Evelyn

He lay on his back. His eyes opened, fixed on the revolving fan whirling overhead. The dull thud that came from outside was familiar. He silently swung the covers over his legs, being sure not to wake the woman next to him. Sliding into his slippers, he tiptoed towards the bedroom door. The windowless hallway was nearly pitch black, so he placed his hands on either side of him, using the walls for guidance. At the end of the long hallway, he opened the wooden baby blue door to reveal soft rain falling on the brick walkway in front of him. He picked up the paper from the stoop, holding it out in front of his face, allowing droplets of water to fall from the translucent orange plastic cover.

Making his way back inside, he removed the plastic covering and tossed the paper onto the couch in passing. Turning towards the kitchen, he eyed the French press, which already had coffee grounds in the bottom of it. He turned the burner beneath the teapot to high and retreated to the living room.

It wasn’t until the rain had subsided and the sun had begun to shine through the windows that he reached the back page of the morning paper. His eyes rested momentarily, glued to the upper left-hand corner. He hastily folded the paper and hurled it onto the coffee table, narrowly missing his half-empty coffee cup. But it was too late; the headline had seared into his mind. He picked up his computer in an attempt to distract himself, but could only stare blankly at the screen as his mind raced.

She came into the living room soon after. It was just past 7:00 am. That was late for both of them.

“Hey, you slept late,” he said.

She looked groggy and cozy in her black flannel pajamas, “I know,” she smiled, satisfied.

He forced out a chuckle as she reached for the front page of the paper. He eyed her carefully as she plopped down on the brown leather couch beside him and began to read. They sat in silence for half an hour; the only noise coming from the crinkling of the newspaper as she meticulously folded it to her liking.

“Is there coffee?” she asked finally, looking up from her half-moon glasses.

“Yeah. There’s a pot in the kitchen. But you’ll need to heat it up. It’s been sitting out for a while now.”

She rose, placed the newspaper on the table in front of them, and made for the kitchen. He heard the gentle splash of coffee hitting the ceramic mug with their wedding photo on it. She always drank out of that one. Over the sound of the microwave she asked, “Did you read about that boy from Bar Harbor?”

“No,” he said. His eyes twitched.

“It was on the back page,” she said.

His hands trembled slightly as they hung over the keyboard of his computer. “Oh, I must’ve missed it.” He paused. “What happened?”

“A twelve-year-old on vacation in Bar Harbor drowned in the ocean during the storm yesterday. The article said he was trying to rescue his dog and a riptide pulled him out,” she said.

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He shook his head furiously in an attempt to block out the oncoming visions. But, suddenly he could feel his ex-wife’s eyes piercing his sunken head. They stood over the small bundle of blankets, silent. When Rose’s raspy, erratic breaths had finally stopped, he couldn’t believe it. He finally forced himself to meet her gaze. Tears danced in her eyes. But they weren’t her eyes. They were just as empty as the eyes of the child between them. They looked at one another, but her gaze extended miles past his own face. Suddenly, she took her eyes off him and burst barefoot through the back door. He hesitated, not sure whether to stay with Rose or follow Evelyn. But the child lay still and lifeless.

He ripped his gray hoodie off the hook and forced it over his head as he followed her out through the screen door. The back of the house led to stone steps that brought him down to a rocky shoreline. He could already see her arms flailing as she drifted further into the angry Atlantic. He would lose sight of her as the choppy water tugged her under, only to see a streak of her highlighted blonde hair pop up a few feet from where she had just been. Or perhaps it was just the white foam on top of the breaking waves. Maybe she had already fallen victim to the unforgiving sea.

The rain soaked through his hoodie. The sleeves stuck to his skin. The cold ocean waves lapped at his ankles. “Evelyn!” he screamed.

He knew it was hopeless. The roar of thunder rumbled rhythmically over the gray sky while the waves slammed recklessly against the rocks beside him. The sounds drowned out his tired voice. He considered going in after his wife. He forced his feet a few steps further into the water, but retreated as the receding waves tugged at his calves. There was no one in sight. The cliffs jutted into the sea on either side of him. They created a swirling current that even the strongest of swimmers would struggle in.

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“David?” she asked, as the microwave beeped three times.

“What?” he said, snapping back to the present. He continued, “Oh, wow that’s awful.”

He stumbled over his words, looking up at the ceiling to prevent his eyes from overflowing. She drifted back into the living room, both hands wrapped snugly around the mug. He could feel her eyes glued to him. He feigned focus towards the screen on his lap. She placed her coffee on a coaster as she returned to her seat, “Is everything OK?” she asked warily.

He looked up towards her gentle face. Her raised eyebrows encouraged him to spill everything. He paused and took a deep breath. But instead, he shut his computer, rose silently, and nodded. He heard her sigh as he moved to the bedroom and shut the door. As he sat on the bed, he took a few deep breaths, fighting back tears. A few minutes later, he heard her footsteps approaching the door. He hastily threw on a sweater and emerged just as she reached for the knob. Forcing a smile, he awkwardly sidestepped past her and made his way to the front door.

“David…” she said hopelessly.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Just talk to me,” she pleaded.

He ignored her, as though he hadn’t heard. He opened the door. The sunlight was harsh on his watery eyes. He could feel her watching as he made his way down the walkway.