I shut off the car and turn to Evie. "Can I ask how many men you've dated, Evie?" I try not to hold my breath. Whatever she says, I’m responsible for. However many men she’s been with, is my own fault. I need to accept that.
It looks like my question surprises her and I notice that she’s blushing slightly as she says, "So many men, Jake, but I doubt you'd say I actually dated many of them."
I freeze. What the f**k? But then I realize she’s mocking me. I exhale. "You're f**king with me," I say.
She tilts her head. "It's okay for you but not for me?" she asks.
No. It’s not okay for either of us, but she wouldn’t have made the mistakes I made. She would have found some way to be better than me. She always had. "Yes, because you're a better person than I am," I answer.
"Jake–" she starts.
"I just want an honest answer. I just want to know how many men have been in your life."
She sighs. She probably thinks I’m all over the map. Unsure one minute and caveman the next. But that’s pretty much exactly what’s going on inside of me. The two halves of me are dueling. I’m scared to death and possessive as hell. It’s exhausting. But I have to know. Maybe I want to torture myself, I don’t know. But I need her to answer me. After a minute, she says, "I've dated a couple guys. Mostly set-ups by my friend Nicole. No one seriously, and no one more than three times. The last guy I went out on a date with was a year ago. We went out for dinner once; he asked if he could take me out again, I declined. Is that specific enough for you?" She looks away.
I take her hand in mine. "And in high school?" I ask. Surely there had to be someone special after I moved to San Diego.
"High school?" she shakes her head slightly and laughs, but it sounds hollow to my ears. "No, I didn't date in high school."
It slowly settles into my soul that neither one of us has been in love since each other. Something inside of me takes flight, soaring. I lean over and turn her head toward me with one finger on her jaw and kiss her sweet lips. That possessiveness sweeps through me again.
We smile at each other for a few seconds before I take the keys out of the ignition and say, "Time for me to feed you. And talk about lighter stuff. I want to see you smile and hear you laugh. I want to know who Nicole is, I want to know what your favorite movie is, why you love to run so early in the morning, and what music is on your iPod. Wait there."
I let her out of my car and lead her into the restaurant.
**********
We take our seats and I smile across at Evie, taking her hands in the middle of the table. She smiles at me and looks appreciatively around the restaurant. "This is beautiful. I’ve never been here," she says.
I can’t help thinking about where we both came from and what we would have thought about eating in a place like this when we were kids. It’s not the fanciest restaurant in town, but to us, it would have been like landing on another planet.
My mind goes to a time when my mom was zonked out on the couch in an alcohol coma. My dad had smacked her around for who knows what, looking at him, or some other grievous error, and after he left, she drank a bottle of Vodka and didn’t wake up for two days. We had precious little food in the house as it was and we ran out completely the next day. I went around to some fast food restaurants and snagged as many ketchup packs as I could and made a horrific version of "tomato soup" to keep Seth and me fed until our mom came around enough to function. It sucked but I had someone depending on me and I did what I had to do. I was nine.
I long to share my feelings with Evie, to talk about how incredible it is for the two of us to be sitting here in this place, after where we came from. It’s our connection and she would understand like no one else could. The fact that I can’t leaves me feeling empty.
As we sip our wine, I say, "So tell me about your friend Nicole."
Her eyes warm and she says, "I met Nicole at work. She's my best friend and I guess you could say her and her husband Mike have kind of adopted me." She laughs.
I smile at her and she continues, "I spend holidays with them, things like that. It's nice. I never had that before I met Nicole." She takes a sip of her wine and looks slightly embarrassed.
"Where did you spend holidays before that?" I ask. Why? Just to torture myself?
Her eyes dart to mine and she says quietly, "After I got out of foster care, before I really got to know Nicole and her family, I spent them alone." She shrugs.
I'm quiet for a minute, hoping she doesn't see the sorrow in my eyes that I feel in my heart. "I'm sorry, Evie."
She smiles. "Why? It wasn't your fault. It was… lonely. But it wasn't the worst of what I've gone through, Jake." I frown and she pauses, tilting her head. "Wait, I thought we were supposed to be talking about lighter stuff." She smiles.
I find it in me to smile back, even though her comment about it not being my fault is echoing in my head. It's entirely my fault. "You're right. Nicole and Mike have a daughter?"
She grins and her eyes light up. Obviously the little girl is special to her. "Yes. Her name is Kaylee and she's the smartest, sweetest little thing in the world. She keeps us all in our places." She grins again.
Evie has surrounded herself with good people, people she loves and who love her back. I'm so happy to know that she has that in her life.