Will We Talk?

56- Packed

Evie's POV:

In the hopes it'd help me get over him, I packed Sam's stuff into a few spare boxes I'd had left from moving them into the newer flat. That's how my day went after returning home from my parents'. It went well, but mam got a bit upset at how I treated myself and we had a dispute, but dad was the hero of the story and helped the two of us out. Mam and I are fine, she just likes her own opinion a bit too much.

Now, I was snuggled up on my sofa, watching the soaps and sipping on my flute of Pinot Grigio. I'm not often a wine girl, but this moment felt right. It felt like a scene from a movie but in real life- my life- and lord knows how dramatic my life is. May as well make it into a film.

The time was 22:45 when someone knocked at my door. I placed the glass on the end table and approached the front door while avoiding the odd box and making sure my crutches didn't knock anything over. My eye found itself looking out of the peephole, only to present a swaying Sam- very obviously intoxicated. I let out a breath before answering the door and plastered a smile over my face.

"Evie! I never thought you'd answer." he slurred, "How you doing my darlin'?"

"Sam! Hi!" I spoke through gritted teeth, "What you doing here at this time of night?"

"Wanted you to come oot with is, y'kna like old times. Howay." he eagerly explained, hand out for me to hold.

"Sam, I can't do this so soon, I told you. Please just respect that." I informed him, but it was pointless as he was already drunk as a sailor and nothing was going through his mind.

It infuriated me that he was here after I'd told him literally that day that I didn't really want to see him. Guess the hint wasn't clear enough for him.

"C'mon babe." he pouted, placing a heavy hand on my hip.

That touch that once made me float felt like it was burning- singeing through my clothes and leaving scars around me. Mental scars. It made me want to cry. But I can't. If I cry, he'll take it as an opportunity: I know what he's like when he's mortal.

I pushed myself back from his grip and pushed him away, "Don't you understand? I'm not with you anymore and you need to suck it up. This is pathetic." I cried, punching at his stomach.

"Go easy on is, I've been drinking most of the day." he winced, stepping aside from my punches, "I kna I've done bad, Evelyn, but I fucking love you. I'm barely surviving without you." he cried.

The fool had me feeling sorry for him. He obviously wasn't coping either.

"I'll speak a different day, I'm not ready for this yet. See you, Sam." I mumbled before shutting the door and making a beeline towards my phone.

I scrolled through the call list frantically to find Shirley's name, "Hello?" I opened, "Shirley, Sam's here."

"You're fucking with is, aye?" she questioned.

"No, Shirl, he's actually here. Like knocking at my door here." I breathed, "Shirley, I really don't know what to do, I feel so bad. I didn't mean for him to become like this again. I'm sorry for being such a bitch." I flapped.

"Evie, Evie, calm down pet, you're alreet. You've got nowt to be sorry for, Sam's just being a prick like normal." she soothed over the phone, "Ronnie gan get Sam from Evie's for is please." her voice was quieter as she shouted for her husband, "Tell me, Evie, how's life treating you?"

"Like a sack of shit." I laughed, "I really do love him, you know."

"I know." she sighed, "He loves you, tons, he just has a funny way of showing it." there was a pause, "Y'kna just 'cause he's my son, it doesn't reflect me. I'm always here for you, pet."

I chuckled, "Yes, I know, Shirley. We need a catch up sometime soon."

"Sounds mint."

We spoke on the phone until I heard Ronnie outside of my flat, scolding Sam for him being here- not that he'd take any of it in. Then it hit me that Shirley stayed on the phone to distract me. The woman knows people too well- she can read everyone like a book. And that made me sad. Sad because I could've had her as my second mam.

*****

That night of sleep was rough. I was worried he'd show up again and I'd have to get security cameras and stuff put up. But no, that didn't happen. My eye bags were bigger than normal, but I was going to embrace it. My head was pounding, but I was going to ignore it.

I was in the kitchen, making myself a bit of toast when I heard the door open. Curious, I stepped out and saw a confused Sam stood in the doorway, closing the door quietly behind him. He was cautious of me and it really showed the difference between mortal Sam and sober Sam. He looked ill when he turned around: his skin was several shades lighter, and his face had lost its fullness, his eyes may as well have been dark tunnels. I felt his pain.

As he turned around, he flinched when he saw me, "Welcome back." I smiled.

He smiled, "You're looking well."

"Yeah." I awkwardly stuttered, was I meant to say he looked well? Because he didn't.

"I'm so sorry for last night. Mam telt is what I did, and I'm so sorry about it. It won't happen again." he confirmed.

"I know what drunk Sam's like." I laughed, "Your boxes are in the living room somewhere."

He approached them and carried them one by one to the hallway while I watched him. I was staring at him, in reality. I found myself admiring him again. Bad sign.

"You want to stay for a cuppa?" I asked, "You don't have to, obviously, I just think it'd be best to stay friends."

"You sure? I divnt want to be a burden like." he apprehensively responded.

I shrugged, "You're not a burden, you lump. Howay in." I limped away into the kitchen and sat back down at the table with my leg on one of the four chairs.

It's easier to forgive than to hold a grudge, but I'll never forget.