Eva
Eva
My feet are crunching on the gravel road beneath me and I silently scream at them to be quiet! I have never done anything like this before and I can’t afford to get caught now. I agreed to meet him at 3:00 in the morning when everyone else is sure to be asleep. I check my pocket watch. 2:45. I’m not sure why I agreed to meet him. Maybe it was because he was from Paris. I’ve always a been a sucker for a French accent. Besides, he was kind of cute; in a skinny, artsy way. But then he said he had something to tell me. About my sister. Curiosity got the better of me, I guess, and here I am, walking alone on a deserted road in the wee hours of the morning. All of the sudden, my heart stops as something darts across the road. I stop to catch my breath. It was only a rabbit. A cute, cuddly little bunny rabbit. Man, I’m jumpy. I need to distract myself. My mind wanders to the concert last year where my sister and I joined other college kids around the country to hear one of our favorite bands.
It was a huge turnout and we were pumped. We had never been at a concert this size before. Eva had friends she was meeting there and I felt like a tag-a-long kid sister, because that’s really what I was. Eva was a senior in college getting ready to graduate with a degree in political science and I was a freshman studying psychology. She was headed off to law school the next year, and I was a puny nothing. At least that’s how I felt whenever I compared myself to her. She was always so self-assured, so confident and beautiful. Eva…how I miss you.
I check the watch again. 2:55. I’m almost at the meeting place; the old, abandoned pump house. I slow my pace and listen carefully. I hear nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve been here during the day before. I sometimes come past here on my morning runs. I reach the pump house and, not seeing a soul, I wait.
The concert was loud. So many people were everywhere that I felt like any moment I would be crushed. Eva’s friends hadn’t shown up yet. I was getting a little panicky and told Eva so. She took my hand and led me to the bathroom, then she looked into my eyes and asked me if I was ok. I told her I was fine. She said she was going to look for her friends. She left me standing outside the restroom. I watched her beautiful self walk away. She was wearing a purple t-shirt and her brown braids bounced as she walked. That was the last time I ever saw her.
I hear footsteps. I shake my head to clear away the memories of Eva. He emerges from the shadows. He walks towards me. He’s not smiling, so I don’t smile either. Etienne; that’s what he said his name was. But now, here in the dark, he could be anyone. He could do anything. And what could I do to stop him? Sure, I took that self-defense class in high school, but I don’t remember anything. And I didn’t even think to bring my can of pepper spray or my pocket knife! The only thing I have is my phone. “Lara?” he asks tentatively, as he draws near.
“Yes?” I reply.
“Hi, thanks for meeting me.”
“No problem.”
Even though it most definitely was a problem for me, but I’m not about to tell him that. He looks even cuter in the moonlight.
“Here, this is for you,” he murmurs, handing me a shapeless bundle. I can’t help thinking about his accent. I reach out and take the soft mass. It’s a t-shirt. Holding it closer, I see that it is purple.
The night at the concert, when our hunger got the better of us, we strolled along the long line of food vendors and finally decided on a deep-fried hotdog. Sounds terrible, but it was so good! I remember sitting with Eva and just enjoying being with her. We didn’t see enough of each other those days. I looked at her and noticed her bright t-shirt. “Nice purple shirt,” I commented.
“Like it? I know it’s not one of my normal colors, but it’s pretty special.”
Before I got to ask her what was special about it, there was a commotion nearby. A tall, skinny kid had bumped into a big, muscly guy near us. We got up and threw our trash away and went back to the concert.
Etienne is speaking in that beautiful voice again, “All I am allowed to tell you is that she got mixed up in something very bad and she had to leave.”
“What!?” I’m shaken out of my reverie. “What do you mean something bad? Where is she?!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you more.” He’s still not smiling. “I was just told to give you this,” he says, motioning to the t-shirt.
The shirt again. My sister always liked puzzles. She loved to make clues for me to figure out. We would spend long, hot summers at a beach house in Venice, Florida and to pass the time, she would hide clues. Clues that would lead to a “treasure” of seashells or seaweed or driftwood or broken glass. As we got older those clues got more difficult and took longer to figure out, but eventually I always found the prize. It was our own private little game as we played in the sand around the cozy, lazy, lavender beach house. Such idyllic days.
Now as I look down at the t-shirt, I turn it over in my hands, wondering why Eva sent it to me. As a memento of her? Something to prove that she isn’t dead? Knowing Eva, it has to be more. I turn it over and look at the front. It‘s a picture of a beach. On the beach is a treasure chest with seashells pouring out of it. All at once I know. It’s as if Eva is giving me one last clue.
“I know where she is,” I say breathlessly. I look at Etienne.
Etienne is smiling.
Comments
Post a Comment