just read it.
In more ways than one did I feel and possibly look like a disgruntled, moronic asshole. I gave up on Evie. And more importantly (as horrible as it seems to put anything higher in importance than her) I gave up on Serafina; our five month old, Hebrew influenced named, black haired angel with eyes the size of baby worlds (even if those worlds were brown; the Wen(t)z brown). We were like that movie Closer/, that song /Wake Up or maybe we were in our own little world. Unfortunately, that world was currently being destroyed by my selfish acts of (trying to) fixing things between us. The look on Evie's face wasn't one I was expecting. It was almost like she wasn't surprised that I walked out on her...again. I would most defiantly be going to hell for this.
I glanced around the boardwalk, cursing under my breath that my subconscious brought me to one of the things Evie and I held in common. We had minds filled with unattainable power, and this was the very boardwalk we came on our own to think. The day we bumped into each other made both of us understand the other a little more. But that was ages ago, back in the days when Evie was barely legal at the fresh age of 18 and I was a hopeless romantic, thriving off the words she and I had shared. This was before she knew who Andy was and before everything went downhill for us. Back in the days of best friends and ice cream headaches. Those days were golden, lost between my curious mind and wandering hands and Evie's 'too-nice-to-say-no' attitude. That disappeared just as quickly as her failed engagement with two young FOB' did.
The sun was a half an hour from setting, the horizon out in the distance, past the shining blue water of the lake, spit out golden rays of orange and yellow, the sky glowing in a aura of colors not even Bob Ross could capture.
"There," I joked to myself, my eyes hazy with those guilt-trip tears that if anybody saw would immediately counter with those two words I hated. "What's wrong," I voiced. My head hung and I kicked at the wood of the board walk before walking down towards the bench at the peak of it. An old man sat there, a sketch book in his hand, drawling what looked to be a girl sitting on a bench.
"Would you mind if I sat here?" I mumbled; voice nervous. The man smiled warmly and nodded, eyeing me as I plopped down and began to twiddle my thumbs. He continued to sketch the outline of the girl's face, the bench being graced by her presence.
"Tell me," the man started, glancing in my direction. "What's bothering you, young man?" I lowered my eyes to my lap, watching as sun reflected off the silver band placed across my wedding finger.
"A girl," The old man hummed.
"Ah, I see," He paused and glanced in my direction. "But it's not your fiancÃ©," I turned my head to stare at him.
"How did you know that?" I asked. The old man smirked, carefully drawing in wonderful eyes for the girl.
"You're wearing an engagement band," he paused. "That and you look too young to be /married/," I sighed.
"She's a wonder, my girl," The old man paused in his drawling and turned his head to study my profile.
"Tell me about this girl you love," I felt my heart beat against my chest.
"You're right about that," I smiled softly. "I do love her," I closed my eyes. "There's so much to tell," The old man sighed.
"I sit here 12 hours a day," he laughed. "I have time," I nodded and gulped slightly.
"She has brown eyes, but not those boring, generic brown eyes that 54% of the population has. The kind that when you stare into, you find yourself almost going crazy," I groaned slightly. "They are just as captivating as her arms are when she wraps them around my shoulders,"
"Ah, the hug of a goddess," I sighed, feeling hopeless.
"She makes the most amazing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," I muttered. "And can cook a mean Mac & cheese when we were home alone," The old man smiled softly.
"Kitchen challenged, both of you," I felt my cheeks flare.
"Yeah," I breathed. "Her favorite thing in the world is waking up on Sunday morning to find it's raining and time all the nearby churches, so we can go out to the park and swing without anybody being there," I paused. "Her hands are the softest I've ever held," The old man sighed, his smile widening.
"Silk against leather," he paused. "The perfect half to make a whole," I gasped slightly.
"You've read /Golden/?" The old man nodded.
"Such an amazing book," I sighed.
"She always quoted things too," I paused. "Every time we got take out she'd laugh as I ate rice," He smirked.
"Lost Boys," I nodded.
"She never got sick of things," The old man watched as I let out an exasperated sigh. "And to see her stomach round with my first born child," I gulped. "Was the most vibrant my heart has ever been," The man nodded once.
"She's perfect in the sense," he cleared his throat. "That she fits into you like puzzle piece to puzzle piece," I looked out to see the sun slipping away. Time goes by fast.
"She's the one that was designed to fit in my bed with me," I lowered my head. "She was the only one my mom ever liked,"
The old man clamped a strong hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see his drawling done. The picture was simple, but the girl's eyes were in so much detail it was like she was defining every flaw in you, even if she was produced by a simple number two pencil.
"Is that her, over there?" he asked, his voice soft as he eyes across the boardwalk.
I whipped my head around to see Evie, in the flesh taking a seat down that faced away from us. 200 feet away, my heart raced and I looked to find the old man walking away with his things. I stood up and slowly started to walk towards where Evie sat at the bench, wrapped tightly in her sweater, one denim hole gracing her left knee. I stopped behind her and watched as she turned her head slightly to look at my shadow.
"How'd you know I'd be here?" she whispered, voice hoarse from crying; I knew. I walked around the bench and sat next to her, keeping the foot distance between us.
"This is our spot," I whispered. Evie hummed.
"I'm not surprised," she whispered.
"I'm sorry, Ev," She kept her vision forward, expression unfazed as I studied her profile.
"I know," she croaked. "I know you are," she forced a smile and I gulped, moving my hand across the space to place my hand over hers. Evie looked down at our hands for the longest time before flicking her palm up and lacing our hands together.
"How," I coughed to get rid of my raspy voice. "Is she doing?" I asked in a whisper. Evie knitted her eyebrows together.
"I'm sorry," she voiced. "But I thought you didn't want anything to do with it," I avoided eye contact.
"That was a week ago," Evie sighed and shook her head.
"She's fine, Pete," she mumbled, half heartily.
I looked towards the parking lot off in the distance, lamp posts flickering on as the sun set completely and in the ten minutes of silence we shared, darkness swallowed us whole.
"I'll take you home," I voice, looking down at her. She was tracing the key-hole tattoo with her 'in-need-of-a-touch-up' French tip finger nail. She nodded once.
Pete didn't even talk himself into my house. And he didn't even begin to talk at all as I led myself upstairs, his body following me.
"Evie," he called.
He stood staring into Serafina's room, his eyes holding this empty look. I was just about to open my bedroom door, but instead made the stupid mistake of walking slowly over to him and standing right next to him, staring in as well.
"For five months I took care of her in this house, Pete," I whispered. "She was the only Christmas present I got," Pete sighed and looked down at me.
"I'm really starting to feel I've put myself in a very promising situation," he whispered, bringing his hand up to stare at the blinding silver band.
"Adine might be able to be a good mother," I whispered. Pete stared at me.
"Ha," he sarcastically put, sighing and looking back into the room. "I still can't believe I couldn't link that little bundle of Wentz back to me," I gulped.
"Heather gave a good story," I whispered. Pete looked away.
"I can't stand it," he whispered again, walking past me. I caught up to him as he entered my bedroom, eyeing the pictures above the light switch. "I still have this picture," he mumbled, pointing to the one where he held me bridal style. I smiled and walked towards my closet where I pulled out a pair of pajamas.
"It's for sentimental reasons," I voiced. Pete nodded, glancing over but quickly looking away as he noticed me changing into more comfortable clothes.
"Everybody needs to keep those kinds of things," he whispered, walking towards my bed and sitting on the edge of it. He placed my stuffed cow on his lap and sighed, sounding miserable.
"Pete," I called, sitting next to him and making him look at me. "Why do you feel you have to marry Adine?" I asked. "Other than the fact she's having your kid," Pete frowned.
"I'd rather you not question me and her," I looked away, defeated. "I'd rather you question me and you," I smiled.
"Our situation is best described as a honeymoon setting," I spoke, making sure our eyes locked. Pete nodded.
"How can you read my mind like that, Ev?" he asked. I shrugged lightly.
"How long have we been friends," I paused. "Err," Pete lifted his hand and pushed some of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my hair. His hand lingered.
"Almost six years," I gulped.
"Six years," I repeated. Pete nodded but seemed distant.
"Ev," he mumbled. I hummed. "I'm going to do something very stupid," I blinked.
"What are you talking..." he cut me off.
"Shut up," he whispered.
He kissed me.
When we parted, Pete stayed staring into my eyes. "Captivating brown," he mumbled, eyes shifting from one eye to the other. I winced.
"I think you should leave," He eyed me.
"What?" I pulled him up and pushed him towards the door.
"Go home," I hissed. "Take care of Adine," I paused.