Her and Me and You (3 page)

Evie sunk to the floor and pulled me down with her. “Let’s sit,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Hey, Eves? Let’s go soon.”

“Just a little longer, okay?”

I nodded. I was sober and severely bored.

“Want some?” She rattled a box of Junior Mints under my nose.

“Thanks, no.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

She sleepily ate her candy. I closed my eyes and when I blinked back to life, Ben Ackerman was parked nearby. “Alex,” he said, running a hand through a thick matte of brown curls. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks much.”

Evie reached up, grinning, tugging Ben to the floor. “Kiss me,” she said, puckering up. He pulled Evie forward by her dress straps.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, standing, nauseated; hiding my eyes and heading off.

Back from the toilet, and Evie was gone. I did a quick sweep of the room, checked the kitchen, the keg line, the den—I even checked the mudroom off the foyer. Then, over the doggy gate and up the steps. There were three bedrooms. I picked one and pressed my ear to the door. Silence. So I asked a guy slumped on the floor in a fleece pullover if he’d seen Evie.

“Who?”

“Or Ben Ackerman?”

The guy pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

“Is he with a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“With, like, wavy hair to here?” I held my hand to my chin.

He nodded.

“Thanks,” I said, staring helplessly down the dark corridor. I could’ve knocked. Instead I plodded back downstairs, grabbed my coat and bag from behind a leather recliner in the den, and left the party.

At first, it felt great, breathing icy air, away from the crowds and music, even Evie. But seconds later, I just felt pissy and bad.

I skated to my car, sneakers sliding over slick, frozen pavement. Once inside, I waited. I ran the heat for a bit. Made a bed in the backseat. Read Evie’s copy of
Gatsby
that she’d left on my dash. Then finally, around three, I conked out.

When I awoke, the sky was gray-blue and Evie was pounding both hands on the hood of my car. She made kissy faces at me through the foggy window.

“Open up!” she screamed. “Hurry! I’m freezing.”

I leaned over and flipped the lock. Evie climbed into the backseat and linked her arm through mine. “Brrr,” she squealed, wriggling around. “Hi.”

No
, I thought.
No happy wriggles.
“I slept in the car,” I said.

She snuggled close. “You didn’t have to wait.”

“I can’t go home, Evie. My Dad thinks I’m at your place.”

“Well, thanks for waiting.” She grinned. “Let’s get egg sandwiches. Doesn’t that sound good?”

I took a beat. “What were you doing in there?”

Evie laughed, pulled back, and looked at me. “What do you
think
I was doing?” She hoisted her leg over the armrest—“Come on. I’ll drive”—and slid into the driver’s-side seat. “You gonna stay back there forever?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

“What, you’re pissed at me now? For real?” She turned the ignition.

I stayed in the back and buckled up.

“Fine. Stay there,” she said, accelerating.

I put my nose to the icy window and watched colonial after colonial speed by. “Did you forget about me?” I asked.

“Don’t be crazy.”

“I’m here one night, Eves. I slept in the car.”

“Since when are you so insanely uptight?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, what’s the big deal, Alex? We went to a party. I drank and hung out with my boyfriend. That’s what people at parties do.”

“So he’s your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my God.” She shifted the car into third, grinding my gears.

I winced. “Be careful, please.”

“Leave it to you to make me feel guilty for being happy.”

“Oh. Is that what I’m doing? I’m depriving you of your happiness?” I grabbed her headrest, pulling myself forward. “You
abandoned
me, Evie. I slept in my fucking
car
.”

“Alex, you don’t live here anymore.” She was shaking; putting extra emphasis on each word. “What do you expect me to do? Not talk to anyone? Not have a life?”

I felt stung. Sudden shame. What
did
I expect? Without me, she had no one. I let go of the headrest. “You’re right,” I said. I should’ve been happy she had Ben. Why wasn’t I happy? “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No, Al . . .”

“I knew you had plans with Ben. I’m like, the third wheel.”

She shook her head. “Alex.”

“No, I don’t mean for that to sound shitty; I just, I crashed your party. Sorry.”

“I wanted you here.”

I believed her. She wanted us both. Me and Ben. We were just the wrong fit. “I’m tired, Eves.” I collapsed sideways on the seat. “When we get back to your place, I’m going to grab my stuff and go.”

“Alex, come on. Stay. We’ll get breakfast.” She paused, then said, “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“No, it’s fine.” I shut my eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

We drove for a bit. Evie switched on the radio. Then:
“We’re passing Hugo’s. Should I stop, Al? Egg sandwiches?”

“Oh, I dunno.”

“You need to eat something.”

I wanted the night to be over. Still: “All right,” I mumbled, eyes shut. “Hugo’s,” I said, relenting. “They do a mean fried egg.”

“They do,” Evie said, perking up, parking. “Soft, but never runny.”

9.

I slept the day away, got up at four, and stumbled
downstairs. Mom was gone. I grabbed a bag of Fritos from the cabinet and put the kettle on for tea. I felt itchy and half-baked, crammed a handful of chips in my mouth, and picked an Earl Grey tea bag out of the tin next to the toaster. The kettle blew. I switched on the television, dumped scalding water in my cup, dug my cell out of my book bag, and dialed Fred.

“Hi,” I said. “It’s Alex.”

“Alex.” He sounded surprised.

“Listen, I—” I wasn’t sure what I meant to say. I thought about it for a second or two, then came up with this: “I want to hang out.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Now.” I was eager to wash away yesterday.

“Right now?”

“Do you have plans?”

“Well, no. I mean, yeah, I’d love to do something. It’ll just be me, though. Adina’s out.”

“That’s fine.” I racked my brain for an activity to suggest. Just us two. Milk shakes? Movie?

“How about the Audubon?” offered Fred. It was freezing out. Nearly dark. “Come on, you’ll love it. Nature stroll.”

I looked down at my nightgown. “I need to change.”

“Half hour?”

“Okay.” Then: “Wait, where?”

“Pemberwick and Holly. Off Route One?”

I parked, pulled the emergency break, and got out of the car. “Hi,” I said, waving. He wore a tweed coat (I’d seen it before, on Adina), a burgundy scarf, and a pair of beaten, black Converse. I wore my big, ugly parka.

“Nice coat.”

“Shut up.”

We both smiled. He twirled his keys around one finger. “You ready?”

I nodded.

“This way,” he said, tugging me past an iron gate, along a stone walkway that circled the perimeter of an educational center, and down an icy slope. We emptied out into proper Connecticut forest: skinny trees; soupy patches of old snow;
dead, matted grass. I grabbed the back of Fred’s coat, suddenly freaked. Darkness. Woods.

He laughed. “You scared?”

I let go of his coat, stiffening. “I’m not scared.”

“Adina and I used to come here a lot.”

Why was I alone in the woods with a boy I barely knew? Was this how stuff happened? Was this how Ben Ackerman and Evie happened?

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look a little peaked.”

“Do I?”

We walked on, ducking beneath low branches and sliding between bare brush. Crossing rocky streams and stone walls. “Are you cold?” he asked, grabbing my hands. “You are, you’re freezing.”

I pulled back. “My teeth are chattering. Listen.” I relaxed my mouth and let my teeth clank together.

“Shit, Katonah. Let’s go back.”

“No, it’s okay.” I hugged myself. “I’ll be all right.”

“You’re sure?”

This was my idea. I wanted friends. “Positive.” I kept walking. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“Something you know that I don’t.”

He was two steps ahead. “The mountain laurel.”

“What’s that?”

“State flower.”

I picked a branch off the ground and wedged it between my pointer and middle fingers like a cigarette.

“Hey, can I ask . . . ?” He grabbed on to a tree trunk, propelling himself forward.

“What?”

“You’re here because . . . Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you started mid-term.”

He wanted specifics. The juicy details. “I came with my Mom.”

“I know that part.”

I stepped onto a rock and hopped off. “My dad had an affair,” I said.

“Oh.” He picked a twig off the ground. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay.”
Dad. Affair
. “So that’s why I’m here. Mid-year.”

The path split. “Which way?” he asked.

“You don’t know?”

“I mean, it’s been a while.” He looked at me. “Right or left?”

“Left?”

We kept on. Fred pulled a flashlight and tobacco pack from his coat pocket. “Will you kill me if I smoke?”

“Seriously? On our nature walk?”

“
Is that a yes?”

“Don’t.” I ran two steps ahead. “It looks wrong on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

I faced him. “You’re way too sweet to smoke.”

“Too
sweet
?”

“Yeah, dude. You’ve got freckles! And such nice skin! The cigarettes—they don’t go.”

He shook his head and kept walking. “Too sweet . . .”

I grabbed on to the arm of his tweed coat. “You’re mad?”

“I mean, you just completely emasculated me, but no. Not exactly mad . . .”

I laughed. “Sorry.”

“No sweat.”

“No, seriously, stop walking.”

He stopped.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You want to smoke, go ahead.”

“No, I mean, you’re right. It’s a shitty habit.” He met my gaze and held it.

I looked away, feeling woozy and embarrassed. “Where are we, anyways?”

“I don’t really know.”

Lost. Frozen solid.

“Should we go back?”

We turned back. Fred’s hand brushed my hand and my head got hot. “How much farther?” I asked. Evie’s face was darting around my brain like a trapped black fly.

“
Fifteen minutes, maybe?”

“Can I get the flashlight?” I asked, suddenly keen for an activity or task.

“Here,” Fred said, pitching the light my way. “Knock yourself out.”

10.

Thursday night.

I was watching a movie in bed with Mom when my cell rang.

“Hello?”

“Can you talk?”

Evie
, I mouthed to my mother, standing up. “Yeah, I can talk.”

We hadn’t spoken since Sunday. Record breaking. We’d never gone that long before.

“Is stuff still weird?”

I tiptoed out the door, down the hall, to my room. “What stuff?”

“With us, I mean.”

“Oh.” I tensed up. “I don’t know. Is it?” I lay down, covering up with an afghan.

“I mean, no, right?”

“Right,” I said, my voice faltering. “We’re fine.”

“Good.” She exhaled. “Because I need to tell you something.”

I braced myself.

“It’s about Ben.”

Awesome.
“What about him?”

She let go a hysterical squeal. “He loves me.”

I felt an instant angry surge.

“Did you hear what I said?”

He loved her? How could he possibly love her? “Yeah.” I sat up. “He actually
said
that? I mean, you’ve barely been together a month.”

“I know, I know, right? But he said it and now . . . I dunno, it just
feels
right.” She was gleeful; her voice high and happy.

“But what does that mean? It ‘feels right’? You hardly know each other.”

“We know each other.”

“No, you don’t. He doesn’t
know
you.”

“Alex,” she snapped.

“What?” I pressed on. “Well did you say it back?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I meant it, Alex.” A beat and then, “Wow, I gotta go.”

“Wait,
why
?”

“I thought I could talk to you.”

“You can.”

“I
can’t
!” she shrieked. “Listen to you. ‘He doesn’t
know
you,’” she mimicked. “He
knows
me. He
loves
me.”

My chest tightened. “Okay. He loves you.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.”

But I was, instantly regretful and sorry. “No, I mean it. I’m sorry, Eves.”

“You said that last time. In the car. You said you were sorry and now it’s the same shit all over again.”

I clutched the afghan to my chest. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She took an exasperated breath. “Al, I gotta go.”

“But why? Don’t go yet.”

“I have to. Judith needs me downstairs.”

“But we’re okay, right? You’re not really mad, are you?”

“I gotta go, Al.” She hung up the phone.

11.

Nighttime. Bishop pool.

Adina was on her side, picking at the runs in her tights and singing the chorus to a song I’d never heard. Fred was to my left, and every now and then he’d throw a cookie or a cracker crumb at my face. He’d say, “Chin up, Katonah,” and I’d smile. I’d been like this for days. Missing Evie. Really blue.

“Eat one,” Adina instructed, thrusting a cookie tin under my nose. I took a cookie and ate half. “Good?” she asked.

“Really good.” They were gritty and sweet.

“Cornmeal,” she said, sitting back. “My favorite.”

“So have one,” said Fred. He’d grabbed the tin from Adina and was rattling it around.

“I ate a bunch earlier.”

“Sure you did.”

They glared at each other. Adina broke the moment by
doing a coy little dance—shaking her shoulders and hiding behind her hair.