Every Little Thing

40

|| Evelyn ||

It's incredibly hard to try and scrub yourself clean.

This is my third shower in two hours, and my skin is rubbed red and raw by the loofah I've been using. I'm sitting in the tub, letting the water slide down my body as I apply soap, lather it, and scrub. Soap, lather, scrub. Soap, lather, scrub.

I want to shower until these bruises have faded, until my voice returns to my body, until I can completely forget about Greg and last night and every single awful thing that ever happened. I want to start over. I want to strip myself of my own skin and start all over, as someone better than who I am right now. Someone who doesn't leave their love interest on the rooftop. Someone who has the sense to refuse following a drunken boy into an empty room.

Someone who doesn't make mistakes.

I don't want to be Evelyn Moore anymore. I don't want to be this stupid, naive girl anymore.

I start to cry silently, only able to tell the difference between the water and my own tears by tasting the salt on my lips as they fall. I keep scrubbing relentlessly, until every pore on my body begs me to stop and my skin is chafed from the excessive exfoliation and it hurts so badly I can hardly breathe.

Finally, I force myself to a stop, shutting off the water and leaning against the cold porcelain, shutting my eyes.

As soon as they close, Greg's face appears, and I have to snap them open again, forcing the bile that rises in my throat down, down, down.

The room sways; I don't think I'd be able to stand up if I wanted to. Instead, I just lay there, motionless, breathless, thoughtless.

A tentative knock interrupts the silence, and Reed's voice fills my ears.

"Evelyn, are you alright?"

No. No, I am not.

There's a pause, and then I hear the door handle creak a little.

"I'm coming in, okay?"

Although it pains every inch of me, I lean forward and pull the shower curtain so that it conceals me as I hear the door creak and Reed step inside, leaving it open behind him and sitting down.

"Hey," he says, hoarsely. "I know you can't respond to me, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay. You don't have to look at me, or blink, or anything. Just let me sit here with you. Just for a minute."

So I do. I tip my head back, and although I know he can't see me, I smile.

Reed Bishop, you're pretty much the only reason I'm still breathing at this point.

"I just called my sister, Hallie. I hope you don't mind, but I gave her a sort of abridged version of what happened. I'm not expecting you to make any kind of huge decision now, but I wrote down her email in case you want to talk to her."

He waits, and then blows out a breath.

"And, Evelyn, we're kind of low on money right now. I mean, I've got enough to pull us through for the next few days, but I seriously need to find some kind of job that pays decent money. I—I think I should start looking tomorrow, if that's okay with you. If it's not, just tell me. I don't want to leave you behind if you're not one-hundred percent comfortable with it."

I swallow hard, trying to imagine it. Being away from Reed. Being alone, for hours at a time.

But he needs money to take care of me. I can't make him stay.

Slowly, I push my arm past the shower curtain so that he can see my thumbs-up. I hear the relief in his voice as he says,

"Okay, then. If you're sure, I'll start looking tomorrow. And—and I think we should talk to Georgie, too. You need somebody to keep you company, eventually. You'll probably be here for the next two weeks, you know, with your mom gone and all. I'll be here in the afternoons, but—"

Georgina Zhang. My best friend. My partner in crime.

I don't need her. I don't need anybody but Reed.

Even thinking it feels like a lie. I know it is. But—I can't handle it right now. I can't handle seeing her try to digest what happened to me. It's better if she doesn't know.

Reed seems to pick up on my thoughts, because he says,

"Like I said, no big decisions. There's plenty of time to work this stuff out. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page."

Okay, I tell him silently, Okay, I can respect that.

He releases another long, slow breath, and it makes my gut twist.

I'm so sorry, Reed. I'm so sorry that this happened.

"Take another shower, if you want," he tells me, "I'll be out here. We can put on a movie, or something. Or you can just sleep; I don't care."

I'm sick of showering, but it seems to be the only thing able to distract me. I lean forward and turn on the water spout again, ignoring the guilt that flares in my chest as I do so. Reed hears it and sighs.

"Alright, Evelyn. Alright."

With that, he steps out and closes the door behind him. I shut my eyes, allowing a tear to leak out, the fresh water splashing across my face and getting rid of it as quickly as it came. The water, warm and inviting, slides over me like it's the easiest thing in the world. I imagine the bruises being erased as it flows over my arms, my legs, pooling at my fingers and toes. If I ignore the pain, I can imagine them being wiped off of me as if it's the simplest thing in the world. As if I'll get out of this bathtub renewed and clear-skinned and perfect.

As if I'll get out of this bathtub and be able to forget anything happened in the first place.