1. Between Here and Home
1429 Words
[EVELYN]
The morning I turn 23, I wake up next to my boyfriend, Dave, feeling tired. Not because I was partying the previous night, celebrating turning such an odd age, but because I had a deadline to meet. Turns out working remote and having flexible work hours isn’t comfortable at all—it means that apps can crash anytime, and clients can be at your neck demanding they be fixed within an unrealistic time frame.
Dave stirs even though I don’t make any noise. He’s a light sleeper like my Mom. He doesn’t open his eyes as he reaches out with his arm to snuggle me closer, but I get off the bed. I don’t like cuddling.
Or maybe it’s just Dave Weston, the one-night stand turned boyfriend. In a moment of surprise, I realised we’ve been together for eight months. Together, as in—regular s*x, him staying over, me cooking for both of us, and the hesitation to say I love you back everytime he says it.
I know, I know it makes me a bad person. A bad girlfriend, specifically, but I have faith that one day I’ll actually believe the words when I say it to him. That day hasn’t just come yet. And Dave is hoping for that too. He knows I’m not as into him as he’s into me, but we’ve come to terms with that. This is casual and comfortable. More than I hoped I would ever experience after…
Well, after Jude.
Jude Hamilton. The name itself still runs a shiver through me every time I think of it. The one guy who knew how to tug at my heartstrings, to make my mind go numb, with just a simple glance. I’ll never experience that again. What a pity.
Where are you, Jude? I wonder for the thousandth time this year. What are you doing now? Do you still hate me for dumping you?
The questions leave a bitter taste in my mouth, and when I look at Dave next to me it fills my heart with guilt. He doesn’t know of my epic love story with Jude, or how I put an abrupt, unfair end to it, but I don’t think he cares about my past. And I prefer it that way.
There was just this one time he almost propped himself within the frame of my camera while I was on a video call with my Mom, and I had to run off. Run off. I haven’t told anyone about him yet. And why should I?
Dave and I have never argued once. Everything is comfortable—sometimes the silence between us is awkward, and so are the kisses when they come without a warning. But… Everything else is alright. Just fine.
Maybe it is the idea that turning 23 is odd that’s making me contemplate my life in bed just after I’ve woken up. Maybe it’s the exhaustion tempting me to slump right back—no cuddling, though. Nope.
My mom’s words come back to me: if you keep questioning why you feel everything you feel, you’ll never feel everything you feel in its entirety. There’ll always be the question of why.
And everytime I think of something my mom said, it reminds me of my Grammy, who would tell my mom: What’s meant to be with you always finds a way back.
And it makes me think of my dad, Rhys Sinclair. And it makes me think of their failed love story. And it brings me back to… Jude.
When will I ever escape the maze that is my mind?
And exactly how many years does it take to get over your hellish-cute highschool boyfriend? I could argue that Jude wasn’t just any highschool boyfriend. He was nice, kind and he was shy. He wouldn’t open up to anyone, but he opened up to me—bared his soul to me. Every dark detail of his life, every insecurity, every dream, every thought. He was mine. He loved me. Truly and completely. And a little too intensely for a sixteen year old boy, but then… I was all he had. His parents were dead, and he never truly got comfortable around his aunt, Trish, who he had met for the first time right after he became an orphan.
So it was him and I against the world, one day at a time, hand-in-hand.
And then he was gone.
And it was all my fault. I pushed him away. And it’ll eat me up from the inside every breathing second for the rest of my life.
***
At 9 a.m., my mom calls from California, my home, but the walls behind her aren’t the ones I grew up in. It’s my Grammy’s house, rebuilt after the old one collapsed.
“Happy Birthday, Evie!” she says brightly, her smile wide.
“Thanks, Mom,” I reply, sneaking out of the room. Dave’s awake now, staring at the ceiling.
In the kitchen of my Austin apartment, I settle at the table. “Did you just wake up?” she asks, scanning the background. I glance over my shoulder, ensuring Dave’s out of view.
“Yeah, late-night work,” I say, studying her face. “You look pale. Are you okay?”
“Too much time indoors,” she shrugs. “Joel’s still asleep.”
“And Lily and Carl?”
“Fighting over the TV, as usual,” she says with a faint smile.
They’re with her again this week. Dad must be busy.
Her smile fades, and a thought hits me: she’s miserable without him.
They’ve been living apart for almost five years. Not divorced—they love each other too much for that. But I don’t think they’ve really spoken in years, not a real conversation, not the kind where they let themselves feel the love that still lingers.
It’s heartbreaking. I remember what they were, and their separation shattered something in me—a belief in love I didn’t realize I held. Maybe that’s why I keep pushing Jude away even though I know he’s the one person who’d make me happy.
“So, when are you coming back to California?” Mom asks, her tone tinged with sadness. “I can’t believe you chose to live 1,500 miles from us.”
Guilt flares. I left because I couldn’t bear to see them pass each other like strangers or sit at a table with empty seats between us.
“It’s been five years, Mom. You’re used to it by now,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
She shakes her head, her eyes softening. “You’ll understand when you’re a mom. The distance never gets easier.”
I glance at the clock. “At least we have video calls.”
“It’s not the same,” she says, then quickly changes the subject. “So, plans for today? Maybe with someone special?”
I roll my eyes. “Just dinner with friends, maybe. I’ve got a lot of work.”
Her smile falters, and before I can ask, her face twists in pain. She closes her eyes, hissing softly.
“Mom?” I ask, frowning, worry filling my chest.
“I’m okay. Let me just— I’ll call you later,” she says quickly, ending the call before I can reply.
I stare at my phone, unease rising at my chest, but then it rings again. Relief floods—until I answer.
Carl’s panicked face fills the screen. “Evie! It’s Mom! She—she just collapsed!”
“What?” My voice cuts through the air.
“She’s not waking up! What do we do?”
“Call 911!” I shout, my hands trembling as he vanishes from the screen.
Seconds crawl. Lily’s sobs echo through the call, the sound slicing at my chest. When Carl returns, his voice shakes. “They’re on their way, but she—she looks—”
“Don’t!” I snap, my voice cracking. “She’ll be fine.”
But she won’t. I know she won’t.
As the paramedics arrive, chaos unfolds. The memories crash over me—my 16th birthday, the hospital, losing Rora. Losing everything.
Carl’s voice snaps me back. “She’s waking up. It’s her blood pressure.”
I only breathe when I see her again. “Mom,” I whisper.
“I’m okay, Evie,” she mumbles, but her pale face screams otherwise.
That’s when I make the decision. Rash. Impulsive. Maybe reckless.
“I’m coming home,” I say firmly.
- Writer
