Scott Kellerman

"Evangeline!

Evangeline!"

Every time I call her name, the rain starts to beat down even harder, drowning my voice out no matter how loud I yell. What the hell is she doing?

I watched her rush down the stairs to Barbara's back door, restless and upset, hoping that nobody would notice her sneaking out. But our eyes met. At least I think they did. And I think the moment I saw her, she panicked; bolted out the door at the stroke of midnight, like a modern-day Cinderella. Once I'd told Jimi I'd be back in a sec, I strode after her as she picked up speed, teary-eyed as she left her best friend's party, and ran uphill in the rain, in a party dress and fluffy socks. Where could she be going?

I still can't understand it now, as I try my best to catch up with her without sprinting to her in the rain like some prowling creep. When she finally stops, I'm almost relieved, and I take a breath to call her name again, but she begins to knock on someone's door frantically, and with her back turned towards me, I can't make out the words she's saying. At first, I assume she's home safe, and I contemplate turning around and heading back to the party. But the little red door opens, and I duck behind a low fence when I spot the familiar face that stands alarmed in the doorway.

It's Macklin.

♣ ♣ ♣

Macklin looks like utter shit from the moment he opens the door, in plaid pyjama trousers and a stained white vest, with his eyes squinting into the darkness, and screwed narrow like he hasn't slept in days. Even when he realises it's Evangeline at the door, and his lazy stare turns wide-eyed startled, his eyes are bloodshot, and his hair's a shaggy mess. Under different circumstances, I'd get a smug joy from the sight of a not so 'mag-nificent' Mr. 'Mag-lin'.

He runs a quick hand through the mangy mess once, then again, and although he opens his mouth to speak, he doesn't say anything.

Evangeline leans in eagerly, her arms reaching out and upwards like she's expecting a hug, but Macklin steps back, one hand gripping the door handle. He just looks on, staring wide-eyed at the girl in the rain-soaked party dress on his doorstep.

Half of me is relieved she's not going in there with him. The other half of me is pissed off that she's catching a cold on this prick's account.

"Hi," I hear her say quietly.

Macklin just stands there, like a goddamn deer caught in the headlights, dead stiff in her arms even when she takes a step closer and throws them around him for the hug he denied her, clinging to him for dear life.

Nestled into his chest, Evangeline can't see his face. But I can.

He doesn't resist or push her way, but his tired, red eyes are blank, until a droplet of humanity softens them, and he sighs as he lets his arms fall hesitantly around her waist. He closes his eyes and inhales, deeply, like he's taking in her scent.

She doesn't let go of him when she speaks in a whimper, and I still can't see her face.

"I called you, Eric," she whispers hoarsely, "I called, then I texted, then you didn't show up at school, or in the orchard, or text me on Thursday, I... Where have you been?"

That's when he lets go. He drops his hands slowly, his greedy paws raking down her back. Before he steps back, he wipes his thumb across her cheek and I can see the water glisten on his finger before he sticks his hands in his pockets. Cold, Evangeline's clutching her elbows, and her body tilts toward him and the warmth coming from inside his house.

"...I had to go."

"Go? Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, God, no, you didn't do anything. This isn't your fault."

"What isn't my fault? Eric, you're scaring me," Evangeline says, her voice wobbling as she shifts from foot to foot. "Was it my mum? Did my mum say something to you? Did the school? Eric, talk to me, what happened? Did-"

"Nothing's happened, just... We can't do this anymore, Evangeline."

"Do what?"

Her whisper is strained, uttered like a forbidden word, and I think she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"This. Us. We can't anymore."

Oh, shit.

I'm not supposed to hear this. I feel guilty for being even here. I peer over my shoulder to see if there's any way I can escape without drawing attention to myself, but the only way back is down the clear, concrete-paved hill.

Evangeline's shaking her head neurotically before he's even finished clarifying, and with her slim, bare arms wrapped around herself in the rain as he stands inside, I grit my teeth at the unfairness of it all. He's left her out in the cold, begging, while he's inside, warm and unmoved.

"No. No, come on, Eric, don't say that. What are you talking about? Why not?"

"Why not, Evangeline? Really? As if a thousand reasons aren't staring us both in the face?

Because I don't want to have to drive miles out of town to spend time with you; because I don't want to have to try and convince myself I'm a good person, then lie and sneak around and risk losing my job every day; because I don't want to get beaten black and blue for sleeping in the same bed as you! I don't need that bullshit, Evangeline! I'm a fucking adult!"

"And I'm not a child," she says, and I can tell she can hold her own when she raises her voice to match his. "You're not making sense, Eric. Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" He blinks rapidly, gaze shifting up, down, to the side - anywhere but right in front of him.

"Like we're not even worth fighting for. Like... like we've meant nothing all this time, and you've given up already. Talk to me, Eric. For real. What's wrong?"

Macklin glances down at her feet, her drenched socks, drained of their pretty pink colour, damp and dirty on his doorstep. He throws a look over his shoulder, as though he's contemplating inviting her in, but he doesn't. He leans against his door and asks her,

"Evie, why didn't you tell me about Dublin?"

Dublin?