Evvie Drake Starts Over(79)

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Well,” Monica said, “I don’t know why you’re the only one who has to show up every time. If she can wait when she’s deciding to wait, why can’t she wait when you decide to wait? It doesn’t have to be forever.”

It was quiet, except for the jangle of Monica’s bracelets as she shifted on the floor. “What’s your mom like?” Evvie asked.

“Overprotective. Fun. Smart. She works for a law firm. Big Cuban family, a bunch of brothers and sisters, just like I have.”

“Your mom’s Cuban?”

   “Yep. If you’re thinking you wouldn’t know it from looking at me, you’re thinking the same thing a guy said to me when I was applying for a summer fellowship once. Right before he asked me if I’d ever seen the TV show Jane the Virgin.”

Evvie turned her head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But they’re not Cuban.”

“No, they’re not.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. But my brother called the guy two days later. He claimed to be from the law firm of Rodriguez, Rodriguez & Rodriguez, and he told the guy if he ever asked another question like that, he’d be sued for a million dollars.”

“Is your brother a lawyer?”

“Not only is he not a lawyer, but he’s my littlest brother. He was fifteen.” Monica shrugged. “He has a low voice.”

Evvie laughed.

“I want you to know I never spilled the beans about the lingerie thing, by the way. Andy came right out and asked me whether I thought you were sleeping with Dean.”

Evvie turned to her. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘I hope so. I would be.’?”

Laughing made Evvie’s shoulders shake on the carpet. “Bet he loved that.”

“I mean, it’s the truth. I told him, the closest I ever came to sleeping with a professional athlete was the guy who wore the mascot costume at my college.”

“You slept with the mascot?”

“Swear to God.”

“And how was that?”

Monica hesitated, and then she turned to Evvie. “One time he told me he wanted to wear the tiger head to bed. He expected me to think it was, like, a very exciting idea.”

“What did you say?”

   “I said, ‘As far as my own experience, I’d rather you wore the body.’?”

They cackled, and it echoed in the empty apartment. Monica shifted her position on the floor. “Hey, is it okay if I call you up sometime and we can see a movie or something? I meet a lot of guys around here, and I need women friends or I lose my bearings.”

“That would be fun. I used to have women friends,” Evvie said. “I’m not sure what happened. When I was married, Tim wanted us to only have, you know, couple friends. He thought I’d complain about him to people. Eventually, it was easier not to start anything, and I stopped going out very much.”

“Wait…what?”

“Yeah, I know. He was weird.”

“That’s not weird, Evvie,” Monica said. “That’s sort of…emotionally abusive.”

Evvie had told stories about cutting her foot open on the debris of her husband’s anger, and about his temper. She had dreamed over and over about his red face and his hot breath. She had told Dean, right from the beginning, that he wasn’t good to her. That she didn’t love him. She had whispered that she didn’t miss him. He was mean, she had told Andy. But there it was, a diagnosis like you’d give someone with a fever and a red throat, where you’d peek with a flashlight and say, hmm, and then say that you’d be spitballing, that you’re no expert, but it sure looked like strep to you.

That’s sort of emotionally abusive.

“Yeah,” Evvie finally said. “I keep saying I’m going to get into therapy one of these days.”

“I’m in favor of all that stuff,” Monica said. “One of my doctors said, ‘Your head is the house you live in, so you have to do the maintenance.’?”

“That’s…weird.”

“Yes. Mental health metaphors are sort of hit or miss in my experience. But I’ve been on antidepressants since I was seventeen, so I can give you a name if you need somebody.”

I need somebody all right, Evvie thought to herself.



* * *



—

   Two days later, Evvie lay on the floor of the apartment again with her phone in her hand and her heart pounding. It won’t get easier. You might as well just do it. Then you’ll be done. She couldn’t say quite why she’d taken out her black and pink baseball glove and had it resting against her hip.

She went into her history and found the call she was looking for. She highlighted it and hit the button.

“Hello?” Her mom’s voice was always eager and never completely believable. She was probably sitting on her patio, her cat on her lap, her sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.

Evvie could feel her hand shaking. “Hi, Mom.”

“Evvie! I’m so glad you called! I was starting to be afraid you hadn’t gotten my messages. How are you, sweetie?”