“I worked a late shift last night.” He yawns, raising his arms above his head. Something gnaws in the pit of my stomach at the sight of fair hair in his pits. A faint hint of the way he’d smell whenever we curled up and fell asleep together.
“No classes today, Nate?” Theresa asks, obviously trying to get the conversation going.
“No, I had a paper due in today, but I finished it last night.”
She nods before taking a sip of her coffee. “What was your paper on?”
“The benefits of humane capitalism … ” My neck burns. I canfeelEvan judging me from across the table.
Silence falls over the room and I wrack my brain for something to say.
“Where’s Stacie?”
Theresa answers. “She’s at hockey practice.”
“Ice hockey?”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “She’s a little bruiser, than one.”
“You shouldn’t let her play, she’s gonna get hurt,” Evan says.
Theresa rolls her eyes. “Mr. Protective over here.”
She takes a few more sips of her coffee and checks her little leather wristwatch.
“Is that the time? I’d better go.”
After dumping her coffee cup in the sink, she bends to kiss Evan on the cheek. “See you later, don’t make the house a mess.”
After the front door bangs closed, Evanand I look at each other. I offer an awkward smile and he looks down into his mug.
“I’ve got some shit to do today,” he says.
“Oh, okay. I can tag along if you want some company.”
There’s a split second where his eyes get wide, but he recovers quickly and I know he’s hiding something.
“It’s work stuff. You can’t.”
“Oh, okay.”
Didn’t he just say he did a late shift last night?And Theresa didn’t mention anything about him going back into work already. But I’m getting dangerously close to ‘mind your own business’ territory, so I don’t ask.
“Will you be busy later? Maybe we could do something when you’re finished with your work stuff?”
He looks intensely into his coffee cup and for a second, I think he isn’t going to answer.
“Listen, Nate, you don’t have to-”
“I know I don’t,” I cut him off. “Can you just humor me? Please?”
He shrugs. I take that as the closest thing to a yes I’ll get for now.
I write my number down on a legal pad by the phone where his mom or someone has doodled all over it with names and numbers. There’s medical-looking stuff on there too, probably about Evan’s dad.
I wonder if he’s grieved properly yet. If he’d lose his shit if he saw the notes on this pad, or if he’s not in that place. I have no idea how to grieve for someone that close to you, I’ve never even lost a grandparent and I barely remember my dad. As far as I know, he isn’t dead. I think I’ve been grieving for Joe, but it feels wrong, like I’m not allowed to.
I leave Evan to do whatever he has to do. He was probably just trying to get rid of me. I think about leaving himalone. Giving up. I promised his mom I’d try and I tried. If he doesn’t want me around, I can’t force myself on him. But then I pass that rusty hoop in the front yard and Stacie’s hopscotch board and I get a dragging feeling in my chest that is more than just nostalgia. Making me feel like that kid again. The one who worshipped the ground Evan walked on. Who looked at him like he was the fucking sun. Because he was. And because I owe him this much at least.
