Don't Think I Can Fight This Anymore

Dear Charlie,

I lied. I do love you. And I’m sorry.

-Evelyn

~*~

Ginny paused outside her brother’s door, a little confused. The door was open, but Charlie was dead asleep on top of the blankets, a decorative pillow pulled over his head. She softly stepped into the room, meaning to pull the blankets up over him.

It had been a rough Christmas for him, she knew. Evelyn seemed to take a lot out of him, although they were rather awkwardly getting along by the time she left. He even walked her to the door.

Something crunched beneath her trainers, and Ginny froze. Charlie slept on. She bent down and picked up a small voice recorder, not unlike the ones Dad kept in the shed, and pressed the “Play” button.

“That’s a cute house.” Daniel’s voice came through, clear as day.

“My older brother’s place.” Charlie replied. “On the beach.”

“My sister always loved the beach. Our aunt had a house in Florida, right on the water. We’d go there on vacation. Evie would get up in the middle of the night and disappear. Be no where in the house. Then you’d find her out walking in the tide, just staring at the horizon. She was a lunatic like that even when we were kids.”

Charlie laughed.

“You should take her sometime. To the beach.”

“Your sister broke up with me. I doubt she wants me to take her to the beach.”

“She loves you.”

“She doesn’t love me.” Charlie said, and Ginny closed her eyes at the pain in his voice. “She came for Lestrange, not me. You didn’t see her there. She wasn’t...she was the Second Lieutenant, not Evelyn.”

“Well, you love her.”

“Of course I love her.” Charlie said bitterly. “Look I know she’s your sister and all but...being with Evelyn is like finally finding the eye of the storm. She’s a natural disaster but you’d found the good and calm in the middle of that. She’s terrifying and enchanting and wonderful and she doesn’t care about me. But that’s okay. If she doesn’t love me, I don’t care. At least I got to stand in her rain. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved her and I’ll never love anyone this much again.”

“I knew the first time she talked about you.” Daniel said, and Ginny heard the smile in his voice. “Even then, she recognized it. You were the only one she could allow to love her.”

“She doesn’t - “

“Right now, you’re hurt. She broke your heart to try to save you from Lestrange’s revenge. And it’s killing her that it didn’t work. But once everything calms down, you should talk. You’ve be surprised how much love she’s capable of, once she allows herself.”

That was the end of the recording. Ginny put it back on the floor, then slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She grabbed a cloak, shouted to her mother she’d be home in an hour, and ran out the door before anyone could stop her.

What would her brothers do without her around to sort their stupidity? She spend more time saving them from themselves - keeping George in line, knocking Percy’s ego down, giving Ron a good kick when he needed it. Now she had to fix Charlie.

Before she knew it, she was pounding on the door to George’s flat. He opened the door with raised eyebrows.

“Gin, I know you miss me, but I saw you an hour ago.”

“Does Evelyn love Charlie?” She demanded.

This conversation was making George just more and more disappointed in his sister. “Really? I honestly thought you were smarter than that.”

“George, seriously.”

He rolled his eyes. “She does. More than the sun and the stars and the bloody moon. And quite possibly, more than he loves her. Why aren’t you asking Sylvia these questions? Or better yet - Evelyn.”

Ginny pushed past him, barging into the apartment. “We need a way to get him to go to Oliver Wood’s party. And we need to convince him to put aside all this bleeding self-pity and get her back.”

George sighed and shut the door behind her. There was no use trying to argue with her. “Fine. Want a butterbeer?”

~*~

As Evelyn found herself closer and closer to the sale date of the tea shop, she found it more and more frustrating. How had she lasted as long as she had? Even though usually it wasn’t her who was being treated like the scum of the earth, she felt for her employees.

So naturally, Boxing Day was awful. They were booked to capacity and just about everything seemed to be going wrong. And the fact that she had barely gotten any sleep, again, didn’t help things. She had a dream where David Bowie’s ‘Life on Mars?’ played on repeat while she ran between people doing some sort of synchronized ballroom dance, searching and searching for a dragon that was always four steps ahead of her. It wasn’t as scary as some of her other dreams, but it left her exhausted and wide awake at three in the morning.

So, nervous, she walked between tables humming the song under her breath. She did love David Bowie. All the nightmares in the world would not take David Bowie away from her.

Between dealing with a young witch asking for vegan options - who comes in for a six course meal when they’re vegan - and a platinum blonde mother and son who turned their nose up at everything that came to the table, Evelyn heard something from the hostess stand.

“Hello, and welcome to The English Rose. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, it should be under Ferrins.”

Evelyn did not look around, or stumble. She pushed her shoulders back and walked to the two-top.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem?” She asked calmly.

“This is not what we ordered.” Draco Malfoy said coldly.

Resisting a surprisingly strong urge to punch the younger man in the jaw, Evelyn took his half-finished plate. “I’ll just check on that, sir. Can I do anything else for you?”

“Just bring us another martini. Or something.” Narcissa snapped as Evelyn took her completely finished plate.

“Of course.”

Assholes, she thought as she walked away.

Pushing through the kitchen door, Evelyn shouted, “Corner!” But it was too late, and Anna walked straight into her, collapsing the remains of Draco Malfoy’s fish course against her frost blue skirts. Evelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Anna.” she said in a deadly calm voice. “Why do we say words like Corner and Behind?”

“To alert people that you’re walking towards them when you can’t see them.”

“And where in this did you fuck up?”

“I didn’t listen.” Anna said miserably.

“Good. Now, I think table sixteen was just sat. Go greet them.”

Anna rushed off and Evelyn dumped the Malfoy's plates in the sink. She looked at Jackie, working the flat top.

“Can’t we have just one good service?” She asked rhetorically, taking out her wand to clean her skirt. “I mean, Jesus. We barely qualify as fine dining. It shouldn’t be this hard. I understand we never do six courses, but six courses should be easier than a la carte. We’re doing six courses today to make our lives easier! Oh, fire table seven, fifth course.”

Jackie shrugged at her and Mark, a line cook, put up two plates of finger sandwiches. “Table ten.”

Evelyn waved her wand at the plates and they levitated in front of her. “Table ten, walking.”

Anna scowled at her as they walked past each other. “Table sixteen are assholes.”

Evelyn glanced with dread at Ferrins and what she guessed was his family. “Well, please be nice.”

After dropping the plates on table ten, who were actually very nice and patient, Evelyn got the Malfoys another round of drinks, poured tea on various tables, and served a plate of little cakes to a large family. She was in the kitchen taking a quick sip of water when Anna came in, looking close to tears.

“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, but she already knew. She knew the moment she saw him walk in.

“Table sixteen wants to speak with you.”

Evelyn put down her cup and walked out onto the floor, her head held high as she walked to table sixteen. From here, she could see that they were on their second course - crudo. Five plates of untouched beef tartar sat on the table.

She smiled at Ferrins, the man who tried to lock her away because she was brave and he was not. “Hello sir, is there a problem?”

“What is this?” He asked, pointing at the dish in front of him.

“That is our beef tartar.”

“It’s raw.”

“Yes, sir. Tartar typically is.”

“I told you - “ the wife started to say.

“I was not made aware of this when I ordered it.”

Evelyn stared at him. Seriously?

“And also,” Ferrins added as one of the kids rolled her eyes, “this silverware - “

Evelyn tuned him out, and started thinking back to high school, when she started in the service industry. She worked in fine dining restaurants in Toronto up until she was nineteen, when she joined the military. At one point, she had this wonderful manager Victor Harris. Victor Harris was exceptionally good at his job, extremely objective when it came to work, and really hysterically sarcastic behind the scenes. He taught Evelyn everything. Serve from the left, clear from the right. Never stack plates at the table. Always serve wine with a serviette. Describe every aspect of every dish.

But he had this move, when a customer was being difficult. He’d gently grab their forearm, look deep into their eyes, and say, “I am,” he’d pause for half a second, “so sorry.” The move was so good, it was a bit of a server montra. “When in doubt, Victor Harris.”

Evelyn was in doubt. She could offer to comp Ferrins’ meal, but then he’d probably just ask for the next one to be comped too. She could give him a new course, but he’d find an issue with it. So, she pulled her first Victor Harris in about five years.

She stepped in, and gently touched Ferrins’ arm, and looked deep into his eyes. “I am...so sorry.”

Panic flashed across Ferrins’ face, and she could see him thinking. He could try to rile her up, but he would just look like a child. If he moved too quickly and physically harmed her, it would look awful after he tried to lock her away.

“I - “ he stuttered.

“Let me get you some new courses.” She said kindly. “Perhaps some fresh salads?”

She grabbed three plates, nodded to Anna to take the remaining two, and walked back towards the kitchen. She remembered something Victor Harris said at a pre-shift once.

“People like that, they want to break you. They want to ruin your night. If you break, they’ve won. So don’t let them. Smile, apologize, keep going.”

But Earl Ferrins would never break her. She knew that now.

Anna ran after her. “What was that?”

Evelyn smiled faintly. “When in doubt, Victor Harris.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. Go get those salads.” They dumped the plates in the sink and Evelyn did a small spin. “Focus on the SAILORS, fighting in the dance hall.”

Anna thought she quite possibly had the strangest boss ever.

~*~

“Alright, seriously.” Trip finally sighed after Evelyn put on the third Bowie album of the night. “What is with the Bowie tonight?”

“What’s wrong with Bowie? Everyone needs some Bowie.” Evelyn said, enunciating Bowie in a pretty good impersonation of the man’s accent. She had gone from Ziggy to Space Oddity to Hunky Dory, and was currently lining up the Labyrinth soundtrack for when Hunky Dory finished.

“Why are you acting weird? Normally, you play music from five different genres.”

“But it’s Bowie.”

“Sarge, she’s being weird.”

“Kids,” Ian sighed patiently, looking over the mahjong tiles in front of him. “Please don’t fight.”

Evelyn returned to her seat and picked her cigar back up.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Trip asked again.

“I swear to God, Trip - “

“I’m just asking!”

Evelyn scowled. “If you really want to know, I had a dream where David Bowie played on repeat, and then Ferrins came into the tea shop today. But I pulled a Victor Harris, and he fucked off.”

“What the hell is a Victor Harris?”

“He came into the tea shop?” Ian repeated.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said to both of them. “Actually, I feel really good after all of that. So good, I scheduled my next tattoo.”

There was a knock on the door, which immediately opened. Sylvia stepped in with a huge smile. “Hey, everyone.”

“Hey.” Evelyn said. “Come on in and get a drink, we’re just about to start a new game.”

“What tattoo are you getting?” Trip asked.

“Another constellation.” She said vaguely. “And before you ask, no, I won’t show you, it will probably be somewhere a little risque.”

“Is it the Starman?” Trip mocked.

“Trip, don’t you ever, ever, make fun of David Bowie in front of me. We won’t be best friends anymore.”

“Who said we were best friends?”

“You did. At my trial.”

“I was just buttering up the jury.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

Sylvia watched Evelyn smile, realizing it was the first real smile she had seen since those horrible muggle attacks in New York. Evelyn was just as haunted as ever, but she was a little more relaxed. She only needed her Charlie back, and then maybe she could be really happy.

Now, just to annoy Trip, she was doing a dramatic performance of the song that was playing. Ian smiled and shook his head, like a parent at toddler’s antics as Trip covered his ears. But Sylvia laughed as her friend moved in dramatic gestures and spins.

“Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the Lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?”