The Last Flight(58)

Liz pulled her tight, embracing Eva in a way she’d always imagined her mother might, and she nearly broke, so strong was her desire to be known. To be seen, instead of constantly protecting herself, measuring her words and actions against discovery. It all felt like too much to carry alone, and Liz was the sort of person who might help Eva out from under it. The words rested right behind her lips, trembling, waiting to break free, but Eva swallowed them down. “I didn’t get anything for you.”

“Your friendship is gift enough,” Liz said. “Let’s turn on these lights and have a cup of hot chocolate.”

They carried chairs from Liz’s dining room onto the porch and sat with their feet propped up on the railing. The tree lit up the dark night, its lights glowing as if from within, cloaking everything else in shadows.

“I found out my mother is dead,” Eva said, her voice just a whisper in the dark. She couldn’t give Liz the truth about her life, but she could give her this. “She died when I was eight.”

Liz turned sideways in her chair and looked at her. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Eva shrugged, trying to steel herself from the pain she still felt at the discovery. “I’m trying to tell myself this is better. Simpler. At least she had a good reason for not finding me.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Liz said, turning back toward the tree. “Will you try to find your grandparents?”

Eva thought about how the discovery of her mother’s death had crushed her, and she wasn’t sure she had it in her to be disappointed all over again. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s easier not to know.”

“It’s easier until it’s not,” Liz said. “Which is kind of how life goes. When you feel ready, maybe you’ll look again.”

With every conversation, with every confidence Eva shared, she was drawing Liz closer to her, to the truth of who she was. She wanted to both push Liz away and inhale her at the same time. It settled something inside of her, to set some of her secrets down. To know that even after she disappeared into a new life, someone would hold the pieces of her old one and remember who she’d been.

In the distance, the Campanile bells chimed the hour. When they were done, Liz said, “That man from the other day. Tell me more.”

Eva hesitated, so tired of lying. “It’s nothing,” she finally said. “He’s just a friend.”

Liz sat with her explanation for a few moments before asking, “Are you safe?”

Eva shot her a look. “Of course. Why?”

Liz shrugged. “I thought I heard yelling. And his face, for a split second…” She trailed off. “My ex-husband used to do that. Be angry one second, then the next it was as if a mask had slipped over his true self.” She shook her head. “It just triggered something in me, that’s all.”

Eva considered telling Liz a version of the truth. That Dex was a colleague. That she’d made a mistake at work and put him in a bad position with their boss. But that was the tricky thing with half-truths. They led so quickly toward bigger revelations, like sliding down a hill, gaining momentum with every one.

Liz turned in her seat again so that she was facing Eva, watching her, waiting for her to explain.

“We had plans to meet for lunch,” she finally said. “I forgot. He was mad. But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Liz stared at her, as if weighing Eva’s story, waiting for the rest of it. But Eva remained silent, and next to her, she felt Liz’s curiosity and worry morph into hurt. Disappointment that Eva didn’t trust her with the truth. “I’m glad to hear it,” Liz finally said.

As Eva looked at the tree, something shifted inside of her, something shiny and vulnerable and dangerous rising close to the surface, breaking through her hard exterior. And Eva knew, without a doubt, that being loved by Liz was more terrifying than anything she’d ever done, because she knew she wouldn’t always have her.

*

Long after Liz had gone to bed, Eva sat there, watching the houses along the street go dark, one by one, unwilling to turn the lights on the tree off and go inside. Not yet, a tiny voice inside her whispered. She felt invisible, as if she were the ghost of who she used to be, come to visit this life and lead herself somewhere better.

From beyond the tree’s illumination, Eva heard the sound of quiet footsteps. She sat up, her senses sharpening, thoughts leaping immediately to Dex, or to Fish, and the fact that she wouldn’t even know it was him until it was too late.

A man appeared on the front walk, cast in a dark shadow from the bright lights of the tree, and she squinted into the black night as he approached and made his way toward her. Agent Castro stepped into the circle of light created by the tree and leaned against the porch rail.

Eva remained seated and waited. All these weeks preparing. Organizing. Planning. And now the moment had arrived.

She glanced at Liz’s dark windows and said, “How long have you been waiting?”

“A long time,” he said. “Years.”

Eva took in his face, fatigue etching shadows beneath his cheekbones, and realized they were not so different. Both of them weary from trying to maintain a facade that had grown unwieldy.

In a quiet voice, he said, “What can you tell me about a man named Felix Argyros?”

Eva kept her eyes on the tree. “I’ve never heard of him.” That much was true.