His lip curled and then he shoved himself off of me. “Let’s go, Evie.”
I collapsed onto the floor, trying to regulate my breathing, my heart.
“If I come back and your electronics have been destroyed, I’ll do to you what you did to them.”
He didn’t wait for a response before he opened the door, his steps fading down the hall.
Silence fell across the world in a way I didn’t quite understand when he left, only to be filled half a second later by the quiet footfalls of Evelyn.
“Inhale, baby girl,” I heard her say as I stared at the ceiling. “The stars haven’t collapsed yet.” Her heels clicked across the floor before pausing a moment later. “My sister came up with that one. She’s a publisher. Take care of those cuts, they’ll heal in no time,” she added just before the door shut.
I released a shuddering breath, the tears filling my eyes so full, they managed to slip through as that deafening silence filled the world.
He had called her Evie. A sentiment. He had a heart in there and I…Ihatedthat I knew that now because it changed everything.
18
Olivia
May 30th, 2022
Ididn’t want to do this, but I had no choice.
The dinner was finally back on, confirmed by the check mom had sent me that I was supposed to give to Mr. Kingsmen, surely far less than the loan was actually worth, so I had to go.
I didn’t want to die because of her. I had too much anger in me to just give up now, so here I was, dressing in my dark blue dress and my black heels, my hair pulled up into a low bun, and a shit ton of makeup on, and I was heading out to meet the banker who stupidly agreed to give my mother a loan.
I patted Lucy goodbye and headed to dinner. Same restaurant, same table, same seat.
Mr. Kingsmen pulled my chair out and allowed me to sit, our greeting short and simple, not many words exchanged before the wine was poured.
I had a long last few weeks. I didn’t have it in me to have a good conversation right now. I was just too tired.
“I know when a woman has had their fair share of bad in too short a time,” Mr. Kingsmen, Malachi, began.
My eyes lifted from my wine glass to meet his. He looked genuine. His eyes old and sad.
“I’m nothing more than a stranger to you, but a conversation between strangers can do some good in times such as these.” My wounds were barely healed enough to have this dinner, and while a simple pair of black lace gloves took care of my hands, I was sure I would have to do an extensive care routine on my face just to make sure the wound was cleaned out sufficiently enough when this night was over.
But despite the makeup, there was still faint lines that could be seen behind the cake, and I absolutely hated it.
I didn’t feel my best. I didn’t look my best. I was, by all means, just poor company this evening, and the guilt of that wasn’t helping at all.
I searched his eyes before mine fell back to my wine. I twisted my glass a little and finally folded my hands across my lap, both still sore, but healing. “My apologies,” I told him, finding his eyes. “I’m not much company tonight.”
He offered a pained smile. “Unfortunately for us, bad days don’t keep a considerate schedule. Would you like advice, an ear, or to talk about something far less complicated than that? The universe, perhaps?”
I managed the barest of smiles, but it was there and gone before the pain of it reached my mind. “The universe isn’t less complicated than matters of the heart.”
“On the contrary,” he said with a warmer smile. “The universe can be explained easily in poems and written words. My son and his fiancé know a little about that. But matters of the heart? Especially those days that make the rain seem a little more complicated, those are much harder to put into words. Emotions are far bigger than the stars. Don’t do them an injustice by claiming they are something far less than that.”
I searched his eyes, feeling the tears burn the back of mythroat. “You’d be a fantastic writer.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no. No, I’ll leave the masterpieces to my children.”
I watched him for a long time before shrugging, my eyes filling. I swallowed back the tears, glancing to the window until I could get them under control. I watched as a black van drove by, tracking it until it disappeared. “My…my boyfriend died,” I finally told him, turning back to my wine. “And, um…” I cleared the thickness from my throat, embarrassed by how I was reacting. “And I should have left him years ago, but I still feel…I still feel as if I failed somehow.”
“Failed in what way?”
