THE COLD WAS BACK.
Nothing pissed Eva off more than the fact that she had suffered through another ridiculously cold winter just to miss the entire summer. Six months in juvenile was to blame.
What might have been worse was the fact that the girls who had started the fight that had ended in Eva's arrest had been let off clean. Eva couldn't help but to hate them, all the time. Not that juvenile had been a horrible experience. Eva had adapted to the atmosphere, the people. The food was shit, of course, but the guards were cool and usually brought in food like pizza and ice cream. She'd be lying if she said she hated every moment of being locked up.
But she did hate those girls.
Leaving the facility she had been moved to and spent the majority of her lock-up time in to find the face of her mother was not a welcome sight. For a while, the plan had been for Mallory to fly down from New York to finally see Eva—and it didn't mean anything that Mallory would be picking Eva up from juvenile. Somewhere along the line, clearly, that plan had crumbled. It had been an idea. A thing to hope for, if Mallory had ever wanted to do it in the first place. Eva was beginning to accept that Mallory just wanted nothing to do with her. Not sincerely.
It seemed that the stress and the fighting was finally catching up to Mrs. Healy. Her messy brown hair, scraped loosely back into a scrunchie, was shot through with gleaming silver. When she lifted her sunglasses, the bruise-like bags beneath her eyes were painfully visible.
She had not bothered to wait inside for Eva. Even as she waited against the car, actually acknowledging her daughter, Eva walked alone. She paused, too, to show that she could. For several moments, Eva and her mother stared at each other, and said nothing. It was a painful moment. Somewhere deep inside, Eva felt her heart finally detach from her mother's. Because she was turning into an adult now, and she knew that she'd never actually had a mom.
Neither woman spoke a word as they settled into the car and drove on. Maybe an hour passed by when Mrs. Healy steered off of the interstate and found a gas station. It was one of those gigantic ones, behind which semi-trucks could stop and rest, or stock up on gas. Thick mist hovered on the air, and the many lights of the station created an odd, futuristic sort of atmosphere. They pulled into an empty pump, and Mrs. Healy opened her door. At the last moment, she paused, and looked at Eva.
"Do you want to come in? Get something to drink?" she offered.
Eva hugged her denim jacket closer to her; it was chilly outside, and windy. Still, the mere excitement she got from gripping the edges of a denim jacket made her happy enough that she got out of the car as well. Mrs. Healy killed the ignition, and by the time she closed the driver's door, Eva was already walking—rather quickly—into the store.
Smells of food and coffee danced on the air. There was a Subway connected to the station; the delicious smells of bread and vegetables mutated with the already welcoming scent. Like a magnet, Eva felt pulled toward the coffee station. She did not ask for Mrs. Healy's permission before grabbing a cup and filling it with coffee, though she would have were it anyone else. If it were Fiona, Eva never would have asked for a thing, because Fiona was a good person and Eva didn't want to cost her a dime. Not to mention, Fiona's homemade coffee was remarkable, so there'd be no need to buy a cup of gas station coffee in the first place.
Eva missed it terribly. She missed the entire family of Gallaghers.
They had come to visit her, of course, and written, and called. Some more than others. Eva could not be anything but content. She had landed herself in a place she could not leave, and the people she loved had stuck by her side through it. Matty visited when he could, and called at every opportunity. Mallory sent a letter each week, and occasionally called.
But it was the Gallaghers who visited the most. Who showed up for family days. Whose faces she most remembered, for she was given so many extra chances to sketch them with her eyes, to commit them to memory. Eva's only complaint was that she did not see her siblings more.
Neither of Eva's parents had visited once. She had not expected them to. It was a surprise that Mrs. Healy was here now, beside Eva, preparing a styrofoam cup of her own coffee. She was adding almond syrup.
Without looking at the woman, Eva started to pump milk into her coffee and asked, "Where's Dad?"
Mrs. Healy was struggling with the sugar. Her tone was inoffensively sharp when she said, "Not with me. Who knows. Who cares."
Eva said nothing else. It was no question that her parents were fighting. When weren't they? Always over the stupidest reasons, she recalled. A year ago, Eva had still been living with her parents. Forced to endure their constant fighting, their violence, their carelessness. Yet Eva felt a jolt go through her when her mother started stirring her coffee with a long, thin red straw, and she caught sight of the woman underneath. Who Mrs. Healy had been before her husband had finally succeeded at breaking her down.
Mrs. Healy hadn't always been all horrible. Eva had memories—albeit early, almost too early to reach—of Mrs. Healy running soapy hands through Eva's short brown hair, her voice softened to tell a story at nighttime and lull little Eva to sleep. It was all so far away. Mr. Healy had destroyed all the good in the woman he was meant to cherish forever.
Stop, cried Eva's mind, because a new ribbon of warmth uncurled in her chest. Despite years of extreme mistreatment, the piece of Eva that craved her parents' affection refused to die. She hated them, but she held onto memories that were so faint, they really could have been vivid dreams that had clung to her. Hated them, but the idea of being fixed by her mother's soft gaze, of feeling the woman's hand gently comb through her hair, made Eva's throat start to tighten.
Mrs. Healy paid for the coffees, gas at pump eight, and a pack of cigarettes. Eva stayed a couple of paces behind as they went back out to the car, clutching her coffee like a life source. Heavy fog obscured the roads behind the station; the sounds of invisible cars whizzing by in the distance were strange to hear. It dampened her hair and face, too, so that when Eva got into the passenger's seat of the car, her face felt oily and her hair was tangled and curling at the edges.
The drive back to Chicago was not terribly long—an hour and a half to two hours, normally. Only when they reached the bustle of the city did Eva finally speak.
"Why did you pick me up?"
Mrs. Healy barely glanced at her daughter, but a sour twist began at the edges of her mouth. "What do you mean, why did I pick you up? I'm your mother."
Eva refrained from barking a laugh. "That's funny. Being my mother never made you come and visit or call."
The older woman rolled her eyes. "And you would have wanted to see me?"
"No." There was no point lying. "But it would have been nice to know you were coming to get me."
"Well, did you already have a ride?"
Eva paused. "I was going to get home myself."
Mrs. Healy, resting before the red light, looked at Eva and stared. "Where's home, exactly?"
For some reason, Eva's cheeks were heating up. She didn't look at her mother. "The Gallaghers'."
There was a stretch of silence, and then Mrs. Healy spoke again, her voice tinged with something like cold amusement. "Did the Gallaghers"—she spoke the name like it was some annoying made-up word—"tell you you could do that? I mean, do they know that you call their house your home?"
Her attitude was so quietly offensive. It could not be proven, maybe, but Eva got the sense that, behind every word Mrs. Healy spoke, there lived a shadow of belittlement. Eva's fists balled tightly between her thighs.
"Of course they do," Eva said, through gritted teeth. "They're the ones who cared so much for me that they had me stay at their house. To keep me away from you."
Eva expected her words to mean nothing, but when the silence grew thicker, and she finally looked over, she was surprised at the expression on Mrs. Healy's face. Gazing upon the road now, waiting for the green light, her mouth sagged. She looked, more than anything, tired. Perhaps even a little sad.
The light flashed green, and Mrs. Healy stomped on the pedal; the car lurched forward, tires squealing. Eva fell into silence. Soon, skyscrapers and crowded streets gave way to rows upon rows of houses. They were close. Eva was just about to ask whether Mrs. Healy would be dropping her off at the Gallaghers' when the older woman spoke.
"Got evicted again," Mrs. Healy revealed, like it wasn't very significant. Having been kicked out of so many houses, it probably wasn't. "Landlord says we have thirty days to get out."
Eva didn't know what to say. She stared, gaping, at her mother. Horrible waves of coldness racked her body. She should have known this would happen sooner or later, but since she'd been staying with the Gallaghers, it hadn't occurred to her that she would be affected. But of course she would be. Eva could not live with the Gallaghers while her parents moved away.
"Just thought you should know that." Mrs. Healy shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "Do whatever you want with it."
Finally, Eva found her voice, though it felt rusty and dry. "What do you mean? What could I possibly do with that information?"
Mrs. Healy shrugged, cutting the wheel sharply to the right. The car zoomed around a corner, and Eva had to grip onto what she called the oh-shit-handle. "Well, I doubt you'll be wanting to come with me and your father, since you have your precious Gallaghers."
Eva felt suddenly winded with confusion. "Wait— It's not like I have a choice."
"Yeah, well. You're practically grown. Can't tow you around forever."
Eva felt the words like a slap. They actually stung. Why? It was exactly the sort of thing Eva had always expected to hear from her parents' mouths. But it felt different now, somehow. Before, no matter how badly they seemed to hate their youngest child, Mr. and Mrs. Healy never seemed to question the fact that she needed to be with them. Whether she stayed at someone else's house for months without break, or stayed home and wasn't seen by her family for days or weeks, Eva was always within reach. And every time moving day came, she was never forgotten.
She'd always known she was a burden on her parents. Evangeline was the surprise, the mistake, the nuisance. She'd always known. Became resigned to it, even. So why was it painful that the ride was already over? Evidently, Mrs. Healy knew the way to the Gallaghers' house, because she pulled right up in front of their house, coming to a rather jerky stop.
Why did Eva feel like the trip had ended much too quickly? Why did she get the sense that she hadn't spent enough time with her mother?
The thought could not live in Eva's mind that she would be left behind to live with the Gallaghers. It was too bright a hope—too dangerous. She swatted it away, and hastened out of the car.
"Thanks for the ride," Eva murmured. She wanted to make some apology about gas money, but then remembered the time when her mother had stolen her savings and spent them on drugs. Coldness shot through Eva. She gritted her teeth, especially because she knew that she would be stuck with that same woman soon enough. Ripped away from all the light in her life. It helped kindle her anger, snuff out her dismal sense of incompletion.
Eva slammed the car door. She started toward the gate. The passenger door's window rolled down, and behind her came her mother's voice: "Let me know if you're coming before we leave, or we will leave you."
Eva scoffed out a laugh. She should have known. "Yeah," she spat, "I'll do that."
She turned back toward the gate, but reversed a moment later. Eva swept down toward the open window, met her mother's eyes.
"I've been talking to Matty," Eva told Mrs. Healy, ignoring the flash in the woman's eyes. "Seeing him, too. He's good, by the way. Don't know if you care. And I'm sure you know Mallory is married with a baby now."
A gasp ripped through Mrs. Healy's chest. Her shock could not be faked. For a moment, Eva had the sudden thought that her mother seemed off, not because she was acting weird but because she was acting closer to her normal self. She seemed sober. But it didn't matter.
Secretly, Eva liked having power over her mother's emotions. She wanted Mrs. Healy to miss her children, because now she couldn't have them and she'd never treated her third child right. So she continued, like twisting a knife.
"I'm all you have left, except for Dad." Eva's eyes burned into Mrs. Healy's, so intensely that the latter ended up looking away, blinking. "Matty and Mal don't ever want to see either of you again. And I don't blame them. You're a nightmare."
Mrs. Healy stared ahead, mouth pursed, and took the blows without complaint. Eva's heart sped with malicious pride. Her moods always changed so rapidly.
"And if there's any chance that I could stay with the Gallaghers," Eva went on, licking her lips, "then I would. You made your bed. I hope you're happy with it. Because you'll die in it."
A short distance behind her, Eva heard what sounded like a shriek inside the Gallagher house. Someone must have spotted her. She hadn't told them when she was being released, because she did not want anyone to waste their gas on her. She could find her way back well enough on her own. Except she hadn't had to.
There, Eva thought, the word like a gulp of fresh air. Behind me—that's my family. And that was all she really felt she needed. Eva's heart still played to a hasty beat, but it was swelling up with the idea of reuniting with the people who had waited for her. Her mother was like a dark shadow from the past, come to tempt Eva back to her personal Hell with ill fate.
Brushed by the bone-chilling prospect of leaving with her parents, of leaving the Gallaghers behind, Eva came to a spontaneous decision. No matter what, she would not put herself through the life she had endured for so long. The Gallaghers had showed Eva what it meant to be loved, and to love a group of people so much that she would die for them. Soon enough, she would be eighteen, and she would be expected to figure out her own life anyway. Why not start a bit early? People did it all the time. A lot of them didn't have a choice.
Eva glanced over her shoulder. She was jolted by the welcome sight of Fiona's face appearing in the window, pale and bright and beautiful. She was beaming, a smile as radiant as the sun. Eva looked back at her mother, and felt her face soften. Mrs. Healy's was still one of the faces Eva was most familiar with.
"See you when I see you," Eva said, with a tone of awkward finality. "Bye, Mom."
Mrs. Healy finally met Eva's gaze. Her eyes were wide and full of tears. "Bye, Eva."
Eva was still standing at the edge of the sidewalk when the car crept away and eventually slunk out of view. Despite the wild ride of emotions Eva had felt in the past couple of hours, her heart ached at the sight of her mother's car's headlights. Mrs. Healy could have been cruel, but instead she'd allowed her daughter's cutting tongue. Could she have felt guilty for her horribleness? Eva doubted it. She was under the impression that both of her parents were both too far gone.
But what if they weren't? What if Mrs. Healy really felt remorse for what she'd done? Eva didn't know what to do with the thought of her mother looking at her and, for once, feeling a rush of affection. Because Eva was growing up, and soon, she would leave, just like Matthew and Mallory had. Then Mrs. Healy would pretty much be alone.
The front door swung open; Eva heard it bounce against the wall, as several Gallaghers poured down the stairs, crying out to Eva. She stifled the strange urge to cry, turned, and grinned. Lip was the first to attack her with a hug.
"Holy shit!" Lip was laughing. "When did you plan on telling us you were coming home?"
Ian wrapped Eva's head in his very muscular arms and pressed her face to his very buff chest. "It's great to see you, Eva. I'm so glad I caught you, I was just about to go."
Incredulity glowed like sunshine on Fiona's face. She pulled Eva into a hug that hinted at just how positively shocked she was. "Oh, my God! You're home! Was this done legally? How did you get here? Fuck it, I just can't believe you're here—"
Debbie approached Eva with one arm outstretched, because Franny rested on her hip. Eva hugged both of them, laughing because her cheekbones were already aching from all the smiling. As she hugged the girls, Liam came and wrapped his arms around Eva's legs.
Everyone pulled away. As they fired questions at her, all she could wonder was where the last member of the family was. She mentally counted all of the Gallaghers as they reached her, and she quickly came to the realization that Carl was not present. Eva refrained from asking his whereabouts; that would make it obvious, and she wasn't ready for the embarrassment. Her disappointment was biting enough.
Soon, however, the Gallaghers practically rolled Eva into the house. Just as she entered, Carl came scrambling down the stairs, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. He was shirtless, his body glistening with running beads of water; his hair clung to his forehead and temples, dark from the wetness. He must have hurried out of the shower.
"Did someone say Eva—"
Carl's voice abruptly died when he saw Eva, who'd been forced to the head of the group. She looked up at him as he paused on the stairs—his familiar beauty, plump mouth and dazzling eyes and skin meant for angels. In Eva's mind, no matter how she fought against it, Carl was like the sun of her world. Beauty stemmed from him.
"Hey," Eva said, her voice light and almost shy. So much was going through her mind. She didn't know what to do, but as her eyes locked with his, her lips made the next moves for her. "Someone probably did say Eva, to be honest."
Carl paused on the steps, still too far away. He was perched against the edge of a step, like a bird about to take flight. He stared at Eva for a moment, like he couldn't believe his eyes. Then it seemed to register. His eyes burned impossibly bright, and he seemed to stumble down the final steps. Again he paused, at the base of the staircase, just before Eva. Close enough to touch. He was gazing upon her, lashes flashing as his eyes fell low.
Eva's breath hitched in the back of her throat. She had seen Carl a few times since she'd been locked up, and had come to terms with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with her. He treated her as a friend, more than anything else, and as far as Eva knew, he was still with Bonnie. She did not dare to ask. But the look he was giving her now was terrifically different. It sent shards of excitement all through Eva. For a moment, she was afraid she might reach forward and kiss him—
Before Eva could make another move, Carl moved forward and wrapped her into his warm, wet embrace. Eva didn't care that he was getting her soaked; she hugged him back, just as tightly as he was clutching her. He smelled strongly of men's soap, and Eva breathed him in like a fresh breeze in the summer. His hold was firm, unrelenting. Eva's fingers slid up Carl's bare back, to curl around his shoulders.
"Fuck," he whispered, "I didn't know you were coming back so soon. You're here to stay, aren't you? Please tell me you are."
He was still holding her so close to him that she couldn't look at him. Carl was taller, too, Eva noticed with a pleasant jolt. Her cheek squished against his shoulder—definitely broader, holy shit, and she could only press her cheek against it because he was bent to hug her—as she smiled.
"I am," Eva confirmed. She was horrified when she realized she had been about to kiss Carl's shoulder, out of some sudden instinct. That would probably make things awkward fast, so she closed her eyes and drenched the fire in her chest. "I missed you so much, Carl."
Carl laughed, and Eva shuddered when he dropped a kiss onto the top of her head; she could barely believe it. "I never thought I'd hear you say that, joking or not. Just kidding. I missed you too, Eva. So much."
Words could mean so many different things. Eva couldn't hope to believe—not yet, at least—that Carl meant this in the way she wanted him to mean it. But she embraced it, nevertheless. Warmth spilled through her veins like liquid light, because Eva was home. Finally home. Everything clicked into place like a puzzle, and all of the matching pieces had finally linked as a single, whole picture. At least, that was what it felt like for Eva.
But Eva could be standing amid a chaotic war, choking in poisonous air, and she'd still be okay if she was in the cradle of Carl's arms.
Home: The word was a whisper in her head. It was no coincidence that this particular word should be conceived at such a time. Eva had been basking in the feeling of being held by Carl—such a wonderful, incredible honor, though she'd never admit it—and the word just chased behind it like a shadow. Synonymous.
Home.
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published ; 06.01.19
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hey! sorry it took me a month and a half to get this chapter written, but now that there are a few new readers, i've been feeling a bit more motivated! i wrote most of this chapter in the last couple of days.
1. i'm glad i have a boyfriend to compare hugging carl to (cutely), and 2. i'm going to florida tomorrow, wish me luck!
x kayla