The whole thing was too funny for me not to laugh. I have a habit of laughing in uncomfortable situations and that just happened to be one of those.
At first, I thought I insulted him before he started laughing too. It was low and barely noticeable, but it strangely felt good to laugh. With him. It lasted all of thirty seconds before he drove us out of there and dropped me off home while he walked back to his.
I’m more confused today than I was two nights ago. One minute I'm feeling like I'm being haunted by something in Gio’s yard, the next I’m outside a sketchy jewellery shop, with Evan of all people.
I didn’t tell him this because I'm still not sure how much I trust him yet: academic rival and all. But I'msureI recognised the guy who was inside the store. I don’t know what it was, but his posture was so familiar.
I know that’s a weird thing to say, but that’s the way I’ve always understood people. Wren almost always sits with her legs crossed, arms across her chest. Kennedy always womanspreads. My mom has naturally ‘perfect’ posture like me. But this guy was as straight as a door. He was standing with his phone in hand, his neck not seeming like a single kink was in it as he typed away. What was he doing, typing for so long? None of it made sense.
As I stared out that window, I tried to make sense of it all. I tried to let myself come up with some sort of theory, making myself believe that the change in shipments must be linked to Tinzin somehow and my dad unknowingly signed off on it.
It didn't help that I could feel Evan's eyes on the back of my head. It drives me insane not knowing what he’s thinking, that’s why I started the conversation. He makes me uneasy when he’s not talking so I filled the space with useless conversation. I'd rather speak nonsense than not speak at all. I’ve been like that my whole life, no matter who I'm with.
Well, it’s different with my dad, sitting here in this sterile room in a private hospital in Denver. I hate that he has to be so far from us, but this is the best hospital we can get and it’s only an hour and a half flight from Salt Lake. We’ve tried to make this room homey for him, pinning up pictures of us, hanging an Italian flag above the bed, a small bedside table with rosemary’s and prayer booklets my mom left but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s still the hiss coming from the heater, the rhythmic beeping of the machines and the gentle droplets of water coming from the dispenser in the corner of the room.
Even though I'm not supposed to, I've spent a few nights here, curled up with a blanket in the chair next to my dad’s bed. Most times I don't even speak. I don't go on my phone. I don't read my book. I justthink.
And it’s fucking terrifying. Being in your head all the time, feeling so utterly lonely whilst still feeling claustrophobic is the worst and most painful thing to experience. One minute I’m thinking about what I’m going to have for dinner, the next I’m thinking about oblivion. Even when I try to get the words to stop, they just keep coming, gushing towards me and I can’t escape it.
I spent the better half of the morning trying to piece together moments from the night outside of the store before I ended up going in circles. Then I finally got my ass out of my room, called Arthur to make sure the jet was ready, and I got here.
I wish there was more to say to my dad. I alternate between apologising and thanking him. I mean, that’s what you say to someone who gives you their everything and you can’t do anything when they need someone the most. Just like I was when mom was sick.
A small part of me regrets opening up that part of me to Branson, but it needed to be out there. If he’s going to be around more than usual, the least I can do is break a small barrier between us. If anyone is going to get what being in my situation is like, it has to be Evan, as annoying as that is to admit. There’s only so far that the girls can comfort me when they don’t fully understand what it’s like to be in my position.
Surprisingly, Evan is a good listener. He didn’t judge me or try to diminish my feelings like I thought he would. I can’t tell if that should be a quality I like or should be afraid of.
“Who did this to you?” I whisper, tapping my knee. I know I won’t to get a response, but it feels better to say my worries aloud. All there is in response is the rhythmic beep of the machine. “I’m trying, dad. I’m really trying. I don’t want you to think for a second that I’ve left you like everyone else has.”
I wait a few seconds. I don’t know what for. He’s only had two muscle spasms causing his finger to twitch, so I’m not expecting anything.
“Nothing is making sense to me. Why would you sign off on new imports when it doesn’t fit the status quo? And mom’s dream that you might have been forced into doing it…” I whisper, hoping that speaking it aloud will help me piece it together somehow. “That guy at the store was so familiar. I’ve seen him before. I must have. I’m going to figure this out, dad. One way or another, I’ll find out what happened to you. I’m not going to sit back and watch anymore. I can’t do that to you.”
I’m startled by the knock at the door, turning to realise it's my dad’s nurse Sylvie, an older woman with pink hair. When I nod at her, sitting up straighter in the couch, she opens the door, wheeling in a cart of my dad’s food and othernecessities.
I greet her and she updates me on how my dad is doing, telling me he’s responding well to the medication. When she straps on her gloves and gets ready to feed him, I stand up and say goodbye. I don’t like to stay for this part, and I know my dad would not want me to see him like this; so helpless and in need of help to feed himself. I give her my best smile before slipping out the door and catching an Uber to get the runway to get back home.
* * *
“That boy was looking for you again,” Kennedy shouts from the kitchen.
There is nothing I love more than an out-of-context conversation starter from Kennedy. I’ve been home for almost an hour after finishing up my homework at the library. The second I got in, I showered off the smell of hospital and school, snuggled into my favourite silk pyjamas and spread myself out on the comfortable white rug in the living room in front of the TV. Wren has a late practice today, so it’s just me and Ken and we’re about to watch a new episode of Love Island. That was until she ran into the kitchen to get us a refill of snacks.
I try to think of an answer to her weird statement. The only person I can think of is Charlie who I hooked up with a few weeks ago. Or maybe it was the guy from the night before the lecture on marketing strategies? I don’t know. I’ve had a ton of messages from Charlie since then, which I’ve been ignoring. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up here.
“What boy? If it was Charlie, I swear I’m going to-”
She cuts me off with her sing-song voice saying, “It wasEh-van.”
“Oh.”
I’ve been slightly avoiding him since the stakeout. It feels like we’re slipping into unknown territory, and I don’t know how to act around him. One second we hate each other, the next we’re staking out a potential murderer. I blew off our plans to study today so I could see my dad and he seemed fine with it.
Kennedy comes into the living room now, dressed in a set matching mine, except hers is in a dark blue opposed to my red. She flops down next to me lying on her stomach, her head in her hands as I lie on my back.
“What does ‘oh’ mean?” she asks curiously, tilting her head.
“It means I’m surprised that weasel is coming near our home when he doesn’t need to,” I say, snorting. “I’m going to have to put some pest spray outside the door to keep him at bay.”
