Page 37 of Elevating Eve

Everything came down to Eve.

When he woke up late Sunday morning in his childhood bedroom, long since repurposed into a guest room, he had only the vaguest notion of how he got there. Someone—presumably Eve—had stripped him down to his boxer briefs. The suit he wore most of Friday hung in the open closet to his right, and his sweatpants and T-shirt were neatly folded on the chair in the corner.

Sitting up, he noticed a large glass of water, two granola bars, and a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand. Next to them sat a single sheet of lined paper. The left edge still held jagged remnants from being ripped out of a spiral notebook.

Jonathan,

First, let me tell you how deeply sorry I am for what’s happened. If you need me for literally anything, I’m right downstairs. Just call or text.

I haven’t been able to get you to eat or drink much since Friday night. If you can, try to drink this whole glass, and eat whatever you’re able. I got you some Advil too, because I’m sure you’re really dehydrated, and that always gives me a massive headache.

If you’re feeling up for it, come downstairs. I’ll make you some real food while you spend some time with your family. But if not, everyone understands. I promise. Take all the time you need.

Love,

Eve

He blinked at the note a few times, trying to piece together what had happened since he got the phone call.

Thatphone call.

Giving up the time as lost for good, he opened the pill bottle, popping two into his mouth. As instructed, he downed the entire glass of water. The granola bars still untouched, he forced himself to stand and start dressing with slow, almost mechanical movements.

He managed to get the suit and shoes on, but his fingers fumbled with the tie both times he tried. His movements felt slow and clumsy, almost like his brain and body weren’t quite in sync. With a sigh, he draped the striped, blue silk back over a hanger, returning it to the closet.

Closing his eyes, he stood in the center of the room and just breathed. He could do this. He could fucking do it. His family neededhim, and he’d let them down for long enough already. Time to step up and do what needed to be done.

How could he do that when he’d gone completely numb?

“Goddamnit, Jonathan,” he said through clenched teeth. “Get your shit together.”

With one more deep breath that did absolutely nothing, he opened his eyes and stepped out into the hall.

Somber voices drifted up the staircase from below, too low to make out any words. His body froze, muscles and joints all locking into place. Panic filled his mind, his chest—a physical, pulsating thing inside of him. More than anything, he desperately wished to flee back into his room and lock the door behind him.

“Goddamnit, Jonathan,” he said again, breathing through it, pushing the feelings down, down, down, until they became small enough to ignore. Straightening his shoulders, he walked down the stairs.

As soon as he entered the living room, Maisie launched herself off the couch, slamming into his chest with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs. She didn’t say a word. Simply wrapped her arms around him and cried into his already crumpled white shirt.

His mind went completely blank for several seconds. By the time he realized he should hug her back, he knew far too much time had already passed. Everyone else in the room watched—his other sister Alice, his brothers-in-law, his mom, and even his three nephews.

All eyes on him, waiting for him to comfort his baby sister. To say something. Literally anything.

His gaze slid over to Eve, who sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace with Maisie’s five-month-old daughter on her lap. She wasn’t judging him. Wasn’t looking to him, expecting him to provide all the answers.

She worried about him and wanted to help. Nothing more.

Having Eve on his side gave him the strength he needed to wrap his arms around Maisie’s shoulders, holding her close. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. “We’ll figure out how to get through this. Together.”

If only he could believe it himself.

“Jonathan, can you help me please?” His mother stood at the entryway to the kitchen in a simple black dress with powder blue flowers around the hem.

He missed her usual colorful, flamboyant style, and found himself hoping it wasn’t gone for good. “Sure.” Putting his coffee mug on the counter, he kissed Eve on the temple. “I’ll be back.”

Lucy led him through the house and upstairs, moving straight into the master bedroom. “Eve is lovely,” she said, voice soft and subdued, as she headed for the walk-in closet. “She’s so sweet, especially with the kids. Maisie and Alice love her already.”

His two younger sisters had already told him as much, cornering him when he went to the bathroom earlier. “Thank you,” he said—the same response he’d given the other two. He knew it was deeply inadequate, but it felt so surreal. So entirely wrong for Eve to meet his family this way. To hear how wonderful she was when a cloud of grief hung over them all, low and thick and suffocating.

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