Ink & Interruptions

            Kyle. Kyle was here. Standing in front of me. Staring down at me like he hadn’t been missing for months. I knew it was me that I was seeing reflected back in his eyes, but the shape didn’t feel like me. The me staring back was who I had always been. Kyle’s.

            “Hello?” The voice was faint, far away. “Earth to Evie.”

            I tried to ground myself, to pull my eyes from his and remember where I was, who I was, but I was fixed to this moment.

            “I think you broke her.” The voice, Jenna, I think. Everything felt too loud—the conversations drifting in from other tables, the clinking of glass as the bartender returned bottles to the shelf, the door opening and shutting, the sound of traffic slipping through each time. The noise was overwhelming causing my mind to stutter as my vision narrowed—black seeping in around the edges.

            I heard another voice, but I struggled to make it out as a wave of noise crested over me again. The pressure of it engulfing me, causing my chest to tighten until my heart was ready to cave in on itself. Why is he here? I could feel my own silence, the absence of my voice wrapped around my body. I knew I was supposed to be talking—engaged in whatever words were being passed around the table, but instead I was fighting back my throbbing pulse, each beat pushing into my skin threatening to burst through. Kyle was here. My mind was slowly detaching from the reality I had built, and I was left floating between who I was and now. Another wave of noise.

            “It’s been a minute.” Kyle? Henry? The squeak of metal against tile as the fourth chair was pulled back.

            “Sure has. How’ve you been?” I felt myself move back towards the table, but the voices were still blurred. Snap out of it.

            “No way. You know each other too?” Jenna, definitely Jenna. “What a small world!” More like a small town. I felt myself blink. Nod. Engage.

            “Well, when you’ve lived here your whole life, you’re bound to know each other.” Those were my thoughts, but the voice was Kyle’s. The knowledge that he was still speaking for me felt wrong, like an anchor dropped on land—the impact kicking up past dirt and leaving it to resettle at the bottom of my gut.

            Jenna giggled. “I mean when you put it that way.”

            My eyes finally focused, and I found myself staring at Henry. When had I shifted away from Kyle? How long had I been staring? Heat began to rise in my cheeks, embarrassment taking root; however, when Kyle spoke again, the heat shifted—redirected to a more pressing issue.

            “Why are you here?” I felt my mouth move, but the voice did not sound like mine. Harsh even though each word ran into the next. It had been eight months since his “No” shattered the future I had been preparing for. Eight months and nothing. No letter filled with the thoughts that had lingered in our apartment for months after Aunt Julia’s death. No phone call full of whispered words. Not even a text “goodbye.” My skin grew hotter. My sudden anger surprised me. Part of me never blamed him—our engagement had never been ours—but not a single word since he left me with my mom as she collected every shattered piece of us—storing them because she was sure he would come back.

            He didn’t.

            He’d left, and I’d stayed. My jaw tightened as I remembered those first few months. Me at my parents. Kyle nowhere to be found—well at least not by my mom. Every day more of the same. Mom knowing he would come back, and me knowing he wouldn’t.

            “Evie, he loves you.” She reached across the sofa and patted my hand. “Trust me. He can’t leave you.”

            “Mom, he’s not coming back.” I pushed the words out the same way I had every time we had this conversation. “Uncle George even told you he isn’t.”

            “Yes, but Uncle George is a man.” Her voice was confident, unwavering in her certainty. “He doesn’t understand.”

            “He doesn’t understand his own son?”

            She waved her hand in the air as though my words were annoying flies buzzing around her head—distracting her from her thoughts. “Of course he knows his son, but not like Ju—” a sob worked its way up her throat, cutting her word short. It was my turn to reach toward her—to comfort and reassure her that I was here, that she was not alone. Several minutes passed, me holding her hand and her shedding tears for the friend that was never coming back. We sat like this until her eyes ran dry, then she coughed, ran the back of her hands across her cheeks, and stood from the couch. “He’ll come back. He has to.”

            And that’s where I’d been. And Kyle? He was free to leave while I was left standing in the crumbling life of a girl who was always meant to end up with the boy next door.

            Kyle shifted in his chair. The movement was small, but it brought my thoughts back to the table—to Kyle. My eyes latched onto every muscle as I watched him, but I couldn’t tell if he was moving out of discomfort or simply repositioning himself to fully face me. How was I still unable to read him? Aunt Julia would be so disappointed.

            “Honey,” her voice crept into my thoughts as the weight of her arm around my shoulder resurfaced—her face next to mine as she leaned down and pointed out to where Kyle stood on the court. “See how his shoulders are pulled tight.” Her hand moved back and forth, and I tried to pay attention—to note the slight indentation between his shoulder blades, as though that collection of raised skin could reveal his thoughts. At first, I wanted the lessons—craving something that would make Kyle and me make sense, so I asked questions, pointed out my own observations, and studied him as fervently as Aunt Julia wanted me to. But by the time we were in seventh grade, I’d learned my interpretations were never quite right, and by the time we were in the ninth grade, I gave up trying to understand him. Not that it mattered—my life had become Kyle’s the day Aunt Julia convinced my mom it was a great idea, even a necessary one—for me to attend every one of his games.

            “We both know he’s going pro.” She had said, my mother’s aggressive nods feeding her passion. “Evie really should get used to it now.”

            “I mean it would be good for her to understand the game.” My mother’s hands slid down the front of her apron, smearing streaks of flour onto the fabric. “And that would give them more to talk about.”

            “But.” I hesitated, my voice wavering under the gaze of both women, “don’t you have that thing.” I couldn’t remember the details, but I’d heard her and dad talking about something, some event, Mom had to go to for work. Please, please be right.

            “That’s right!” Her smile lifted the tension from my shoulders, causing me to stand taller. Thank God. “I hate it, really I do, but I can’t, Jules.” She pointed to the calendar on the wall, the one filled with red, green, and blue scribbles—not a single square left empty.

            “Oh, I’m so silly.” Her voice cut through my mom’s explanation of dates as she looked over at me and smiled—a flash of white teeth, neatly tucked into smooth rows, like fresh sheets pulled tight across a mattress—pristine and perfect but only if they were left alone. “I should’ve been more specific. I was talking about me taking Evie to the games.” She turned her attention back to my mom. “Sally, just think about it. I have to take Kyle anyway, and it would allow Evie and me to have more time together.” I saw my mom hesitate; her eyes cutting to me for a moment. Please, Mom, see me. “She is my goddaughter after all.” That was it. Mom agreed, and I officially belonged to Aunt Julia every basketball season until I could drive.

            Clearly that time had been a complete waste because here I was, still unable to read him. His shoulders looked normal. There were no long blinks, no creases across his forehead—not a single sign that maybe something was off. His voice was light, so he was comfortable, right? Well of course he feels fine—he’s not the one who was just blindsided while sitting across from his secret high school crush. Why wouldn’t he be fine? My frustration rose as my thoughts spiraled.

            My eyes were still tracking his mouth. It was moving, but I had been so focused on reading him—trapped in a never-ending loop of Aunt Jules’s lessons, that I’d missed the actual words. Wonderful. Just great. His mouth stopped, and he stared at me, waiting for my response. A moment passed, and then another one. I was frozen unable to look anywhere, but his mouth. His smile always gave him away. It was the one thing about him that I was fairly good at reading. I just needed him to smile, and then I would know. Know what to say. How to act. I just needed him to—to what? Smile at me? Annnnnd we’re right back to pathetic. Just a new guy. Well, an old one actually.  I felt a defeated sigh begin to work its way up my chest, stretching up my throat and pushing on the inside of my lips. Just give up. Then the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. There. What was that one? Happy? Uncomfortable? Content? Annoyed?

            “Evie, look.” Aunt Jules again. “See that? Look at his eyes. What does that mean? Weren’t you paying attention?”

            The memory of her voice was all-consuming, rendering me incapable of doing anything. One side raised meant amused. Think, Evie. Remember. Both sides, happy, but only when his eyes matched. My gaze shot up—his eyes, the same deep brown, were staring back at me, wide and unaffected. What the hell?

            I am not sure how long I’d spent staring at Kyle, but it must have been long enough to create palpable tension—the pressure causing Henry and Jenna to shift in their seats.

            “Evie?” Henry’s voice jarred my mind, and I pulled my eyes from Kyle to find Henry’s hand stretching out across the table—the movement slow like he was pushing through oil. I blinked as his hand made contact with my arm—Kyle was here.  

            “Oh, yes, well, um.” I pulled back from Henry as every single stupid word I knew spilled out of my mouth. I watched his face shift as his hand retreated, and guilt seeped into my nerve endings as my mind finally slammed into the present. “Sorry.” My voice was weak, and I wasn’t completely sure who I was apologizing to.

            “No big deal.” Kyle said, shrugging his shoulders. “I was just saying that I’m in town to help my dad.”

            “Oh, is Uncle George okay?”

            “Uncle George?” Jenna’s voice rose as she pushed herself back into the conversation. “I am definitely missing something.”

            I looked at Jenna. Her eyes like lasers, boring a hole through my forehead as if by sheer desire she could drag the past out of my mind—splaying out the details of my life for her to shuffle through and examine as she wished. “Kyle and I—” My voice broke; I couldn’t do this right now. Not with Henry sitting across the table, his eyes now bouncing between me and Kyle, trying figure out which version of me was real. The woman from the office who boldly flashed her bare ring finger, or this woman—the one who had retreated from his touch. God, I wish I knew.

            “We grew up together.” Kyle said as he turned away from me to order a drink from our waitress who had returned surprised to find another seat filled at our table. “No worries.” Kyle said as she apologized for overlooking him. “I wasn’t a planned guest—just a fun surprise.”

            Oh yeah, this is a freaking blast. I raised my glass and began to sip the liquid, but as my mind whirled, the sips turned into gulps and the glass was empty by the time I sat it back down.

            “Would you like another one?” The waitress was still there—her eyes a little wider as she looked between my flushed face and now empty glass.

            “Yes, please.” I said, handing her the glass.

            “But I thought you had somewhere to be, Evie.” Jenna said raising a hand to stop the waitress from retreating. I stared at her in disbelief. I knew Jenna and I were not friends, but how could she still be on Plan A. I’d gone through the entire alphabet the minute Kyle sat down, but then again, you could always rely on Jenna to stay on task—especially if that task had the added benefit of derailing my entire day.

            “That? I guess I forgot.” I dropped my hands onto my lap. “But, don’t worry, I have time for one more.” I tried to keep my voice steady—allowing myself to unravel any more would be like throwing a bleeding carcass into the ocean and acting surprised when a shark attacked.

            “Well, isn’t that wonderful.” Her words were sweet, but her smile suggested that my staying was anything but wonderful. “I’ll take another as well then.” She raised her glass and emptied the rest of liquid into her mouth. She passed her glass to the waitress and then turned her attention back to Kyle. “So, you grew up together? What was that like? Henry said that he went to High School with Evie. That must mean that you did too. Were you guys friends?” The questions were aimed at Kyle, but each one felt like a direct impact to my nervous system—like they had been crafted to open up every hidden wound I’d been silently nursing the past few months.  

            “Something like that.” Kyle’s shot a look at me, his gaze causing heat to restir beneath my skin.

            “Well, that answer’s no fun. You know what they say secrets don’t make friends.” A soft giggle followed her words. Kyle smiled and looked in my direction again. Was he asking for permission? Because if so, the answer was a very loud and very permanent, no. No way did I need Jenna to know that I spent my entire life in an unofficial arranged marriage with my mom’s childhood best friend’s son. Absolutely not.

            “It’s not a secret.” The waitress returned with our drinks—setting them on the table with a smile and an open invitation to order another round when we were ready. Kyle took a drink.

            “Then why don’t you share?” Jenna leaned in, resting her elbows on the table.

            “Not much to share. Just a bunch of details that don’t matter.” His words rocketed through my mind. Don’t matter? What an ass.

            “Oh, well that makes sense.” She leaned back, pushing into the chair and causing her chest to inflate. “Henry said him and Evie only had one class together too.” I took another drink. “I hardly remember anyone from my high school, so I guess that’s why I’m so surprised you both remember her.”

            Her words were like molten heat, welding the glass to my lips. The liquid poured down my throat, offering a fleeting moment of relief as the raised glass rendered me silent and invisible.

            “We had more than one class together.” Kyle’s smile tightened. Wait. Did I see that right? His lips were pulled straight, and the humor in his eyes slipped—revealing something blank and hollow. I sat my glass down, but it was gone. Was Kyle mad?

            “That’s right.” Henry’s voice felt rough, and I watched as his hands formed into fists on the table. “I think the only class you didn’t spend together was the one that Evie and I had together senior year.”

            “Yep.” Kyle took another drink. His smile was back, but something was off—the corners were a little lower, and his eyes didn’t look right. What the hell is happening?

            “Oh, every class? That would make Evie more memorable.” An image of me reaching across and shaking Jenna by the shoulders flashed through my mind.

            “Well,” Kyle leaned forward, his hands flat against the table, “that and the fact that we were engaged helped to solidify her in my mind.”

            I closed my eyes. Please be dead. Please be dead.

            “Engaged?” I could hear Jenna’s grin spread as she dragged out the final syllable.

            “Were.” My tone was flat. “And on that happy note.” I said, raising from my chair. “I think it’s time I left.” I dumped the rest of my drink into my mouth, forcing myself to gulp down the liquid. “I have that thing to get to.” My eyes fell to Jenna.

            “So soon?” Jenna’s smile stretched further across her face, but her eyes were dark—heavy with the promise that this conversation wasn’t over. For me it was. I didn’t owe Jenna anything, and especially not this. I pulled my wallet from my purse, slipped two twenties onto the table, and turned away, swinging my purse over my shoulder as I headed for the door.

            By the time I got to the door, I felt like my lungs were going to explode. I need air. I pushed through the door and gulped down the crisp air as it hit my skin—the noise from the bar fading as the door closed behind me. Breathe. In. Out. Keep it together. Walk. I coached myself through every step across the parking lot. I could do this. I could keep going. Kyle was back, but that didn’t mean anything—just details from the past that didn’t matter. I don’t need this. I don’t need him. I wasn’t sure which him I was referring to, but I decided it applied to both as I opened the door to my bug and tossed my purse into the passenger seat.

            “Evie.” My jaw tensed. You’ve got to be kidding me.

            I turned to find Kyle standing by the hood of my car. “Oh, nice.” I slammed the door shut—turning to face him—my fury fueled by the bomb he just dropped and the alcohol that was racing through my veins.

            “Listen.” He held his hands out in front of him, a weak attempt to shield himself. “I’m sorry.”

            A laugh broke through—the sound humorless and harsh. “You’re sorry? For what?” I waved my hands around the parking lot—gesturing at the unseen things between us. “For leaving or for saying nothing after you did?” My hands started to shake, the adrenaline from the moment beginning to flood my nerves. I folded my arms tight against my chest—desperate to disguise the effect he was having on me. “Or are you sorry for waltzing back into my life and doing—” I let out another huff of air. “Whatever the hell that was.” I peeled one of my arms from my chest to gesture back towards the bar.

            “I guess,” he dropped his hands, his eyes following, “all of it.”

            “Oh, goody.” I dragged the words out—each one full of anger that I didn’t even know I had. “Well as long as you’re sorry, that makes everything okay.”

            “Evie.” His eyes were back on me—his words soft, said in a tone used to calm a raging bear.

            “No, Kyle,” I spat out his name. “You don’t get to come back and say ‘Evie’ like I’m the one being irrational.” But I was being irrational. Wasn’t I? I was happy he’d broken off the engagement. It was what we both wanted.

            “You’re not being fair.”

            “I’m not being fair?” I took a step towards him. “You’re the one who escaped—who got to do God knows what with God knows who in some secret far off place while I was here dealing with everything alone.” My eyes began to sting. Not now. Please. “But you’re right. I need to be more kind—more fair to you.”

            “Oh, come on.” His voice rose—causing me to take a step back. “You had your mom and dad. Don’t act like you were alone.

            I could have screamed. “You think I wanted to be with my mom after you left?” I scoffed; the noise rough enough to keep my tears from spilling over. “You honestly think she was okay?” My voice was raw. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “You left me.” The words sounded like a plea—a wounded animal screaming from the arrow lodged in its side.

            “Stop!” His voice rose, causing me to take a step back. It was loud and uncontained—a voice I didn’t recognized. “Stop acting like you wanted me to stay. You didn’t so much as look at me those last few months.”

            His words felt like a slap. No. That wasn’t right. He’d shut me out, not the other way around. “I tried! That’s more than you can say.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.” His movements matched my own—chaotic and disjointed like we were both flailing in the ocean searching the air for an incoming life buoy—anything to hold on to as we fought against the waves.

            “Do you know what mom was like after you left? What I was like?” I felt myself begin to spiral. Stop. Pull back. “Mom made me keep everything. Every picture. Every gift. Every. Thing. Because you were coming back.”  My mind screamed, but the words kept coming, kept tumbling out. “And me? I was stuck in her dreams. Stuck being Kyle’s Evie. Alone. Fighting. Every week another conversation. Another lecture about what to do when you finally returned, and did you?” I was breathing heavily as the final words slipped through. “No. Instead you had your dad break the news. Sever the tie. Was I that hard to talk to?”

            “My mom died, Evie!” The words exploded from him, and everything went quiet. My anger vanished as I watched Kyle’s hands shake as he held them against his sides. His chest rising and falling as he sucked down another deep breath. “Dead. Gone. I’m sorry that my grief was too much for you and your mom.”

            “Kyle, I—”

            “No.” He pushed out air and took another deep breath. “Evelyn, I’m sorry.” His eyes found mine, and his breathing slowed. “That’s what I came out here to say.” He ran his hand through his hair, which he did any time he was nervous. “I’m sorry for all of it.” His eyes slipped from mine, as he focused on the asphalt beneath his shoes. “Especially, that.” He gestured behind him towards the bar. “I don’t know what I was doing. It was just Henry and you and—” He shook his head. Henry and me? What does that have to do with this? “Never mind. I’m sorry, really. I never planned to come back, but dad got sick, and—”

            “What?” My voice cut into his rambling. Uncle George was sick? “What do you mean?”

            His shoulders sagged. No. “He’s really sick, Evie.” His voice shook, and the sound caused everything to shift. I didn’t care that I was still angry, and the pain of the past was still too close to the surface. None of that mattered. Kyle needed me. I closed the space between us. “I don’t know what to do. I just keep thinking that Mom would know. She would fix it.” Tears started to streak down his cheeks. “But she’s gone, and all he has is me.” I felt my own resolve waiver—tears dangerously close to spilling over, but he needed me to be strong, so I pulled him into my body and wrapped my arms around him, not sure where we would go from here, but all that mattered right now was Kyle.

            “We’ll figure it out.” My voice a whisper—a prayer as I squeezed my arms tighter. We stood like that for several moments, the silence between us only broken by the sound of passing cars. What are we going to do? Kyle and I became ‘we’ so easily in my mind—two parts merging together like walking down a familiar, worn path. The thought scared me and left me scanning the space behind Kyle, searching for something else to focus on.

            The door to the bar opened and Henry and Jenna came out; Jenna leaning into his shoulder as they walked. My eyes clung to them as they made their way through the parking lot, the breeze carrying her laughter to me. I guess plan A worked out after all.