Page 99 of For Eva

“Okay, then,” I began. “My turn. Where areyouright now, and what areyoudoing?”

“I’m sitting on my bed in my 2900-square-foot ranch house in Nashville. It was built in 1963. Try not to be jealous.”

Not jealous, I wanted to say. More like wishing I was there.

“I’m curious how you ended up in Tennessee,” I said instead.

“My husband—ex-husband—is from here. So you know...family, jobs…life just takes you places.”

“Yeah, I, uh…I figured you’d moved when your number was disconnected.” I chewed on my lip. “I did try to find you. Internet and all that. Borderline stalking. Which I obviously suck at.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I…Well, you were getting all famous then and probably didn’t have time to keep up with me, anyway.”

I watched the last bit of light fade into the ocean. Something told me there was more to the story, but I didn’t press her. Nor did I tell her that all the fucking fame in the world couldn’t have stopped me from wondering where she was or what I’d done to make her disappear.

“No, it’s fine, I get it,” I said, knowing for certain I didn’t get it at all. But like I’d said, the past was the past. “I mean, Ididhave time to keep up with you, but yeah, life and all that.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to stop the automated recording telling me her number was no longer in service from playing in my head. “Anyway, speaking of life being crazy, I’m actually going to be in Nashville the week after Christmas. I’ve been helping produce an album for these kids out of Indiana, and they’re heading down there to record some tracks. A little unusual to do it around the holidays, but I’m free right now, and studio time is cheap. Would you wanna, like, maybe get togeth—”

“Yes,” she answered before I could finish my sentence. “Yes! When will you be here?”

The corners of my mouth turned so far upward I was sure my cheeks were going to explode. “The twenty-seventh through the thirty-first. Quick trip because I need to get back to LA for the opening of the counseling center, but I’d really love to see you.”

“It’s so amazing you’re doing that, Eric. You’re gonna help so many kids.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

“Well, while you’re here, we’ll do dinner, drinks, you name it. Shit. Not drinks. No drinks. I mean, you’re still…Oh God, I feel like an idiot.”

I laughed. “You’re not an idiot. And yes, still sober.”

“Well, I am an idiot, but whatever. I’m proud of you. And I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

What is she thinking?

Is she thinking what I’m thinking?

What the fuck am I doing thinking what I’m thinking, anyway? We were just friends back then. And that’s probably all we’ll be now.

“So, um, I’m sure you have to get your kids to bed or, you know, whatever you do with kids. But I’ll call you when I get to town.”

“Yes. Please,” she said before we exchanged cell numbers. “And don’t forget about me. You’re kind of my entire social life that week.”

“I told you a long time ago I’d never forget you, Eva from Illinois.”

“You did. I remember,” she said, her voice softening. “I’ll see you soon, Eric. Merry Christmas.”

She sighed before the line went dead. I leaned back into the cushion of the chair, pressing the phone into my chest, as if that could keep us connected just a little bit longer.

FIFTY-FIVE

December 2008

From: Eva Mitchell

To: Denise Abbott

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