Page 67 of For Eva

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands as his hair fell around his face. “I don’t know what to say.” He paused and brought his head up to look at me. “Is itjustbecause of Danny? Or is it because ofwhat happened withme? Because you’re so fucking good at what you do, Eva. Are sure you even wanna benormal—whatever that means?”

“It’s Danny, it’s this city, it’s the business. I didn’t know what I was getting into, and I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I’m not…I don’t know what the word is…toughenough, I guess? But I promise we’ll stay in touch. And I’ll be back out to visit Denise and I’ll see you then and…”

My voice trailed off as Eric scrubbed his hands along his face and sat back with a sharp inhale. “I guess I thought Will and Matt and I would get the band back together eventually and you would, you know,be there with us.” He looked over at me. “And by the way, don’t ever say you’re not tough. You’re one of the toughest people I’ve ever met.”

I lowered my eyes and smiled, thinking of the good times we’d all had together—when the band got signed, the first time we heard the finished album, the excitement of going on tour, and anticipation about what the future held. I remembered the shock of Eric telling Keith to hire me. As the pictures fluttered through my mind, I looked up at Eric to see his mouth was turned down.

“I’ll never forget my time with you guys,” I promised. “And Iknowyou’ll get through all this and be an even bigger success than you already are. So big, in fact, you won’t even remember Eva from Illinois.”

He locked eyes with me. “Trust me when I say there is absolutely no chance of me ever forgetting you, Eva.”

The strange tingling sensation returned, this time settling in my stomach. “I just want to be happy, Eric. And I don’t think I can do that here.”

A look of resignation swept over his face, as he leaned back and stared at the metal roof, still resonating with the sound of raindrops. He swallowed so hard I could see the muscles in hisneck strain. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him how much he meant to me, but his words came first.

“I don’t know quite how to say this, so I’m sure I’m gonna screw it up,” he began, taking a deep breath and turning his head to me. “But for as long as I can remember, I didn’t feel like I deserved happiness. Iactedlike I deserved the whole goddamn world because it felt a whole lot better than trying to deal with all the shit, you know? But I didn’t believe it. I believed my mom and the fucking assholes she brought around who told me I was a pain in the ass. I believed the people at school who told me I was a fuckup. I believed I was nothing more than an…inconvenience. But that day you met Mandy and came running into the apartment screaming about the potential record deal, you told me I deserved good things. And I’ve never forgotten that.”

His words crashed into me, fracturing my insides. He leaned over and ran his thumb along my cheek as a single tear fell from my eye.

“Now it’s my turn to tell you thatyoudeserve happiness, too, Eva,” he said, our eyes locking as he cupped my face with his hand. “So will going back to Chicago make you happy?”

I felt like he was staring straight into the saddest parts of me, trying to find a way to heal them. I leaned into his hand, the sensation that had settled in my stomach racing to my brain, spinning a tangled web of thoughts and feelings that didn’t make sense because they couldn’t possibly be real. Surely, I was confused. I missed Danny and was searching for something to ease the pain. But Eric’s touch was so warm…so comforting.

He leaned forward, searching my eyes, almost as if he was waiting for something he knew existed deep inside me to finally break through to the surface. My pulse quickened as he began to close the distance between us.

No, Eva. No. You know what you need to do. You’ve made up your mind.

A soft gasp escaped my lips as I quickly turned my head downward, and his hand slipped from my cheek. I peered cautiously back up at him, knowing if I looked directly into his eyes again, the confusion would only grow stronger. He turned his gaze to the falling rain.

“Yeah,” I said. “I need to go back.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded, still focused on the steady stream of water pouring from the sky. “Then you should go,” he said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it gently. “Go home, Eva, and be happy.”

THIRTY

October 1989 - April 1990

October 29, 1989

Eva,

I’m now officially sprung! Keith picked me up yesterday morning, and I’m getting settled into his guest house. His son has already decided I was brought here for the sole purpose of being his new best friend. We just finished our third water gun fight in the twenty-four hours since I moved in. Not the same as the wet T-shirt contests I’m used to, but fun, nonetheless. Keith’s wife tried to tell him to cool his jets, but hell, I don’t mind. I never got to do much of that stuff when I was a kid, so it’s almost like I get a do-over.

I hope everything worked out with the apartment you were looking at and you’ve been having fun hanging with your old friends up there. Matt and Will came to visit a couple weeks ago. We talked about putting the band back together, but who knows if it’ll happen. Matt’s doing studio work, and Will got an offer to play with a band out of Seattle who just fired their drummer. I can’t remember their name, but they’re supposed tobe the next big thing. I don’t wanna hold him back, so I told him to do what he needed to do.

I had a lot of time to write in rehab. It was good to get shit out, and I think there are some potential songs in there. I wonder if they’ll ever be heard or just remain words on the pages of a notebook. I wonder what I want them to be. I wonder what I want, period. Keith told me I could stay here as long as I needed, so I guess I’ll take it one day at a time, as they say in NA. Yes, I have officially become a twelve-stepper (ha ha).

Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes, so I should head out. Lemme know how you’re doing, and take care of yourself, Eva from Illinois.

Eric

November 20, 1989

Eric,

So sorry, I feel like it’s taken me a million years to write back! I am so fucking proud of you! I hope you celebrated properly when you got out—and by that I mean went to El Compadre and stuffed your face with chimichangas…sans the flaming margaritas, of course (ha ha)! As for me, the original apartment fell through, but I found an even better one (yay!) and have been trying to get settled. I just got back from an interview with an advertising agency downtown, and I think it went really well. Not sure if it’s what I wanna do for the rest of my life, but I really liked the person I met with and got a good vibe about the company. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Anyway, things are good, but I miss everyone. Well, not everyone. But you know what Imean. Denise is flying in forThanksgiving with my family and will likely freeze her ass off in thisfucking ridiculous weather. Middle of November and we’ve already had snow! Speaking of my family, I was surprised I didn’t get a chorus of I told you so’s from my dad when I moved back. I think he might actually be glad to have me here, which feels weird and good at the same time. Maybe we can finally talk about my mom. Or maybe not. I don’t know…Do you think I should tell him how I feel? Show him my tattoo? I’m scared of what he’ll say. Or won’t say.

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