The Brightest Star in a Constellation

21: Bad Influence

☆ Evan ☆

I place my hand against the windowsill, almost boosting myself through the gap. Before I can get there, my mother's shrill voice cuts my plans to shreds.

"Evan!" Carolyn says my name in her own unique way. She says it like it's one word, 'Evan-who-I-wish-was-dead.' Like it's the blunt edge of a syllable with the heart squeezed out.

Taking my hands away from the windowsill, I drop back to the floor and shout: "What?"

Footsteps approaching my room. The floor creaks under her stomping. There's no point in asking what she wants, not really. Whether or not I want her to, she'll tell me.

Carolyn appears in the hallway, a pair of light pink slippers on her feet. She wears them only when Randall is gone. He has a matching pair, sent by his grandparents, who we visit once every three years. I don't know when we stopped visiting every year. When their letters stopped coming as often. They never liked Carolyn, though, and that's an answer by itself. "Where is your sister?"

"At her friend's house." We both know this. Elaine was clear about where she was going and promised to come back before her curfew at eight.

I wait for Carolyn to tell me what she wants. Like always, she delivers. "And what friend is this?"

"Tyler something-or-other. Why?"

Her face creases, her cheeks flushed. The same shade as her slippers. Unsteadily, she says, "You need to go and pick her up. Right now."

And she departs to the kitchen. I hear the distant click of the fridge door, followed by the hiss of a bottle opening. "Evan, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, I'm getting ready. Give me a minute." Silently, I count the seconds while I pull on my sweater. Dragging out my movements as much as I possibly can, I accidentally drop my clothes hangers and have to pick them up. There's no sense in arguing with her when she's in this state.

Lingering at the edge of the hall, Carolyn huffs and taps her foot against the floor. "I want you both here for supper," she says, as if nothing can continue happening unless we're both present. Like a kid playing house with dolls—and she was not expecting us to grow up. "None of this would have happened before. Do you know that? I'm starting to agree with Randall about that."

I open the fridge door. Grab myself a drink of water. "About what?"

"About what?" Carolyn repeats in a mocking tone. She wobbles as she walks towards me, and I tug away from her. "You need to be careful about what you say to Elaine. How you act with her. She is still a child, and she doesn't need to be subjected to your relationship troubles. She doesn't need you to influence her idea of love."

If there's a way that Carolyn says my name, then there's also a way she says Elaine's. She's 'Randall's-daughter.' Never hers.

"I'm going now." I take the keys. The door slams behind me.

Goddamn it.

☆ ☽ ☆

The apartment complex where Tyler—whose last name I can't remember—lives at the outer edge of town. Power lines hover above a flat roof, casting shadows onto the asphalt that swing like a pendulum.