jar. I catch his eye and he smiles, and I remember the first time I saw him, how he looked so happy to see Evie, but she seemed almost scared, how she went outside to talk to him in private and returned, shaken, desperate to leave the café. She told me nothing and I didnât push it. I was so wrapped up in my insecurities and expectations, I didnât even notice how weird it was.
âLetâs get a doughnut,â he says, and I follow him out the door.
âIâm Cole,â he says as we walk down Telegraph and into the alley full of tiny, expensive boutiques. A window displays a red flannel shirt for $250 (âTry it on!â Evie would say, and weâd laugh about how the five-dollar thrift store flannel Iâm already wearing looks so much better).
âIâm Marcus,â I say.
âAre you Evieâs new boyfriend?â he asks.
âYes,â I say. âWait. New boyfriend? Is there an old boyfriend?â
He looks at me with kindness in his eyes that borders too close to pity.
âLetâs go in here,â he says, and leads me into a tiny shop displaying four flavors of crème-filled artisanal doughnuts. Cole orders a chocolate-hazelnut and a vanilla-persimmon flavored one, and I order a raspberry one even though I am in no mood to eat.
âShe had a lot of secrets,â I say, like an apology. Cole nods as we sit on a bench outside.
âSo whatâs up?â he says as he bites into a doughnut. âHowâs Evie?â
âSheâs in the hospital.â
He swallows. âShit,â he says, shaking his head. âThe cancerâs back?â
âNo, she had an accident. Swimming.â
âIs she okay?â
âShe was in a coma for a day. But sheâs awake now. At least thatâs what Iâve been told. I havenât seen her. Itâs a long story, but her parents arenât my biggest fans.â
âSo youâre contacting me to see if I can help you see her.â
âYeah. Yes. I guess thatâs what Iâm doing.â
âIâm sorry,â he says, looking genuinely sorry. âI wish I could help you, but I donât really have any idea how to contact her. We werenât close. I just met her once, actually.â Heâs quiet for a moment as he stares at his doughnut. Heâs gone somewhere far away. âShe was my girlfriendâs friend. My ex-girlfriend. Fuck,â he says, setting the doughnut down on his lap. âWhat do you call it when your girlfriend dies?â
âI donât know,â I say, but it is a stupid thing to say. Cole wasnât asking for an answer.
âStella loved Evie like crazy,â he says. âI was a little jealous, actually. Stella liked girls, too, and Evie was beautiful. But you already knew that.â
Iâm not sure if I nod. Iâm not sure what any part of my body is doing.
âBut it wasnât like that,â Cole continues. âI think what Stella loved was Evieâs sweetness. Her innocence, you know? How she was this little blond cheerleader with the football player boyfriend and perfect family, but she wasnât stuck up about it or anything. She was so generous with her love. So open.â
My head is spinning. The ground has been pulled out from under me and I am falling through space and there is nothing and no one to catch me. Who the hell is he talking about? Not Evie. Not the Evie I know.
He seems to sense my shock. âYouâre surprised by some of this?â
âYeah. Pretty much all of it, to be honest.â
âI guess she changed a lot after she got out of the hospital.â
âThat would be an understatement.â
âMakes sense, really. She went through a lot. She almost died, then didnât. Then her really close friend died. Thatâll change anyone.â
We sit there in silence for a while. Cole picks up his doughnut and continues eating.
âShe was a
Major Dick Winters, Colonel Cole C. Kingseed