Citrus by MEGAN MOORE
Eva whipped open the door to her apartment, slamming it shut behind her with enough force that the sound actually echoed across the kitchen. She dropped her purse on the counter top, reaching across to the knife block she kept by the sink. Chef's knife. That will do.
The kitchen light flickered on. “Jesus Christ, Eva. What are you doing with that?”
Eva whirled around. There, in the corner, stood a familiar feminine shape with a long black ponytail and a purple silk scarf around her neck. Harper. “What are you doing in my apartment?”
The woman drew her lips into a wide smile, though her eyes were tense. She spoke slowly, almost nonchalantly, with long Welsh vowels. “You left your shift early, love. I was worried.”
Of course you were. “Well, there's no need to be,” said Eva. She straightened up, trying to deepen her voice into something more severe. More intimidating. Enough to disguise the tremble, or, at any rate, something that would tell Harper to get out.
Harper didn't budge. Instead, her eyes narrowed as she leant back against the counter top. She rested there, arms stretched out, one high-heeled leg lazily crossed over the other, tapping against the floor.
Eva tried to mirror her confident pose, leaning back against the door, trying to make eye contact with the taller woman. The adrenaline was mounting, her hands feeling out-of-focus from her own body. Like they weren't really hers. She tried again. “Look, I need you to-”
“I'm not going to go.”
Well, there went that plan. “Harper, please-”
Harper's eyes shifted for a split second, looking down at Eva's hands. “I'm not going to leave you alone. Not right now.”
Eva followed her gaze. She'd forgotten she was still holding the knife. “Harper, you can't be that-”
Harper interrupted. “Any reason why I should think differently?” When Eva didn't respond, she continued. “Eva, I was talking with Keiji. We're really worried about you. Worried you might do something stupid.”
Is now really the time for euphemisms? Doesn't this woman ever say what she means? Is it really that hard? “I'm not. Don't worry. Now get out.”
“Then what?”
To think that, three months ago, she'd given almost anything to have a pair of friends who cared this much. “None of your business.”
“Eva-”
“I said it's none of your business.” Eva spun to face the door. Her legs were slipping in and out of reality as she fumbled for the doorknob. Harper wasn’t going? Well, she needed to get out. Before the moment passed her by, before he left the place she’d seen him at, before-
The feeling of a warm hand on her shoulder made her freeze.
“Eva, you're not- please don't go.”
She turned her head away. Take a deep breath in. “Don’t touch me.” The hand didn't move. Her vision was going now. Not dark at the corners, like people normally described it. Sharp and precise, but jarring. Like a movie being loaded, frame by frame. Each image in perfect resolution, but with painfully long gaps between them.“Harper-”
“If you go, I'll call the police. I’ll do it- you know I will.” Harper cut her off, her voice high pitched and rushed.
Eva shut her eyes. Effective. For the wrong reasons, but still. Effective. She turned around. “Harper-”
“Saying my name a bunch is not going to make me change my mind. You need to tell me what's going on.”
Of course it wouldn't- Harper's stubbornness to know everything about everybody, even the lover transfer student, was legendary on campus. Eva turned around, eyes still clamped tightly shut. Was this how he had felt at the end? Trapped? With no way out? She opened her eyes in a moment of resolution.
I will kill him.
Harper seemed to take her silence as permission to carry on speaking. “Keiji and I, we were talking-”
Something inside Eva snapped. “And that was fun, was it? Talking about me with your boyfriend? Instead of to me, like a normal person? Find that fun, do you?”
Harper's face turned to a light pink, the act of composure finally vanishing as she took a step back. Releasing her. “Eva, I'm sorry, but-”
“'Sorry' doesn't take it back.” Why couldn't people realize that one a lot sooner? “Get out.”
“No.”
Well, worth a try. She crossed her arms. She could see them trembling. Not feel. See. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What were you and Keiji saying about me?”
“He thinks it's about that cocky American lad. The one who came into the Uni bookshop, just before you left. He thinks you know him.”
“And what do you think?” She didn't know how she was still speaking in complete sentences.
“I think he hurt you. And I think we both know the reason you won't talk about it.”
Was it cold in here? Eva couldn't tell. Not anymore. “You're wrong.”
Harper looked to the ground, voice soft and embarrassed. “You went white as a sheet when you saw him. Is there a reason I should…Was I wrong?”
Eva closed her eyes. So far from the truth but, somehow, so close.
“Eva, I need you to talk to me.”
Eva shook her head, the sensation making her feel sick with dizziness. She was going to vomit. Her voice came out thin and pitchy. “No.”
“Eva-”
“Go away.”
“Evie, you know I'm not going to do that.”
Eva opened her eyes. Harper's eyes were level with hers, intense with… judgment. She shut her eyes again as she leant back, vaguely aware that she should be able to feel the door press against her spine. Why couldn't everybody just leave her alone?
She felt Harper's soft hand press against hers-wrapping gently around her wrist, pulling her closer. For a second, she let herself indulge in fantasy- that she could tell the other woman everything, that it would all be okay, that she'd go and help her kill him and they could be happy together forever or whatever that power of love stuff was all about -
Her hand twisted forcefully against her will. Eva felt nails digging into her thumb and prying it painfully backwards. She gasped, opening her eyes as her hand was forced open against her will.
The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter.
Eva became…vaguely aware of the taller woman’s motions in front of her. How she kicked the knife aside, releasing Eva’s hand from the vice-like grip.
No.
Traitor.
Eva bowed her head, closing her eyes at the memories. Her voice shook as she spoke, sinking to the ground. In one instance, her resolve had left her. “I'm so sorry.”
She felt Harper's hand against her shoulder. “Don't be.” When Eva didn't respond, she continued, kneeling down to the ground “Eva, don't be sorry. We're going to work this out. We'll make a plan, or a pact- no, nott a pact. Something. And we'll…. get you help. It's all going to be okay.”
Eva shook her head. She had a plan. And it was all going wrong. Harper had it all wrong.
“I just need you to listen to me.”
Eva shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No.”
“Eva?”
She looked back up, blinking back tears she didn't realize had formed. She wasn't the type to cry. She never had been. She never would be. She never….
“Eva, I need you to talk to me.”
“About what?”
Harper shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
Eva closed her eyes. “That's not how it works.”
“It can be.”
“It never is though,” she whispered, turning away. Never.
Harper squeezed her shoulder. “Eva, please.”
“I don't want to.”
“Well, you have to.” An edge was creeping into the other woman's voice, one that made Harper want to curl into a little ball and hide from the guilt. “Eva, either you tell me what's going on, or...” She trailed off.
“Or what?”
Harper took an audible breath in. “Or I don't care if it's the end of our friendship, and I don't care if you never want to speak to me again. I’m going to make sure you’re okay. No matter what I have to do, I’m going to make sure you’re okay. ”
Eva shook her head. No. That couldn't happen. Because...her mind went blank. It just couldn't.
Harper squeezed her shoulder.
“I have a brother,” Eva said, finally. “Sebastian.” Silence. “He's...died. Two years. Just before I started college.”
More silence. She could hear her breath catch in her throat, feel her heart vibrate in her chest. “Feel free to respond to that, by the way.”
“Eva, I'm-”
“Sorry?” Eva cut in. She rolled her head back, staring up and out of the window. The warm glow from the streetlight danced in through the window, shining through the raindrops that was a permanent fixture this side of the Atlantic. “Yeah. Everybody's sorry when they hear that.”
“Is there a reason I shouldn't be?”
Eva shook her head. “No.” She leant her head against Harper's shoulder, feeling the smooth leather against her cheek- and felt the other woman tense up beneath her touch as she spoke her next words. “He committed suicide.”
She took a deep breath in, the scent of perfume filling her nostrils. Citrus, with hints of vanilla. Harper's favorite.
“Do you know why?”
Not the question she'd been expecting next. “Yes.”
Even more silence. Harper was probably expecting her to continue. Well, what if she didn't feel like continuing?
Harper seemed to take the hint. She wrapped her arms tighter around Eva, pulling her suffocatingly close. When you're ready.
Which, after a minute Eva was surprised to realize that she was. Or, maybe she was just tired. “I didn't ever expect to see him again. Especially not tonight.”
She could feel Harper's confusion. “Your brother? But you just said-”
“Not my brother,” she said. It was shameful, how calm she felt saying this. “That man, at the bookstore- his name is James.”
Another pause.
“My brother...he was different. He was always different- he didn't quite get other people.
He was always more thoughtful than them, always a little slow to follow their conversations. I was the same- but not like him. He was older than me, but I was ahead of him. Socially. People could put up with me. They never put up with Sebastian.” She blinked, waiting for more tears to come.
They didn't. Why?
“It didn't matter to me, though.” Lie. “He was my brother, and I loved him.” Lie.
She took another deep, shaky breath in. Praying to be interrupted.
Harper squeezed her even tighter, somehow forcing the next words out.
“None of it seemed to matter to my brother, either. At least, not on the outside. It must have done somewhere. He was smart, always did well in school- but he never did any of the normal school stuff. He never went to prom, or did clubs, or any of that stuff.”
She paused, considering. Would Harper…? “Prom is this dance we have in-”
“Yes, I know what 'prom' is,” said Harper. “Even I've watched enough bad American telly to know that.”
Eva stifled a traitorous laugh- then almost immediately felt sick. It was so wrong.
“Still, though. My parents and I- We were thrilled when one day, he came home and said that he'd signed up to volunteer. At an at-risk kid's camp. Reading books to them, teaching them how to write poetry.”
Her voice grew softer. “He always liked poetry.”
Her voice vanished. But why did he have to?
Eva shuddered, letting the silence fall again- and suddenly becoming aware of how uncomfortable the position was- with Harper's knee, digging into her abdomen and Harper's arms, crushing her lungs.
She shifted, pulling away from the other girl.
“Eva, are you-”
“I'm fine.” She brushed off Harper's concerns as she scooted back across the floor, leaning up against the kitchen door. She tilted her head forward, letting her arms drop over her legs as she shut her eyes. “I just...need a minute.”
After a minute, she heard movement. Then, the sound of the tap running. She felt something being pushed into her hands, and looked up. A glass of water. “Thank you.”
“No worries.” Harper settled herself back down on the ground- though, Eva noticed, this time she was sitting next to her.
She took a sip of the cool water. And another. And another. How had her throat gotten so dry?
“Just- you can carry on. When you're ready.”
Eva nodded, gratefully, taking a final sip before setting the glass down. Was she ready?
No, she decided. She'd never be ready.
“It was the best summer of our lives. His life. He was great with kids. He came home happy, every day. He'd show the kids Magic School Bus one day and how to write haiku's the next.” She smiled, even now, thinking of the excitement on her brother's face the day he'd convinced his students to dress up as their favorite comic book characters. Half the class had dressed up as Hobbes, apparently, painting orange-t-shirts with messy watercolour stripes.
“What went wrong?”
Eva glanced to the side. Away from Harper. “How did you know something went wrong?”
Harper's voice was soft, almost inaudible. “Because I know the ending.”
Eva smiled. The tears were back. “My brother would have hated me for doing that. First rule of storytelling- never spoil the ending. Second- never let the bad guys win.” She sniffed, a great big snotty sniff, and rubbed her hands across her eyes. “Nobody likes a story where the bad guys win.”
Harper squeezed her leg. “Real life isn't like that.”
“No,” she said. “I guess it isn't.” She took a deep breath, then continued. “And that's where James came in.”
“James, the man from the book-”
“Yes,” interjected Eva. “Yes, that James.” Though, how he'd ended up following her over half the globe, she still couldn't fathom. “James was great with the kids too. At least, in a way. He'd get them to smile, play together- and he was great with their parents. So charming, so pleasant- everybody loved him. Especially Sebastian. He adored James. He was his friend. Only friend.”
Another deep breath in. Her heart felt like it was trying to break through her rib cage.
“That's where it all went wrong.”
She reached forward for the glass, but it started to slip from her fingers. How had they gotten so sweaty again?
“Here,” said Harper, reaching forward. She took the glass from the floor, holding it up to
Eva's lips. “Take your time.”
Eva took a sip, resting her hands on Harper's. “Thank you.”
Harper nodded wordlessly, setting the glass back down.
“I don't know exactly what happened- but Sebastian caught James one day. Giving the kids peanut butter cookies. They weren't meant to do that.” She shut her eyes. “There was a kid there- she was allergic to peanuts- deathly allergic, so none of the volunteers were meant to bring in homemade food. And especially not with peanuts.
“Sebastian knew the rules- that was something he was good at. Perhaps the best thing he was good at. He shouted at James, took the cookies away- and just in time, too. James had been about to give one to Zoe.
“Well, Sebastian was furious.” Eva still remembered how incandescent her brother had been that day- she'd never seen him like that before. That look in his eyes... “He was going to tell the camp coordinator the next day. Not to get James in trouble- but to stop it from ever happening again.
“But James didn't like that. Sebastian, knowing better than him? Humiliating him in front of all the students? And now, threatening to ruin his precious reputation?”
Eva shut her eyes. It still didn't make sense to her. Was that her fault? Would a better person have been able to guess what James would do next? Stop him? “So he got to the coordinator first. And the parents. He told them that he'd seen my brother with the- with a student. In...the dark. Doing...something.”
She looked up at the other girl- she couldn't bring herself to say the next part out loud.
“It's okay,” said Harper. “Did people...believe him?”
Eva's fingers disappeared from her control again. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, they did.”
There weren't any words to describe what the next few months had done to their familyThe whirlwind of investigations, the lawyers, judgmental looks from people she thought were her friends, sympathetic looks from the people who had never liked her anyway-
Lie. Those were the words. So why couldn't she say these, when she'd said all the others?
Because, she knew- there was no way to say all of that without saying the worst thing of all- how close she'd come to believing James. Maybe her brother had made a mistake, she'd reasoned. He never really got people. Would it have been so surprising if..
If…
She felt sick at the memories.
She'd loved her brother, really did- but she had to ask. To know.
So, one night, she did.
And he'd said no.
She should have believed him. But she'd pushed. Asked if he was really sure-
And then he'd excused himself.
And then, an hour later.
That was it.
She would never forgive that man for what he had done.
“I was going to kill him. Before you came in.”
“James?”
“Exactly.”
Even more silence. Surely the world would run out of the stuff eventually.
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- CREATIVE WORKS: FICTION & PROSE University of Alaska Anchorage Department of English