Anger gave way to fear, and she pulled the latch on the door.
“Don’t,” he growled. The engine roared, and the truck whipped past parked cars on the narrow street.
“You’re going to hit something,” Evelyn shouted. “Donny, stop!”
The road plunged between rows of trees, and Donny slammed on the brakes. The truck’s rear end jolted up and down, and the tires left black streaks behind. Built before anti-lock brakes became standard, the truck swayed from side to side, coming dangerously close to Kensington’s famous pines. Finally, it lurched to a halt, the rusted bumper inches away from the manor’s iron gates, the engine tinking with heat.
Donny’s hands trembled, and he blinked as if breaking free from a spell. “Ev—Evelyn. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—”
She threw the door open, slammed it shut, and hurried through the gates. Her hands clenched into tight fists and tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard his cries of apology, but she didn’t look back. She would never look back again.
13
For two days, Evelyn barely spoke. Day and night, all she could think about was Donny, and the tragic reality: She was afraid of her oldest friend. She wondered if she had done something to set him off, or if he had suffered a mental breakdown. Maybe he was working too hard, or wasn’t sleeping well, or…
It was no use. There was no explanation for his behavior, no excuse for what he did. Still, Evelyn mourned the loss of a seemingly unbreakable friendship. Only a week ago, things between them seemed completely normal. They’d laughed together, commiserated about gas prices and political races, played games, and shared meals—all without a moment of sexual tension. At least from her perspective.
Had she really misread his intentions all these years? And if he wanted to pursue a romantic relationship, why didn’t he tell her? She felt a crippling, implacable guilt that she might have led him on at some point, given him the wrong idea.
The only breaks from her mental debate—deciding who to blame—were her daily conversations with Alek. He sensed her distress, though she never told him the cause, and he invited her to spend a day touring downtown Louisville. She agreed, and he picked her up at Candace’s apartment on Saturday morning.
They drove with the top down on his Buick convertible, and she let the wind wash away her anxiety about Donny. They spent the morning hours strolling through the waterfront park and visiting outlet malls before the heat and humidity forced them indoors. Then they relaxed in an air-conditioned movie theater—Alek bought the tickets, and Evelyn bought the popcorn—watching the last blockbuster of the summer.
After walking hand-in-hand through the halls of the history museum, they settled in for dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, trading amusing childhood stories over buttery breadsticks.
“I could barely keep my arms up,” Alek said, recalling a fishing story from his grade-school years. “My dad was more excited than I was. He told me if I let go of my fishing pole I’d be grounded for a month. When I finally hauled that catfish up to the surface, Dad jumped to his feet and grabbed the line to haul it into the boat.” He chuckled. “Only, we were in a canoe, not a flat-bottom. I hit the water before I knew what happened, and the fish dragged my pole to the bottom of the reservoir. It took us twenty minutes to get the canoe flipped over, and we lost half of Dad’s gear that day.”
He took a sip of ice water and stared into the middle-distance. “That was the last time I went fishing with him.”
Evelyn smiled at him. “Did you decide fishing wasn’t your sport?”
His pupils constricted then dilated, and he shook his head. “Not exactly. I…that is, he—” Alek took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. “That’s a story for another time. How about you? Did your dad ever take you fishing?”
“A few times, but we never caught anything. I had better luck when I went with Maureen.”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
Her heart stopped mid-beat. “Not…exactly.”
He frowned, confused by her evasiveness. “A relative, then?”
She sighed. “Maureen is my mother. But we’re not on good terms.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…”
“No, it’s fine. Most people don’t address their mothers by their first name—I’m the weird one.”
Alek rubbed his palm with his thumb. “This is probably TMI for a third date, but I’m estranged from my mother, too. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I’m not looking for pity or anything, I just wanted you to know we have that in common.”
Evelyn smiled and raised her glass of iced tea. “To awkward moments.”
Their glasses clinked together, and the conversation resumed. They discussed safer topics—the weather, work, music, and Louisville’s traffic jams. They made it all the way to dessert before stumbling across the next sensitive subject.
Alek savored a spoonful of pistachio gelato for a moment, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “How are things with Donny? Did you patch things up?”
Evelyn dropped her spoon. It clanked against her plate and fell to the floor. She blushed and retrieved it, setting it aside.
Alek snagged a set of utensils from the table behind him and handed her the spoon. “Did I put my foot in my mouth again?”
Her lower lip quivered, and she struggled to hold back the tears. She took a deep breath, ready to lie and tell him everything was fine, but she let out a sob instead.
“Evelyn?” Alek hurried around the table and sat next to her, taking her hands in his. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears, and then she shook her head.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s—” She wiped her tears away and took a shuddering breath. “It’s okay. I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
He handed her a napkin. “Tell me what?”
“Donny…he’s acting crazy. The other day, he gave me a ride to work. But when I got upset with him and asked to get out, he started driving like a maniac. I was so scared.”
“Has he ever done anything like this before?”
“No. I’ve never even seen him angry before this week.”
Alek stared at the table for a moment while he searched for the right thing to say. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She dabbed her eyes with a napkin and gave him a weak smile. “You’re already doing it. Thank you for listening to me—for bringing me here, and not running for your life when you found out how insane my life is.” She paused then added. “Although, a bottle of wine to-go wouldn’t hurt.”
Alek grinned, thankful to see her spirits lifting. “I can handle that.” He told the waiter to add a bottle of Moscato to the check, then handed him a credit card. The waiter rang up the bill and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and a pair of peppermints.
Evelyn thanked him and popped a peppermint into her mouth. Alek took the wine and hurried ahead of her to get the door.
She took a deep breath, and the humid air cooled as it passed over the mint in her mouth. She closed her eyes, feeling the dwindling sun on her face and listening to the noises of the city. Deep down, she knew that as long as Alek put up with her chaotic, messed-up life, she would be okay.
A truck rumbled to life, drowning out everything else. She opened her eyes and searched the parking lot in a panic. The rumble grew to a roar, and she saw what she dreaded to see—Donny’s truck, racing away from the restaurant.
14