The Restoration of Evie

Evie pulled a strand of hair off the sweat on her forehead and drank from the water bottle. Her legs wobbled. Her feet burned. She felt ready to collapse in the fountain. She filled her mouth with M&M’s from the bag her dad handed her. “I did it!” she said, before swallowing.

“I knew you would, Kiddo.” Her dad beamed.

She was thirty-two. She’d be his kiddo at thirty-five, at forty. Or maybe, it was because she was single. They were all the family they had. Evie came up yesterday to run the 5k because her dad had gotten forty pledges, because his hips weren’t what they used to be, and because the Maisy Mansion turned senior pet sanctuary was important to him. But Evie was no runner.

She bent forward and placed her hands on her knees. The metallic taste of iron was still in her mouth, even after the M&M’s—that same awful taste of blood whenever she ran, even when she ran a block to catch a bus—the taste that made her think she was dying. She tried to slow her breathing to steady her heart. She wasn’t dizzy, exactly, but when she came up, the kiss she meant to plant on her dad’s cheek, landed squarely on the lips of a stranger. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

The man smiled wide. Chiseled features. Dark hair. She knew this guy. Did she know this guy? “Don’t be. Best tasting M&M’s I’ve had.”

“Jim, this is my daughter Evie, who apparently, and unbeknownst to her father, was put in charge of kissing the winner of the race.” Her dad chuckled and poked Evie in the ribs with an elbow. “Evie, meet the winner, Jim, and the new veterinarian in town.”

 Evie wanted to hide in a water tent somewhere, or crawl under a picnic table. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim.”

“Not exactly new. I grew up here. Decided it was time to move back.”

“Jim lost his wife two years ago from cancer. He couldn’t stay in the city without her. Isn’t that right, Jim?” Oh my God, Dad! If she could have kicked him, she would have. The older he got, the less filter he had.

“I’m so sorry,” Evie said. There was something definitely familiar about him. He looked about her age.  

“Jim is the best darn vet the town’s ever had. You should see the way he comforts those old cats and dogs down at the Mansion. I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“Great place, the Sanctuary,” he said. “How about you? What do you do?”

“I restore artwork–statues and friezes, mostly.”

“Ah, so your patients don’t squirm. Nice.”

Evie was better at small talk in the retakes, after the person had walked away. She caught herself looking down at her feet, at a piece of paper stuck to her shoe, and she picked it up. It was cardstock. It looked like an invitation. On the front was a sketch of the Maisy Mansion and on the flip side in script was Congratulations. At the bottom, it read, See you at the finish-line party.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Jim was looking at the piece of paper.

“I don’t think this was meant for me.”

“Of course, it was meant for you. It’s meant for everyone who ran the race. It’s here, at the finish line, tonight. Bound to be the best part of the whole run.”

           “She’ll be there.”

           “I have a job to get back to, Dad.”

           “It’s just one evening, Evie. She’ll be there.”

           “I guess I’ll be there.” Evie smiled.

           “Good. I’m looking forward to hearing more about your restoration work.” He winked. Did he wink? Jim. Jim. She knew she knew him. She should just ask—do we know each other?  But what if he said, yes? What if he knew her from high school? “Looks like the old gal up there could use some of your help.” He was looking up at the top of the fountain. Evie had forgotten all about the bronze angel, her arms outstretched, her wings ready for flight; she could definitely use a little salt and vinegar.

***

The party was a full town turnout, and half the women stood around Jim on the other side of the park. Evie was at the fountain. She got a romantic notion in her head that the fountain was where they were supposed to meet. “You know how this town is, just a flock of old hens around a rooster,” her dad said, when he saw she was looking at Jim. “Go say, hello.”

“Nah. He’s busy.”

“Go on.”

But Jim caught her eye, waved, and walked toward her. Ba boom. Ba boom. Ridiculous. Calm down. Act like a grown up, she told herself.

“Want to dance?” The band near the fountain was playing Moonlight Serenade. Jim extended his hand, and she took it. They swayed easily together. She liked the music. She tried to think of something to say. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked.

Dread. “Kind of.” Anxiety.

“Kind of?” He laughed. “As I suspected. Well, understandable. You were out of my league in high school.”

Her stomach dropped like a rug pulled out from under her. High school. “We went to high school together?”

“Go Cardinals! Actually, we were in elementary and middle school together, too.”

Ba boom. Ba boom. Ba boom. Air. She needed air. She looked at his face. Blue eyes. His hair used to be lighter. James! Jim was James.

“James. James Zorzi,” he said at the exact same time she remembered.

She tried to smile. She tried to look calm, while her body said, run! James, the boy who stuck up for her in third grade, when she laughed so hard, she peed on the blacktop. Leaky Evie—a full puddle formed at her feet. She’d been mortified. The incident she still couldn’t laugh about, couldn’t outgrow. The incident that followed her through high school. The incident that stayed with her, shaped her. The reason she laughed at very little, ever again. Even now, not really, but really, there was that feeling at her core, that feeling of dread, of waiting to be exposed—maybe someone would remember her as Leaky Evie, call her out. Maybe they’d expose something else about her. Maybe that’s why she’d gravitated toward statues.

And then there was James. He was nice. He’d stuck up for her. He never, ever called her Leaky Evie, but she avoided him out of embarrassment, out of shame.

Her feet shuffled with the music; his hands stayed around her waist. “I figured James the Booger Eater wouldn’t have a chance with you.”

“James the Booger Eater?” She laughed. She laughed out of thankfulness. She laughed in response to his kindness. She laughed from genuine relief. He let her avoid Leaky Evie. He let them focus on James the Booger Eater. He hadn’t just broken the ice, he’d smashed it. The kind and handsome boy had grown to be a kind and handsome man. A man who took care of people as well as animals. She could breathe.

The music stopped. “I don’t do it anymore. Eat boogers.”

She smiled a relaxed smile. “I don’t remember the booger-eating thing at all. I remember you.” Over Jim’s shoulder Evie saw her dad. He was giving her the thumbs up sign with both hands; it was the same feeling she had inside, a light-hearted, happy, double thumbs up. The band started playing In the Mood, and neither, knowing how to really dance, did their best to move their feet to the joy. Above her, Evie caught a glimpse of the angel. Tomorrow she’d talk to the mayor about restoring her bronze to its sheen. Maybe, there were other statues in town that needed restoring.