Here I Am. Send Me.--Chapter Fourteen

After the ordeal at the church, Evelyn goes home and finds no peace.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The ride back to the office with Chris had helped her push the sadness down, but it lingered and was flowering again as she trudged up the stairs to her apartment with her bag of Popeye's Chicken in hand. It was a comfort-food kind of night. She had even considered ordering an extra biscuit, but what little willpower she had left dug in its heels. It was maybe a little late, but at least not never.

No surprise, she found Beth sitting on the sofa. Somewhat more unusual, Beth said more than her usual hey. "Your mom texted me."

"Oh crud!" Evelyn checked her phone. Yes, she had set it to 'silent' when they went to the church. Yes, she had forgotten to set it back. And yes, her mother had called four times. Perfect.

Evelyn stepped into her bedroom, pulled up her 'Recent Calls' screen, scrolled until she found 'Mom', and touched the green phone icon.

It barely had a chance to ring before her mother's voice came on the line. "Why don't you answer your phone?!" It was clear from the strain in her voice that she was at least three drinks into her evening.

"Sorry, Mom. I was in a meeting and turned off my phone."

"A meeting?! It's after eight o'clock!"

Evelyn kept her tone neutral, refusing to respond to the heightened emotions in her mother's tone. "It was a follow-up wellness check. I had to go to a church."

This, at least, redirected her mother's anger. "A church?! Why did it have to be there? Those people are nothing but hate-filled bigots."

Evelyn's few minutes in the church hadn't given her anything to contradict this, so she changed topics. "How was your day?"

"It's not like you care!"

The initial estimate of three drinks may have been low. Her mother wanted a fight. She was angry at the world and looking for a target. And Evelyn had worn the bullseye on her back since her father had sat at their kitchen table and told his wife he wanted a divorce five years ago. He had walked out of the house, and, overnight, Evelyn had become her mother's sole emotional caregiver. The longer she held the job, the more she understood why her father had to leave, and the more she hated him for dumping it all on her.

"Mom, what's got you upset?"

"I'm not upset! Why do you always say I'm upset?!"

"Because you're always yelling." She knew as she said this that she was poking the bear. Why did she always have to poke the bear?

"I AM NOT YELLING!" There was no refuting that logic.

"Mom, please calm down." Evelyn winced. How many psychology degrees did she need to quit saying the exact wrong thing? "I'm sorry. It's been a tough week."

"The world doesn't always revolve around you, you know!" There was a pause before a hint of the mother she had once been snuck through. "What happened?"

Carolyn Dunham had always been a handful, but she had focused her emotional needs on her husband and been a giving mother. Evelyn had not realized how much Carolyn's self-identity was wrapped up in being a wife and mother. Her father had told her that the empty-nest syndrome had been tough, but Evelyn had never seen it with her own eyes. Then, when her father had filed for divorce, Evelyn had fully seen behind the curtain as her mother had broken. An occasional social drink had become a daily ritual and then a multiple-drink-a-day addiction.

Evelyn knew that she should try to help and had recommended AA and addiction treatment. But step one in all the options was to recognize that there was a problem. Her mother refused to take that step. Evelyn tried to find compassion but could only see weakness. She tried to get the same perspective she had for her patients, but it eluded her. She was too close.

The relationship had become just trying to get through each conversation as quickly as possible. And her mother had handed her the key. The question What happened? was out there, waiting to be answered. The honest answer would turn her mother around. Evelyn knew that this was manipulative. And it would mean cheapening John Toland's death to shorten her time on the phone. Could she be so selfish and shallow?

"The police officer I work with was killed this week." She hated herself.

"At the school? I saw that on the news."

"Yes."

"Were you there?"

"Yes. I was outside."

"Are you okay?"

It was time to start working on the exit strategy. "They've put me on desk duty, and I'm supposed to get a lot of rest..."

"I can be over there in twenty minutes." The maternal instincts were kicking in.

"Mom, you've been drinking, you can't drive."

Her mother was drunk, not stupid. "You could come over here."

"I'm exhausted. I should curl up in bed and read tonight."

"What can I do to help?"

"How about you take me to dinner Saturday night? That will give me something to look forward to." Going to a restaurant with her mother was excruciatingly stressful, but at least it kicked this can down the road a few days.

"Okay, we can go to that Mexican place you like, Don Julio's."

Evelyn tried to make her voice upbeat. "That sounds perfect. I'm looking forward to it. Thanks, Mom, this helps." How many lies could she string together?

"If there is anything else I can do, please call me. Anytime. Day or night."

"You know I will." Another lie.

"I love you, Evie."

"I love you, too, Mom." The call ended, and Evelyn looked at the phone in her hand. Had that been one last lie?

Beth's voice came from the next room, and Evelyn realized she had not closed the door to the bedroom. Her roommate had heard it all. "Did the police guy you worked with really get killed at that school?"

Evelyn didn't step into the living room and had no desire to see Beth's face. "Yes."

"Did I ever meet him?"

"No, he never came over here."

"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry for your loss."

Why did that phrase become a thing? She had first heard it on television shows. Even to a child, it had sounded hackneyed and without any meaning. They were just words said to get out of an awkward situation. Beth was doing to her what she had just done to her mother, ending the conversation as quickly as possible with as little actual sharing as possible. Sauce for the goose...

"Thanks." She shut her bedroom door and turned on the television. Sad music played behind scrolling pictures of starving and maimed animals while a sitcom star narrated the process of how to donate. She turned it off and picked up a book from her nightstand. Maybe, as she had told her mother, she would curl up in bed and read. That, at least, would be one truth she had said tonight.

After staring at the same page for an hour, she got up and washed down a melatonin capsule with a hot cup of herbal tea. When that didn't work, she sat in bed and awaited the dawn.