Finding Evan (6 page)

Chapter Seven

EVAN

This is where I could’ve ended up if Faye had taken us with her. Lucy clutches the address in her hand and I park in the street, scouting out which house is Faye’s. Several homes have boarded up windows, tagged with graffiti, and rubbish piled in the gardens – old furniture, broken televisions – even weeds struggle to grow through. I stare at the crumbling garden walls and watch as a couple of children wander along the street. They look about ten-years-old, but have the swagger of teens. Growing up before their time.

The noise of Lucy chewing her fingernails accompanied us down the motorway and irritated the crap out of me. Lucy changed her clothes four times before we left the house, finally settling for one of her bright bohemian mixes of skirts and shirts. A Lucy-look. Which is what I told her – she should be herself. Now, she’s gripping the sides of her bag so tightly her knuckles have lost all color.

“Will you come in with me?” Lucy asks.

I knock my head against the headrest. “No. Stop asking me.”

Again, the chewing sound. “Okay.”

“I can wait a couple of hours and then I have to leave.”

Lucy rubs her lips together, and I swear she’s going to cry. I temper my tone. “Look, this is tough for me too. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” Her voice is a whisper, but her determination clear.

I spoke to Faye, confirmed she had asked Lucy to visit her. She tried to make conversation, but I restricted my words to the minimum necessary. Businesslike, taking down her address and confirming a time. Faye’s voice shook as she quietly gave me the details, her Lancashire accent apparent.

After the last few years of coping with Lucy and her disorder, I’m good at shutting down unpleasant emotions and pretending this isn’t my reality. But that’s easy enough in Leeds with Ness around. Sitting here, looking over at Faye’s green front door, the emotions are breaking through the gaps.

Lucy’s breath comes in short bursts and I place an arm on hers. “Is this a good idea? We can go.”

“No. I have to do this. See her.”

Will she be okay? Briefly, the idea Lucy might get too upset and shout at or attack the woman enters my mind, but I know that’s not Lucy. Only I get that treatment. The biggest problem is Lucy has an idea of an arms-open family reunion, which I don’t think is likely.

“Right.” Lucy sucks in a breath and kisses my cheek. “See you soon.”

I watch as Lucy walks up the cracked concrete path and knocks on the door. Faye’s waiting, because the door opens instantly. Lucy obscures the doorway and I shift my gaze to my hands, refusing to allow myself a glimpse of the woman in the doorway. When I glance back, the door has closed.

I stare ahead, heart thumping blood away from my head and dizzying me. Maybe I should go and see Faye too. No. I pull a textbook from my bag and try to focus on the words. Two hours. Plenty of time to finish my assignment.

Chapter Eight

NESS

Evan left for Lucy’s yesterday, a few hours after my fake gastro. I could tell from his hesitance that he knows I’m still upset about tonight. If that’s all that’s wrong. I can’t shake my suspicion that something is going on he’s not telling me about. Evan’s distance concerns me; recently he avoids talking about anything beyond the day-to-day. He’s shutting me out again. Hiding from something. When Evan comes back, we’re going to talk about this. Needing to see Lucy is fine, but I can’t go back down the route where secrets ruin what we have.

I haven’t heard from him today and I know why – the MedSoc party is tonight. After the argument we had at lunch the other day, about him not coming with me, I know he’s avoiding one last snarkfest from me. We planned to go together for weeks – have fun together and escape the real world for an evening. And partly to show him I do want him involved with my friends, and that he’s imagining the Ollie stuff.

When I found out Evan wasn’t going, I tried to pull out. Abby stopped me. She’s been invited by Jared and wants me to hold her hand around the scary med students. As if. She’ll leave me on my own after ten minutes.

I decide to buy some new shoes to match my dress – a painful process because I hate shoe shopping – but I’ve no heels, and the dress I’m wearing looks stupid with flats. When I arrive home, I discover a blanket-covered Abby surrounded by used tissues. She croaks a hello to me.

“You can’t be sick!” I protest.

Abby’s pale face and reddened nose confirm she’s not going anywhere tonight. “I don’t want to be either; I was looking forward to tonight.”

And now I’m not.

I know it’s not her fault, but this isn’t my kind of night out, and I was relying on her after Evan let me down.

“I could still pull out and not go,” I say half to myself.

“Don’t be boring! You’ve spent the money on tickets and clothes now. And I want to see you in those.” Abby points at the box. “Get changed! Shoo! Be Happy-Ness, not Boring-Ness.”

I pull a face at Abby. She’s added words to Ness to give me new names ever since we were kids. Evan heard her once, so he has his own names for me. Both of them think it’s hilarious, mostly because the stupidity winds me up. Sometimes I think I should’ve stuck with Vanessa.

Relenting, I disappear upstairs to get ready. An hour later, I trip downstairs in my new red heels.

Abby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Evan will be pissed off he missed you looking like that.”

“Like what?” I smooth the red satin dress; I thought my choice was okay. Not too short, and although the material clings to my curves, the dress isn’t exposing much flesh.

Abby gives a small laugh. “Sexy as hell, Ness. Especially, since you’re so gorgeous anyway. I’d better ask Jared to keep an eye on you.”

I flush to what I expect is the same
color as the dress. “Should I get changed?”

“No! Lots of people will be dressed like you. Lipstick looks good too.” She puckers her lips at me.

I walk over and plant a big red kiss on her hot forehead. “I still can’t believe you’re sick!”

“Yeah, I’m pissed off. I want to go!” she whines. “Make me a Lemsip before you go, Dr. Armstrong.” For emphasis, Abby coughs.

I screw my nose up. “Actually, I think I’m glad I’m going; I don’t want to stay here and be infected.”

Abby pulls a face and I consider offering to stay with her. No. I can’t stay at home just because Evan isn’t here. His choice. And this is mine. A horn sounds from a taxi outside and I grab my coat.

“Got your keys?” she asks.

I hold up where I’ve strung them around my neck. This and the entry ticket are all I’m taking.

***

The heat in the club hits me as hard as the loud music assaulting my ears. I stumble through the door. Why did I wear heels? I haven’t had anything to drink and I’m staggering. Jared catches my elbow and steadies me.

“You sure you didn’t start before you left?”

I scowl at him and he smirks back.

Adjusting my eyes to the light, I take in the scene around me. Not only are people knocking back cocktails faster than they can be refilled, but some guys are running around with water pistols. Ducking the stream from one, I wind through the crowd following Jared and Ollie, and wonder how long before I lose them in the throng. Most of the med school is here, and the place is jammed with other students too. A free for all, not the exclusive event I expected.

“Get the drinks in, Ollie!” yells Jared above the music.

“What’re you having?” asks Ollie, turning to me.

I thought Ollie might dress up more, maybe lose his T-shirt and jeans combination for the night, but no. He’s never scruffy, but he isn't dressed any differently than normal. Unlike Jared, who seems to have a handle on dressing well, in his designer shirt and hugging-in-all-the-right-places trousers. Jared made an over the top fuss about how ‘hot’ I looked, but thankfully, Ollie said nothing. And he didn’t check me out. I think Evan’s getting to me with his jealousy, because I’m on alert for any look or words that could indicate Ollie’s interested.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “What have they got to drink?”

“Um. Cocktails? As it’s a cocktail night…”

We head to the bar and Ollie hands me a drink in a tall glass. Every time the strobes illuminate the glass, the contents shine bright blue. Sipping the drink, I wince at the strength of the alcohol.

I needn’t have worried about standing out in my dress. In the dim of the club and the masses around me, I’m nothing special.

And neither is Abby apparently.

Anger shoots into my limbs as I witness Jared hitting on another girl. Not kissing, but arm around her shoulders, with hers around his waist. The way she rests her head against him as he strokes her arm proves they’re not just friends. I step towards them and Ollie catches my arm.

“What the fuck?” I shout at Ollie over the music.

“He’s Jared. He’s a dickhead when it comes to girls,” Ollie says, leaning into my ear.

“Has he been two-timing Abby?”

“At least. Maybe three or four. Be interesting to see what happens if more than one of his girlfriends are here.”

“Why the hell invite Abby then?” I yell.

Disgusted, I stomp towards a table covered in half-empty glasses. Ollie catches up.

“Ignore him. Have fun.” He lifts his drink in a toast and I do the same, clinking glasses. As I watch the crowds, my glass empties quicker than I realize, so I grab another. I’m not comfortable. I never go to things like this. Ever.

“Let’s find some others. Forget about my cousin, okay?” Ollie half-yells in my ear.

He walks away before I can answer, so I hastily follow him. Still wishing I hadn’t worn these bloody stupid shoes.

***

The spiral patterned carpet spins in front of me as I lean back on the sofa in the dimly lit ‘chill-out’ corner of the nightclub. I close my eyes, but the spinning intensifies
.
Shi
t
. I didn’t think I’d had that many drinks. I fixate on a colorful poster opposite in an attempt to stay grounded. The words and images swim around; I can’t even make out what it’s advertising. I want to lie down. In bed.

Ollie disappeared with a gang of different med students ages ago, dragged off by Sonya, who spends time hanging around him in class. She seems okay, not as arrogant as some girls who are as stunning as she is, and Ollie deserves some attention. I haven’t seen Jared since the incident with the girl. Throwing my head back against the top of the sofa, I stare at the ceiling
.
Someone take me hom
e
. I press a cool bottle of water to my cheeks, but it’s not enough.

A guy flops into the sofa next to me and I attempt to focus on his blurred figure. Tall. Scruffy looking. Sweaty or a victim of the water pistols, I can’t tell.

“You not feeling too great, Ness?”

How does he know my name? The print on his T-shirt jogs my memory. He came onto me at the bar before. I focused most of my energy on staying upright, summoning up the ability to walk away and find Ollie or Sunita. The swimming in my head arrests me so I stare at the picture on his T-shirt for a very long time instead. That’s how I know it’s him, because his hazy face swims in and out of my vision.

“I feel sick,” I mumble.

“Aww.” He leans across and pushes damp hair from my face. I jerk away and he holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry!”

The room keeps tipping and I have to hold onto the sofa arm to right myself, even though I’m sitting. This is bad. Very bad. I scan the groups around me for Sunita and her friends, but I can’t focus. I hung around with Sunita for a while after the guys disappeared. I think that’s the point I knocked back too many cocktails, keeping pace with her friends.

Pulling myself from the sofa, I steady myself, and then focus hard on the direction I intend to walk in. Shoes. Fucking stupid shoes. As I bend down to take them off, someone touches my backside.

Spinning around, I slap the guy’s hand away and he sniggers at me, especially when the action causes me to stumble.

And this is why I don’t drink.

The box of memories creaks open, and the leaden sickness in my stomach threatens to push out the contents.

“Get the fuck off me!” I yell. Or slur? I can’t hear above the music and ringing in my ears.

The guy grins drunkenly and steps towards me. “You look like you need help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” He wipes an arm across his mouth and looks at my breasts.

No. No. No
.
“I’m not interested. I’m going to find my friends.”

He leans towards me, breath stinking of cigarettes. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Adrenaline pushes through the alcohol in my system.

“My boyfriend thinks so. He’s around somewhere.”

“No he’s not; you’ve been with girls all night.”

I’m in the wrong position, because when the guy steps towards me, I’m backed against a wall. He seizes his chance and moves in. I have no way out.

“Get away,” I warn.

“Aw, c’mon. You’re up for this. You came onto me at the bar.”

God no, not again. “I did not!”

The guy places a hand on my hip and leans towards my ear. “Don’t tease me. We could have some fun.”

The words freeze time and the box in my mind flies open. I could be there again, the stupid flirting leading me into trouble as a fifteen-year-old girl. I battle to push away that girl, the scared girl who can’t work out how she got herself into the situation. But she’s here and can’t move, as he runs his hand along my thigh.

The stench of tobacco on his breath turns my stomach further as he attempts to kiss me. The sleazy guy presses himself into me, pinning me to the wall and I remain stiffened, unable to process what’s happening. Hands move up my sides towards my breasts, and his disgusting mouth closes in on mine.

“Get off me!” I yell, returning to the Ness I am now. I push at him, twisting my face from his.

He’s drunk, hands roaming my body, and when his mouth closes on mine, I sink my teeth into his lip. The guy pulls his head back in alarm, holding his mouth. The alcohol in his system must numb the fact his lip is bleeding, because he’s not deterred.

“You like rough, then?” he whispers into my ear, pulling the top of my dress to one side.

I can’t believe this is happening. In public. And nobody notices – or cares. Can’t they see? Summoning up the remaining strength I have, I shove him as hard as I can in the chest. He stumbles backwards, ripping my dress where he has hold of the strap.

“I said get the fuck off me!”

“Ness? What the hell?” asks a voice behind me.

The guy twists his body around, and leans against the wall next to me. He snakes an arm around my waist. I dig my nails into his hand but he won’t let go. “Fuck off, mate,” he says.

Ollie.

“Ness?” His widened eyes fix on my torn dress.

I shake my head at him, tears forming. “Get him away!”

Ollie grabs the guy by the T-shirt and jerks him backwards so he falls across the sofa. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

“Yeah?” He turns his drunken eyes to me.

I refuse to meet them. “Ollie, I want to go home.”

“Not much of a fucking boyfriend, is he?” retorts the guy. “Leaving you here on your own while he parties with his mates.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. Fuck off.” Ollie straightens, taking on an intimidating stance. He’s a few inches taller than the sleazy guy, and heavier built. “Go. Now. Before I fucking punch you!”

“Fine,” he mutters. The guy holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat and backs away, blending into the crowds. I slide down the condensation-covered wall, landing on the floor, and my dress rides up to my knees. The dress falls down at the front where he ripped it, and I hold the strap up, reddening as Ollie’s gaze quickly shifts from where I was exposed.

Ollie crouches down. “You okay?”

I chew inside my mouth, biting back the growing hysteria. I don’t want him to see that I’m not. “I want to go home. Can you get me a cab?”

“Come on.” He takes me under the arms and pulls me to my feet. I slump against his chest, pleased for the support. Physical and otherwise.

“Just get me a cab,” I mumble.

“I’ll take you home. Honestly, Ness…”

“I didn’t want him to do it!” I shriek, pushing at him.

“No, I was talking about how drunk you are. Not that scum touching you up.”

His strange calmness soothes me. Ollie picks up my shoes, and then guides me through the throng and down the stairs; all the while, I grip onto his arm. Outside, the winter air hits a tiny piece of sobriety into me and I drop onto the pavement edge, head in my hands. I’m not the only one – there’s a few other girls staggering around or slumped near me. I place a palm on the bitumen path and focus on not vomiting, ignoring the way the ground moves around.

Voices mingle behind and I catch snatches of conversations.

“So you’re not coming back with me?” A girl’s voice.

“No. I’ve got to take my friend home.” Ollie’s talking to someone. The same person? Sonya? I’d turn and see who, but if I move I might throw up.

“Friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I get a kiss goodbye at least?” I doubt she’s sober either from the sound of her voice.

I’ve no idea if he does or not, but moments later, heels click away and Ollie crouches back by me. “How’re you doing?”

I can’t hold the nausea anymore, and I retch the contents of my stomach over Ollie’s boots and the pavement. I groan and to my surprise, he laughs at me.

“This is a whole new side to you, Ness. You’ll never make a proper med student if you can’t hold your drink.”

I ignore him and put my head back on my knees, wishing I could wash the bitter taste from my mouth. And the memory of the guy from my mind. Car wheels appear on the road in front, and a few moments later, Ollie helps me inside. The smell of the taxi air freshener turns my stomach and I gag.

“She’s not getting in here if she’s going to be sick!” protests the driver.

“She won’t be; she already has.” Ollie leans around and straps me in.

As the car moves away, I hold my head against the window and close my eyes. “Sorry.”

“You’re not the first drunk girl I’ve helped. And I doubt you’ll be the last.” At least he’s amused and not pissed off. And not mentioning what he just saw.

“Sorry for the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one you left. Who wanted to kiss you.”

Ollie snorts. “I didn’t want to kiss her. You probably helped me out.”

“Not as much as you helped me out.”

“True.”

The journey consists of Ollie’s silence and me attempting to not retch. When we get home, he hooks his fingers beneath the shoelace tying the keys around my neck and pulls them over my head. My body stiffens at the second set of male hands on my bare skin tonight.

I’ve never been happier to see my sofa as I am now. I don’t care it’s covered with Abby’s disgusting, snotty tissues as I throw myself onto it. The threadbare cushions are the most welcoming bed I’ve had in my life.

Ollie kneels on the floor next to me. I’m focusing better because I can see the concern in his wrinkled brow. “You going to be okay? After what happened.”

“I just want to sleep.” Not think about it. Ever.

“Do you still feel sick?”

“No.” I gag again.

“Sure…” Ollie walks away and I fight to keep my eyes open. A bowl materializes next to me, and Ollie lays a cool hand on my forehead.

“I don’t want you choking to death on your own vomit.”

“Nice.”

He stands and sits in the armchair opposite. “Do you want me to get Abby?”

“No. Don’t wake her up. And sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s okay. If I wasn’t helping you home, I’d be helping Jared.”

I turn my head towards him. “Why aren’t you drunker? I was sure you had a few.”

He smiles, and I think it’s at my slurred speech. “I’ve had more practice. Last time I was really wasted was at the Full Moon Party in Thailand. Makes the MedSoc events look like a tea party.”

I make a noise of agreement, but don’t have a clue what he means. “Sorry about the girl then.”

“I said it’s fine.” He pauses. “I have a girlfriend anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Should tell Evan,” I mumble.

“Tell Evan what?”

“You have a girlfriend and don’t want his.”

Ollie doesn’t respond. I’d like to ask him about his girlfriend, but my brain would like me to go to sleep. The minute of quiet that follows my comment is long enough for me to pass into unconsciousness.

***

EVAN

Lucy stayed in Faye’s house a couple of hours, came out, and tried to talk to me. Every time she opened her mouth, I shut her down. Blanking out today is the only way to cope. I can’t acknowledge where Lucy went. I’m used to waiting outside for her; in the past I would when she had hospital appointments, so I can trick my mind into thinking this is what I’m doing. We drove back to Lancaster in silence. Lucy thanked me; I told her never ask me to go with her again. Then I left. For the pub.

I stay out all evening; I came across some old mates at the pub. After the day I’ve had, escaping into a beer haze seems excusable. But I can’t contact Ness. She won’t answer my texts. Ness always answers texts, even with a message to say she’ll text later. This funny Ness quirk normally amuses me, but now it worries me because she hasn’t. I know she went to the MedSoc thing, but she should be back by now. We always say goodnight.