What We Remember: A Novel by Sarah Echavarre

Author:Sarah Echavarre [Echavarre, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2023-01-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Sorry for leaving you guys at the table earlier,” I say to Evan as he drives us back to Omaha.

“It’s all right,” he says before twisting around to look at Opal.

I turn to look, too, and notice a faint smile on her face. When she blinks, it takes her a second before she opens her eyes. She must be exhausted after today.

“Feeling okay, Opal?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. Just a bit tired. And my legs are a bit sore, too, from all the walking we did.” She coughs. “But I suppose that’s not a huge surprise. It was an eventful day. And wonderful too.”

She leans back to rest her head against the headrest, then closes her eyes.

“Everything okay with your parents?” Evan asks.

“I think so.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

I glance over at him.

“You listened when I talked about how crappy it felt to be forgotten by . . .” He nods at Opal. “And when I vented about my breakup. Over green smoothies, remember? Most people wouldn’t do that without alcohol.”

I laugh at the face he pulls.

“I want to be a listener for you, too, if you want it,” he says.

The sincerity in his voice soothes me in a way I didn’t expect it to. It’s not that I haven’t heard him sound like this before. If anything, Evan is one of the most sincere people I’ve met. He’s been honest about everything in front of me, whether he’s expressing frustration or regret or gratitude.

But there’s something about talking to him about my own mess—about my family, our dysfunction, and my faults—that makes me the slightest bit skittish. I realize it’s because I’m going to need to be vulnerable with him. And even though I allow myself to be vulnerable in front of my sister and more recently Keely, that’s different. I have a past with them. Years and years of history. I’ve known Evan for only a couple of months. And there’s something scary about letting someone in who I haven’t known for long, especially when I’ve been so closed off from people in general for so long.

“If you don’t want to or don’t feel comfortable talking about it, it’s okay,” he says, almost like he’s reading my mind. Then he takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “Just, if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. We’re friends, after all.”

“Are we?”

I’m relieved that he chuckles. My tone was a tad bit hard now that I think about it.

“You don’t think we are? Ouch.” The corner of his mouth quirks up.

I let out a soft laugh. “I guess that was a weird thing for me to say.”

“I want to be your friend, Isabel. Is that a weird thing to say?”

I smile at his honesty, at how he has no qualms whatsoever about putting his feelings out in the open—at how he admits that he wants to be my friend. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me.

“It’s not weird at all,” I say.

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