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I totally saw where Everly got her looks.
Her dad seemed like a really nice guy and not overly churchy at all, which was a relief, because the last thing I needed was to be grilled about my family’s absence. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and we chatted about football while he grilled up some burgers. Mrs. Jenkins had come in when I was packing up my laptop and invited me to stay for dinner. I said yes, because truthfully, I wasn’t ready to go home yet—being around Everly made me feel good—and these days, I’d take some good when I could get it.
When I was with Everly, I didn’t think about the word seizure or picture contorted freaks in my head. We studied the constitution, debated certain merits, and though I’m sure I skipped words or said some things wrong or backward, she didn’t point it out or make me feel like a loser.
I’d been doing that a lot more since Thursday, but the doctor told me that it could happen when I was under stress, and if having a seizure isn’t something to stress about, I don’t know what is.
Speaking of stress, I was getting the feeling that I wasn’t the only one who was dealing with it. Something was off with Everly. She’d gotten real quiet when her mother came home, and a couple of times I’d caught this weird look in her eyes when she was looking at her father, like she was halfway to sad. And halfway to anywhere other than happy wasn’t a great place to be. I should know. I’d been halfway to somewhere else for the last year.
“Burgers are ready,” Mrs. Jenkins said as Everly’s dad walked in from outside.
Mrs. Jenkins insisted that I sit beside Everly, and after we said grace, her little brother Isaac kept the conversation rolling with 101 questions about music and football and Mustangs. The kid had noticed my dad’s car that first day I’d picked up Everly, and like most boys under ten, he had a one-track mind. Now it was cars, but when he got to my age? Yeah. We won’t go there.
Isaac asked me at least three times if I would take him for a spin, and each time, I’d told him that the car was in the shop. Technically, it was true. Dad was fixing the carburetor, and I didn’t feel the need to share the fact that I had to go six months without another seizure before I’d be able to drive again.
“The salad is great,” I said, nodding to Everly’s mother.
She smiled this great big smile, and I sat up a little straighter.
“You’re so sweet,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle. “Isn’t he sweet, Eric?” She poured herself another glass, took a sip, and then settled back in her chair, eyes on me before sliding to Everly and then ba
ck to me.
“The caramelized walnuts and goat cheese are what make this salad a standout.” She giggled and I thought that maybe she’d been into the wine while Pastor Jenkins had been outside grilling up the burgers. “It’s always been one of Eric’s favorites.” She took another big sip of wine, “You still like it, don’t you, Eric?”
A pause. I glanced around the table.
“My salad?” Mrs. Jenkins asked, emphasizing the words as if they meant something other than what they really did. That was the thing about adults. Why don’t they just say what they mean?
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Pastor Jenkins frowned and took a few moments to answer. “Of course I do, Terry. You’re a wonderful cook.”
“Yes,” she said softly, and for one second, I thought she looked as sad as my mom used to look, back when I first woke up. It was fifty percent unsure and fifty percent afraid. “Yes,” she said again. “I should make it more often.”
We ate in silence, though when I say we ate, I mean that Isaac and I dug in with gusto. Everyone else just kind of picked at their food, and I don’t think Everly ate more than two bites of her burger.
Pastor Jenkins cleared his throat and looked my way. “So, Trevor. I understand Everly is helping you out with your government exam.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I…ah…I need it to graduate.”
“What are your plans after you get your diploma? Everly here has been accepted to Brown.”
Huh. She hadn’t mentioned that to me. I shot her a quick look, but she was staring at her plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“I plan on heading to New York, sir.”
He shook his head. “Please, call me Eric. What’s waiting for you in New York?”
“Music,” I replied. “There’s a liberal arts college I want to go to, but that’s not for sure just yet.” Which meant I had no idea if I could do college.
His eyes softened a bit. “You’ve had quite a year. Your parents must be proud of how you’re handling things. Working hard, moving on. Chasing your dreams.”
I’m not sure if proud was the exact word I’d use to describe what my parents felt about my situation. Relieved would be a better choice. Grateful even better.
“They had it way worse than me.” The words came out before I could stop them, and Pastor Jenkins gave a knowing smile.
“There is nothing more stressful for a parent than feeling helpless because your child is suffering.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that Everly snorted when he said that. A quick glance to the side told me she was still more interested in picking at her burger than eating it. Maybe I was hearing things.
