My Favourite Part

55(c): the beginning of the beginning

Scott Kellerman

I don't know what 'Dublin' means, but it hangs in the air like cigar smoke as soon as he says it. For the first time since he opened the door, Macklin's looking her right in the eyes, instead of through the same glazed over stare he's been wearing. This time, it's Evangeline's head that dips down, wordless as she looks at the wet doormat.

"Who told you?"

Macklin doesn't answer. My guess is that she either already knows who told him, or the answer doesn't really matter.

"I didn't tell you because I knew what you'd say, Eric."

"Evie," he sighs, exasperated, "you have to go!"

"But I don't! I don't have to go!"

Macklin closes his eyes, then takes a deep breath. "That's the thing, though – you do."

A whimpering noise leaves her lips, but he keeps on going before she can say another word.

"You can't just turn down an opportunity as amazing as Dublin. A whole new city you've never been to, thousands of people you've never met – a world-famous program that you were accepted to, Evangeline! Now tell me that isn't what you want."

"I don't want it," she says in a heartbeat, pleading as a puppy, her wet hair sticking to her back. "I don't want any of it if it means I won't have you."

The sound of her voice wobbling as she shakes her head desperately breaks my heart, and I can't help but want to hug her; tell her how far away she should stay from arseholes that make her beg in the rain; tell her that if I was in his shoes, it would never be like this.

Macklin huffs like he's in some sort of turmoil, and runs a hand through his greasy hair.

"What if I stayed, E?" Evangeline sniffles, gripping his folded arms. "What if that's what I want?"

"But it isn't, Evie."

"Well, how do you fucking know what I want to do!" She shouts hoarse-voice, and my anger's bubbling so high that my ears start to burn. But Macklin's as impassive as ever.

I wonder if he thinks she's buying it – this piss-poor 'I'm so heartbroken that I'm emotionless as I push you away' act. I hope to God she isn't.

"I know what you can do, Evie! I've seen it. What you'll be capable of without me, us, standing in your way."

"But all I want is 'us'... Why won't you listen to me!"

He starts to move her hands away from his, peeling her grip off like a pest's hold. I recognise it. I can feel it in the cold, damp midnight air – heartache; the beginning of the end.

"I... I've got to go, Evangeline," he says, his voice heavy with 'regret'.

"Go? What, that's it? You won't even listen to what I'm saying because you've decided we're not worth fighting for?"

When he doesn't answer, she lowers her voice to murmur something I can't hear, but suddenly they're kissing. She holds his face as their lips lock again and again, the kiss deepening each time, as though a deep enough kiss can reverse time, can change his mind. In spite of all his protests, the greedy bastard doesn't refuse her. His fingers are splayed across the back of her neck as he pulls her closer, tight jawed as he breathes her in, craning his neck so their lips meet.

Obviously, I look away. Eventually.

Under rainfall in the dead of night, it's all so intense, so intimate, that I couldn't keep watching even if I wanted to. But the sound of her whisper calls my eyes back to their entangled forms.