Narrative: Evangeline Sablier Who: Evie Where: Her apartment What: Evie doing Evie things When: Backdated - Black Friday, early Warnings: Long. This got really really long. I don’t think you are prepared for how long this got.
Evie had fallen into something of a bad habit, the bad habit involved drinking coffee all night long after Daisy had gone to sleep and then sleeping on the couch for a couple of hours before Daisy woke up. So while some people were up at 6 AM for Black Friday shopping, Evie wasn't just up, she was still up. And she didn't even have a good excuse like shopping. She didn't have any shopping money, so she was definitely not going to fight anyone for anything that probably wasn't needed anyway.
Thanksgiving had been nice, and it had been a good group of people, with good food, and she had tried not to be strange or awkward. Opting instead to zip her lips when she might otherwise run her mouth, which wasn't always easy for her. In fact it was never easy. But she knew that occasionally she could be a bit much to deal with just the same. And seeing as how she had managed to disappoint Wren, which she was sure translated to Luke, she hadn’t wanted to cause a problem or make things weird on their Thanksgiving.
And Shane was a stranger, and everyone else who was there, save for Jack and Saint, she either didn't know at all or didn't know well - she just knew she didn't want to embarrass Luke and Wren at their own Thanksgiving dinner. They had been gems to invite her, because the alternative was TV dinner at home, which was no different from any other night in Evie's life - the inability to cook did not mean that she hadn't bought herself a microwaveable turkey dinner just in case. She was well prepared!
Wren had invited her, and Wren had asked her to bring Shane, and she figured there was absolutely nothing to ruin there, because he didn't know anything about her, not one thing. She wasn't sure he even knew what the S in her last name stood for and she was okay with that. People who didn't know her didn't expect things from her, they didn’t weigh all of her choices against her past actions, or her past at all. Wnd that meant there was absolutely no room for disappointment whatsoever.
She liked it better, not letting people down. Or doing everything wrong, or backwards. She didn’t often stop to think that she was definitely doing all of this to herself, and probably taking things far too out of context. Ugly, scary thoughts swarmed her mind, but like any decent swarm she could swat and swat at them, but catching them or dispelling them never happened. Instead she just made them angrier.
The problem with appreciating people who didn’t know anything about her, is that she wound up enjoying their company and wanting to tell them all about herself. She was an open book, but had begun to wonder if that wasn’t the way to go about things. She questioned everything she said, and every move she made. She knew that there was an Evie out there, somewhere, who had the guts she was missing. The Evie who was brave, and embraced every single thing in the world that there was to feel, she was out there. Probably hiding from the cloud of sorrow that dangled around far too often these days.
When someone drank emotion like an elixir, and faced the good as much as the bad, too much bad was easily exhausting. And felt wrong. And tasted badly. No, she wasn’t sad anymore, not the way she had been. But losing that sadness meant it was one less thing to hold onto. And that infuriated her and made her feel off kilter and unbalanced.
As she sat on the couch, idly sipping from her mug and replaying the events of the day in excruciating detail, her thoughts drifted to Jack. Then to the conversation she’d had with Jack, and then to the conversation she had with Wren about Jack. She hadn't known, and somehow hadn’t at all anticipated that he would be there in Italy, but she was glad he was. He deserved a nice holiday, especially because he was on the run.
She was pretty sure, thus had convinced herself, that hers was not a welcome face and she felt guilty for having shown up at all once she saw he was there. Of course he would have been there, it seemed obvious after the fact. It seemed obvious once she got over the initial shock of his presence, and had smiled sheepishly, cheeks pink - but not flustered. Just embarrassed. And apologetic. Even if she did her best to hide, and stay out of his way, lest she say something wrong again, she was still glad he was there.
Not entirely glad she was there, but she was glad he was there. Generally she was someone to immediately scramble for clarity and begin immediately fixing things, she was learning that she wasn’t as good at it as she used to be. So she had remained focused on holiday things, and holiday things alone. Introducing her new friend to other friends, meeting people she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager. Eating. Drinking. Making sure Daisy didn’t hurl from too much pie. Holiday things.
She supposed, while she watched the clock turn and the light begin to just barely seep in around the edges of the vertical blinds, that everyone else she knew was smartly asleep - or at least just rousing themselves - but for the most part she imagined the people she loved happily enjoying some kind of turkey coma. Snuggling with their loved ones, or waking up early to secure a special gift for a special someone. Turkey sandwiches for breakfast, and a day spent in pajamas watching DVR and eating leftover mashed potatoes cold right from the fridge even when he had told her that was disgusting - her mind turned over the holidays spent with Will. All of the scenarios she imagined for her friends, were being replaced with the exact same feature Will. Because they’d all been real. They’d all happened. Pretty soon Daisy would be up, and then noon would come, Daisy's bath and bedtime would come, and Evie would be right back in the spot she was now waiting for dawn again and trying to sort things out. She was always trying to sort things out.
She felt sometimes, while she tried to get a handle on her situation, like she needed to start somewhere at the beginning, but she had no idea what that even meant. She didn’t know where the beginning was, and she wondered if she wasn’t already passed it and thus needed to play catch up. And she also didn’t know if it was a do-over kind of situation. She just knew she spent a ton of time with her thoughts lately, and trying to organize them was probably the only real hope she had to feel normal again. Whatever the hell that even meant. She still wasn’t sad anymore. And as the rain beat down harder and harder, the deeper her thoughts got, focusing on the downpour, channeling feelings and power into it, it kept the neighborhood safe from harder storms. Ever since she’d caused a snow storm in Gatsby - in the middle of summer - control had been the name of the game. And there was also the thunderstorm in Wren’s old living room. And the hail storm over midtown. And now. now things were calmer. She would take the rain, even if it was a deluge.
She found she could control it, quite well. But she also found that if she didn’t let some of her power break through while her emotions were buzzing, that it ate at her. It surged through her veins like electricity, a current that was capable of creating such beautiful destruction, and there was no doubt in Evie’s mind that the occasional downpours when she was thinking were welcome compared to what the other option was. The smallest faint electrical surge, and a clap of thunder she thought might have only been in her head when she’d been with Shane in the hotel, that had been well contained, yes it existed, and she fought something worse happening even as her body had been fighting to let go entirely. If he had noticed, he hadn’t said anything. She appreciated it.
Evie's apartment was not much to look at, she knew that, but still her eyes searched the place from her perch on the couch. She wanted to make it a home, could think of some ideas on how, but if they had to run again...Would it have been worth the effort? Was anything here worth any sort of effort?
The apartment, two bedrooms enclosed in a sort-of-blue-sort-of-gray-sort-of-green two unit duplex-ish type place in Queens wasn’t terrible. And was a little roomy if she was honest. But the apartment itself was an "addition" onto a house. And the owners, as sweet as Evie found them both, didn't necessarily want to pay the insurance rates on a duplex. So even though they rented it out to Evie, and it was fine and full of the essentials. It had running water and heating and good insulation. But for every practicality it had, it made up for in character what it lacked in things like a stove. Or a washer and dryer. Now, She had a hot plate that she never used because cooking was beyond her comprehension, and she had no interest in burning down a kitchen in a place she didn't own (that someone else was paying the rent on for her), so the hotplate was stowed safely.
She had an electric kettle, a coffee pot, a microwave, and a fridge. She did not have a television yet, which caused a lot of strife for Daisy who had gotten used to certain things on the television. But she had a record player, a gift Charles had given her, and sometimes music was enough to appease the child.
The carpet was beige, the walls were beige, there were no pictures hung yet - but in her mind the apartment just looked lovely. There were pieces of yet to be built IKEA furniture (and admittedly some leftovers from previous attempts at other pieces of furniture) leaning up against walls, there was a bookshelf put together that Daisy's books were on. The dining room table was put together, and one chair that wasn't as wobbly as the rest was seated at it, but the rest were a bit questionable in how well she'd assembled them so she was tempted to put "sit at your own risk" on them but for now she kept them stacked against the wall. Her brown and red couch, which had become her bed on quite accident, was from Craigslist and pretty comfortable even if it had some noticeable wear and tear and was not the prettiest thing she had ever seen. But she was currently sitting on it, with her back against the arm and her knees up in front of her, as she tortured herself with every serious conversation she'd ever had that was sitting in print in front of her and archived for future agonizing as well.
She was reading journal conversations she'd had in the past, it had started out because she was looking for something amusing that Wren had sent her forever ago but now she was digging deeper. For no reason other than she hadn't been well lately as far as dwelling on things went. Sometimes she read things from the recent past, and sometimes 16 months ago past when Will had left his last message. Sometimes even before that during happier times when people were excited to hear from her, and when she was excited to hear from them. It was terrible. She began feeling uneasy over every conversation she'd ever had when she got into these moods.
It certainly wasn't limited to just the terrible conversation she'd had with Jack right before the damn holiday. The way she'd basically ruined that friendship in one fell swoop by opening her big stupid mouth was only one bit in a long long line of craziness from Evangeline Sablier. She often tried to figure out what she could have said better or different, she was trying to gauge what someone wanted - or needed - to hear from her by reading it again and again. Usually she came out no more enlightened and a lot more disappointed in herself. But, she was pretty confident she wouldn't have to worry about ruining a conversation with him again, him telling her it was time for him to go was enough of a clue for her, that was done. And she didn't blame him, not one bit. She just needed to patch it over for the sake of Luke and Wren, she didn’t know if he’d be ready, but she wanted to try at some point. .
She equally agonized over the subsequent conversation she'd had with Wren, wondering what she could have said there to make her friend feel happy about having Evie in her life. Evie felt awful, like the people she loved were just sitting there waiting and watching and feeling sorry for her. Wren had seemed to perk up when she'd said that she was bringing a friend to Thanksgiving, so she made a mental note to tell Wren about having met this awesome old lady across the street too. She felt awful for the whole thing. All of it. She felt awful for not being what she was supposed to be, or not saying or doing what Wren advised her to do. Wren didn't understand what she was trying to say, and Jack hadn't understood either, it seemed that she was incapable of communicating with the people she loved and that drove her crazy.
She was pretty scared that if she didn't manage to patch things up with Jack that Luke wouldn't want her around anymore, which might eventually translate to Wren. She didn't think it would be because they stopped liking her - they weren't like that. But she knew how strong they thought she was, so they would be more inclined to leave her alone to look after Jack. Which was as it should be, but she was afraid of it happening anyway. Not that she didn't want to patch things up with Jack for herself, but the urgency of it made her nervous. She couldn't say the right things in a rush. But she had to try - despite earlier failures.
Even Shane, despite not looking like herself, and everyone being all crazy from drinks she felt badly for corralling him, into her actual life. She guessed he probably hoped she’d have stayed away after the party, she was definitely making it weird by continuing to contact him. He was likely wishing he had run into anyone else at this point. Which was fine. She hadn't been herself that night, the corset that would never fit her post breastfeeding, sore, half raw, ginormous boobs. She supposed the hotel had jokes, and magic boob potions. She didn't know. She didn't even know if it counted, but she appreciated him coming to Italy and making her day a little less hectic in the social department.
It wasn't that she didn't know this sort of self flagellation wasn't productive. Of course it wasn't productive. It wasn't going to help anything. Ever. And it wasn't as if she wouldn't rather be sleeping soundly in the room next door to Daisy's. But she couldn't make herself do it. Not one night had been spent in the back bedroom of her apartment, any sleep had been caught on this couch, or as a result of falling asleep in the wooden rocking chair in Daisy's room. Daisy, her reason for plugging along as well as she had, had the best room in the house. Every last bit of extra money that Evie could squeeze out at the end of every month went to decorations and nice things for Daisy's room. She never slacked on putting her things together, her room was even painted something other than beige, and there were throw rugs on top of the carpet, furniture that was much better than what IKEA had to offer - and an IOU written to Charles was all that had exchanged hands.
She was IOU-ing him a lot lately. She had so badly wanted to move out of Professor Xavier's home, to give Daisy something comfortable and happy. To give her a home. A real live home. It was the only reason that Evie didn't drop everything and move far far away. Daisy deserved better than that. So much better. She deserved a better mother too, but Evie was pretty convinced the poor child was never going to find such a thing. Not that Evie was irresponsible, or so mentally ill that she was posing a danger to her daughter. No, Evie was doing her best, but her best was not near good enough. Every fear she had managed to have about doing right by her baby from the moment she'd found out she was pregnant were managing to come true. No, of course she hadn't sold Dais the way her mother and stepfather had been keen to do to her. But there were other, less felonious, things she worried about too. Not being able to cook. Not being able to tell her no (it was already a bit of a problem). Being overprotective. Being afraid of being overprotective and not being protective enough as a result. She had no idea what the hell she was doing. Every day was more and more proof of that.
So this morning, while Daisy slept, she just kept reading. Old discussions between her and Will. New discussions between her and Wren, her and Shane, her and Luke, and her and Jack. And then back to her and Will. Lather rinse repeat.
She had spent a lot of time lately thinking about her relationship with Will - it was the holidays again and while they'd had some rough scary Christmases at the beginning, their last one together had been spectacular. She'd told him she was pregnant and he'd asked her to marry him. 10 months later Daisy was here and he was gone. But thinking back beyond that even. He'd been ten years older than her, they had met when she was 19. It was a little odd maybe, weird, but she'd fallen in love with him quickly. And for a long time it had been just the two of them trying to fight their way through a myriad of issues. But they'd done it. And the reward? Him in the ground in a place she couldn't even visit, and Daisy lacking a parent.
A much needed one. She wondered so often if Will was just turning over at the state his daughter was in, the state her life was in. She did not buy into the idea of God or heaven, but there was something comforting about Will still being around watching over them, but she doubted it was possible with the doors and the hotel. Maybe if she went to the Tales door he might be able to catch a glimpse, but she would never step foot in that door again. She'd gone in to get her fiancee's body, and there was no reason to go to a place that held nothing but pain.
No. Will was gone. But one thing that wasn't gone? Bills. Sitting on the coffee table in front of her was her rent check, signed by Charles Xavier. And a check for "essentials" also signed by Charles Xavier. She kept a tally on a notepad about how much money she owed him, and she knew that once she got her assistance paperwork looked at she wouldn't have quite enough to make ends meet, but hopefully the Professor could stop with most of the generosity, and she could work out a way to pay him back. That was something new to think about besides her utter inability to maintain human relationships. (because by now in her state of mind, she was completely alone and even Daisy had joined a country band and left home).
She put her journal onto the coffee table and scooted her body down a bit so only her head was resting on the arm of the sofa and she stared at the ceiling for a long time. It was too quiet, there were too many thoughts and faces running through her mind at top speed. Some daring her to try to and catch them, and others running as fast they could away from her. She tried not to focus on anything, she wanted to try and get some sleep before Daisy woke up and the day became hers and hers alone. Her eyes drifted closed just as she heard a familiar thump from the back room.
Daisy had been escaping her crib, and had grown pretty adept at it. And as she came toddling around the corner and down the hall, Evie arched her back a bit and dipped her head backwards over the other side of the sofa arm and smiled, her upside down face making Daisy smile at her in turn. "Bonjour Mam'zelle," Evie said brightly, even though she had just lost her chance at a nap. Alas.
Daisy waddled, still dragging her disgusting and in need of a wash lovey behind her, and the little girl climbed onto the couch with Evie and snuggled in. Of course all while stepping on and punching every single one of Evie's internal organs as she did so. She was always snuggly when she first woke up, but Evie knew it wouldn't last too long before she was back to needing to call Nanny 911, so she soaked it up while she could wrapping her arms around Daisy warmly and Daisy burrowed her face into her bathrobe and blinked sleepy blue eyes at Evie and Evie blinked sleepy blue eyes right back at her.