He frowns, his eyes getting all Bambi-like. A memory surfaces. Nate crying in my bed while he talked about his dad. He hardly ever talked about that loser. The deadbeat left when Nate was five. I didn’t even think he remembered him until that day.
I walk around him. I don’t wanna look at his sad, familiar-but-not-familiar face anymore.
“Evan.”
“What?” I turn around.
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks like he changed his mind about what he wanted to say. “If you ever wanna talk.…”
“Go back to your frat bros, Nate. You don’t belong here anymore.”
3
NATHAN
Iwish my mom hadn’t shown up to the funeral in a Chanel dress with a matching purse and stilettos with bright red soles. I wish I owned a less obviously expensive suit. But I hadn’t expected Evan to be so openly hostile.
I know I fucked up when we were kids. I know Evan took the blame, like he always did. But I’d also hoped enough time had passed for him to forgive me. I hoped he’d understand how much I wish I could go back and change what I did that night. Wish I’d done more to protect him, the way he always protected me. I wish I had been braver. But we were kids. So much time has passed. Wasn’t our friendship before all that shit important enough to forgive and forget? He ghosted me. It hurt, but I deserved it. I can get through it in light of—what I thought would be—a shared grief. Why can’t he?
When I go back into the house, Evan’s nowhere to be seen.
Where are his friends? The ones he hung out with atschool? I don’t see them anywhere, though I recognize some of the neighbors. Gloria from 28 corners me and asks about college. Old Tom asks me what my plans for the future are. Evan’s mom introduces me to Evan’s boss. For some reason, I’m surprised Evan has a job. Without realizing it, I guess I’d just automatically assumed he’d be in college, but I guess not. Evan was always the smart one. When we’d sit at that kitchen table right there, doing homework while his mom cooked us SpaghettiOs, I’d copy every word he wrote, until the teacher caught on and blamed Evan for cheating. He still helped me after that, though. Still let me see his answers any time we did one of those multiple choice quizzes.
Evan’s house is exactly the same as the house I grew up in before my mom married Bryce. The same tiny, rectangular-shaped kitchen with the table pushed up against the wall. The same narrow hallway and skinny staircase. Same square living room. Three bedrooms—one tiny box room—and a bathroom everyone shares.
I’m pouring myself a soda when Theresa comes and stands beside me. I think she’s looking at something out of the window, but when I really look at her, she’s just staring into space. She realizes I’m watching and snaps out of it.
“I’m glad you came, Nate,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture’s way too personal, and yet, it feels natural. “Look at you.”
I drop my gaze. I know she’s trying to compliment me, so why does it feel like an accusation?
“Your mom’s been telling me how well you’re doing at college. Your tennis team won a championship or something?”
Inside, I’m cringing, but I force a smile. Her husband just died, and she can retain information likethat. And I couldn’t even be bothered to come and see him regularly after I left for college?God I hate myself.
“Yeah, it was the ECACs last year, we beat Florida in the finals.” Why am I still talking? She was probably only being polite and doesn’t really give a shit. But she’s still smiling. Still paying attention.
Up close, I can see the freckles lining her nose. The grey strands in her dark hair. Evan looks like his dad, with his fairer hair and sharp, unusual features. But he got the freckles from her. She puts a gentle hand on my arm.
“Nate, do you think you could do something for me?”
“Sure.” I jump at the chance to make this right. Anything.
“Could you talk to Evan for me? Keep an eye on him?”
I open my mouth to tell her that Evan doesn’t seem to want me around, but she interrupts before I can say anything. “I know you’re busy at college, but if you could just check in every now and then. A text or a DM. Whatever you kids do these days.”
I cover my sigh with a fake smile. Evan made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in talking to me, but I’m not about to stress this woman out on the day of her husband’s funeral. “Sure, I’d be happy to.”
Her shoulders relax. “You’re a good kid, Nate. You were always a good influence on him.”
My cheeks flush, because that’s not true. Aside from the obvious, we got into trouble on the regular. Shoplifting, graffiti, fighting. But this isn’t the time or place to argue.
Mom finds me to tell me she’s leaving and asks if I’m coming home with her. I shake my head.
“No, I’m gonna stay for a while.”
“Why?” she asks, bristling.
