CHAPTER 54
I place the package on the table and fold as far away from it as possible. “I don’t want it,” I tell her.
Aggie sighs. “Aren’t you a little bit curious? Don’t you want answers?”
“Whose team are you on, anyway?” I wrap my arms around my knees and hold them tight.
“Look around.” She gestures to her apartment. “Clearly I’m on team happy.”
“You know what team I’m on,” I grumble with a frown.
“Yeah, but team doom and gloom has already controlled years of your life. Don’t you want the other team to win someday? Isn’t that why you moved here? For a new start?”
I know I can’t ignore this issue forever, but right now I’m too angry to accept anything from Evan.
She continues, “It’s been two weeks. I understand you’re hurt, but don’t you want to know? You spent three years with Evan. You used to love him. Don’t you want know why?” A sharp V forms on her forehead.
“Three?” I settle my chin on my knees, and my heart pangs at learning this little bit of information. I’ve been tempted to make Aggie tell me everything, but I’m still too furious to hear Evan’s excuses.
“I’m not ready,” I say, resolute.
“Okay. No problem.” She leans forward and snags Evan’s gift. She stands and crosses the living room and opens the window, allowing the freezing air to rush in with some arrant snow flurries. The curtains billow in the breeze, and I shiver. With package in hand, she dangles it over the ledge and turns her attention to me. My eyes widen when I imagine the package plummeting seven stories to the ground.
“Stop!” I leap to my feet.
She halts with an impish grin and sings, “Only if you open it right now.”
“Dammit, Aggie.” I stomp my foot and clench my hands into fists. But she’s not giving in. When she pretends to release it, my insides freeze. Before she can do it again, I say, “Fine.”
She tosses it back. It flies across the room in an arc, and I fumble to catch it. With it safely in my grasp, I give her the stink eye.
“I’ll make us drinks.” She’s smiling and unaffected by my annoyance. She snaps the window shut and continues, “I have this great new recipe called the Slutty Snowman.”
I have no clue what she’s talking about, but she’s leaving me, heading for the kitchen. And right now, away from me is the best place for her. She sets up a blender and gathers ice from the freezer while humming.
I sink into my seat with the package on my lap and inspect it. As I do, I bargain with myself. Even if I open it, it won’t matter what’s inside. Nothing could change what he did. At the acknowledgment, I allow my finger to trace the edges. Wrapped within the tissue paper, I find curves and hard ridges. The exploration leaves me with a good idea of what’s inside. And as Aggie’s blender buzzes behind me, I tear away the paper to confirm my suspicion. They’re books, except these aren’t any books. I recognize the stack of three journals as my own.
I rest them on the coffee table and consider what’s inside—drawings I haven’t looked at in years. I’d forgotten about them until now. How did Evan get them from my parents’ home? Why did he send them? Before I look inside, Aggie places a frozen drink in my hand.
“It’s snowing and you make ice cream drinks?” I ask.
“Alcohol is appropriate in any situation. Don’t you think it’s cute?”
Not only has she been mothering me, she’s been trying to cheer me up. This drink is proof. Two stacked blobs of ice cream sit atop a tall glass, looking like a snowman. The drink looks back at me with chocolate chip eyes, waving peppermint arms and his... what’s that near his crotch? One M&M on either side of a...
“It’s a pretzel stick penis,” she says with a smirk.
“Klassy with a K, Aggs.” I pluck out the pretzel stick and toss it across the room. “That’s what I think of penises right now.”
“Viva la lady balls!” She does the same and then lifts her castrated drink for a toast. I toast her back and take a sip through the snowflake straw, making a point to compliment her, even though it tastes awful. The second one is better, and by the third, now Slutty Snow-woman, I’m smiling and giggling with her about her recent love adventures with Paul.
“Thank you,” I tell her as we stand at the window watching the falling snow.
“For what?”
“You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been a better friend to you. I don’t deserve you, Aggs.”
“I’ll forgive you if you give me a room in your new house.”
“My house.” I grimace and use my fingertip to draw the outline of a box into the foggy condensation on the window. I add a roof, a chimney, and a front door. But when I’m done, I wipe it away with my hand.
Any chance of a commission is on hold, and maybe indefinitely if I never return to G&W. This saddens me. I love my job, I love Chicago, and I don’t want to be anywhere else. At least this one truth rings clear in my mind. I belong here. This is my home.
“Linden says Lakeman’s still in play. It may work out, but not as fast as you’d like,” she says.
“Maybe I should visit him.” Not only do I need to figure out where I stand with him, but I need to pay my bills.”
“See, clarity comes with drinking.”
“But mostly stupidity.”
We return to the couch. The books remain on the coffee table, untouched. I stare at them before building enough nerve to ask Aggie a question that’s been bugging me all night. “Will you tell me one more good thing about Evan and me... from before?”
“You sure?” She sets her glass down.
I nod, unable to make eye contact.
She tucks her legs under her butt and faces me, appearing excited. “You’re the only person he’s ever been with.”
My heart double thumps before my gaze swings to her. “But he told me...”
She’s already shaking her head. “The. Only. From what he’s admitted, he’s tried to forget you without much success. I think he’s been subconsciously waiting for you.”
I am the other girl. The only other person he’s touched. It was always me.
She continues, “It’s very romantic.”
“How’s that romantic?” I tug at my lip with my teeth.
“Because you moved here and fell for him all over again. It’s like destiny gave you a second chance to pick up where you left off.”
I trace the starburst pattern on the sofa cushion. I’m unsure of her assessment. Without knowing, did I return to Chicago because of him? Am I in love with Evan? My heart thumps again, but I ignore it. Even though I was offered the job here, no one made me take it. I’m sensing I need to talk with him, despite everything. I’m not saying I can forgive him, but how I can I move forward without answers?
After Aggie goes to bed, I take one book and settle it on my lap. I suck in a deep breath before I flip open the cover. I settle a hand on the drawing on the first page, trying to remember what I felt when I originally drew it. The memory from after rushes back.
At that time, I had no reference for why I drew what I did. Sometimes I would press my pencil to paper, allowing the lines to lead me wherever they wanted. Sharp angles and soft curves dictated the final image.
But looking at them now with fresh eyes, everything has become clearer. From the beginning of the first book to the very last page of the third, I’ve drawn out what I suspect is the history of my relationship with Evan. This is why he gave these to me. He wants to prove to me we were real and some part of me always knew it.
Within the pages, I find the story of friends, laughter, companionship, travel, school, parties, family, a lot of sex, and I think love. And on one of the last pages, I find two figures standing in front of a little white house. My house on Astor Street. I had drawn this image before I ever laid eyes on the house after.