so he threw one.” Silence. “Hello?” I checked my phone to make sure he was still there. “Ever?”
“You’re drunk?”
I snorted. “Just a little, maybe.”
“Jesus Christ.” The line went dead and panic shook me so hard and fast, I leaned over the railing just in time to puke into the garden.
Adela found me a minute later as I was sniffing back tears and sliding to the wooden deck. “Shit, what happened?”
“Everett happened.” I hiccupped again. “Then I barfed on the poor flowers.”
Adela crouched down in front of me, cringing and swiping away some puke with a tissue from her purse. “We need to get you home.”
“Mom,” I said. “Call my mom.”
Adela hesitated. “Are you sure? You’re pretty drunk, Stevie.”
I nodded, trying to stand. She helped me up, and we waded back through the house, the bass from the music making my head pound.
Mom arrived within five minutes, clad in her nightgown and with her face mask still on. Adela opened the car door, helping me into the front before she climbed into the back.
“That’s some get-together, honey,” Mom drawled, eyeing the raging party.
“Yeah,” I croaked. “It turned out to be a bigger thing than I expected.”
Shaking her head, Mom turned the car around and headed to Adela’s place.
None of us spoke until we’d pulled up outside the two-story beachside home, and Adela thanked Mom for the ride. “I’ll call you tomorrow, see how you’re doing.”
“Thanks,” I told her as she closed the door.
Mom sighed, then started the short drive home. But when we pulled into the drive that once held a mammoth-sized bus, she made no move to vacate the car.
Neither did I, though that was partially due to feeling as if I might be sick again, and mostly to do with not wanting to go inside after I’d just heard his voice. A voice that haunted the halls of our home and the walls of my heart.
“I’m guessing you’re finally ready to talk about this if you called me instead of walking home or catching a ride.”
I nodded, not sure I was ready, but positive I couldn’t lie in this state. Fiddling with my phone in my lap, I admitted, “He called me.”
“Everett?” she asked.
“Yeah, and I don’t know, he got mad and hung up.” Tears welled and came rushing out.
Mom sat with that a moment. “You and him… how long?”
“I can’t answer that.” I sniffed. “It feels like it’s always been there.”
Mom blew out a breath, then reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m talking physical here, Stevie. How long?”
“Not long, maybe a couple of months before he left.”
Mom was quiet for some minutes, her hand tense around mine. “I knew. You’ve been too sad, and the way you looked at him”—she smiled when I flung my head back to face her—“it was a little obvious.”
Fear spiked, and I opened my mouth to ask about Hendrix.
“No,” she said. “I mean obvious that you liked him. He was way too subtle with the way he looked at you for Hendrix to suspect anything. Hell”—she rolled her eyes—“your father and I didn’t think anything was happening.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, swiping beneath my nose.
Mom opened the glove compartment, plucking out a pocket-sized pack of tissues. I took one after she’d pulled it free.
“What are you sorry for?” She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “Falling in love for the first time? That’s not something you should ever need to apologize for.”
“But it’s Everett,” I said, thinking that was reason enough.
“Mmm.” Mom bobbed her head side to side. “That’s what you call shit-luck, honey.”
I bursted out laughing, and then she reached over, taking the tissue from me and dabbing at the mascara beneath my eyes. “Not Everett. He’s damaged goods, sure, but he’s still good. I’m talking about him being your brother’s best friend.”
I nodded. “I know.” I flipped down the visor, checking my eyes in case Dad was still awake, then closed it. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
Mom didn’t give that a response. She helped me inside and made me some peanut butter toast and tea before leaving me to finally remove her face mask.
I couldn’t sleep, wishing Everett hadn’t called me from a private number so I could at least call him back. But I couldn’t, and what was worse was that I knew, given how long it took him to call me, that I wouldn’t likely hear from him again for a long time.
It was hard to describe. The way my heart had adapted with his absence, however slowly,