Between Octobers

February 7th

February 7th

There was a girl outside. She was the same one I'd met at his hotel the night he first told me he loved me. I thought she'd leave when I told her Evan was gone. But that was three days ago. I'd told Evan about her. He said to give her some autographed pictures, so I did, and then I apologized for leaving her hanging that first night. I thought that would have been enough to send her packing, but she was determined to stay in the area until he came home. Evan told me to call security to come get her, but that seemed like an overreaction. She was just a harmless girl. And she had a long wait. We both did.

Evan was progressively stressed out each time we spoke. A perfectionist where work was concerned, he'd been convinced it was his fault production was running behind. He was having trouble understanding what the director wanted. Other actors had been going off script, too, which threw him off. On top of that, Emily Black—the girl they had to replace, ended up being replaced with Gretchen Bakker, a popular actress he'd worked with before and also happened to be his ex-girlfriend. She was doing her best to make his life miserable. On top of that, he'd been having trouble sleeping.

I planned to fly out to Toronto to see him on Friday. Valentine's Day was next week and we wouldn't be together the day of, so we were observing over the weekend.

After putting dinner in the Crock-Pot, there was nothing to do but fold laundry. I picked up my notes and the phone before walking out to the patio to enjoy a small ray of sunshine peeking through the wet afternoon. I'd tried contacting Lily several times, but she was still bent on avoiding me. I'd left recorded apologies on her machine, her voicemail, and email. I'd even called Maria. I hung up though, so it didn't really count. I was not quite ready for that meeting of the minds. 

Arnold was sleeping in a warm patch of sunshine that touched his kennel. The sight set me at ease, though I was still on edge. The unsettling feeling hadn't gone away. It loomed overhead like an ominous cloud, casting shadows over everything I touched. That, and the swirling gossip that seemed to bleed into every part of life on the outside.

I'd always thought of myself as strong-minded because I never cared what other people thought about me, or if they liked me or not. It was easy to think that way when no one ever talked about you. The constant speculation about Evan and me was starting to take its toll and I needed to talk to my friend.

It was partly my fault. I never should have typed his name into that search engine. Over three thousand so-called "news" stories came up. The first ten pages were story after story of fabricated garbage—rubbish, as my favorite Brit would call it—most of them starting with the comment I'd made to the man in the pink shirt. According to the public, Evan was a stand up guy, trying to do the right thing and I was the greedy witch who seduced him. He and Gretchen broke up because of me. And I was only after his money. Rumors spread like The Gospel since the night I made that thoughtless remark.

Lately, they'd been focusing on the fact that Evan was working with his ex, claiming to have inside information about how the sparks were flying between them. Those stories didn't bother me, though. I had complete faith in him.

It was hard to believe those stories passed as news when there were so many important things happening in the nation, and around the world. Evan insisted that the public would lose interest "if not perpetuated by a small-minded media, which insisted on reporting the minute details in the personal lives of unimportant people in order to maintain profit margins in a crumbling economy." He said that in his business, everything was about money, even when it was not. 

The search results offered pictures of Evan, too. Millions of them. Some were candid shots showcasing his very sweet smile. Others showed sexy stares he gave while working the red carpet, wearing a mouth-watering navy suit. There was one shot where Evan had his hands stuffed into his pants pockets as he leaned forward, over a barrier to take pictures with gathered fans. The way the fabric hugged his backside made me grateful he was mine. Some photos were stills from movies and others were gorgeous outtakes from magazine photo shoots. All intermingled with creepy pictures of my house. The selection was as just as wide as it was vexing.

I glanced at Arnold, again. Some moments were more wary than others. It seemed to be an automatic reaction to the smallest quiver of the leaves—probably a side effect of being held under a microscope—even if I was only the means by which they tried to get closer to him, it made me anxious to the point where the slightest shift in the breeze caught my attention.

I'd started journaling again. Mostly because I was lonely without Evan, but also because Dr. Lena said it was a good way for someone like me, who suffered from mental constipation, to get the words out. Throughout my whole life, anytime I'd been faced with conflict, or a situation where I needed to speak up, my mind would go blank. By the time I found my words, it was too late. So, I began writing everything down.

I dialed Lily's number and waited for the voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Lily." My relief was audible, but my stomach balled up with nerves. "Um . . . Hi."

"What do you want, Grace?"

"I'm sorry." My voice was almost a whisper.

She sighed. "I know. Me too. It just really hurt when you let Evan buy him the truck. But I never should've brought it up in front of my mom. Listen, I can't talk right now, she's on the other line. I'll come by later, okay? And don't worry, I'm still staying with the kids this weekend."

"That's not why I called, but okay. Thanks. Later, then." The line clicked. I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand. All the scribbled notes on things I was supposed to say to Lily about how sorry I was that we were fighting. How I didn't mean it when I told her she was exactly like her mother. And that she is more to me than just my very best friend. She was the sister I always wanted and like a second mother to my children.  

Sighing, I walked back inside. The house was clean, the laundry was done. The dog had been fed, cleaned, and walked. I just ate lunch. Dinner was simmering. I couldn't do anything outside because of the rain that was starting up again and there was nothing on TV. I still had another hour before school got out. 

When I was out shopping a few weeks ago, I ran into the Med Center's D.O.N. She and I went to school together. When I mentioned that I'd applied for the opening in post-op cardiac, she put in a good word for me. Well, I assumed she did, because the next day, I got the call. Starting tomorrow, I'd be working three days straight. Each was a twelve-hour shift. Then I'd get four days off. Three of them, I would spend with Evan in Toronto. I could not wait.