Evie
Tilly moved out.
It was seamless and easy. A few boxes, a giant backpack, and she was done. Aside from her laptop for work, she didn’t need much else.
Evie leant against the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge room.
Tilly stood in the front doorway, head cocked and steadily gazing at Evie as if she wished she could read her.
Evie’s eyes felt like sandpaper when she blinked. She’d barely slept at all, with need curling in the pit of her stomach, her lips burning, and chanting to herself over and over again that she was an absolute idiot.
Why did she kiss Tilly? Why cry because she was moving out when Evie had all but told her to do so? Why did this have to feel like some kind of breakup? Why had the normalcy switched so badly, when they’d lived apart so many times before?
“I’ll see you soon.” There was a hopeful note to Tilly’s voice.
Evie nodded, forcing a smile. It probably looked as fragile as it felt. “Always.”
Tilly watched her for a second. “Call if you need anything, at all. Okay?”
The baby kicked and Evie gave a little half-shrug. “Always.”
Tilly gave a small laugh, slipped out the door, and shut it quietly behind her, leaving a silence behind so deep it echoed.
Evie wanted to run after her. Spin her around. Discover the softness of her lips all over again. Swallow the surprise in her. Swallow the little sob Tilly gave, again. Take it and keep it safe.
The baby kicked again, and Evie pressed her hand over it.
It was the day before Christmas Eve and everything felt out of place.
The door to Tilly’s room—the baby’s room—pushed open easily. It was bare. Tilly had stripped the bed, and the sheets were fluttering, probably already dry, on the tiny line strung in the tiny backyard. Something was on the end of the bed and Evie walked over, sitting on the edge, and picked it up.
It was something soft, wrapped in a gentle green paper.
When she opened it, it spilled into her lap and her fingers stroked it, soft and fuzzy. It was a baby’s comfort toy. There was a head made of felt and it was attached to a small square of blanket-like cloth. The head was a monkey, the blanket another soft green, like bamboo.
Calming for babies, Tilly had said.
Evie laid it over her stomach, her thumb stroking the soft fabric.
For just a little bit, she let the loneliness sink in and gave a sob, dropping back on the bed and clutching the stupid, adorable present to her chest, the baby calm and quiet.
She pressed her fingers to her lips again and wished she could go back and take that kiss back.
Or take back sleeping with Luke. Guilt twinged in her, her hand clutching that weird blanket toy harder. She didn’t want to take back that night with Luke because she wanted this baby. The confusing conflict of that made her sob again.
She wanted to go back to years ago, to uni.
To kiss Tilly then, when Evie wasn’t pregnant and she hadn’t known Tilly didn’t like to stick around.
Because that kiss had been too many things and Evie wanted all of them.
But Tilly couldn’t give them to her. More than ten years had taught her that. Tilly herself taught her that.
It didn’t stop her from lying there in her empty spare room and crying about it, though.
* * *
Christmas Day was a blur of work, some messages on her phone, social media updates, and a long chat with her mum from her hotel in Bali.
“You’re not working too much are you?” her mum asked, a slight echo in the call since they were using data.
“Of course not.”
“Evelyn.”
“Whoa, full name. Mum, it’s fine. I’m covering some shifts for those who wanted off. You know I love working Christmas.”
“I can hear the carols over the phone. Are you at the community centre?”
“I am!” She grinned as Carl and Sophie passed her, hands clasped and both waving at her with their free hands, their wedding rings glinting. She waved back.
“Oh, good. That’s your favourite time of the year there.”
“It is. Though, I’ve been asked about the baby and the due date at least ten times.”
“You’re showing so much now! That won’t stop. Be prepared for people to think it’s fine to touch your stomach even if they’ve never met you.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that?”
“Rudeness. Are you panicking every time you mention that you’re due late-March?”
“You know me too well.”
“I grew you in me. Then raised you. Are you surprised?”
“A little.”
“A little surprised or a little panicky?”
“Both.” Evie accepted the mince pie Stacy gave her with a mouthed “thanks”. Stacy plopped a paper Christmas hat on her head, as well as she could with Evie’s phone to her ear. “March seems so soon.”
“It’s going to fly by and crawl by. Are you sleeping okay?”
“Mostly.”
“Get one of those body pillows, it’ll change your life. And help straighten your spine.”
“I will.” Her mum had messaged her about it twice already.
“You won’t. I’ll order one and have it sent to you.”
“Mum—”
“It’s Christmas. Don’t argue.”
Evie laughed. “Okay, fine.”
“I have to go. I love you, Merry Christmas. And I know you love your job, but try to relax a little, okay?”
“I will. Tell the girls I say hi.”
“Angela brought Shrieking Sheila shirts. I’ll send you a pic. Bye!”
Hanging up, Evie slipped out the back where one of their new guys, Billy, was dressed as Santa and organising the presents in the sack. “Ready?”
He gave a thumbs up and slipped the beard on.
Evie handed the list she’d spent a good afternoon working on in the office to Bella, one of their clients’ sisters who had played the elf for the last four years. “Here ya go.”
Evie really did love her job.
* * *
On Christmas night, Evie sat on her couch, the flat strangely empty and a melancholic feeling settling deep into her bones. Her hand ran over her stomach and the baby kicked against it once before it was still, as if saying a little hi to her. It made her smile, her lips quirking up and some of the loneliness retreating a little.
Sean showed up, making excuses about missing her but she knew in her gut he was checking up on her.
She couldn’t even be mad.
All the while, she wondered what Tilly was doing. Was she alone, sad? They always passed the holidays together. Sean and Tilly and Evie were family. To not spend time together made no sense, especially during a day made for families.
But this time, it was just Sean. Who was probably only here out of pity. Otherwise, he would be with Cal.
Tilly was who knows where.
Evie sat heavily on the couch and looked up at her friend. “Sean?”
He stood in front of her and froze at her serious tone. “Yes?”
“I’m going to have a baby.”
Now he looked confused. “Yes?”
“I’m going to have a baby and I’m… I’m alone.”
He crouched down in front of her. “You’re not alone.” His eyes were imploring her to believe him.
But how did she explain that she felt alone because Tilly wasn’t here? Which was Evie’s own fault, because Evie had pushed for her to move out. How did she explain that she felt even more alone when Tilly was here? How did she explain to Sean that she had done something so very stupid, and kissed Tilly—the exact opposite of putting space between them? Literally. There’d been no space for a moment. None.
She believed him that she wasn’t alone. That wasn’t the problem.
Sean put his hands gently on her knees and didn’t stop looking up at her. “Do you regret having Tilly move out?” he asked softly.
He knew them so well. They all knew each other so well. And then Evie had fucked it all up by kissing Tilly, and there was nothing about that in the manual. They had pages on living together and not, on Tilly leaving and how to handle it, and on dating other people. But Evie kissing Tilly and desperation crawling up her spine and wanting to pull Tilly into her didn’t exist. They didn’t do that. Not once, in more than ten years, was that a line they’d crossed.
Now none of them knew their lines.
“I—” Evie drew in a deep breath. “I don’t.”
He cocked his head at her.
“I don’t,” she said, more firmly. “Except, I do.”
His eyebrows drew together, a dark solid line over his eyes. He looked so serious, so concerned. “Did something happen?”
Was she supposed to say this out loud? Or keep it close to her chest? But Evie wasn’t Tilly. She didn’t hold her cards close, scared to let others in.
“I kissed her,” Evie blurted out.
Sean’s eyes widened so far it was almost comical. His mouth opened. Then shut. Then opened. Then shut. He looked like a goldfish.
“You look like a goldfish,” she said. Because when Evie panicked, she said whatever was on her mind.
“I’m sorry, what?” he said. “You kissed her?”
She nodded miserably.
“She didn’t kiss you? You didn’t kiss each other? You kissed her? After wanting her to move out to get some space and, as you told me, figure out raising this baby, you kissed Tilly?”
She nodded again.
“Was it a little peck? Like, a friendship thing?”
She shook her head.
“Was it a goodbye thing, like, quick?”
She shook her head.
His look could be called excited. The bastard. “Was there tongue?”
Her face heated instantly. “Sean!”
“I’m sorry! I just… This feels like it’s ten years coming and it’s all I wanted once and now I don’t know what the fuck it all means!”
“I don’t either! It was a mistake.”
The firmness in her tone made the glimmer of excitement in his eye dim and the quirk in his lips disappear. “A mistake?”
“I was… I don’t even know what I was thinking. This is all too much. And I need space from her, and I think I panicked and kissed her as a way to desperately feel close to her, because I haven’t been for weeks, which was such a mistake.”
He blinked, slowly, as if considering what she was saying. “Did she kiss you back?”
“I—” She wanted to lie. It would be easier. “Yes, but barely. And when I stopped she looked, I don’t know, panicked. And then I went to bed.” She leaned back into the couch and he got off the floor to sit next to her. “I can’t do this, Sean. I need space. Tilly, she wants to be free and doing what she wants. She doesn’t want me, or this—” She gestured to her rounded belly. “She looked so shocked and she chose to move out, even if I’d hinted it was best. She chose to. She’s not here. It was a mistake.”
Sean’s head was cocked as he listened to her, and he now appeared to be considering what to say next. Before he could speak, though, his phone beeped.
Then Evie’s did too.
The message was for both of them:
Merry Christmas my lovely people. Just letting you know I’ll be taking off tomorrow, not more than a week or two. See you next year!
When she looked up, Sean was clenching his jaw, the tendons taut. He looked up from the phone clenched in his hand.
Evie felt empty. “She never leaves so soon after getting back.”
Sean gave a sharp nod, hand clasping his phone.
A week or two? Now?
A week or two was never just a week or two with Tilly.
And, out of nowhere, Evie was filled with rage. “How fucking dare she.”
Sean’s knuckles were white around his phone. “How fucking dare she indeed.”