“Listen, Mom—”
“It’s been months!” Her face is red; her words are shaking. “It’s been months of this! I just ignored it, didn’t think my daughter…Evie, I would never think that you would become such a liar!”
“What is this—” My dad is right in front of me. His face is bent in horror. “What’s this that she’s saying, Evie? Why were you downstairs in Landon’s room at this hour?”
“Because we’re friends,” I wail.
I start to sob, and then I’m so embarrassed—shamed, panicked—that I take off toward the family room.
I hear my parents’ frantic voices in the kitchen, and my mind whirls. Will they make him go? Where is my phone? Oh God, I left it down there! Landon!
I rush back into the kitchen, trying to get around my parents and go back downstairs.
“Out! Evelyn, get out while Mom and I discuss this!” My dad looks mad enough to spit.
My mother looks as if she hates me. “Get into the family room! And don’t you move!”
I do what I’m told, shaking and panting, little sobs hung in my upper chest. I clutch the pool table and start to sob again as their loud voices rise and fall, and then the house goes quiet.
I take two deep breaths and rush back down the hallway, sneak onto the basement stairs. I can hear Landon’s voice, but not his words. I think I hear him say, “Yes sir.”
Yes what, I wonder, terrified.
Then I hear movement and see my mom start up the stairs. I try to dash ahead of her and back into the family room so I can listen, but Mom catches me before I get out of the kitchen. “You are going upstairs, right now.”
“No! Where’s Landon?”
“Evie Rutherford, you get upstairs or—”
“Where is Landon?”
“Landon’s leaving.”
“No he’s not. It’s Christmas Eve!” I start to sob again.
“Oh, yes he is. He’s going to your aunt’s house right this second, packing his bags right now!”
“No! You can’t, it’s Christmas!”
Mom laughs bitterly. “Oh, I’m aware of that.”
I push around her. “Landon!”
Her hand catches my wrist. “Evie, what is wrong with you?”
“I have to see him! You can’t send him off! It’s nighttime! He’s upset!”
My mother’s face caves. “I’m upset!”
“Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t— I just— We couldn’t help it! It’s not bad or something scandalous, it’s love. I would have told you but I didn’t— I just—”
“Evie,” her face hardens, “you have lost your ever-loving mind. Landon is leaving. For your aunt’s house. He’s leaving tonight, and you will say goodbye to him. He will not be living here. No more!”
“No… Mom, no, please… We can change and be different, I swear we can,” I sob. “We’re best friends first—”
“You’ve lost your mind, and I have let this happen to you.”
Dad appears, and behind him—Landon. I rush to him, and he hugs me so tight. “Evie, I’m so sorry.”
I sob, and Landon’s hands are on my face. I see his eyes, and they’re red-rimmed. His face is pale, his mouth unsteady.
“It’s okay,” he tries to tell me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, tonight!”
“This is enough,” my father says behind us.
“Evie, that’s enough.” My mom sounds sterner now.
“Landon, grab that bag. You can get the rest of your things another time.”
Those words rip through me with so much force, I sob anew—for Landon, orphaned now again at Christmas. Dad attempts to usher Landon to the garage, and when I grab his arm and try to hold onto him, they change course, and Dad shoos Landon toward the front door.
My mom grabs me. “Say goodbye now, Evie.”
My fingers lose their grip on Landon’s flannel shirt. He looks back at me, and his face— I’ve never seen him look like that. Like someone broke him. Just as quickly as I see that look, it’s gone, replaced by something fierce and tender. “I’m cool, Ev. I’ll be okay. Just go to bed. We’ll talk soon.”
And that’s the last thing Landon says to me before he gives me a tight smile and he’s led out the door into the freezing night.
I’m marched upstairs by Mom, who is now weeping.
“This was not going to work, just not going to work,” she keeps murmuring.
“You could bring him back. You’re kicking him out at Christmas!” My voice breaks. “He needs to know that someone wants him.”
I’m sobbing again, and Mom squeezes my shoulder. “Evie, quiet! Your sister!”
“I don’t care,” I wail.
She leads me to my room, where she hugs me briefly with a dazed frown, then shuts the door. I listen as her footsteps fade, and then I follow her, peering out a front window in time to see the last pinch of red light from Dad’s brakes.
The next day, I get a phone call with Landon. His voice is quiet and tender, low and hoarse. “I love you, Evie. Hang in there. We’ll figure out a way to see each other.”
After we’re off the phone, my dad tells me that Landon isn’t at my aunt’s house. Last night, Dad took him back to DHS. When I talked to him just then, he was at a group home.
I go upstairs, and I don’t come down. I won’t talk to my family until I can see Landon again.
That is not to be.
Four days later, after non-stop throwing up and non-stop sobbing, I pass out in the bathroom that I share with Em. My sister finds me when she goes to wash blue marker from her doll’s hair. Several hours later, Mom presents me to our family doctor.
She tells him the story, the abbreviated version, and he judges me with one shake of his head.
“These are unwise choices,” he says sternly as my mother looks down at her lap. “Unbecoming for a nice young woman.”
I’m put in a gown and questioned like a criminal. And when he reads the verdict to me, I can’t say I’m unhappy.
I’m not a nice young woman anymore. I’ve been loved. I’ve given my heart up and gotten something in return.
I’m pregnant.
Part Two
One
LANDON
Monday, June 12, 2017
Denver, Colorado
Beholding Evie up close burns. Her face…goddamn, her face is just the fucking same. Those blue eyes blink; her mouth draws up, and my head spins so hard, my hand flexes, searching automatically for something to latch onto.
I absorb every detail in a blink: how soft her freckled skin looks, how smooth and soft her lips appear, how shiny her blonde hair gleams. She looks well, I realize slowly, over several heartbeats.
That thought flips some switch in me; it settles me—so I’m able to give her the best smile I can muster. It’s tight, professional, reserved: a smile I’m trained to give. But it’s a smile and not a roar, which has to count for something.
Her mouth opens before her throat is ready, hanging there for just a second before her voice rings in my ears. “Landon.”
My name is velvet on her tongue.