Evie Interrupted, page 11
“Start from the beginning and don’t leave out any details,” she demanded, handing off the cup of sweet, apple scented liquid and staring at me with great anticipation while I took a tentative sip.
“You gawking at me doesn’t help with the calming down process.”
“What? I’m sitting here patiently waiting for you to spill the beans.”
I cleared my throat. “I let him ki—”
Frantically waving her hands, Maine said, “Don’t jump right into the juicy juice. I need build up…a slow burn. Well, not too slow. Set the scene.”
Frustrated, I huffed, and started over. “I was driving around the parking lot at Porter when—”
“Why were you at the high school?”
“Does that really matter? The point is I was there.”
“The fact that we graduated nine years ago and we’re not creepers…Oh my God, Evie! You’re not a creeper, are you?’
“Of course not. Well, not the way you’re thinking. After dropping Mom off at her group, I somehow found myself at Porter, innocently riding around…”
“Looking for Butler!”
“Thank you for not making me say it out loud. But yes, I was looking for him. I just wanted a glance. I had no intention of talking to him or…”
“Letting him sweep you up into his strong muscular arms and plant a passionate kiss on your full voluptuous lips, devouring every inch of your mouth.”
“You read too many romance novels. Anyway, he tapped—”
“That,” she said, incorrectly finishing my sentence. “Who are you? And right there in the school parking lot.” A wistful expression covered her face. “Aw, that brings back memories.”
“My car. He tapped my car. Get your head out of the gutter of the past. I don’t know what I was doing. I found myself driving around looking for him. I had no intention of talking to him. I realized how pathetic I was being, but before I could make a clean getaway, I…he…we bumped bumpers.”
“We are still talking about cars, right?”
“I got out of the car and he was standing there looking all…and things began to heat up, tingle, and explode.”
Maine leaned in closer. “What kind of things?”
“The air, my insides, my cha-cha.”
“You still can’t say vagina.”
“My knees wobbled, he caught me, and our lips seamlessly gravitated toward each other’s.”
“How was it?”
“Next level. The very first kiss was earthshattering. How do you come back from that? And it wasn’t planned. You know, like when you’re driving home from a date and you start to think about the goodnight kiss. Will he or won’t he? Will you let him? Will he dive in, full on tongue, or be apprehensive? Maybe a combination of the two? Or will he do the bait and switch.”
“The bait and switch?”
“Everything about the date screams kiss at the end of the night. He leans in, you’re all puckered up, and the split second before lips touch, he swerves and plants one on your cheek.”
“I’ve never heard of or experienced the bait and switch. Is that really a thing?”
“It’s a thing. A thing I know how to handle. Mind blowing, I don’t know how to handle. Maine, kissing Ben never came close to what I experienced today. And when it was over everything was blurry, misty, and my insides were all melted.”
“In other words, he hit it out of the park.” She smiled, lifting one brow.
“What?”
“You know, because he’s a coach.”
“He’s a football coach. Nothing gets hit out of the park in football.”
“Whatever. So, when are we seeing the kissing bandit again?”
Tightly closing my eyes, I squeaked out, “Tomorrow night.”
A toothy grin spread across my best friend’s face.
“But I’m going to—”
“If you say cancel, I’m going to punch you in the neck.”
“I was so discombobulated by the kiss, his sweet words, and the rest of him, that when he said he’d buff out the scratch and cook dinner, I went along.”
“That’s awesome. You didn’t overthink things.”
“It’s not a matter of overthinking, Maine. I have responsibilities that Butler wouldn’t understand.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You haven’t given him a chance.”
“Hello, my name is Evie, a child of divorce because Daddy couldn’t deal and got dumped by her fiancé because he also couldn’t deal. I don’t know why I went looking for Butler, and then let him…” My throat constricted as tears threatened behind my eyes. “Why am I getting so upset? This is so not like me.”
Pursing her lips, Maine looked as if she were about to burst.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Maine,” I whined.
“You won’t like what I want to say.”
“For fuck’s sake, say what’s on your mind.”
“Maybe…just maybe, your emotions are heightened because he’s the one. I think Butler Thompson might be your person.”
“He can’t be.”
“Only one way to find out. Go get buffed and fed tomorrow night.”
“But…”
“I will be on momma watch.”
“Really?”
“Bitch, please. You know I’m all in for an epic love story, especially in real life. All you have to do is name your first child after me.”
A slight chuckle escaped my mouth. “Thank you. It’s only for tomorrow night. After that—”
“Let’s not worry about after that. Live in the moment and allow yourself to enjoy it.”
Maine was right. I needed to get a hold of myself and not think past the next twenty-four hours. Over the years dementia showed me not to get too ahead of myself. Mom’s past and future no longer existed in her mind’s eye. She literally lived in the moment because that was all she had. I needed to enjoy my time with Butler in the here and now, because that was all we had. I loved that the romantic in Maine was hopeful he and I would have a happily ever after. But I didn’t have the luxury of living in a fantasy world. If I did Butler Thompson would definitely be there.
Memories
“Here they are!” Mom yelled with delight from the attic.
The next thing I knew a large box was being handed down to me, followed by two more. After Gran died, Mom made it her mission to do something with all the family photos, so she took up scrapbooking.
Dropping the last box on the floor, I huffed, “Can I go now?”
Mom looked at me, confused. “No, you can’t go. Come sit down,” she said, patting the spot next to her on the sofa. “We’re going to do this together.”
“You never told me that”
“Yes, I did. We agreed to do a fun project the summer before your senior year at Porter. Ta-da!”
“The word fun threw me off. Exactly when did we have this discussion?”
Thumbing through the stack of photos in her hand, she said, “When you were seven.”
My brows shot up. “Years old?”
“Of course. You weren’t able to talk at seven months old.”
“I have no recall of this at all. Maine and I have plans to go to the movies.”
“That’s fine. I’ll organize the boxes and supplies, so we—ah, look at this picture of Gran as a twenty-something-year-old.”
I reluctantly took my place next to Mom and looked at the black-and-white photo in her hand. “Oh my God! Gran was hot.”
“You come from good genes.”
“So weird. I never thought about her being young.”
Taking the photo from me, Mom said, “She wasn’t born looking like an 85-year-old woman, Evie.” Laughing, she dug through another box, pulling out slightly wrinkled and torn photos. “Oh Lord, I haven’t seen these in years.” She scooted back onto the sofa. “This is Mom, Dad, Carol, and that’s me.” Pointing to the tiny girl dressed in a white dress with flaming red hair, a wistful expression took over her face.
“What’s it like…not having a mom?”
Crossing her arms, Mom looked in the air for the answer.
“Obviously, we’re all going to die one day. The only exception to this rule is your parents. I never imagined the day would come when Mom wouldn’t be in my life. The long phone conversations, spending the day cooking or catching up on family gossip over coffee—I thought those times would never end. If she didn’t exist then how could I?” Her eyes misted over. “So, to answer your question, it’s like losing the anchor to your identity.”
Picking up my phone, I called Maine. “Hey, I’m gonna take a raincheck on the movie.” Pause. “Something important came up.” Pause. “Okay. Talk later.”
Sitting up straight, Mom patted my hand. “You didn’t need to cancel your plans.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
I spent the entire weekend with Mom, surrounded by photos, laughing, shedding a few tears, and learning that my relatives did have lives before I came along.
Present
Sitting in my car in the parking lot waiting for Mom’s respite group to be over, my head was back in the clouds, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about the kiss with Butler. After leaving Dough-Mates, I somehow managed to get all my errands done with time to spare. Although Maine had offered to watch Mom tomorrow night, I hesitated to text Butler the news. I was trying not to overthink any of this, but old habits die slow. Before I talked myself out of it completely, I reached for my phone and wrote the text.
Me: Hi, it’s Evie from this morning.
Almost immediately three dots pulsated below my text.
Butler: Hi! I thought it was Chapman.
My nose crinkled, clueless as to what he was talking about.
Me: ??
Butler: Your last name.
My last name? Oh…
Me: LOL!
Butler: Thanks for the pity LOL.
Smiling, a familiar warmth tickled my skin.
Me: I didn’t LOL you out of pity. Promise.
Butler: ☺
Me: I need you—
Out of nowhere a loud knock ricocheted off my window, startling the shit out of me. My body lurched forward, causing my grip to loosen, and sending my phone to the floorboard. Once I regained my bearings, I glanced over to see Julie peering in my window. Holding up my index finger, the official wait a second indicator, I fished around for my phone. When I finally snagged it, I looked at the screen, and my heart stopped.
Butler: Wow, I like a woman who knows what she wants, especially when it’s me. Sorry, that was another lame attempt at being funny and charming. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking of you in the same way. I hope that doesn’t sound creepy. I have nothing but respect for you, Evie. But that kiss today was next level for me. I got the feeling it was the same for you. At least I hope so.
Swoon.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I needed to stop Butler’s sweet words before I completely melted away.
Knock, knock.
The sound of Julie’s tapping forced my gaze away from Butler’s text.
“Are you okay?” Julie said, her voice muffled by the closed window. I nodded. “You better come on. The group is almost over. You know how much they don’t like when we’re late to pick up our people.”
I could feel my blood pressure rise. I didn’t want to leave Butler hanging, but I also needed time to gather my thoughts in order to respond. Julie was right about respite. Any tardiness on pickup was severely frowned upon unless Sara or Mrs. Welling had been notified beforehand.
The window tapping echoed in my head as my eyes flitted back and forth between Butler’s text and the time at the top of the screen. The oxygen inside the car was stifling as beads of sweat popped up along my forehead.
Me: Address. I need your address.
I hit send before reviewing my message or considering how it sounded. The three bubbles pulsated for what felt like a lifetime before his text finally appeared.
Butler: 1111 York St.
Knock, knock.
Fuck!
Me: Thanks. 7 good for you?
Butler: Yep.
Getting out of the car, I clutched my phone for dear life. I teetered back and forth between texting Butler back and letting it go. I couldn’t tell and didn’t know him well enough to discern if that exchange would embarrass him or not. The problem with texting was that unless you knew the person really well you lost any nuance that could be conveyed in person.
“Evie, are you sure everything is okay?” Julie asked with genuine concern in her tone.
I glanced at my phone every other step as we made our way across the parking lot. “I’m fine. I had a lot of running around to do this morning. It’s been nonstop.”
Fortunately, Julie didn’t have time for a follow-up before we were all filing into the building. The sound of hoots, hollers, and applause greeted us as we walked into the room. A huge smile broke across my face at the sight of everyone wearing colorful party hats, a single balloon tied to the back of each chair, and the remains of a birthday cake smack dab in the middle of the large rectangular table.
Mom was laughing and chatting with the birthday girl, Claire. It looked so normal. Like two dear friends enjoying each other’s company. It reminded me of the way she used to be, full of life and laughter. Watching, I erased the past six years, imagining what life would be like if dementia hadn’t interrupted it.
Pride would have beamed from her beautiful face when I accepted my first teaching position and was published for the first time. Her romantic heart would have burst with excitement as I confided in her that I’d met my cute nerd and fallen in love. The joy would have bubbled in her soul at seeing her grandchildren born and watching them grow.
She was supposed to be here for all of that. In my heart, I knew the day would come when I’d have to say goodbye to her. I mean, that’s the circle of life. But I thought I had more years with her before facing the worst day of my life. I needed her guidance and wisdom now; there was so much in my life I didn’t know how to deal with. Instead, our days were filled with blank stares, nonsensical chatter, and aimless wandering. My presence in Mom’s life held no more significance than a stranger’s. I wasn’t special to her or anyone else.
Suddenly, I felt the swish of movement as the others in the group moved past me toward their loved ones. I swallowed the large lump that had formed in my throat, blinked back tears, and prayed no one noticed.
After wishing Claire a happy birthday, Mom and I made our getaway. Once inside the safety of the car, my tears broke free. I kept my gaze straight ahead, hidden from Mom. The touch of her hand on my arm caused me to turn toward her. A slight smile ghosted across her thin lips.
Gently patting my arm, in the sweetest voice, she said, “Guess lexa-loxa mark on the chain.”
A sob broke from my lips. No, her words didn’t make sense, but the look in her eyes touched my soul. For the first time in a long time, I got a glimpse of my mom, and felt her love
Memories
“Mom, we don’t have to do this right now.”
“Yes, we do! You need to know how to fix this.”
“Just tell me where to find the recipe. I’m sure Gran wrote it down.”
“She didn’t write anything down. You have to learn by watching and doing.”
Panic radiated off her as she rummaged through the bottom cabinet in search of the big pot. A month had passed since getting the diagnosis and Mom had been in a frantic race against time. She wanted to teach me a lifetime of knowledge in condensed form while she was still able. Today her mind was set on showing me how to make Gran’s famous spaghetti sauce.
“I found it!” Mom popped up with a giant, dingy, stainless steel pot in hand. “Your father must have moved it for some reason. That’s why I had trouble finding it.”
Dad never touched the cookware, so the odds were slim it was his doing. The pot was always in the bottom cabinet right where Mom found it. She wasn’t in denial about FTD, but she was in denial of how quickly it was taking over her brain. Mom played the cover-up game with a lot of her symptoms. Dad and I went along with the charade because it seemed to make her feel in control. Like she had a say in her own future.
Mom looked at me with a sense of accomplishment beaming from her face. “Let’s get started.”
Standing side by side at the counter with the ingredients in front of us, I waited, taking my cues from her. Picking up a large white onion, Mom looked at it for several seconds as if she’d just discovered the vegetable.
“I think Gran used to chop up the onion into small pieces and put it in the pot with chopped garlic and olive oil,” I said.
Mom’s head whipped in my direction as she snapped, “I know that, Evie. She was my mother. I’ve made this sauce a thousand times.”
“You don’t have to be so snippy. I was just trying to help move things along.”
“There are times in your life when you need to slow down and not rush. Making sauce is one of those times.”
“I wasn’t—forget I said anything.”
“Okay. Pick up your knife, and chop that…onion.”
I did as ordered. Slicing through the layers, I cut the onion in half first then began to dice.
“You’re holding the knife incorrectly, Evie,” she scolded.
“I know how to hold a knife.”
Her hands shook as a distressed expression washed over her features. “You’re doing it wrong. That’s not the way to chop.”
Annoyance took over and I dropped the knife on the countertop. “Then show me.”
Mom froze, staring in silence at the knife and half-chopped-up onion, making no move to pick up either. Her shoulders slumped and began to shake. Looking over at me with misty eyes, she said, “I don’t…I don’t know…what…”
Within a split second, my confident mom, transformed into a confused lost soul before my eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. “We’ll figure out how to make the sauce together.”
Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks as her bottom lip quivered. “I’m scared, Evie,” she whispered.
