Roses and Light

Me and Evelyn were obviously a pair.

We were the two girls who somehow always ended up together for school. We were the two girls who rode the bus home together every day. We were the two girls who could silently communicate with our eyes and gestures. We were the two girls who would sometimes come to school wearing the same outfit, and who would giggle about it but never mention it out loud.

Me and Evelyn hated each other. 

Oh, we tolerated each other in front of other people, including our parents, who were the best of friends. But left alone in a room together, we would probably yell and scream at each other until our lungs burst. Luckily, that never happened. Thank god for that. 

I have only one memory of ever screaming at her. Our hate was a silent thing, a dark shadow that stood between us. She had her friends, I had mine, and some of my friends were friends with her friends, but we didn’t mind. We weren’t competitive, we just disliked each other. A lot. I couldn’t really tell you why we hated each other, we just did. She hated me because… I hated her. And I hated her because she hated me. It was simple. It was a part of our lives that just was. 

The funny thing is, we still spent so much time together. Every day after school, we would stick with each other on the way home. Her house was right next to mine, and our little brothers were best friends. Our families had dinner together every Saturday night, and on the weeks that dinner was at my house, I would go and fetch her, and vice versa. We were like two cousins who never had time to bond. We were forced to spend time together because of our families, but we never really enjoyed being in each other’s presence. 

And I always had the misfortune of being stuck with her during school. We always ended up in the same homeroom. We’d be in the same electives. We would be partnered up for group projects: “Rosie and Evie!”

Everyone at school called her Evie, which was a cute nickname for a girl who could definitely be described as cute. She put her hair up in pigtails or braids and wore cute outfits. She always wore the same pair of cute owl earrings. She wore cute sandals in the summer and adorable uggs in the winter. 

Everyone at school called me Rosie, which is another cute nickname. I could also be described as cute. I usually wore my hair down, but it always had a headband in it. My outfits were also cute. I wore owl earrings that matched Evelyn’s. I wore cute sandals in the summer and cowgirl boots in the winter and fall. 

But neither of us ever used each other’s nicknames. She was Evelyn and I was Rosemary. People would sometimes look at me strangely when I called her Evelyn. I’d say “hey, have you seen Evelyn?”, and they’d have this confused look on their face for a second and then say “oh, yeah, Evie’s right over there.”

Evie just never stuck with me. Maybe it was too short. Maybe I just didn’t want our names to rhyme. But whatever the reason, she was always Evelyn to me. 

Despite our hatred, she was an important part of my life. I grew up with her by my side. If it weren’t for Evelyn, I probably would’ve been too scared to go to my first day of elementary and middle schools. We stuck by each other. However much I might detest her, she was a constant. So much so that for all of elementary, I didn’t go to school when she was sick. 

But things got complicated in sixth grade.

“Rosie!” my mom called to me one morning. I was standing by the door, slipping on my shoes, ready to go outside. 

“Yeah?” I yelled back.

“Miranda” -that’s Evelyn’s mother- “just called. Evie came down with the flu!” 

“Kay!” I slipped off my shoes and walked to the staircase, about to go up to my room again, when my mom intercepted. 

“Where are you going? The bus will be here in a minute!” she exclaimed. 

I blinked, confused. “But Evelyn’s sick,” I reminded her. 

“That doesn’t mean the bus is getting here any later!”

I blinked at her again, then scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. “Evelyn’s not going to school,” I said, trying to make it as clear as possible why it didn’t matter that the bus would be here soon. 

“That doesn’t mean that you’re not going to school!” 

“Uh, yeah it does.”

She sighed. “Look, Rosie, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to get to work, and you’ve got to get to school, so just go, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, then rushed off to get on my shoes and backpack. 

I rode the bus by myself for the first time in my life. It was weird going to school without Evelyn. People tried to talk to me on the bus, which was something that I wasn’t used to. For some reason, the sight of me and Evelyn together warded people off. The morning was my time of peace, when it was just Evelyn and I, and everyone else could be in the background. School was for socializing and being loud and listening to other people’s words. 

And that afternoon, for the first time, I went home by myself. When I got home, I dropped off my backpack in the house and then went over to Evelyn’s house with her homework. Her mom answered the doorbell. 

“Hey, Rosie!” she said. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay,” I said indifferently. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know,” she responded. “Doing okay, considering I had to take care of Evie.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got her homework.”

“Great! She’s in her room, she’s feeling a lot better than this morning so you can go give it to her.”

“Okay!”

I walked in and kicked off my shoes before making my way to Evelyn’s room. I knocked on the door. 

“Come in!” I heard from inside. I walked in and Evelyn looked surprised to see me. 

“Rosemary?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve got your homework, Evelyn.” 

Her eyes widened. “You… went to school without me?”

“Yeah,” I said. “My mom made me,” I added, as if to reassure her. 

“Oh, okay.”

Our lives went on after that just as they had been before, but we no longer had the same connection. We no longer felt like two parts of the same body

It was in eighth grade that the horrible thing happened, because it was in eighth grade that we had our first real fight. Earlier that day, I’d given out invitations to my birthday party, and Evelyn was mad that she wasn’t invited. She confronted me about it as we were walking back from school. 

“Why didn’t I get an invitation for your birthday party?” she asked.

“Because you’re not invited,” I responded blankly.

She rolled her eyes “and why am I not invited?”

“Because I could only invite ten people.”

“And why am I not one of those ten people?”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “If I could invite twelve people, I would invite you,” I told her, because it was true. She was the twelfth person on my list. 

“Why don’t you invite me instead of Lila?” she demanded. “She’s kind of a bully.”

Lila had never been mean to me. “She was number eight on my list. You were number twelve. She came before you.”

Evelyn actually looked offended that Lila was more important than her. She stormed off down the block. I ran to catch up with her. 

“Evelyn-”

“You two aren’t even very good friends anyway!” she yelled at me, her face red, and now I was angry, too.

“Last time I checked, we aren’t great friends, either,” I seethed. Hurt, then anger flashed through her eyes and then she turned and ran. Down the block, and right into the street, without even looking to see if she had right of way. Without checking for cars.

And of course, there was a car coming. A blue Toyota that hadn’t even slowed because the light was green. And Evelyn was running right in front of it. 

“EVELYN!” I screamed, yelling as loud as my lungs would allow, and I wanted to run and save her, I wanted to pull her out of the way, but I was frozen. My legs wouldn’t move. Evelyn, hearing my awful scream, started to turn to look at me, but then she saw the car, and she, too, was frozen with horror. And it was in that split second of frozen terror that the car hit her, and my eyes shut of their own accord. 

It was just two seconds later when I opened them again, but the world was different now. 

“EVELYN!” I screamed again. She was lying, crumpled in front of the car. “EVELYN!”

By the second time I had screamed, the driver had climbed out of the car and was moving towards Evelyn. It was a woman with fiery red hair. Nothing else about her registered. She could have been eighteen or she could have been forty. All I could see and comprehend was that the car had hit Evelyn, and she did not look even remotely okay. 

“Evelyn!” I cried out, falling to my knees in front of her. “Evelyn! Evelyn, can you hear me? It’s me, Rosemary! Evelyn, Evelyn!” I was hysterical. The red-haired lady was trying to talk to me, but I didn’t understand her words. 

“Miss!” she exclaimed. I turned to her, and it occurred to me that she was the one who had hit Evelyn, and that I should be angry at her, but I didn’t have the state of mind to feel anything but panic. 

“Yes?”

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asked gently.

I blinked. “No.”

“Would you like me to?” she used that same gentle tone, but it was laced with guilt. I shook my head. 

“No, I can do it, but can I borrow your phone?”

The woman nodded and handed me her cell phone, pulling up the emergency dial. I dialed the numbers: 9-1-1. I held the phone up to my ear. It rang for only a few seconds before the operator picked up. 

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Evelyn,” I said. “She- she got hit by a car.”

I was asked where I was. The intersection at Jefferson and Maple.

Who I was. Rosemary Park.

Was I okay? Yes. I’m fine. I wasn’t hit.

When had Evelyn been hit? Just now. Just a minute ago.

Was she still conscious? No. She hit her head on the ground and was knocked out.

Was she still breathing? Yes. 

Had I tried to move her? No. 

The ambulance would be there in ten minutes. Okay. 

Stay on the phone. Okay. 

Was I still there? Yes, I’m still here. 

Was Evelyn still breathing? Yes, she’s still breathing. 

Was there an adult there? Yes. The driver of the car. 

Was the driver okay? Yes. She’s okay. I’m using her phone. 

The ambulance would be there in five minutes. Okay. 

Take deep breaths. Okay. 

Was Evelyn still breathing? Yes, she’s still breathing.

Was she conscious? No, she’s still unconscious.

Tell me if that changes. Okay.

The ambulance will be there soon. Okay. 

When the ambulance finally arrived, I told the operator it was there, and she said it was okay to hang up now. “Okay,” I said, and hung up, giving the lady her phone back. 

People came. They took Evelyn into the ambulance, and one of them tapped me on the shoulder, which made me jump.

“Are you the one who called?” she asked.

I nodded, unable to speak. 

“Are you a family member?” she asked, and I nodded, because I felt as if I had just lost a sister. “Okay, would you like to come with her to the hospital?”

I nodded frantically. 

“Alright, let’s go.”

I rushed in and sat next to her, still half in my panicked trance. I didn’t register anything except that now I could see that Evelyn’s heart was beating, and that she was breathing, and that meant that she was still alive. 

When we finally got to the hospital, I was questioned again. 

What happened? She was hit by a car.

Did you call right away? Yes. I called right away.

What’s her name, again? Evelyn.

What’s her last name? Wilson.

What’s your name? Rosemary Park.

How are you two related? She’s my cousin. 

Do you know a parent’s phone number? Yes. I know her mom’s number.

Can you tell us what it is? 724-182-3433

Thank you. Uh-huh.

I was still in my trance when Evelyn’s mom finally got here, looking even more panicked than I was. “Aunt Miri!” I exclaimed, and ran into her arms. 

“Rosie?” she asked, but hugged me tightly. “Is Evie okay?”

“I don’t know, and we’re not allowed to go in, but she looked awful and-”

Miriam ripped free of my hug and stormed up to the receptionist. 

“I’d like to see my child, please.” She said it with an air of supreme authority over the pale, uniformed lady behind the counter. She said it like she was the Queen of the Universe and no one could stop her from getting what she wanted. 

“What’s her name?” the woman asked, sounding irritated to be speaking with Miss Miriam.

“Evelyn Wilson.”

She typed the name into her computer. “Oh, Mrs. Wilson. The doctor’s been waiting for you. They’re going to need to do some surgeries, but they need your permission first. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

In two minutes, the doctor was standing in front of us. She was a woman with kind blue eyes who smiled at me, then Miss Miriam. 

“You’re Mrs. Wilson, right?” 

“Yes, I am.”

“Your daughter is going to need…”

I barely listened. I stared at the wall because how would she make it through? All these surgeries and procedures and oh my god she got hit by a car! She’d never be the same again! She’d probably broken her ribs, and she might walk with a limp for the rest of her life, and she might have suffered brain injuries, and she might have amnesia, and-

“And Miss?” the doctor asked, looking right into my eyes.

“Yes?”

She smiled, and it was one of those smiles that made the world brighter, that made all of your troubles go away for a second. “I think you might have saved her by calling when you did. If you’d waited, the results could have been disastrous. Someone else might have been too upset or panicked to call, but you did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

I just nodded my head and smiled weakly back at her, unable to find the words or energy to explain that I had been too upset and panicked to call, and that it was the driver of the car who had saved Evelyn. She smiled back one last time before pivoting on her heel and walking back down the hall. 

Me and Miss Miriam sat down to wait for more news. More people arrived; Mr. Wilson with Evelyn’s brother Robby, My mom and dad with my brother Owen. We sat in the waiting room of the hospital, holding hands and praying for multiple eternities. 

Silent tears streamed down my face, surprising my brain, but not my heart. Who knew it was filled with so much love for someone I claimed to hate?