THE TRAIN WHIZZES as I settle deeper into my seat, watching the passing scenery from the window. I'm heading home for the weekend as I haven't been home for a while now, and I'm desperately craving some of my mom's cooking.
It's also Halloween, and my roommates had been extremely upset with me that I wasn't going to be spending it with them and their plans of partying around the city.
"You can't be going home," Talia had complained, watching me pack some clothes into my suitcase. "We were planning on going bar hopping to all places with discount drinks if you wear a costume."
I rolled my eyes, zipping up my luggage in one swift motion. "We didn't plan anything. I've been telling you guys that I was going back home for Halloween since the beginning of September."
Veronica huffed, choosing that moment to walk into my room. "We thought you were going to change your mind."
I gave them both huge smiles, putting my hands on their shoulders. "There will be other Halloweens in the future. It's not like we won't have the chance to spend it together again." As soon as the words had left my mouth, I noticed Veronica stiffen, which caused my smile to drop a little. For a split second, I'd forgotten that Veronica would be in Paris this time next year, meaning this was the last Halloween we'd probably all spend together. The thought brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
"It won't be the same, though," Talia whined, pulling me back into the conversation. "We won't be college students next year. What if we're all busy with work? What if something horrible happens, and we can't live together anymore? What if—"
"Tal, calm down," Veronica interjected, rubbing small circles on her arm. "I promise we'll celebrate next year."
I shared a look with Veronica as Talia perked up, wondering why she was making a promise that she didn't even know could be kept.
"Pinky promise?" Talia asked, looking between Veronica and me. She held out her pinky finger, looking at us expectantly. Since I met Talia when we were fourteen with braces and horrible acne, Talia had always trusted the power of a pinky promise. I knew that Talia was only terrified of the future because she was terrified of change, mainly if that change affected the dynamic of our small circle. The desperation and vulnerability in her eyes had pulled on my heartstrings, and for a fleeting second, I felt anger toward Veronica. But how could I be angry when she was chasing her dreams and making a career for herself? It just sucked that things would slowly be changing.
I glanced down at Talia's pinky finger before holding out my own, watching as Veronica did the same, a determined look on her face. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: if a stupid pinky promise was the one thing Talia needed to appease her worry, then a foolish pinky promise was what she was getting. At the same time, all three of us linked our fingers together, holding them there for a while as we all smiled.
"Promise."
The train suddenly lurches to a stop, announcing it as the last stop, which is also my stop. I quickly stand up, stretching my limbs as I reach into the overhead compartment to grab my suitcase, which is way too heavy for only three nights. I'd packed many clothes, even though my only plan for the weekend was to park my ass in front of the television as I indulge in some Halloween candy my mom has stored in the cabinets. Stepping off the train, I immediately see my mom waiting outside her car, a cigarette between her fingers. When she sees me walking toward her, her face turns into a grin, throwing the cigarette onto the sidewalk and stepping on it with her shoe.
"Hi, sweetie," she greets, pulling me into a hug. I melt into her embrace.
"I thought you said you were quitting," I say, gesturing to the crushed stick on the asphalt. She waves me away, shoving my suitcase into the trunk.
"Quitting is for losers. Didn't I ever teach you that?" I can't help but laugh, sliding into the car. It's colder in New Jersey than in the city, and I'm grateful that she has the heat turned up.
"Yeah, when I tried quitting soccer after one practice," I tease, and she rolls her eyes. "Smoking is different."
She shoots me a wry smile. "Does it help if I say I smoke on alternate Mondays every other month?"
"It's Friday."
"Enough about me," she says haughtily, and I chuckle. "How's school? And that boyfriend of yours? You didn't mention him when we talked before."
I pick at my cuticles, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me. I've been pretty good about not thinking of Sebastian. I've even managed to stop crying myself to sleep or crying at all over him. "We broke up." Once the words leave my mouth, my mom lets out a loud gasp, suddenly swerving on the road as she narrowly avoids hitting another car. The sudden movement causes me to grab ahold of the handle above my head. "Mom!"
"Sorry, sorry," she apologizes, shooting me a sheepish smile. "I was just not expecting that."
"Me either," I mutter, referring to the breakup and her almost ramming her car into oblivion on the freeway.
"What happened?" I immediately go into the details. The further I get into the story, the more her hands tighten on the wheel, and by the time I'm finished, she's ready to explode. "What an asshole!"
Her dark eyes are glaring at the street, and I know she wishes Sebastian was in front of the car now so she could run him over. She looks at me, her lips settling into a slight frown. "I'm sorry, Eve. I know how much you love him."
I shrug, adjusting myself in the seat. "It's fine, I guess." She doesn't respond, but I catch the fleeting look of pity she shoots me. I think that's the worst part of the breakup; the pitying looks from everyone. As if I'm going to break at any moment. I don't need those looks. I don't need everyone treating me like some fine china that will shatter with a single touch.
We spend the rest of the drive-in silence, save for the low volume of the radio. I think she can sense that I don't want to talk anymore, so I'm grateful. My mom has always been like that. She has always been able to pick up on my body language. Sometimes I think she's so good at it because she was young when she had me—only nineteen and fresh out of high school—being so young had left a lot of room for her to maneuver when raising my younger brother and me. She is truly my best friend.
Pulling into the driveway, she cuts the engine. "If you need to talk, you know I'm here, right?" I nod, her hand touching my knee briefly. "If anyone knows anything about heartbreak, it's me." I know that's supposed to be a joke, but I can't help the pang in my chest. I know she's referring to my dad. It's about to be a year since his death. And I know she still struggles with that every single day.
It wasn't a swift death, making it much harder for her. She had been burdened with sitting and watching him wither away in a hospital for so long.
Cancer fucking sucks.
"Mom–" She shakes her head, her way of saying she doesn't want to talk about it. I understand. For everything she's been through, she will always try and stay strong for my brother and me.
"It took you guys long enough," were the first words my baby brother greets us with as we walk through the front door. He's lying horizontally on the couch, a random movie playing on the screen.
Mom puts her hands on her hips, giving him a withering stare that he's not paying attention to, his eyes glued to the television. "Lucas, did you finish your homework?" He pauses the movie, looking over his shoulder at us. His sheepish expression is answer enough, and her glare hardens. "Come say hello to your sister before I throw your ass out that window." Luke leaps up from the couch like his ass is on fire, and my jaw drops immediately. He's a tree towering over me.
He smirks at my expression, walking over and pulling me into a hug. "Nice to see you, sis."
I pull back, holding him at arm's length. "Eighteen and a giraffe? What is Mom feeding you?"
She scoffs, walking around us and into the kitchen. "Everything in my damn fridge. We make grocery trips like every other day." Luke seems proud of that, and I smack his chest. After all, it's my duty as an older sister to keep his ego as small as possible.
"So . . . I have some good news," I raise my eyebrows at the massive grin on Luke's face, waiting for him to continue. "I finally joined the basketball team!" My eyes widen as I practically launch myself into Luke. He chuckles, wrapping his long arms around my torso, my feet hovering over the hardwood floors as I squeeze him. Luke has always loved basketball. I know it has everything to do with our dad playing it in high school and college, even teaching Luke a few things before he got too sick. Playing basketball is his way of paying homage to him.
Mom points a finger at Luke accusingly as I detach myself from our embrace. "If you don't finish that homework, you're not going to that stupid Halloween party tonight." His eyes narrow in her direction, knowing she isn't playing and will barricade the door for him never to leave.
"Okay, okay," he relents. "No need to be like that."
"I don't care that you're eighteen and built like a giant," she warns. "I can still take my slipper and smack you with it."
"I don't need any reminders." He winces, most likely replaying a memory of that happening in the past, and I can't help but snicker. These were the moments when I miss living at home and being around my family. I could see Luke play his games or watch sappy movies with my mom on the couch. They mean everything to me.
"You mind picking Luke up from the party later?" she asks, tearing me away from my thoughts. "I don't trust him to find his own ride." He scowls at her.
"Sure."
"I can find my own ride home, thank you very much."
She raises her brows. "So you fell asleep on your friend's lawn because you were too wasted to get home? That ring any bells?" I snort, watching my brother's face redden.
"That was one time, Mom!"
"I want to see less of this," she imitates his mouth moving with her fingers, "and see more of that," she points to his notebook and papers that he's spread on the dining room table.
He grumbles under his breath, shooting me a can you believe this is what I live with? look, and I laugh, shooting Mom a little smile.
"Are you up to watching a scary movie?"
• • •
Sitting in front of my laptop, I chew on my nails as I scroll through the plethora of internship applications I've been looking at on LinkedIn. I'm getting much more nervous about this internship debacle than I thought I'd be. Not only do I want an internship in hopes of it later becoming a job, but I also need an internship credit to graduate.
I'm about to give up and slam my computer closed when I see a name at the bottom of the page.
"New York Times," I read aloud, squinting behind my glasses. Humming under my breath, I click on the name. It's a position for a photojournalism intern. Intrigued, I scroll through the description of the role.
Selected interns will work closely with the editorial staff, pitching ideas and executing projects overseen by the board.
Applications are due by December 29th for Spring 2020 hire. College juniors and seniors only.
I click on the application requirements. All they need are two recommendations, a professional resume, a college transcript, and a portfolio showcasing work that relates to the applicant's moral views and will be able to tell a story. I frown. I have a portfolio, but they are pictures I'd scrounged from past photo classes and projects. They're good, but I doubt they are good enough to get this internship at The New York Times. Sighing, I close my laptop. The internship sounds like a dream. Working for a company like that will look amazing on any resume. I'm not particularly interested in photojournalism, but if there's one thing I've learned throughout college is that it doesn't matter what opportunity comes your way; you have to take it.
My phone suddenly buzzes beside me, and I look to see Luke's name illuminated on the screen. I furrow my brows. He'd just left for the party an hour ago; there is absolutely no way he's calling me this early to come to pick him up.
"Hello?" I answer, hearing the loud music and chatter of people in the background. There's some shuffling on the other end before his voice comes through.
"Evie?" I sit up straighter. His voice is shaky as if something has happened to him, and he's trying to hold in his tears.
"Luke? What's wrong?"
"Can you come pick me up? I can't be here anymore," he asks softly.
I nod a few times, already jumping out of bed and trying to locate a pair of shoes. "Yeah, is everything okay, though?"
He sighs, a heavy sound that reverberates through the phone. "I just–I don't–" he curses, and I can picture his face all screwed up as he searches his brain for something to say. "I just want to come home."
"Alright, I'm on my way. Just send me the address." I hang up, throwing on a cardigan as I fly out of my room. He sounded distressed, and I don't think I've ever heard him sound like that, apart from when our father passed away. I leave a note for my mom telling her I went to pick up Luke, even though she's already fast asleep in her bed.
My phone buzzes again, looking to see if he'd sent me the address, and I immediately plug it into the GPS, my phone saying I'll be there in twenty minutes. Pulling out of my driveway, I carefully avoid hitting the mailbox, a victim of too many hits with the back of this car.
I drive in silence, my nerves settling in my gut. I don't know what to expect once I pick Luke up, and frankly, I'm a bit worried. I jump in surprise when my phone blares over the speaker, almost swerving into the sidewalk.
Pressing the call button, I answer, "hello?"
"Hey, Evie. What's up?" It's Miles, and I can't help but smile. After going out for dinner after his art class, which was just us grabbing burritos from a Mexican food truck that Miles swore up and down was the best food truck in all of Brooklyn, we'd sat on a park bench and chatted about miscellaneous things. It was primarily Miles telling me about his music and how he hoped to sign to a label in Los Angeles one day. He's humble, sure, but after watching him perform, I know it's only a matter of time before he wins Grammys. After we'd finished eating and had ridden the train back to Manhattan, Miles had taken my number down before I'd disappeared into my apartment, claiming if I weren't going to call him, he'd do it for me. Safe to say he'd kept that promise up.
"Hi." I bite my bottom lip, rolling my eyes at my awkward greeting.
He chuckles, the sound causing my face to warm. "How's Jersey?"
I sigh. "Well, I'm picking up my brother from a party, and I'm a little worried about him. He sounded weird when he asked me to come and get him."
Miles is quiet for a moment as I hear some shuffling happening. It sounds like he's in bed, and that thought makes me smile even more because he called me before going to sleep. "Really? Do you know what could've happened?"
I shake my head. "I have no idea. I hope he's okay."
Miles hums. "Let me know what happens, okay?" My heart immediately soars. He sounds genuinely concerned for the well-being of my brother. I remember Sebastian had never even gotten to know Luke, claiming he wouldn't have anything in common with someone that young. "I was just calling because I wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed."
I resist the urge to swoon, but the cheesy grin on my face isn't going away any time soon. "Is that so? You're lucky I picked up the phone then."
Miles laughs. "Don't let that get to your head, pretty girl."
"Too late," I say, feeling a bout of smugness creeping into my voice. "Besides, you think I'm pretty, and that's another ego boost right there."
"I think you're beautiful, Eve," he replies calmly. I don't understand how he can say things like that and so casually. If I weren't currently driving, I would have most likely passed out from all the emotions running through me. Keeping my hands tightened around the steering wheel, I catch sight of the house, already seeing my brother sitting on the curb, his head in his hands.
"I have to go, Miles, but I'll text you later?"
"You better."
I end the call, pulling up next to Luke as he lifts his head. My heart falls when I see his red-rimmed eyes and puffy face. He looks as if he's been crying this entire time. Unlocking the door, he practically flies in, slamming it behind him. We sit silently for a minute, an occasional sniffle coming from him.
"What happened?"
He wipes his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. "I caught my best friend hooking up with the girl I like." He laughs humorlessly. "I told him how much I liked her, how I was trying to work up the nerve to ask her out. And he–he didn't even care."
I run my hand over his shoulder, frowning at the heartbroken expression on his face. "I'm so sorry, Luke. But listen, if she was willing to sleep with him, then she wasn't the girl for you, okay?" He shakes his head, but I keep going. "You are the sweetest, most caring boy I know. Screw her if she can't see that; I'm sure an even better girl will come along soon and see you for everything you are."
He looks at me through his lashes, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're not just saying that because you're my sister, right?"
I scoff. "Hell no. And if you ever repeat this conversation to anyone, I'll deny it." He laughs, the sound causing me to laugh as well. All I'd wanted was for him to smile, even if I had to get a bit sappy to do it.
"Mind stopping at McDonald's? I could use a milkshake." I nod, turning the car back on and giving him a sly smirk.
"You read my mind."
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a/n: hello! hi! hola! we've finally been introduced to evie's small little family. just want to say that her mom is my favorite character, literally written after my own mom lmao.
okay, but i have a serious question for the audience. how are you guys feeling about miles & evie so far? do you guys believe their genuine connection? are they moving too fast for you? what more would you like to see between them?