The Wide Wide Ocean

Chapter 30

As I thought about how I should start my painting, everybody had already left. By the time I walked out of the school, it was already late afternoon. And by the time I bought groceries and did all my errands, the stars had already shone in the sky. The indigo smiled at me when I looked up at it. And I knew I wanted to draw the sky's smile in my sketchbook before I forgot to do so.

I wondered what Owen was going to do during his fall break. I didn't go home but right after his classes ended Owen did. He said he was planning on getting bullied by his sisters for a while before he'll return. I promised I won't mock him if he returns a day earlier, scared out of his mind and his tail between his legs.

I hadn't had the apartment all to myself before. I wondered what I'd do.

Maybe draw with my door open and talk to myself. The idea of a calm evening with tea in my hands and a pen in the other appeased me. And so I quickened my pace, reminding myself that I need to draw the sky.

The keys jingled and yet I had no chance to turn them. The door was open. I was hit in the nose by the smell of liquor. I let go of the keys, letting them fall on the floor.

Evie, I whispered in surprise.

Missy, said her sleeping form through my open door.

As I looked at the apartment, I knew she was upset. A bottle of rum was on the ground and it seemed as if she failed to make herself a sandwich, the lettuce scattered all over the kitchen.

I picked up my keys carefully, closed the door with a silent click and turned the lamp in my room on. She was sleeping and yet I knew she was wide awake, pain trickling down her cheeks and mumbles, pleading. I did not know what had happed that she begged for forgiveness but she was drunk and asking her now would be the same as stripping her bare.

Tell me a truth, she said once, twice, thrice before. And I did not want to take her truth.

I took the bottle and searched for something in the pantry. Owen didn't get drunk often and I never really got into drinking. But I knew she should eat some toast. Evie was a lightweight. And I knew she's regret it even without having to puke her guts out.

The regrets and grievances will flood her mind nonetheless. I knew it. Evie had a habit of holding her pain in until she bursts into tears, bad decisions and long silences. And despite those, she was the best person I've ever got to know.

I returned to her, sitting by the bed, caressing her hair. Her eyes fluttered open, and the soft light reflected in her red eyes and drool on her lips. I kept caressing her hair until she opened her eyes fully. They stared at me as if Evie didn't know what to do with me. I was wondering the same thing.

I asked God, in my moment of loneliness and confusion as I stared into her mossy eyes tainted by bloody tears:

How can I not worry, Lord? How can I not regret loving her from the distance, knowing I can no longer be the one she relies on?

I held up the thin slice of bread. Eat it, the movement said. Evie looked at me with a regretful face. She didn't want to. I tucked the strand of her hair behind her ear and nudged the slice to her patiently.

And so she took it and ate in silence, her eyes telling me a story that I didn't dare to hear. Once she was finished, another slice was placed in her hand. And then another and another.

Evie watched me. I watched her.

Her eyes said:

What are we doing here, Missy?

And mine were saying:

Quiet... it's okay now.

Solitude in the silence of two people who could not truly be alone as long as the other existed.

Missy, Evie whispered between bites.

A tear rolled down her face, sliding across her nose, and falling on the sheets.

Missy, I couldn't do it, she told me.

And as I started at her... I realised.

She didn't sleep with Ryan.

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