Page 54 of Sure, Pal

Charlie nodded. Then she sighed and said, “When do you have to be back at work?”

I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck. “Three days.” Why did the world think it could keep turning? Why did my boss think that one week was sufficient time to grieve a man like my father?

I would have quit already if I didn’t need the money to pay for my apartment. And I needed the apartment because there was no way I could stand to live in this house. Was that selfish of me? What was the difference between taking care of yourself and being selfish?

“Maybe that will be good.” Charlie pulled out her phone and asked, “What do you want on your pizza?”

“Pineapple.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows at me. “You hate pineapple on pizza.”

“Yep. But dad loved it.”

My phone rang again. Ava.

“Answer that, or she’s just going to keep calling.” Charlie rolled her eyes and walked over to the curtains, yanking them open. Warm, yellow light flooded the kitchen.

I gazed out at the backyard and felt guilt wrapping its fingers around my neck. The grass was about five inches too long, and the garden was filled with weeds and rotting produce. I should have been taking care of the yard as soon as my dad got sick.

How the hell was I supposed to follow his last advice? How the hell could I take care of myself first? There was too much that needed to be done — too much that had been put off for “later.”

I slid open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the back patio. I stared down at my phone and then answered. “Hi, Ava.”

“Oh my God! Evan! I’m so glad you answered! I’ve been like, sobbing over here worrying about you! Can I come and see you?” Ava did, in fact, sound like she was crying. I didn’t need her tears.

“I’m not up for a visit right now.”

“I know you don’t feel like it right now, but you need to be surrounded by people that love you. Babe, I’ll bring dinner, and we can watch that stupid show that you and Charlie always loved and forced me to watch. I’m not asking right now. I’m telling you that I’m coming to take care of you.”

The anger that had been building in the pit of my stomach bubbled over. “Fuck, Ava! I said no! How the hell would you have any clue what I need right now?”

“Evan, I—”

“And don’t call me babe. I haven’t been your ‘babe’ for almost five years.” All of the hurtful words I’d left unsaid came spilling out of me. I knew I should stop. I shouldn’t hurt Ava this deeply — she was trying to help — but my anger was out of control. I gripped my phone with white knuckles and continued, “You need to fucking move on, Ava! I broke up with you because I didn’t love you, and I still don’t. I’m never going to love you that way!” I raised my voice. “You are the last person I want to see right now!”

Ava let out a tiny sob and then said, “Um, okay, Evan. You’re grieving right now and lashing out at me. I get it. I’ll give you some space and reach out again in a few days. I love you, even if you’re angry and saying horrible things to me.” Then the line went silent.

I threw my phone into the overgrown grass and buried my hands in my hair. How much clearer could I be? Fuck, Ava! I thought my tears were all dried up, but the joke was on me. They came pouring down my face in hot, angry rivers. Fucking hell!

Charlie slid the door open and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re never gonna find your phone in that jungle. That was a dumb thing to do.”

I sighed and furiously wiped my tears away. Charlie didn’t need me to fall apart like this. “I’m going to come over tomorrow and get this whole yard cleaned up. I promise.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay.” She leaned against the doorframe and played with the ends of her hair. “So, Ava still thinks you belong to her, huh?”

I scoffed and shook my head.

“Has Sienna called?”

She hadn’t. It had been radio silence from Sienna since we… did whatever the fuck we did after the funeral. I’d probably confused the hell out of her.

I’d pushed her away because I was mad that she didn’t want to break up with her best friend for me. It was an issue, for sure, but I’d blown it up bigger than it needed to be because of my grief and fear.

Then, I’d frozen her out and refused to speak to her for months.

After that, I’d climbed into her car and fucked her after my dad’s funeral. She probably hated me.

I hated me.

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