Chapter Twenty-eight
Evan
“O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.”
Othello
My heart beat in my ears as my body warred between fight or flight. It wasn’t even this person I wanted to run away from. It was this feeling, the way seeing Vicky transported me back in time to that version of myself who’d only begun to gain confidence, but she and her friend Meghan might as well have murdered that person.
“Oh, hey, Evan,” she said, a little too bright. “I heard you’re on the local news here. How cool.”
My fists balled up, and I considered all the things I’d wanted to say to her over the years, but right now, surrounded by people I barely knew anymore, I just wanted to run. Something cold brushed my skin, and I looked down at the bottle of Stella Elizabeth was slipping into my hand. The contact shocked me out of my stupor, and I breathed in, breathed out, trying to pull my head above water.
“Do you need a minute?” she asked. “Or do you want to leave?”
I should have felt embarrassed, crashing out over something so objectively stupid. Kyan was right. It had happened a decade ago, and the Vicky in front of me had as little connection to that version of herself as I did to mine. “It’s okay,” I lied. It would be anyway—eventually.
Vicky looked between us. “I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, right as I said, “No.”
“Okay.” Vicky stepped back. “I just wanted to congratulate you. You’re looking really good by the way. You were always way too hot for our backwoods high school. Honestly, I had a bit of a crush on you. I guess I can confess that”—she flashed her hand, waggling a fat diamond—“now that I’m not on the market.”
My words spilled out before I’d thought them through. “You had a funny way of showing it.”
Vicky’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“Why did you ask me out and then tell me I was a joke?”
Her head reared back. “What are you talking about? I never asked you out.”
“You did. You and Meghan both.”
I saw the moment her memory sparked. “Wait, are you talking about the time I invited you to a party? That was what? Tenth grade?”
This sounded so juvenile, but I couldn’t stop digging this hole. “When I showed up, you ridiculed me. I was humiliated.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, that one time, I meant to humiliate you.”
Not even an attempt at an apology. “Why?”
“You think Meghan and I didn’t talk?” She straightened, somehow stood taller. “You accepted two dates in one night, Evan. Did you think that was okay?”
“I—” Wait. Was I the bad guy? “No, I didn’t. I backed out of my date with Meghan.” I clutched the beer bottle so tight, I worried it might break. “That was the first time I’d ever been asked out by anyone, and I didn’t know how to navigate that situation. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Vicky frowned. “I figured that out later. And for what it’s worth, I regretted reacting that way. I always wanted to get to know you better, but you were notoriously closed off.”
Because of you, I wanted to shout, but we’d both made mistakes. And if I’d been the instigator? Shit. I made a mental note to bring this up in therapy. It was too much water under the bridge now, so I just choked out the words I’d wanted to hear her say. “I’m sorry about that. I wish high school had come with a manual.”
She laughed. “Nowthat’sthe Evan Spurlock I remember. Nerd to the core.”
What was even happening? While my brain tried to rearrange reality to fit the narrative she’d just laid out, I sought some memory of her that would show her in a different light, but I couldn’t find a single thing. I’d blocked her out. I’d blocked so many of these people out like a trauma response. I just sagged, exhausted, confused, no fight left in me. I needed to end this conversation. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”
Vicky wandered back into the living room, and I turned to Elizabeth, processing the new revelations. Now on top of the residual anger from that time in my life, I reeled with shame and remorse. “Add ‘jackass’ to my high school resume.”
She laughed. “We all were. Why do you think there are so many teen dramas?” Thank God she rolled with whatever came her way. “Are you okay?”
No. I was still shaken up, nauseated with grief for a what-if scenario I could never go back and change. What if I’d known Vicky had a crush on me? Would it have erased the sting of humiliation? Her rejection had been only one trauma among dozens, but that closure might have changed my attitude, given me a better perspective. Had I engineered my own prison through misconceptions?
