She didn’t answer him. She was looking at Andy, who seemed to be getting the same whispered advice in his ear from Monica that Dean was trying to give to Evvie.
“We’re going to take off,” Monica said. “Long night. I have a big to-do list tomorrow.” It was hard to say precisely who was the target of this politeness, under the circumstances, and who was supposed to be getting cover, but Monica pulled Andy up by the elbow. “Come on. Come on, we’re going.”
As Andy got up, he turned to Eveleth, pointed one finger at her, and said, “You’re crazy.”
Now Dean stood up, looked at the friend he’d had since elementary school, and held up one hand. “Goddammit, you are both drunk. Enough. Go the fuck home and I will talk to you tomorrow.”
But Monica at his elbow and Dean across the table weren’t enough to move Andy. He stayed where he was and he looked down at Eveleth, who was now refusing to meet anyone’s eyes at all, and he said, “Glad you found a project. If you decide to break up with this one and take off in the middle of the night, let me know this time. I’ll water the plants.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Evvie said, finally looking at him.
“Fucking crazy,” he muttered again as he pushed his chair out of the way and followed Monica through the side yard toward the car.
Evvie was sitting with her forehead resting on her hand, and Dean blew out the candle, then leaned down to her. “I’m going to go say good night to Monica, okay?” She muttered her agreement.
Dean found Monica putting Andy in the passenger side of her car, going so far as to lean over to buckle him up. “Hey,” he said to her. “You all right?”
She closed Andy’s door and came around to the driver’s side. “Not the most fun I ever had.”
“You know she didn’t mean that,” he said. “You know that was just the biggest bomb she could think of to throw.”
“Oh, I know that,” Monica said. She opened the door. “Make sure she falls asleep on her side and get her to drink some water, okay?” She shrugged. “I was an RA in college.”
Dean nodded. From the front seat, Andy declared that he wanted to go home, so Dean put his hand on Monica’s shoulder, and she smiled, and Dean returned to the backyard, where Evvie had now put her head down on the table. While she slept, or cried, or whatever was happening in there, he took the bottles and the glasses inside. He pulled her up gently, scooting the heavy metal chair, which screeched across the stone. “Okay, come on. I’ve got you, come on.” They walked a few steps before he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to get her to walk, and he picked her up and carried her up the back steps and into the house, through the kitchen, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. He brought her a glass of water. “Hey. Drink this, okay? Evvie? Drink this and then you can go to sleep.”
He took off her shoes, got her to wriggle out of her dress, and coaxed her into a T-shirt. He put the plastic trash can from the bathroom right next to the bed. “Evvie, if you feel sick, this is right here, okay?” She gave him a noncommittal “mm,” but figuring it was about the best he was going to do, he maneuvered her under the covers, made sure she was lying on her side, and pulled the sheet and the blanket up over her.
Dean stripped to his boxers and folded up the rest of his clothes on the chair by the closet door, then he slid into bed next to her. There was an imposing mess waiting in the kitchen downstairs for the morning. Food that would be bad, wine that would be stale, dishes with everything dried onto them, and everything smelling like garlic and drenched in leftover booze, none of which was going to be good for Evvie if she woke up feeling the way he suspected she would.
Just as he shut off the light next to the bed on his side and adjusted the pillow under his head, he heard her voice, still slurred but easy to make out. She chuckled sort of lazily, slowly, and then she said, “I knew I should never have tried to be