A Collection of Portraits

ραят ι: fяαgιℓιту

Look... into your future... Do you honestly see this working? You, me, and him?

It suddenly struck Evan harder than the head-on semi he'd been dreading a moment ago...

Oh God... what if his answer is no?

What if Evan had actually made a decision without having said a thing?

He looked back again, then straight ahead - only now without sight. His vision was swimming, blank, smudged; it was miles and miles and miles of farther and farther away. And it wasn't just the road that was gone now, but everything... all of the things that had once anchored him. He couldn't decide if he was supposed to feel thrilled or terrified. He couldn't decide if he was free, or completely paralysed.

Then the promise - Evan's promise - gripped and steadied Evan and tore him out of the imaginary wreckage, away from the screaming in his head that he hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

I'll see you tomorrow.

He felt the ghost of Trevor's hand gently, timidly squeezing his arm, his knuckles warm under Evan's own steady palm, and everything rushed back.

Evan drew in a desperate breath, and his future reappeared along with the road, straight and unclouded and beckoning. His right foot pressed harder against the gas pedal, propelling him forward - eastward - with greater and greater speed, and Evan grasped at the promise like a lifeline as he left Trevor Chase in his dust.

...................................................

Even as I sit here in the dark with my bag packed and my shoes on, I'm second-guessing every single thought that passes through my mind. I wonder if I'm just being horribly, greedily selfish? My mother used to tell me that life was about give and take, that I would have to relinquish certain things - important things - in order to make someone else happy one day. I know she was talking about compromise, but at what point is it considered prudent to step back and see if the benefits outweigh the losses? It seems to me that the moment of truth comes in finding the line that separates compromise from self-sacrifice, and then asking yourself:

What side do I really want to be on?

...................................................

The next day:

Trevor wasn't home. Something about "work," Will Chase - Trevor's father - had told Evan, his eyes detached, cool, unable to linger on his face. Instead they hovered rather unapologetically just over his shoulder, apparently fascinated by the sky, or at least one of its inhabitants.

"When will he be back?" Evan asked innocently. "It's just that... he told me yesterday to come by today, so..."

"Late..." Will said, his voice firm and abrupt like the chopping of a knife, eyes finally moving to meet his. "I think he said he'd be back later..." He stopped for a second to check his watch unnecessarily, then waved his hand with casual disregard. "I mean late, later."

"Oh... okay." Evan stepped back, nodding his head gently as he lowered himself down the porch steps. "Will you tell him I'll--" but when he glanced back, his unspoken pledge to return was met only by the dull click of the door against its frame.

He did come back the next day, though, this time to be greeted with an indifferent "He's out again".

Then the next day - Thursday - it was, "Out. Overtime", and then on Friday, "You know how it is, Evan..."