Tilly
Christmas wasn’t so important to Tilly. Movies made it seem like not having people over on the day was the loneliest thing ever. But Tilly didn’t mind so much. And she always, since she was nineteen, had Evie with her in the evening. Sometimes Sean. She called her family in Melbourne and they had a phone conversation, and that was that.
But something about this year left loneliness gnawing in her gut. Her housemates were both away. She’d met them when she viewed the place. One was from a tiny beach town down south and was with his family, and the other had flown east to see hers.
She tried to ignore the flutter of raw guilt in her stomach when she’d heard about the one going east.
It was easy enough to ignore. She was used to it.
Sean’s judgement after her first university disappearance had hurt. Realising how badly she’d hurt Evie had hurt Tilly in turn.
But it couldn’t really touch the guilt that was always there. Because what could Evie and Sean really know of feeling abandoned when—no. She couldn’t go down that road. She had things to do.
That thought she could shut down. But ones about Evie? Impossible. Tilly had wanted to try, when she came back the last time after the rainy pub night. That argument they had was thick in its fog. She’d felt smothered by it when she’d been away. But it was also what made her realise Evie deserved to choose. Maybe she wouldn’t choose Tilly, but she deserved the chance to do so. To say yes or no.
With the baby, Tilly had thought anything more with Evie was off the table.
But Evie had kissed her.
And when Tilly kissed her back, she’d pulled away with regret in her eyes. With panic.
Tilly was making everything more of a mess for Evie.
Space.
They both needed some space. Some breathing room. They weren’t living together, so what was the problem with Tilly taking off for a few weeks? She wouldn’t go east, to see her family. Not this time, she didn’t have it in her. She’d go see her friend down south.
It wouldn’t be anything drastic. Two, maybe three weeks. Maybe a month. She didn’t need the café job. If she sent a message, they’d cover her no problem and she’d be able to come back to it. It’d be easy.
She moved methodically around her room and placed what she needed in her backpack. Mainly clothes. It was a short trip and she could leave most of her stuff in the room. She booked a bus ticket south on her phone. It took three minutes. One seat was luckily free, but outrageously expensive when booking the day before Boxing Day.
Easy.
Well-practised.
Even easier in summer when she didn’t need lots of layers.
She sent the message that she always did, flippant and carefree. She emailed her boss and sent a message to her housemates. She put her laptop in its case and had it ready.
When she went to bed, the mattress still unknown beneath her, she expected sleep to come easily. It usually would when she made a decision. She liked decisions. It was the unknown that haunted her. The decisions she hadn’t made that kept her awake.
But that night, she stared at the ceiling, sleep elusive. Neither Sean nor Evie answered, and she kept her phone next to her bed, her gaze drifting to it of its own accord, waiting to see that little light that told her she had a notification.
She normally couldn’t care less about her phone.
She fell asleep sometime after two a.m., a taste in her mouth that could have been uncertainty.
* * *
The bus station was weirdly quiet, and Tilly shifted her backpack, hoping it would stop her shirt sticking to her overheated skin. It was baking hot outside and even with air conditioning in the Uber she’d taken here, she’d felt no relief. The city was oddly quiet, everyone in barbeque mode. As the car had woven through the streets, she’d imagined all the people in their backyards. Swimming in pools. The beaches would be chock-a-block already.
Usually, she’d be with Evie and Sean on Boxing Day.
In spite of herself, she glanced at her phone and saw no notifications. Still.
It was nine a.m.
Maybe they were still sleeping.
The seats in the waiting room were only half full, but she chose a random bench in the open space near the entrance. Her bus didn’t leave for half an hour, and the opportunity to people-watch would arise here more often.
It was just for a couple of weeks. She’d only got back a few months ago. She didn’t like to go so often. But Evie needed her to, and Tilly needed to.
Tilly couldn’t even take advantage of people-watching, as caught up in thoughts of Evie as she was.
Tilly needed some space to get over this. To stop thinking about the soft push of Evie’s tongue in her mouth, the feel of her breath against her lips. It had been hard before the kiss, after letting this wanting set up camp in her chest. But now it was almost agony, with what could be burning in her mouth.
After feeling the way Evie’s fingers grasped at her, it was easier to imagine what could be. Something permanent. Something real. Something tangible between them.
Evie and her, together. Evie could want it too. She could entertain that thought now and she needed space to stop herself from doing so. Because Evie had pulled away as if burnt, her eyes lit up with shock and regret. She’d all but asked Tilly to move out. She’d pulled away since the hospital, right as Tilly wanted nothing more than to push closer, the fear that had always been in her veins dripping away to reveal only certainty about Evie.
But no.
It couldn’t be.
Even if Evie walked into this bus station right now, face flushed with rage.
Tilly started in shock.
Oh, dear God. Evie was walking in, face flushed with rage.
Tilly sat on her bench, her eyes going wide, skin prickling with surprise.
Evie stormed in, a shoebox clutched above the bulge of her stomach. Her cheeks were flaming red, eyes lit up, jaw set tight. She stopped in the doorway, eyes roving the huge space of the bus station. She radiated fury, hair slipping out of the messy bun piled on her head.
Tilly gulped.
She looked incredible.
Her gaze fell on Tilly. Evie’s eyes narrowed, shoulders straightening as she filled with her own righteousness.
Tilly almost peed her pants right there on the seat. She wished her backpack was on her lap so she could clutch it to her chest and feel some kind of protection. Instead, it sat at her feet and all she had were her own crossed arms that offered no defence whatsoever as Evie stormed over to her.
Stormed was too strong a term.
She was livid. The rage radiated off her in waves. But she was quieter in her anger than a storm. She didn’t stomp over. She trod slowly, each step deliberate, her gaze burning into Tilly.
It was ten times more terrifying than if she’d marched over.
Evie stopped in front of her.
Tilly gulped. She felt very, very small.
Evie glared down at her. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks were a deep red. She was stunning.
She was absolutely petrifying.
“Tilly,” Evie grated out, each syllable perfectly, purposefully, enunciated. “What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?”
Tilly gulped. Again. “Uh…”
“Uh?” Evie mocked.
Tilly wanted to say something, but under such rage she had nothing. Instead, all she managed was, “How’d you know I would be here?”
Evie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that this was Tilly’s first response. But her voice remained perfectly calm. “That’s a good question.” Evie thrust the shoebox out and barely waited for Tilly to take hold of it before pulling her arm back.
Tilly almost dropped it. She was shaking. Just a little.
“What’s in there?” Evie’s voice was deceptively calm.
Tilly put the box on her lap and pulled off the lid. She let out a long, slow breath. “Postcards,” she whispered.
“Didn’t catch that.”
Tilly looked up, licking her dry lips. “Postcards, Evie. It’s postcards.”
Evie stared straight at her, arms crossed. “A lot, aren’t there?”
Tilly glanced back down. There were. A lot. It was crammed full. “Yes.” She looked back up.
“So many that I can arrange them by month and year. And I realised that when you happened to be gone anytime in summer, it was usually south to Esperance.”
Tilly raised her chin. The friend she had down there was a teacher who didn’t work in the summer. If Tilly wanted to be away, it was the perfect place to be.
“What’s interesting, too, is that it’s not often you’re gone in summer. And every other time you’re gone, you always end up in Melbourne for some part of it.”
If it could, Tilly’s heart would have clenched in her chest. It was all too close to a truth for comfort. “You’re almost a detective.”
Evie snorted. “Detectives ask questions, which I’ve not done. I’ve not pushed you. Ever. But now I have a question.”
Tilly looked back up from the piles of postcards, her heart thudding in her chest painfully. She wasn’t ready. She needed to be, but she simply wasn’t. This secret felt too big, unuttered to anyone and safe that way. But she stared at Evie anyway, waiting for her to ask for the first time since Tilly had first ever left. She wouldn’t be able to deny Evie an answer again.
She braced herself for it. Had no idea how she would answer. Where she would begin.
“What,” Evie gritted out, “the fuck are you doing?”
Tilly blanched. That wasn’t what she’d been waiting for. “What?”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Evie threw her hands up in question and a few heads turned their way. “You’re running? Now? I’m six months pregnant and my life is turning upside down and you had the absolute gall to tell me when we first found this out that you’d be there for me and here you are, taking off when everything is absolute shit? Taking off faster than you ever have?” Evie’s eyes were glittering, but no longer with anger. There were tears in her eyes. “I thought you’d make it to after the baby was born, at least. I thought you’d give me that. And I thought I was selling you a bit short there, but I wanted to prepare myself in case. So, when you stayed longer it felt like a bonus. But I really, truly, stupidly, thought I could rely on you for that.”
Evie was crying. Not sobbing. Not weeping. But tears were tracking silently down her cheeks.
Tilly felt sick.
“I wouldn’t have asked more of you than that. But I really thought I didn’t have to ask for that bare minimum.”
Tilly had really, really fucked up here. She couldn’t even stand up and yell back. She couldn’t tell Evie off for that kiss. She couldn’t be mad at Evie for needing some space. She couldn’t blame her for any of it. It was so clear now that Tilly was supposed to stay. That Evie taking space on her own terms was not the same as Tilly giving it to her by going.
That Tilly was supposed to stay, now.
Tears were still tracking down Evie’s cheeks and Tilly stared up at her, and Evie’s lower lip trembled.
“God damn it, Tilly.” The words whispered out of her and Tilly did the only thing she could think of.
She put the box next to her backpack and stood up, stepping forward so she was in Evie’s space, watching her to make sure Evie wanted it. Evie shook with rage, with grief, with emotions Tilly couldn’t hope to understand. But she didn’t back away, she didn’t shake her head.
So, Tilly gently put her arms around her, drew her in, and her breath caught when Evie gripped her painfully. Her damp, hot face pressed into Tilly’s neck and Tilly held her as tight as she dared.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into Evie’s hair. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’ll stay. I will.”
“Good,” Evie rasped out, with the silent so fucking show me loud enough to hear. And then she pulled away and turned, wiping at her cheeks and walking out, leaving Tilly with her backpack, Evie’s tears on her neck, and a box of postcards that held a lot more truth than Tilly had realised.
She sank slowly to her seat as Evie walked out the door. She pulled the box of postcards back to her lap. Her bus was announced on the intercom, and she sat and watched the giant clock on the wall until she knew it would be pulling away, her overpriced seat empty. People buzzed around her, arriving and leaving.
She sent an email from her phone to her boss, apologising for the other message and asking them to ignore it; that she wouldn’t be going away after all and would be there for all her shifts. She messaged her housemates.
Then she picked up her bag, clutched the box of postcards much like Evie had when she’d walked in with all the rage of a tempest, and caught an Uber back to her flat.