That Summer

When Evangeline woke up, the clock beside her bed read three in the morning. She still felt groggy though she'd been sleeping what she thought was well over twelve hours. And then Evangeline froze when she remembered exactly what had happened earlier that day.

For a moment she thought that, maybe, it had been a dream. After all, everything was sort of fuzzy and certainly there was no Paul in her bed now and no mug of half-drunken tea on her bedside table. But when Evangeline put her hand to the back of her head, she felt a bump forming and when she rolled over, she could see an indentation on the pillow beside her. And her sheets smelled pleasantly of boy.

Evangeline stood lowly from the warm sheets of her bed, her sweatpants and tee shirt pooling around her small frame. The hall outside her room was completely dark when she stepped into it and she made her way slowly to the bathroom and flipped on the light. None of the mess Evangeline had left was there anymore. The bathtub was empty, the floor was dry and her clothes were gone.

As Evangeline turned from the door and started down the hall and to the lower level of her home, she got an uncomfortable jolt in her stomach that her brother and his friend seemed to be cleaning up a lot of her messes lately.

She was surprised to find that the bottom floor was not as lifeless as she'd expected it would be at three in the morning. The light to the kitchen was on, and as Evangeline stepped closer, she saw that Paul and Bryan were sitting at the table in sweatpants and tee shirts with two mugs between them.

"...care, Bryan," Paul was saying softly but emphatically. "I'm going to be here for this. I refuse to keep my distance."
"I just don't know if it's a good idea, man. She's not fond of any of us as it is, and she needs help. I think I'm going to call the hospit-" his friend was saying when he was cut off.
"No!" Paul nearly yelled it making both Donahues jump before Bryan hushed him, thinking his sister was still asleep. "She's not going to a fucking hospital, Bryan. She won't, you know she won't."
"What the hell do you suggest I do, then? I know how you feel about my sister, Paul, but you can't let that effect how you're looking at this."

Evangeline edged closer to the kitchen, wanting to know what would come of this.

"Can't we just try to do it ourselves or something? Talk to her about it? Maybe she can change on her own," the younger one tried, his eyes hopeful.
"Talk? Evangeline doesn't talk, she doesn't even listen. We need to do something," Bryan insisted.
"I guess you're right," his friend admitted dejectedly.

Paul lowered his head into his hands. He didn't want Evangeline in a hospital; he didn't want to see her like that. Both boys jumped when they heard someone clear their throat and they turned to see Evangeline step into the kitchen slowly, her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes on the ground. Evangeline felt surprisingly shameful at what had happened earlier, knowing Paul had been there and he'd surely told Bryan about it.

"Hey," she whispered almost inaudibly.
"How are you feeling?" Paul questioned hesitantly.
"Tired," Evangeline murmured with an uncomfortable smile.

Bryan motioned to the empty seat between the two and Evangeline took it, lowering herself slowly to the wooden surface and folding her thin legs on the chair, her arms still tight around her middle. The three fell into an uncomfortable silence until Bryan heaved a large sigh and looked at his sister.

"Evangeline," he started slowly.
"I'm not going to a hospital," she stated bluntly.
"You need help," her brother didn't sway.
"I don't need anything."
"Really, Evangeline? Really?" Bryan laughed sardonically and leaned forward in his chair toward his sister who had a sour look on her face. "You don't need help? Do you even remember what happened today?"
"Don't talk about that!" she yelled, springing from her chair. "You weren't here, you have no idea what happened."
"You're right, I wasn't here," he stood also. "But I was here after and I know all about it. I know you were bad enough that another girl had to drive you home from class early and that she was so worried she gave me her number so I could call and tell her you were okay. I know Paul had to carry you out of the bathroom and into your bed. I know that you're thin enough where it's unhealthy. Do you have any idea what you did to that girl today? What you did to Paul?"

Evangeline let her eyes glance towards the other boy who was still sitting, his mug clutched in both of his hands on the table. He was looking down, refusing to take in what was going on visually, and chewing on his lip ring.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" Bryan added, softer. This caught Evangeline off guard and for a second she looked surprised until her face hardened again.
"You seem just fine and I'm just fine, too. Don't act like you know me better than I know myself. I refuse to go to any sort of fucking doctor!" the blonde yelled so strongly that she wavered on her feet for a second, her vision going blurry and her breathing coming out hard. Both of the boys noticed this instantly and sighed inwardly.
"Evan," Paul murmured softly, a plead for her to just agree.
"Stop calling me that!" Evangeline shrieked, wheeling around to face the guitarist. "My name is Evangeline! Not Ev, not Angie, not Leen, and certainly not Evan! Evan is a boy's name, Paul and I'm certainly not a boy. I'm not gender confused like you."
"That's fucking it," Bryan shook his head. "I can't take this anymore Evangeline, I can't. All you ever do is walk all over everyone else in your life. Here you are degrading Paul when, if it wasn't for him and his girly clothes and his pathetic obsession with you," he continued, mocking his sister's thoughts of his friend, "then you could be dead right now. Do you understand that? Dead. Paul probably saved your fucking life today."
"I didn't need-"
"Shut up!" he roared so loudly that both of the other occupants in the room jumped. "I don't care what you have to say anymore. I don't give a shit. Why don't you go up to your room and hate life some more? All I know is that from here on out, you're not going to any more dance classes and you are getting help one way or the other. If I have to step up and be the big brother when you're eighteen fucking years old, then I'll do it. I swear to fucking God, Evangeline!"

But Bryan's sister didn't hear his last sentence, because she was already halfway to the stairs anyway. Bryan stood in his sister's wake, shaking in anger and frustration. He'd never seen someone trying so vigorously to throw their existence away. He sat back down in his chair and he and Paul remained in the kitchen, silent for ten whole minutes. Paul sat, growing slowly more angry as he replayed what had just happened. His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw set and his fists clenched. Paul stood and started towards the stairs.

"Paul, she isn't going to listen to you," Bryan called after his friend. "Paul!"

But Paul wasn't listening, and his long legs had already carried him halfway to Evangeline's room before he had time to think. Her light was on and the door was slightly ajar and Paul took no hesitation in walking through the threshold and slamming the door shut behind him. Evangeline jumped and she snapped the turquoise book which she'd been doing something in shut. She sat, eyes wide and seemingly shocked for a moment, before her face twisted back into rage.

"What do you think you're doing, exactly?" Evangeline inquired maliciously.
"I know why you're doing this," Paul responded angrily.
"What?"
"I know why you're starving yourself."
"Stop it," she hissed.
"You think you're fat-"
"Stop it," she repeated, slightly louder.
"You think you're ugly-"
"Paul!" tears formed in her eyes and she tried desperately to push them back.
"You think you're not good enough for ballet-"
"Stop!" she screeched, but Paul matched her tone and he was now yelling back.
"You think you're not good enough for anything anymore, Evangeline, but don't you get it? You're better than all of this!" he screamed, the angry Paul coming back from earlier that day. His face was flushed and his eyes were hard and Evangeline thought that she liked him better this way. It made him seem so much less pathetic, so much more real than when he was being a quiet, lost puppy. "You're smart and you're beautiful and you could go somewhere in life, not just through dancing. You're better than eating disorders and you're better than caring what everyone thinks. You're so much better than being some fucking statistic in a high school health class text book, don't you get that?"
"Paul, I have never needed help from anyone in my entire life. I don't accept charity!" she countered, a few tears escaping now.
"It's not charity. It's not like you're some homeless person begging for a can of soup," Paul threw his hands in the air, now completely frustrated. "This is your life. You can't dance if you're dead, Evangeline!"

The tears were coming out of her eyes much more regularly now and she stood, practically running towards Paul.

"I'm not going to fucking die, okay? I know when to stop!" she shrieked.
"You don't know anything! For as smart as you are, you're really fucking stupid," Paul hulked over her small, angry frame matching her fury.

Evangeline slapped Paul then, hard, right on his cheek. He reeled back for a second in surprise and put a few fingers to his reddening skin softly. Then he turned back to the girl before him again, quickly advancing towards her with more rage in his eyes than she'd seen in anyone in a very long time. She grew scared for a moment before all he did was cup her face somewhat roughly, but still oddly gently, in his hands and forced her to look him in the face.

"You think that you're fine, and you think that you're okay, and you think that you know when to stop hurting yourself. But you shouldn't be hurting yourself in the first place, Evangeline. You're scaring me and you're terrifying your poor brother who has spent most of his life pretending he doesn't care about you," Paul said all of this quietly, very quietly, but menacingly.
"Get out of my room, Paul," Evangeline screamed, now fully sobbing.

She pushed him and she slapped him. Paul let go of Evangeline as if to protect himself but he didn't really do anything other than try to grab her hands and hold them still.

"Evangeline-"
"Get out!"
"Evangeline, listen-"
"Leave! I hate you!"
"Will you just sto-?"
"Leave," she slapped his face again. "Leave"

Paul gave up trying to catch her hands and at this point he just wrapped his arms around her and held her to his body where all she could attempt to do was hit his sides. She was shaking and sobbing, still screaming into his chest, but she was growing weaker and Paul knew she wouldn't last much longer. She was tiring herself out.

"Evan, you need to calm down," he murmured into her hair, softening towards the girl in his arms.
"Leave," she repeated but it was a whisper and even she knew that she didn't mean it.
"I'm not going anywhere," Paul promised quietly. "Not until you're happy again. Not until you stop doing this to yourself."

Evangeline gave one last weak blow to his ribs before collapsing in Paul's arms altogether. He lowered her gently to the floor and sat, gathering her in his lap. Paul wiped her tears gently and looked into her big, blue-grey eyes.

"I'm not leaving," he reaffirmed. "You need someone right now, whether you know it or not."

Evangeline let out a soft sob and felt such an odd mixture of feelings take over her body. She felt sad, broken, hurt, angry, guilty and somewhere mixed in between all of this confusion, there sat a shred of happiness; of hope and most of all, within all these other emotions at that very moment, Evangeline felt the inexplicable sensation of being loved.

"I'm sorry, Paul," she whispered softly. He gave her a questioning look, so she continued. "I'm sorry that I was always such a bitch to you and I never gave you a chance. You've always been better to me than most people in my life."
"Don't apologize, Evan, we're going to fix this," he pledged, stroking her arm softly.
"Want to know a secret?" Evangeline smiled softly and looked up to him through tears. Paul hummed back in response. "I like when you call me Evan," she whispered.

Paul smiled and hugged her a little more tightly to his body, rocking her frame softly.

"And Paul?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you. For everything."
He gave her body a soft squeeze and let out a breathy laugh, "Don't ever thank me for something I want to do."

Evangeline nodded against Paul's collar bone and he closed his eyes, burying his face into the junction between her shoulder and neck.

This moment, in the middle of July, was going to be the turning point in all this drama that had taken over his life. Paul knew that. Now Evangeline could get better.

Now everything could get better.