn’t find any scissors.

She went to Evie’s room to look for them and I heard her say, “What’s this?”

Then I heard Evie charge out of the bathroom and say, “Are you in my room?”

“I was looking for a scissors and I couldn’t help noticing—”

“Give me that!” Evie said.

“It was right out in the open on your bed, Evie! Who’s Jane Doe?”

“It’s a package I picked up for someone.”

“It’s open.”

“I know it’s open! Mom, here are the scissors. Just let me have some privacy.”

“But who’s Jane Doe, honey?”

“It’s me. Okay?”

“I
see
the return address,” said Mom. “Appleman School.”

“So now you know…. I’m forced to sneak around to spare your feelings.”

“I don’t want you sneaking around, Evie. Don’t do that for me.”

“Really? You want to hear about it?”

There was a pause and then Mom said, “Maybe not.”

“You bet not!” said Evie. “I didn’t think you did.”

“If you want to talk about it, I do.”

“All right, Mother. This is a Valentine’s gift from Patty. It’s an ID bracelet, and there’s also some k. d. lang tapes in the box.”

“Why is it addressed to Jane Doe?”

“I’ve got a P.O. box over at King’s Corners in that name. I didn’t want to chance getting mail at the Duffton post office, even under a false name.”

“So you two have been writing each other all along.”

“I mail my letters from King’s Corners, no return address, just in case her father’s got the school on the lookout for anything with my name on it mailed from here…. I’m eighteen years old and I have to sneak around.”

I could hear Mom sigh, and the bedsprings squeak as someone sat down.

“Evie,” Mom said, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not unfamiliar with lesbianism. Gays. Whatever you call it. Is that what you claim you are?”

“It’s not what I claim I am. It’s what I am.”

“You don’t know that for sure, honey.”

“I know it. For sure. I’ve always known it. I just never met anyone like me.”

“
She
did this to you.”

“She didn’t do anything to me, and I didn’t do anything to her. Did Angel do anything to Parr to make him fall in love at first sight?”

“That’s different.”

“Did Parr do anything to Angel? Didn’t it just happen?”

“I’m not going to get into an argument with you, Evie. I’m going to tell you what I think. If this is
true
, if you really are what you say you are, all the more reason for trying to fix yourself up a little. Be more presentable. Be a little more feminine.”

“Patty likes me the way I am. She likes me in pants, with my hair slicked back, in my bomber jacket—”

“Your
brother’s
bomber jacket.”

“Okay. She likes me in my brother’s bomber jacket, and she likes me taking long steps, sinking my hands in my pockets, and all the other stuff you say I shouldn’t do. The only thing she didn’t like was my smoking. The only reason she didn’t like my smoking was because it isn’t good for my health. So I gave it up!”

Mom was silent.

Then Evie said, “Some of us
look
it, Mom! I know you so-called normal people would like it better if we looked as much like all of you as possible, but some of us don’t, can’t, and never will! And some others of us go for the ones who don’t, can’t, and never will.”