The Eyes Have It

TW-teenage relationship abuse

Eva found her seat and waited for Annie Mae to show up. She read through the instruction sheet at her table and pulled her wool sweater around her shoulders to help fight the bitter January cold. Annie Mae arrived, Allen in tow. His fingers laced with hers as tight as a corset. He offered Eva a smile before shoving his tongue down his girlfriend’s throat. Eva’s eyes flitted to the drying rack, the whiteboard, Ms. Wilson, hoping something would call attention to the awkwardness. “I love you,” declared Annie Mae. She stood on her tiptoes in her little pink ballet flats, threw her arms around Allen’s long neck, and offered a sweeter, softer kiss. The bell rang out, announcing class had started. 

“Miss. Clark will see you later, Mr. Martin,” assured Ms. Wilson as she stood up and began waving the teen out the door. He didn’t turn around, keeping his eyes locked on his girl who gave him a smile and blew him a kiss with cherry gloss coated lips. Eva, for her part, had pulled out her sketchbook. She snagged a ruler from the tub in the middle of the table as she heard the heavy clang of the wood door closing Allen out of their world.

Using a pencil, Eva had begun drawing out a grid as Ms. Wilson said, “Well, seniors, you’ve seen your project. Make it happen.” She approached the whiteboard and took out a marker writing in big bubble letters, MAY 17TH. “That is the date of the Spring Show. That is the night your attendance counts for 50% of your grade. Please, invite family and friends. This is your night so dress up if you want. Pretend this is you opening your own gallery show,” she was raising her voice over the excited chatter of her students. She added the time 5:30-7pm before coyly turning on her heel and raising two fingers in the air. The students’ chatter began to die down. “You may use any medium of paint you want and…there will be light appetizers for you to enjoy. I will be sending out a survey to make sure we have something good, so please respond quickly!” she instructed with a grin .

“Ugh, of course you already have an idea,” said Annie Mae as she pulled her chestnut curls into a high ponytail. Eva found an involuntary grin spreading across her cheeks. “Ok, ok, what is it?” Annie Mae asked. 

Eva pulled her notebook closer to herself, hiding her grid of 20 squares. “It’s a surprise,” she said. 

“Even from me?” demanded Annie Mae. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pouted. 

“Even from you,” replied Eva. 

“But I’m your best friend,” Annie Mae protested. She stood from her seat to try to catch a glimpse of the sketchbook. Her chair’s metal feet loudly rumbled over the green tile floor of the art room. But Eva pulled her sketchbook to the other side of her workstation, further away from her friend’s prying brown eyes. They seemed so big, so full of concern and a hint of fear. The light of the morning sun added soft gold flecks to the ring around Annie Mae’s pupils. Annie Mae huffed, crossed her arms around her bustline, and sauntered away. Eva returned furiously to her sketchbook, scrawling handwritten notes and observations on a separate sheet. 

Annie Mae burst through Eva’s front door, holding two pints of mint chip ice cream triumphantly as she exclaimed, “I had to go to like, seven stores to find these.” 

“Totally worth it,” said Eva. She gave her friend a tight squeeze, both of them knowing the unspoken reality of the second semester of senior year. The girls waved hello to Eva’s parents and began to dig into the open pizza boxes in the kitchen. In the safe cocoon of Eva’s room, they played pop music and pulled out the box of nail polish hidden in the back of the closet. Annie Mae went first, painting slow, long strokes of purple on her friend’s nails.

Upon entering Eva’s cave, Annie Mae immediately noticed the open sketchbook tucked in the corner of the room which bore a grid structure. “Oh, my God! Is that your project idea?” she demanded as she rushed over. But Eva ripped the pad from her friend’s hands.

”It’s not ready!” Eva shouted.

“Jeez,” said Annie Mae. She handed the sketchbook back, refusing to make eye contact with her best friend. She tossed a pillow down and then belly flopped, holding her hands out expectantly. Eva tucked her sketchbook back in the corner before taking her place on her own stomach.

“It’s going well. I like him a lot, Evs,” confessed Annie Mae. There was a sparkle in her eye, a kind Eva hadn’t seen before. It seemed to glow from within her childhood friend, even in the dim light of the room, sending shivers down Eva’s spine. 

“You always like them a lot. What is this, boyfriend number six this year alone?”Eva asked with a soft, teasing shoulder bump. “No,” she said lowering her voice upon seeing her friend’s eyebrows furrow, “I know he’s different. You’ve been inseparable all year.” She cleared her throat to hide her envy. “I’m happy for you; really, I am,” her voice reached an octave unknown to her. But her best friend detected its fake nature right away and frowned at it before applying a top, clear coat in silence. “So…have you checked your mailbox recently?” asked Eva, trying to change the subject to something more exciting as she acted casual, blowing softly on her wet nails. 

“Shut up,” scoffed Annie Marie, “You know I have.” She rolled her eyes and screwed the black lid of the nail polish closed. After standing, she approached her backpack and pulled out the huge, manilla folder with the gold ram seal. Teasingly, she tossed the acceptance packet at her friend who indicated her desk. Inside was her acceptance letter, with matching golden ram. With squeals of delight, the girls leapt up onto Eva’s bed. They began jumping just like they did as little girls, barely noticing when the photo of the two of them at their very first swim meet fell to the floor. Two ten year olds grinned at the camera in matching swimsuits and swimmers’ caps—inseparable ever since. 

SOS, read the text on Eva’s phone. She leapt into action, pulling on sweatpants and matching sweatshirt before grabbing her keys, and running out her front door. She drove the ten minutes to Annie Marie’s apartment complex, where she shot a reply text confirming she had arrived. Steam clouded her windshield in the cold of an early March night in sunny Colorado. She sat, anxious in the parking lot, watching Annie Marie’s slim shadow as it exited the dark house and skipped down a set of outdoor stairs. The doors were unlocked with a click that somehow always felt louder at night. Eva tried not to notice the way her friend’s fingers quaked around the seatbelt. She didn’t need to see the storm clouds in Annie Marie’s eyes to know they were there. 

Eva knew the routine. She drove over to the only fast food joint still open at 2:30am. Her order was the same every time: two large fries and matching hot fudge sundaes. The girls sat in silence in a parked car with their food, the scent of grease lulling them into a state of calm. Annie Mae broke the silence first saying, “She caught him again,” before aggressively shoveling a bite of ice cream in her mouth. Bits of fudge flew out with each word as she added, “Like she’s surprised. Dad has always cheated. Always apologized. Always promised not to.” She rolled her eyes to hold back the tears. Eva reached a hand out, placing it on her friend’s gooseflesh covered bicep, who heaved a big sigh. “Thanks for the rescue; they were ‘talking it out’ tonight,” said Annie Mae, adding air quotes to her eye roll this time. 

“I’m always here for you,” promised Eva.

“So, can you drop me off at Allen’s?” she requested, but didn’t meet Eva’s gaze.

“Not at my place?” asked Eva. She tried not to notice her voice cracking at the end. “But you always come home to mine after a bad night; I have your extra clothes,” she said. 

“So does he,” Annie Marie whispered. 

“You’re having sex?” demanded Eva.

“I can handle it, Evs,” said Annie Mae. She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. When she looked up, Eva saw the spiderweb of pain that permeated them. They looked like the little girl’s eyes that burned with chlorine after holding her handstand the longest. They had the dilated pupils of the first kid in their class to get drunk at a party. They were her best friend’s and yet they felt like a stranger’s.

“Are you going to take me to him or do I have to hitchhike?” Annie Mae ended the question with a laugh, but wouldn’t meet Eva’s gaze.

A sinking feeling filled Eva’s stomach as she demanded “What’s the address?” She threw the car into reverse.

“I’ll…just….give you directions,” said Annie Mae. She pointed and directed, sitting on her hands when they weren’t directly in use. Eva pulled up to the curb, noting the white picket fence which seemed to glow in the dark.

Eva asked the house, “Where are his parents? Aren’t you gonna get in trouble?”

Annie Mae cleared her throat before saying, “They’re away on business. You can’t afford a ski lodge, a European vacation during the summer, and a new car for their kid if they stay home instead of working.” She took a shaky breath, “Plus, it’s not like they’d care what he does, he’s a legal adult.”

“But you’re not,” protested Eva.

Annie Mae shrugged flippantly saying, “Skipping a grade has always had its perks. Plenty of older guys.” For a moment, she made direct eye contact with Eva. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car. They gleaned with hope at the idea of spending the night with Allen. The car door clicked loudly as it opened and Annie Mae made her exit. She lingered in the doorway, her smile wavering slightly. Eva listened to the bell chiming to notify her that it remained ajar as her friend reached for her hand. Her lace fingers were cold to the touch. With the door shut, Eva was left to watch her friend saunter up the porch steps.

The lights remained off, but Eva noted the hooded figure who stood waiting; his eyes glowed red.

“An invitation to the cabin is a pretty big deal,” said Allen. He popped a French fry in his mouth and wrapped a tentacle arm around Annie Marie’s waist. 

Eva’s brow furrowed as she chose her words carefully, “But we do a sleepover every spring break. We watch shitty rom coms, and stay up too late, and work on our art projects.” Allen met her protests with a harder eye roll, zeroing in on the other young man at the table, Connor, who wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation as he was busy picking at his hangnails. 

“It is a big deal,” he said while clearing his throat and furiously wiping at the tiny geysers of red blood spurting from his fingers when he finally felt Allen’s stare in his direction. “I mean,” he continued while grabbing napkins from the dispenser in the center of the table, “I’ve never been invited. And I’ve known Allen for, like, ten years.”

Allen nodded confirming this truth, which was typically inconvenient for a devil may care cool guy like him, but in this case was perfectly acceptable. Connor leapt from the table, leaving behind a flurry of cheap, thin, white napkins covered in red blood. This triggered a laugh from Allen. He stood as Eva looked to Annie Mae for support, but found her face was buried in Allen’s shoulder. “Aren’t we all a bit old for those kind of sleepovers?”he asked.

“Are you going to the art show?” Eva chose to answer Allen’s question with a question.

He scoffed.

Eva spun around to meet Allen’s gaze as she said, “We’ve been waiting four years to be a part of the art show. It’s a big deal. The whole school’s invited. The pieces have to be perfect have you even bothered to let her work on her piece?”

The cafeteria seemed to go silent. Connor looked from Eva, to Allen, to Annie Mae who was pulling on her boyfriend’s arm. Eva realized he had pretty eyes, dark blue like the ocean. Allen stepped closer to the girl still sitting at her table, brushing off his girlfriend’s concern as he said, “Don’t tell me what to do. Annie Mae isn’t your puppet anymore. She’s comin’ to the cabin and that’s final.”

Then, he turned back to his girl and whispered something in Annie Mae’s ear. She offered him a kiss, not adding another word to the conversation. Then, she reached for the pendant around her neck, a crystal A on a gold chain. It glittered in the light of midday which Eva felt warm the room upon their exit. She was left to watch them go, pleading for Annie Marie to turn around, to apologize, to show her nothing had changed. Instead, she bussed her tray at the trash bins by the posters saying: VOTE FOR PROM KING AND QUEEN-ANNIE MAE AND ALLEN 2017!

SOS read the text on Eva’s phone Tuesday morning. She hadn’t heard a word the last Friday of school before break, nor had she heard anything on Saturday, her texts on Sunday went unanswered. Eva immediately called, hearing the chipper voice on the other end asking her to leave a message sent her into a further panic. She couldn’t just drive over, so she contemplated showing her mother the message when a text came through: Allen is really mad about CSU. He thinks I should go with him to NYU since I technically have the acceptance letter. He said his dad can pay my tuition if cost is the problem. Can’t talk, going to dinner soon. Kinda wanna leave. 

A million questions and arguments flew like the snowflakes outside her window as Eva penned a response. She typed them out, then hit backspace, then rephrased, and finally asked where Annie Mae was so she could come pick her up. That text went unanswered for an hour as Eva paced the room. She attempted to work on her art piece, which she had taken home, but found the art simply couldn’t flow from a terrified mind. No, don’t pick me up, we’ll work it out, was the text she received followed by a single word ending the conversation: Night!

Annie Mae arrived at 5:29pm. Students' art filled the walls of the lunch room, hung up on the walls or on display stands. Some were vivid with bright color from acrylic paints, others chose a black and white medium. A couple had elected to choose the watercolor route. 

She signed in and took six cookies. All around her the cafeteria was already buzzing with life. Family and friends crowded the artists who were accepting big bouquets of red roses before posing for photos. She wandered over to her own piece. A watercolor of symbols that Disney princesses had. Ms. Wilson had helped her incorporate salt into the top left corner for Ariel’s contract. But Annie Mae was most proud of the subtle shadows of Aladdin's lamp, the deep velvety smoothness of Belle’s rose. She smiled at the way Cinderella’s crown seemed to sparkle in the light. Eva had helped with that. Annie Mae raised and dropped her black high heel, listening to the soft clack as she searched the crowds for her long lost friend. 

Eva had arrived at 5:30pm on the dot. She, too, had signed in, along with her mother, Maria. Ms. Wilson had praised Eva’s work to her mother, eliciting an eye roll from the teen. Everyone was meant to walk clockwise around the cafeteria.

After brief introductions, Eva scurried off to the bathroom where she stood, back pressed against the cold wall of the stall door, feeling the weight of fake eyelashes and thick lipstick. Her hand held her cell phone as she typed, deleted, and retyped a message to Annie Mae. Heavy, hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she found herself furiously backspacing her words away. Her mother’s advice ringing in her ears, “Sometimes, it’s better to support a friend even if you don’t think what they’re doing is wise. Best to be on the same side as them if they’re going to build a wall.”

While standing at the sink, she contemplated destroying her mother’s work by splashing some cold water on her face. But the bathroom door swung open and an older lady shuffled quietly in. So she took her exit and returned to the cafeteria. 

Annie Mae noticed Maria and waved her over. Some pleasantries were exchanged before the painful question was asked, “And who’s here for you, Sweetheart?” 

“Mom has to work late, Dad said he’s tired,” replied Annie Mae. Maria patted her shoulder and invited her over for a sleepover at their place. Annie Mae shook her head. In the uncomfortable silence, Maria poured out the compliments before moving to the next piece. Annie Mae watched Eva rejoin her mother and finish the circuit. 

Slowly, but surely all of the students and their guests headed for the double doors, back out into the cold spring air. Until the only ones left were Eva and Annie Mae who listened to the sound of her high heels clacking on the green tile floor. She had to cross the whole cafeteria to stand before Eva’s piece. 

Twenty pairs of her own eyes stared back at her. The first one, in the top left, held a kind of cosmic beauty she had only read about. They were set against a crisp, robin’s egg blue background. The next pair seemed to sparkle with laughter. Eva must have captured that set at their first sleepover of the new year. The next set of eyes was 90% closed, fast asleep tucked in next to Eva. As Annie Mae scanned the canvas, she noticed that the background turned into a dark, stormy gray, representing her turbulent spring break. She cringed at the sight of the red rings around her irises from the night that Allen had said that she had a choice to make: him or college. Beside that set of eyes was the pair that had stayed up all night, hauling extra baggage the next morning. Only one of her eyes was open on the last grid line, her left glued shut by Allen’s rage. The pair in the middle was nearly as black as the background. And the last set of eyes, well, that set Eva could barely stand to look at. They were hers, only covered in cheap makeup. Hiding the rage. Hiding the baggage. Hiding the abuse. But not well. Eva had captured the way the bruise peaked out.

“It’s me,” whispered Annie Mae.

“It’s you,” Eva echoed, wrapping an arm around her friend whose head fell onto Eva’s bare shoulder.