Finding Evan (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

EVAN

I can’t speak to Ness about this. The kids. I told her I visited Faye and left everything else unsaid. I think Ness understands; she didn’t push me to say more. The fury at Lucy intensifies with this new revelation. I hate her for doing this. Lucy has taken over my world for years, and now this. I know she’s selfish, but doesn’t she understand the consequences of what she’s done?

I cope by pushing away the news, and by focusing on studying and Ness. Suddenly, the jealousy over Ollie sharpens into focus. No wonder I’m fucked up. Look at my life. And look at Ness, standing beside me, worrying, knowing when to hold me but not push me.

So Ness understands my need to return to Lancaster again so soon, even though I know I shouldn’t go. I tell her I’m going because of Lucy, and I guess partly I am. Underlying the layers of my hurt and fucked-up head is the real fear of how this could affect Lucy’s mental health.

Lucy’s out when I arrive at the house. As is Dad. When do I tell him? He’s going to find out; better he has time to prepare himself. Although he’ll probably do the same as me. Ignore how he feels. Yeah, now I know where I get my coping strategies from. I haven’t seen Dad since I saw Faye. I can’t remember the last time I saw him; even when I come back from Leeds he’s hardly around. I’m positive Lucy won’t have said anything to him about her actions. Maybe if our Dad had been there for her more, Lucy wouldn’t have gone looking for Faye. Who knows?

The good thing about Lucy’s room is the mess she lives in, so when I go in to check on a few things, she never notices. This is my ritual. Every time I come home, I go the drawer where she keeps her medication. I check the prescription dates on the boxes and I look at the contents. To my relief, she’s taking them. But I’m concerned by the number of her diazepam gone since I last checked. If she needs more help controlling her anxiety, this is not a good sign.

A mural of photographs covers the wall opposite the window, covering the peeling paint where she’d added and removed posters through her teen years. I study them – she’s arranged photos in a spiral, circling outwards. The ones on the edge are of her and friends from college, and in the centre is one of the two of us. Tracing along the spiral, I spot gaps where she’s removed some. I haven’t looked carefully before, so I’ve no idea who or what the missing photos are of.

Notably, there’s not a single photo of our mother. I’m not sure any exist in the house.

Near the centre of the spiral, one catches my eye: me and Lucy sitting on swings in the playground, wearing identical blue parka jackets and identical grins. Dad stands behind Lucy, smiling too. Which means Faye is the person taking the photograph. We must be around three-years-old, like the boy I saw. The Evan in the picture has curly brown hair, and in our matching clothes, we look more like identical twins, not brother and sister. I close my eyes, not wanting the image to stay. In case the Evan in the picture connects with the image of the boy I saw outside Faye’s.

The front door slams and I edge out of Lucy’s room and peer downstairs. Her large bag is dumped next to the door and she sings in the kitchen. When I walk in, she turns and grabs me in her Lucy bear hug. I wriggle out of her grasp.

“I’m glad you came again,” she smiles, pushing her curls to one side.

“I came to talk to you about Faye. I can’t talk to Ness about the kids.”

Lucy’s eyebrows draw together. “Why not?”

Good question. I’m getting around to figuring it out. “Once I find out what I need to know, I’m not getting involved anymore.”

Lucy rubs the side of her face and fixes me with her determined gaze, one telling me this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought. “What did you want to know?”

“About the kids. Have you met them?”

She turns away and pulls out a loaf of bread. “Sandwich?”

“No. Have you met the kids?”

Lucy butters the bread and doesn’t respond, so I lean on the bench next to her and look around her curls to her face. “Lucy?”

“Once. But they don’t know who I am.” Placing the bread together, she bites, refusing to meet my gaze.

“Why? Does Faye not want them to know?”

“Their Dad doesn’t want them to know.”

“Dad? Their Dad is around?”

Lucy clamps up, eating her sandwich with her far-off-Lucy-look in her eyes.

“Have you met him too?”

“No. Just the children. I wanted to meet them.” There it is. The reality of all this - the pale anxiety in her features. No wonder she won’t look at me. I touch Lucy’s hand.

“Lucy, this was such a stupid thing to do. What getting too involved could do to you…”

She drags her hand away. “I’m fine!”

“All this – the stress, the emotion – none of this is good for you. We don’t want you sick again. Finding Faye was bad enough. But now, I find out we have a brother and sister!”

Tears shine in her eyes. “Their names are Brandon and Jade. I’m glad I found them. I wanted to know where my mum was and why she went
. And now I have another brother and sister too.” Her voice is tiny. “I want her in my life again, even if you don’t. Can’t you understand?”

I bite back the words I want to scream at her, that I’ll be the one picking up the pieces as usual.

“You need to tell Dad,” I say.

“No. Not yet.”

Running my hands through my hair, I stare at the clock on the wall. The one that’s been there since I can remember. Talking to Lucy about this is pointless.

“I’m taking my meds,” she says, as if this is some kind of peace offering.

I don’t respond. Lucy’s cat appears, and winds around my ankles as he always does when I arrive. I don’t like the creature; reminds me of how I almost fucked things up with Ness last year. Lucy bends and picks up Charlie, cuddling him to her chest.

“I’m going for a walk; I need some air,” I say, grabbing my jacket from the back of the kitchen chair.

“I’m going to see them again,” says Lucy. “I’m taking them Christmas presents.”

“Christmas presents?” I stare at her open-mouthed. “This isn’t fucking happy families!”

Lucy pulls out a catalogue, leafs through to the toy section, and burbles about what she might get them. I don’t pay attention to her, but listen to the alarm bells in my head instead. If Lucy won’t back off from Faye and her kids, I have to get Faye to back off from Lucy. Because I am rebuilding my life and I don’t have the energy to rebuild Lucy’s when everything comes crashing down.

***

EVAN

The next morning, I drive straight to Faye’s, telling Lucy I’m going home early. Half-way there, I realize I should’ve called first, but I’m not functioning at a hundred percent. Selfishly, I want this episode done with. I’m strong enough now to help Lucy through the inevitable upset when she finds out what I’ve done. I might not have the strength if this carries on and Lucy goes downhill.

I park in my usual spot.
Usual spot
– the thought prickles. Then I call Faye. She’s surprised, and an edge enters her voice when I inform her I’m outside. The curtains of the house twitch as she looks to my car. As I climb out and head up the path, I conclude my brain has left me. What the fuck am I doing?

What I also failed to consider was who would be in the house. The front door swings open, and I come face to face with the boy. The child from Lucy’s bedroom wall, but with short hair. My stomach knots and the stupidity of my actions in coming here hits.

“Who are you?” he demands, pulling a sour face.

“Evan.”

He narrows his eyes. “You can’t see my mum.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause my Dad’ll bash you.”

Faye ushers him away from the door, and I stare after him. “Ignore Brandon.”

Brandon. I have a half-brother called Brandon. No. Not real.

Faye is makeup-free this time; her skin is pallid, and dark shadows sit beneath her eyes. She pulls the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands as she hovers.

“What do you want?” she asks.

She looks through the door to outside, and then closes it. Her hands shake and her breath smells of alcohol again. This isn’t the welcoming, want-to-get-to-know-you woman from last time. This
is the real her.

“Is he my half-brother?” I ask.

“I have to go out. What do you want?”

Brandon only has his vest and underwear on; I doubt they’re going anywhere.

“I want you to leave Lucy alone.”

Faye walks into the small lounge room. Clothes are piled on the chairs, the floor strewn with toys. In the corner, a TV blares a brightly
colored kids TV show. Brandon positions himself on the floor in front.

“She came looking for me! I didn’t ask her to.”

I follow her. “So you don’t want her in your life?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. This is hard.” Faye picks up a packet of cigarettes from the table. Lighting one with trembling fingers, she inhales, and then turns back to me. “I wish she hadn’t, but I’m glad she did. But I know she shouldn’t get involved with us.”

“That’s what I’m telling her. You need to tell her too. She won’t be able to cope if you hurt her again.”

Faye’s eyes flick to mine, and I have to look away when I see the tears. How dare she cry about what she did to us?

Faye looks to her other son. “Brandon, get dressed.”

She rummages on the floor, finds a handbag, and stuffs the cigarette packet inside. “If Lucy calls again, I’ll tell her to leave us alone. Okay?”

I consider whether Faye’s saying this to get me to leave. “Will you?”

The front door slams open and someone walks into the house. Faye freezes, panic in her rigid features, and I turn. A guy around my height, but stockier and older meets my eyes, pulling himself tall. His red-faced expression warns he’s going to hit me. A black patterned tattoo snakes from under his shirt and across his neck. He’s a fighter, judging by the set of his nose; it’s been broken a few times. I’m not a fighter. Shit.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“I told you he’d bash you!” comes Brandon’s voice from behind his mum.

“This is Evan,” says Faye.

“Who the fuck is Evan?” He runs his hard gaze up and down me, and I ready myself for his punch. “Is this who you’re screwing? Is he here ‘cause you weren’t expecting me? You stupid bitch!”

I never, ever thought I’d say the words, but I do. “I’m her son.”

“Yeah, right. Nice try. Get the fuck out before I hurt you.”

“It’s true! And Lucy – she’s not my friend; she’s my daughter!” pleads Faye.

The guy grabs my coat, fingers biting into my shoulder, and pushes me towards the door. Suddenly, I’m terrified, but not for me – for the woman and child in the house he’s throwing me out of.

As soon as the door slams behind me, shouting in the house begins. Immobile, I look at the door, considering whether to knock. Try and go back in. What’s the right thing to do?

My attempt to pull Lucy and myself from this woman’s life has just dragged me further in than I’m comfortable with.

I wander along the path, looking back as I do. A middle-aged woman watches me from the next garden. She's pegging out laundry, and a child about Brandon's age rides a tricycle up and down her pavement.

"They at it again?" she asks, shaking her bleached-blonde hair from her face.

I'm still stunned from my encounter and don't reply.

She sweeps an appreciative gaze over me. "You're a bit younger than her usual guys."

Again. The thought turns my stomach. "I'm not her...I'm a friend."

The woman laughs, as the shouting continues in the house behind. "None of my business, love."

"Is she okay? Should we call the police or something?"

"Nah. They'll stop in a minute. He looks like a tough guy, but he wouldn't lay a finger on her. Or the kids." She bends to pick a shirt from the laundry basket, and then fold it over the washing line.

I hope she's right.

"But he won't stand for anyone else's hands on her; so if I were you, I'd get off before he comes back out here."

"I'm not her boyfriend."

The woman giggles. "Boyfriend. That's cute. You mean you're not screwing her? You don't look her type, I guess. Not enough tattoos. Can string a sentence together."

The longer I stand here, the more awkward this gets. Lucy tells me she's found our mother. I say I want nothing to do with her. And here I am, on my second visit, chatting to her neighbors. I pull my car keys out. "So, she'll be okay?"

"Yeah. Me and Faye – we look out for each other." She looks at the keys in my hand. "You coming back to see her soon?"

"No. I won't be seeing Faye again."

This time, I mean it. This ends now.

Chapter Eighteen

NESS

Evan arrives back from Lancaster early; I’m surprised when he appears on the doorstep. My spirits sink. Is he checking up on me and Ollie again?

“Can we go for a walk?” He doesn’t step into the house, and fixes me with an intense look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you, Ness.”

I consider the winter weather and why he wants to go somewhere else. “You don’t want to come in?”

He pushes his hair from his face and stares at me. “I don’t think I can sit down.”

Stepping outside, I reach out and touch his cold face. He’s unshaven – a sure sign something’s going on. Here we go again. “Is it Lucy? What’s happened?”

“Not Lucy. Are you coming?”

Grabbing my coat from inside, I catch up to Evan and we walk along the street. If this
behavior isn’t because of Lucy, that leaves one other person. But he didn’t mention he was going to see his mother this weekend. I know he’s seen her once, and the distraction remains. Maybe he needed to see her again.

We head towards the park, walking along the tree-lined path. The starkness of the branches matches the tensions between us. My stomach flips. Maybe this is about me. Us. Am I not trying harder to let him in? Evan hasn’t said a word in the ten minutes since we left the house. Fed up with attempting to match his strides, I stop.

“Evan. What’s going on? You’re worrying me.”

“Maybe we should go to the pub.” Absentmindedly, he carries on walking.

“Or maybe you can talk to me.”

He pauses and turns. “I need to get drunk.”

“Don’t go there again. You’ve moved on from that.”

For a moment, he studies me, hands deep in his pockets. “You know why I need to get drunk? Because wiping my mind is the only way I can forget.”

“Forget what? Evan, just tell me what the hell is going on.” I take a deep breath. “This is about Faye? Is that where you really went this weekend?”

If this is true, his action hurts. This means he’s lied to me. Lying. Drinking. Hiding. H
e
i
s
going down the same route again. Every time we take a step forward, we fall back two.

“I saw Lucy. Then I saw Faye. And my brother.” Evan’s voice cracks.

“Brother?”

“Yeah, apparently some kids are good enough for her.”

His words squeeze my heart, and I understand where his rawness is from now. All I can do is walk over and wrap my arms around his chest, pull him close. Evan’s heart thumps against my ear, rapid to match his breathing. His arms remain at his sides.

“Can we go to the pub now?”

***

NESS

Evan stares into his beer, gripping my hand. If I’d said no, he probably would’ve come anyway. On his own. I’m disappointed I need to be this Ness again. But also relieved he’s not hiding anymore. He trusts enough to come to me.

“How long have you known?”

“About the kids? When I first met her.”

Kids? “There’s more than one?”

His shoulders move as he makes a derisive noise. “Who knows how many she has.” Evan drains half his glass. “I went to see her. To tell her to keep away from Lucy. There was this guy there…”

“The boy’s dad?”

“Yeah. I think. He thought I was…you know…” He pulls a face. “I mean, he didn’t know who I really was and got aggressive.”

“I hope you left.”

“I don’t know what I should’ve done. There was a lot of shouting…”

Suddenly, I realize what’s going on. “Her situation has nothing to do with you, Evan. You said so yourself.”

“I guess.” His expression doesn’t match his assurance.

“Was Lucy with you?”

“No, I’d gone to tell her to back off Lucy.” He drinks again. “I don’t want this affecting her.”

Evan echoes the thought I’ve held ever since he told me about his mum. This is huge for them both, and the kind of thing which could destabilize Lucy. And Evan knows this. Underlying everything is the relief he’s involving me; but what scares me is the level of involvement Evan’s having is the opposite of what he intended. Or what’s good for him.

I shift closer to Evan and circle his hand with mine. “You’re such a good person, Evan. But don’t get involved in something that has nothing to do with you.”

“What if he beats her up? Hurts the kid?”

I don’t know what to say without sounding heartless, and chew on my lip. “Maybe you’ll make things worse for them too. If you get involved.”

He rubs his thumb along the back of my hand. “Maybe.”

My stomach plummets into my shoes. He can’t add someone else to his list of people to worry about. He can’t drag himself further into this car crash. I wish I’d never pushed him into seeing her. Because I’ve unwittingly brought this woman into our life. And we have enough extra bodies in our relationship with Lucy.