Pomare, JP - Call Me Evie by Pomare JP

Author:Pomare, JP [Pomare, JP]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

• • •

By the time Jim emerges my muscles are aching with fatigue. The tightness feels good.

“What the hell have you done here?”

“I was digging.”

“You should have stopped.”

I just shrug. There’s something addictive about the work. I take the spade up again.

He moves quickly to snatch it from me. “Stop now.”

“Do they think I killed him?”

His face falls. “Oh, Kate . . .”

“Tell me exactly what happened. I can handle it. Do they think it was me?”

“Oh, shit, what are you remembering? It wasn’t your fault. You need to understand that.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? They’re after us because you let them believe I did it.” The words don’t sound like mine, they’re bitter and accusatory.

We stare at each other, then the silence is broken by a knock, and Beau begins to bark. There’s someone at the front door. He nods toward the house and I quickly climb the steps ahead of him, rushing to my room as the tears begin.

The door opens.

“Hello?”

“Hi. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Then quietly: “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see Evie. Is she about?”

“Evie?”

“Yeah.” It’s Iso, I realize. They speak to each other with an unsettling familiarity. Fuck. Please don’t tell him. Please don’t let him know I was running away.

“Evie,” Jim repeats. There’s a long pause. “Look, ah, let’s talk outside, all right?”

The door closes but I creep down the hall and press my ear to the wood. The murmurs from outside are barely audible—not loud enough to drown out the words reverberating in my skull. They think I’m a killer. The world thinks I am the killer.

They’re out there for some time, still talking. Five minutes, maybe more. What are they saying about me? The door opens so abruptly he catches me standing there.

He raises his eyebrows. “Friend of yours?”

I shrug one shoulder, feigning nonchalance.

“I’m not mad, Kate.” Now he shows me his teeth. Despite everything, it makes me feel a little normal. He fetches the first-aid kit and begins carefully cleaning and bandaging my blistered, weeping hands. “You’ve been a little erratic lately. Have you been swallowing your pills every time?”

With my forearm, I scratch my head through my short hair. What does he know?

“Yes, I have.”

“Are you certain, Kate? Don’t lie to me.”

I nod.

“Well, I’ll be making sure you are.”

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