Page 48 of Over the Edge

“I found the nest and I just stood here for so long I must have looked crazy. You know, I didn’t know what to do with myself when I first got to the city. I always liked people watching before, but I really got into it after the move. I think it was more because I finally had all this free time. I went to the MET and the MoMA and I really tried to read the plaques and be a good educated museum goer but the people were just more interesting. I loved it, you know, just remembering that the world is so big and we’re just here. There are these little birds and that’s just amazing. I might feel like shit about everything I’m dealing with, but there will always be baby birds or people in museums.”

I can’t pinpoint the moment I stop looking at that nest and start looking at her. There’s this creeping understanding that I let in, just this once. She might have baby birds and museum people keeping her going, but right now, I think I might have her.

18

Garrett

You wine some, you lose some: Thursday, 2 p.m. - 8 p.m. @ Winery

“Aren’t we going to a wine tasting?” Evelyn asks as her head swivels to read the various welcome signs to the farm, each declaringBarlowe Berry Farm.Up ahead little blurs of children running through the bushes that extend for acres. A tractor winds through the neat rows pulling a wagon full of guests.

“Blueberry wine,” I say.

“Aren’t strawberries the fruit of romance? I mean, I can’t dip one in chocolate without thinking about Valentine's day. Whoever is doing strawberry PR is killing it.”

I heave a sigh as I maneuver into the parking lot. I choose a spot as far out of ear shot from any of the other guests or workers as possible. “There are a few reasons that no one likes the winetasting gig for the festival. I told you I’d explain, so I need you to listen because how today goes determines how much wine and beer is donated to the festival and if they have to pay for any of it out of their budget when that should be going to other things.

"The main thing is that all of us have had so much of this stuff that it’s just not that great anymore. The second is that the Barlowes are the ones who run the tasting which is really an interview. If they don’t like us they’ll give us the worst options in the least possible quantities. A few years ago they sent Fletcher and Emily and they made a strawberry joke.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t end well,” she says.

“Let’s just say that it was the most sober the residents have been at a festival in a few decades.”

“Shit. So we’re responsible for everyone’s sanity and you’re just now telling me?” she asks, her voice rising with genuine concern.

“Glad you’re caught up.”

Evelyn looks down at her shirt which just says,I make boys cry. They’ve grown on me a bit. There’s also the fact she’s wearing them for my benefit, which I can’t complain about.

“I wish you told me sooner,” she says. “I could turn my shirt inside out. Or would that be too obvious and look even worse.” Evelyn plucks at the fabric. “I could turn it around and you’ll just have to walk behind me so no one can see it.”

“I brought something just in case.” I reach toward the back seat where I have a bag of options for her. I didn’t suggest something sooner because I didn’t want to risk her going inside and changing into something more potentially offensive. Then there’s the part that this way she gets to wear my clothes. They’re old ones from when I stayed with Alina over high school winter breaks and kept a closet of stuff stashed there.

Evelyn takes a moment to riffle through the bag before grabbing a faded red quarter zip sweater and pulling it over her head.

“Better?” she asks.

“Here, let me.” I reach over and pull her hair out from where it’s tucked under the neckline. “There.”

My hand draws a lingering line on her skin as I pull away, causing her to shiver. Her eyes capture mine and I think for a moment something shifts. The world narrows until it’s just us in the car. Nothing else exists. I almost fool myself into thinking that there wouldn’t be any consequences if I leaned in further, tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled her into my lap.

I’ve never been fond of physical touch; it was something that came so late in my life that it was foreign. But she makes it feel like the opposite. Something so easy that I feel the urge to fall into.

“Eve—” I start, but she shifts away leaving my hand hovering in open air.

“We don’t want to be late,” she says, then reaches for the door.

The front desk greeter directs us into a side room that’s cozy and reminiscent of the ski lodges around the area. The building itself is cabin style with pale exposed wood and vaulted ceilings. Although it’s still reaching the eighties mid-day, there’s a fire cracking in the stone fireplace. A landscape painting of the farm takes up almost an entire wall.

The door behind us opens and Evelyn reaches for my arm. It’s something so small and unconscious. Hell, her grabbing for me makes me feel needed, feeding my bottomless craving to be necessary.

“Sorry for the wait. There was this kid. Cutest little guy, blueberry coma. His mouth was stained and so were his hands,” Millie Barlowe says as she walks arm in arm with her husband Porter.

The husband and wife are the second generation of owners, both somewhere in their sixties. They’re wearing matching blue barn jackets and jeans dusted with dried greenery. Porter is a tall man with skin tanned from working outdoors his entire life and iron hard look in his blue eyes. It’s easy to tell Millie is the more welcoming of the two with her open features and smile lines framing her eyes are the only signs of age marking her ebony skin.

“Oh, is he okay?” Evelyn asks with genuine concern.

“Happens at least once a week, but always worth checking in on. You let the kids run around and pick their berries and it’s just a natural consequence of things,” Porter explains. “I’m Porter and this is the love of my life, Millie. You must be the newest pair sent up from Hartsfall.”

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