Everett’s sister was pretty. Not the kind of pretty that you’d see on a beauty queen, dolled up with makeup and spray tan. She was tan like her brother, natural, or boosted by the sun. Her black hair was styled simply, long and straight. She had the same eyes as Everett, that unnerving ice blue. But her face looked softer than Everett’s even though she was a few years older.
“Bridget,” she said, her face split open with her bright white smile. She was the kind of person that was so pretty, she was intimidating until she smiled. Her smile was warm, friendly. And there was hope in her eyes. I instantly looked away, uncomfortable by that. I didn’t want to responsible for whatever hope she saw in my presence.
“Parker,” I said, shaking her offered hand and looking at Everett.
“Sit,” she gestured to the opposite side of the booth. I climbed in and Everett slid in next to me. Almost immediately, he grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed. It was reassuring, so I relaxed a little bit.
“So,” Bridget said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Everett says you’ve been on a road trip for the last several days?”
“Yeah,” I answered and looked to Everett. “Almost a week?”
Everett shrugged. “Almost.”
“And he’s taken you to some of his favorite places?”
I drew my eyebrows together. “Well, he said he hadn’t been to the Grand Canyon before.”
“He hasn’t.” She took a sip of her soda. “But he said he took you to the Four Corners?”
I looked at Everett. “You’d already been there before?” Something about that bothered me.
Bridget interrupted, “Only with family. And he took you to see the dinosaur tracks?”
I looked away from Everett to the table. Part of me was angry. Part of me felt betrayed. I had no right to feel either, but I did. “Yes, we saw the dinosaur tracks and the river.”
Everett squeezed my hand under the table but I needed distance. Not much distance could be achieved when we were so close to one another, but I still wriggled my fingers free from his.
“I didn’t know he’d seen those places before,” I said, still staring down at the table. There was silence between Everett and Bridget and I felt even more uncomfortable. So I shrugged and blurted, “Not that it’s a big deal or anything.” I didn’t dare look at Everett. Something had shifted between us with Bridget’s admission about Everett having been to those places before. And I didn’t want to think about it.
When the waiter brought our drinks and took our orders, nothing else had been said. It was the most uncomfortably awkward silence. And then a boy, about eight or nine years old, bounded up to the table. “Mom, do you have more quarters I can have?”
“Hey bud,” I heard Everett’s voice, but my attention was on the boy.
“Uncle Everett!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Everett’s neck. I couldn’t avoid looking at Everett. His eyes were closed and his arms wrapped around the boy, the boy who looked so much like him that it was uncanny. My chest felt tight with emotion as I watched their reunion.
Everett pulled a handful of quarters from his pocket and poured them in the hand of the little boy. That was when the little boy noticed me, staring at me with his guileless blue eyes. “Hi,” he said, cocking his head to the side, the way Everett did when he was studying me. I ached then.
“Hi,” I croaked. I swallowed. “I’m Parker. What’s your name?”
“Clark,” he answered. “How’d you get your scar?”
I heard Bridget suck in a breath. This was why I liked kids, they said things that made other people uncomfortable. Adults made me uncomfortable, but not kids.
So I said what I told all the little kids who ever asked. “Shark attack.”
There was silence from Everett and Bridget, but Clark’s entire face lit up. “Cool!” he exclaimed. He turned to Bridget. “Mom, isn’t that cool?”
Bridget nodded slowly. “Sure is. Why don’t you go play some more in the arcade and check back here in a few minutes?”
Clark didn’t need to be told twice. He was gone from the table, leaving us adults in our awkward silence.
“Thanks,” Bridget finally said. I looked up at her. “You’re going to be his hero now.”
“It’s a nicer story than being attacked with a knife,” I said, sipping my drink. I watched Bridget exchange glances with Everett. This was becoming unbearable.
Bridget sighed. “Everett, can you go check on Clark?”
Everett climbed out the booth. I could feel him looking at me, but I aggressively avoided looking at him. I knew Bridget had asked him to leave for a reason. After he left, I looked at her. As someone who enjoyed studying people, I was able to pick up on a lot of body language cues. And Bridget’s body language was telling me to be prepared. I sat up straight.
“Everett’s told you about his cancer.” It wasn’t a question.
I nodded. “And his decision going forward from his diagnosis.”
Bridget nodded. “What do you think about it?”
This was going to be a heavy conversation. “When he first told me, I didn’t understand.” I took a sip from my straw, formulating my response. “And then he told me,” I started. Ugh. This was going to be even more uncomfortable. “He told me about when he had this cancer as a teenager. And how he felt like his family fell apart because of it.”
Bridget pursed her lips, nodding slowly, absorbing all that I was saying. “Well, our family did fall apart. But Everett likes to blame it on himself. He’s got a touch of dark on his soul, just a touch, but you’d think his soul was black with how he won’t forgive himself for something he had no control over in the first place.”
“Everett likes control.”
“He does,” Bridget agreed. "That’s why he’s choosing this. Choosing not to have the surgery, choosing not to fight. He wants the choice. But it’s the wrong one.”
Whoa. I didn’t know how to respond to that.
Bridget signed and sat back in the booth. “How much has Everett told you about his tumor? The one he has right now?”
“Not much. Just that it’s decently sized and in his forehead, where I’m assuming his last one was, based on the scar.”
“Everett hasn’t had the tumor evaluated. Not extensively. His doctors are here in Texas, the doctors that treated his cancer the first time. He saw an oncologist in California a month ago. Had a CT scan. The doctor recommended a biopsy, but Everett said no. He said he was done. But,” Bridget put her hand on the table, “he doesn’t even know what kind of tumor it is. He has no clue! It could be something so treatable, and he’s choosing not to do anything about it.”
This was all new information. I had assumed Everett had checked it out thoroughly before deciding not to deal with it. “Then why was he so quick to decide not to operate?”
“You didn’t see him go through cancer when he was a teenager. It was, well, devastating. He lost so much weight. He lost a lot of himself. He lost friends and his family fell apart. Physically, the cancer weakened him. Emotionally, in his mind, the cancer destroyed his life itself. And treating his cancer took away his memory.” I watched her fingers trace the wood grain on the table top. “Everett had an exceptional memory growing up. He remembered people he’d met only briefly, years later. He always did well in school. After the surgery, he had trouble with his short term memory. He forgot everything that had happened in the months prior to the surgery.”
I nodded, letting this all sink in.
“Everett,” she continued, looking to the arcade that was adjacent to the restaurant. “Everett is a good man. A very good man, Parker. He’s kind, he’s giving, and he’s selfless. But he doesn’t see those things in himself. He sees a man who tore apart a family. I wouldn’t say he is depressed, but like all of us, he does have his demons. But his demons are robbing him of a future that may very well exist.”
This conversation was causing me pain. I felt betrayed by Everett. For not telling me about having visited all those locations we visited. For not telling me his real, more meaningful reasons, for not having the surgery. But again, I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset, to feel betrayed. I sat back in the seat.
Bridget leaned across the table. “I haven’t told you anything in confidence. You’re free to discuss this with Everett if you’d like.” She looked to the arcade before looking back at me again. “I’ve never met any of Everett’s girlfriends before.”
My eyes widened. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
“I know.” She licked her lips. “But you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to one.”
Before I could reply, Everett had joined us at the booth again. Bridget and I lapsed into silence while Everett looked between us both. “Did you have a nice chat?” he asked, seeming unconcerned. He had to have known we talked about him.
“Sure did,” Bridget said, winking at me. “We talked about what an idiot you are.”
“Parker doesn’t think I’m an idiot,” he said, pointing a thumb at me.
“No. You’re just an a*shole.”
“A rude a*shole,” Everett clarified, angling his head towards his sister.
“Well you are that,” she agreed with a straight face.
The waiter delivered our food, but Clark was still in the arcade. “His dad fed him lunch before we came, so he’ll likely spend the entire lunch in the arcade,” Bridget apologized.
“He’s a kid,” I said, shrugging. “He’s got his priorities.”
“He does.” Bridget smiled softly. “Where are you two headed next?” She seemed genuinely interested.
I was still conflicted in my feelings towards Everett, so I stayed quiet while he spoke up. “We’re headed to New Orleans next.”
My head popped up at that. New Orleans was like a gold mine for people like me, people who loved to watch other people. But I kept my eyes away from looking at Everett.
“What are you going to do there?” Bridget asked between bites.
I felt Everett’s shoulders shrug next to me. “Stuff,” he replied, before taking a bite of his slice of pizza.
“Stuff?” Bridget asked, an eyebrow raised. “That’s it? That’s all I get?”
“I’ll take pictures. I’ll send them to you,” he said, waving his hand to brush the conversation aside. That reminded me of the photo we took in the Picketwire Canyon.
“We’ve already taken one photo,” I said, staring at my plate, “of us under an arch.” Everett stiffened, halting in taking another bite. He knew what I thought of, what I would think of, every time I looked at that photo. But it felt personal, too personal to say aloud.
“Oh?” Bridget asked, apparently unaware of the thoughts that were sucking up space in mine and Everett’s memory. “I want to see.” She leaned over the table. “The arch in the canyon?”
“Here,” Everett said, handing her the camera from under the table. I didn’t know he’d brought it with him.
Bridget set her fork down and wiped her hands on her napkin before grabbing the camera greedily. I watched her start to scroll through the photos. She stopped and looked up at Everett for a second before focusing again on the camera. I hadn’t realized Everett had taken more than one photo.
“Ah,” she said. She looked up at us both. She seemed to want to say something, but stubbornly set her lips in a line before handing the camera back to Everett.
“I want to see,” I said, reaching an arm out to intercept the camera. Everett tried to take it from me but I yanked it away. I stared down at the screen on the back of the camera. I saw the arch, and I saw Everett leaning towards me, an arm wrapped around me. His face was facing mine, his lips at my ear. The expression on my face could have been described as serene. I couldn’t help but close my eyes, remembering.
“Everyone who sees this photo will see us under the arch. But when you see this photo, you’ll see the canyon and the water and all the beauty in front of us. Remember that, Parker. When you look at this photo, remember looking at purgatory with me. While everyone else was looking at the arch, we were looking at that.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Everett for the first time since he’d left the table. He was staring at me with feeling. I wasn’t sure what the feeling was, but I knew it was likely the same thing I felt. I licked my lips, unable to look away.
“I already took care of the check. Clark has soccer practice, so I have to get going.” Bridget’s voice interrupted the haze I was in while staring at Everett.
“We’ll walk you out,” Everett said, reaching a hand to pull me out. There he was again, tugging me. I followed.
When we got to the parking lot, I let go of Everett’s hand, lagging back so he could visit with his sister a bit. Clark ran ahead to the car while Everett and his sister talked.
“I wish you’d come to dinner with us tonight,” Everett said, putting an arm around her shoulders. I watched her look at him wistfully. “It’s my shift tonight, and I can’t get anyone to cover. And besides, you know how dad is. I’d rather not watch him embarrass himself or attempt to embarrass me.”
Everett nodded, sighed, and then ran a hand through his hair. They both turned to look back at me and I turned away, trying to pretend I hadn’t heard.
“She’s good, you know?” Bridget said, still looking at me.
My skin itched.
“Yeah, I know she is,” Everett replied.
My stomach burned. Everett reached down, hugged her. I turned my body completely away from him.
“What’s this?” Bridget said. I kept my back to them, feeling uncomfortable witnessing their exchange. There was silence, and then I heard her say. “They say that’s bad luck.”
Curiosity was whispering in my head to look, to see what they were talking about. But I was stubborn, and kept my back to them.
“I’ll take my chances,” Everett replied, laughing. I turned around and Everett was hugging Bridget again. I watched her face go from happy to sad the moment she had her arms around him. Her arms were so tight that she shook. I turned my face away again, not wanting to see this moment between Everett and his sister. Too much.
“Parker,” she said. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She had her arms out for me. Reluctantly, I walked the few feet towards her and let her wrap her arms around me. My own arms felt awkward, like sludge, so I lifted them up and self-consciously patted her back. I looked at Everett while she hugged me, curious by the way he was staring at us.
“I hope to see you again,” she said, pulling away and looking me in the eyes. It was a loaded goodbye. I didn’t know how to answer so I just watched her walk away towards her car.
“Have you been hugged often?”
I shook my head and looked at Everett. “What?”
“It’s a simple question. Has anyone hugged you? Growing up, did your foster parents hug you? Did your teachers? Boyfriends?”
I didn’t need to think about it. “No.”
Everett nodded as if he expected that answer. “Not even your boyfriends?”
I thought of my boyfriends. I’d never had an emotional connection with any of them. It was never about that. So we didn’t hold hands, hug, or be affectionate unless it was a prequel to the main event.
“No.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
“No it’s not.”
He stepped closer to me. I took a step back. “Don’t run,” he whispered, his eyes engaged with mine.
“I’m not.”
“You want to.”
He wasn’t wrong. He reached his hand for mine and I placed mine in his with a little apprehension. “Let’s go,” he said, breaking the spell he’d had me under.
I let him lead me towards the Jeep. He walked me to the passenger door but before he opened the door, he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me.
My heart fell, landing in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes, felt his lips at my ear. “You haven’t be hugged enough, my precious.” His joking nickname for me didn’t feel like a joke this time. He squeezed his arms tighter, so tight I couldn’t move. But it was comforting. And warm. I wanted to live, really live, in this moment. So with my eyes closed, I committed this moment to my memory. His cool water scent. The muscles of his back under my fingertips. His breath at my ear. When he pushed his lips to my hair, my heart was volleyed from my stomach to my throat.