Based on Evie's Eyes
by Hannah Harmison
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Evie stood, alone in the kitchen, staring at a bowl of apples. Frozen for a moment, hanging in time. Green? Why green? Nobody in the house liked green apples. So stranded in her head she hardly heard her mother call.
–Jason? Are you still here? Jason?
Evie looked at the kitchen ceiling. Somewhere above, upstairs as always, was her mother, stomping around, getting ready for the day she so deserved. Evie ripped her gaze from the ceiling and left the kitchen. She snuck through her house, trying to avoid catching sight of all her parents' little things. Her mother's wooden masks from her last-century mission trip to Indonesia, her father's red hat resting proudly on his hatstand, the photo of her grandfather posing, arms akimbo, before a destroyer, a goofy grin on his face. She passed a dozen pieces of her artwork, hanging happily on the wall, prominent. She passed a family portrait: her mother, shining in a yellow sundress, her father in a suit, stern but subtly loving, and her, beaming boyishly.
She opened the front door but, before she could close it, her mother came rushing down the steps, only one earring on.
–Hang on, Jason!
Evie halted with the door three-fourths closed. Her friend, Lucy, stood at the end of the driveway, waiting, watching.
–God, Lucy, please leave, Evie thought. But Lucy stood still. Her backpack hung off one shoulder. She peered like a bystander before a battle, ready to run but for now stuck/struck curious.
–Jason, did you not hear me? said Evie's mother as she arrived at the door.
–I have to go to class, mom, I'm gonna be late, Evie said.
–I know… I know… but… your father and I…
–Mom, I have to go.
–Okay, I just wanted to apologize… for last night. We all said some things we wish we hadn't. I know- oh, for God's sake, this isn't yours.
She ripped a necklace from Evie's neck. The clasp snapped. The necklace hung in her mother's hand, glinting in the early morning Sun.
–Please, honey, we can get past this. You'll always be my son, you know that, right?
–Mom…
Evie's mother saw the desperation deep in her eyes. Her child's pain became her own. She felt tears welling. Determined not to let her son see her cry, she turned.
–Okay, sweety, you get yourself to class. Have a good day… I love you.
Evie left without a word. Lucy, frowning, awaited her.
–You good? she asked.
–Fine, said Evie.
–You wanna talk about it?
–No.
Lucy and Evie walked on in silence. Suburbia rose up around them, as if from a pop-up book. How contained, a thin town built up in a desert, facing a single fate. Evie expected a nuke to hit them at any moment, burn them into nonbeing. Only background radiation would remain. Evie remembered her grandfather, now dead, sitting in his favorite chair, asleep, a photo album threatening to fall from his lap.
–Grandpa, little Evie said, sitting cross legged on the floor before him.
–Oh, what's that? her grandfather said as he awoke.
–You were telling me about your friends.
–My what now?
–Your friends, on the ship.
–Oh, that's right. That was when I was in the navy. I was… on a destroyer with the fellas. I remember we stopped in Cuba… this was after the war…
–Which war?
–Huh?
–Which war, grandpa?
Evie's grandfather stared blankly.
–Which… what war are you talking about?
He didn't respond.
–Please, grandpa, what war?
Evie's grandfather had nothing to say.
–Did you finish your sculpture piece for the showcase?
–What?
–Your sculpture piece, for the showcase, Lucy said.
–Oh, yeah… yeah.
–How many pieces have you got this quarter?
The two girls passed a car. The owner had stickered his political opinions to the machine. Lucy ignored them, but Evie stared. She tried to find her thoughts.
–Uh… four or five, said Evie. I have the two charcoal drawings I did over break… the still life… the sculpture… and maybe the oil painting.
–Oh, did you finish it? Lucy asked.
–Yeah…
Evie found her phone in her pocket and pulled up a picture. She handed the phone to Lucy, who looked with all the interest she could muster. The painting depicted a blue eye, made up with powdery pink eyeshadow. A dove, caught still in flight, occupied the pupil.
–Wow… how long did this take? Lucy asked.
–I dunno… said Evie, I started it last year.
–You might win something with this.
–No, I don't think I'm gonna showcase it… you know…
–Oh, right. The world isn't ready for such a piece, said Lucy. Next time, then.
–Next time.
Two women walked by and noted the girls as they passed. Evie thought she heard one whispering to the other while the other stifled her laughter.
Evie stared dead ahead.
–What pieces do you have this time? she asked Lucy.
–Let's see… those three watercolors, the big ink wash painting, and, if I finish it, my sculpture.
–Do you know what anyone else is doing?
–Alex has, like, three sculptures. Rohan showed me this super complex colored pencil drawing… I don't think Rebecca has much… I only know about this one, like, OK-ish pencil drawing.
–Maybe she'd have more stuff if she'd shut up and work more.
Lucy snorted.
–Yeah, amen, dude.
A boy on a skateboard rolled up to the girls. He slowed and started swerving slowly beside them.
–Yo, what's up guys, he said.
–Hey, Tony, said Lucy.
–Hey, swim team tryouts are tomorrow… you guys should sign up.
–Psh… 'cause that went so great last year. I'll pass.
–Aw, don't be too hard on yourself, free style is tough.
–Fuck off.
Lucy gave Tony a good natured whack on his shoulder. He rose his arms like wings to balance on his board. He smiled.
–What about you, Jason?
Evie kept staring straight ahead. She could hear Tony's wheels grinding against the pavement. Tony, too cool to focus on any one thing at once. Lucy looked to her friend with concern. Tony kept skating.
–I'm good, thanks, said Evie.
–Yeah, no prob, said Tony. Just thought you guys might be interested. Aight, I gotta roll, I got important business to take care of. Peace.
Tony, undoubtedly business-lacking, left, rolling away on his board, pushing against the ground with his foot to gain speed till he flew. Evie noticed that he wore no helmet.
–Evie… Lucy began.
–What? she snapped.
–You okay?
–Yeah… I'm fine.
–Why don't you tell Tony? You know he'd be cool with it.
–Yeah… probably… maybe I will.
–Okay, your choice, said Lucy.
They kept walking, always walking, on and on and on. Across the street a pack of pretty, preppy girls. Ethereal. Heavenly happy. Pre-fall, probably. How unfair: what Evie could only have in heaven some got on Earth? And with only one life and heaven fake-prophet fantasy, she wouldn't get it at all. Hun or done? Surely she could find a third option?
Was this why Evie buried herself in her art? Art exists separate from flesh. Or does it?
–Alex wants us to meet her at the top of the path, said Lucy.
–Why?
–I dunno.
–You think it's about that girl from Centerville?
–Ha! I hope so.
Two boys lounged on the grass under a nearby tree. They stared up at the leaves. One of them chewed gum.
–Bruh, it's joining the oppressed by fiat, one said. Just another mechanism by which men colonize the female body.
–Dog, that's whack. You bein' all essentialist again.
–Dude, I'm not! Women exist 'cause of experience… not some medical discourse. That's not what I'm saying!
–You have said that! I remember you saying that!
–I rescinded that argument, bruh. It's experiential, and no man can lay claim to that. Just another mechanism-
–Yeah, yeah, it's all mechanisms with you, dog. But to claim woman as a being-category capable of being experienced is to imperialise just as vehemently as those you claim to oppose.
–Bruh!
–Why don't you just start yelling about real women like yo political peers?
–Wheel women?
–A wheel gun?! Only eight years old and he's already talking about drive bys!
Both boys burst into laughter. Once they calmed they lay under the tree, staring up, quiet, content.
Evie and Lucy arrived at the top of the path. Alex, along with Skyler and Clair, awaited them.
–Oh my gosh, Evie, have you seen Rebecca's painting?
–I thought it was pencil?
–No, not that one. Look.
Alex handed Evie her phone. A picture of a painting, almost identical to Evie's, save a slight recolor. Rebecca's eyeshadow was blue, not pink, and the pupil-swan faced the other way. Evie felt a lump form in her throat. Horror.
–Oh shit, said Lucy, peeking over Evie's shoulder at the phone.
–She totally ripped you off, said Skyler.
–That bitch, said Lucy.
–I saw it on her Insta last night, said Claire. Yours is still better, though.
–Yeah, of course, said Lucy. But… she copied you!
–What do you want to do about it, Evie? Skyler asked.
–Evie, this might not be the best way to go about it, but I will beat her up for you, said Lucy.
–No… that's okay… said Evie.
Did they not see it? Were they ignoring it? Did they not care?
Becca's was better. It was a better painting. Evie felt, looking into Rebecca's ripped-off eye, that she was getting an honest look at her own. How many hours wasted on something that any old hack could come along and fix in a day? God… why did she choose Evie as a name? Talk about fated to fall.
No… it's the idea that matters, right? Countless students sit in the Louvre and copy the masters, but nobody cares about them. 'Cause the masters came first. Is that right? If it was, Evie didn't believe it. Around and around she went.
–Evie… you good? asked Lucy.
–Where's Rebecca? Has anybody seen her?
–I saw her by the tennis court, said Skyler, as if awaiting the question. Like she'd had the information stored away, ready for the moment when Evie would request it. Evie stared at Skyler. The girl looked anxious, itching to follow Evie to the tennis court to see it all unfold. Did she even care who won?
Evie strode along the path with her company close behind. She could almost hear Skyler licking her lips. Lucy squinted, wanting to catch sight of Rebecca the moment the court came within view. Claire? Who gives a shit what Claire did?
–Trials create tough men, Jason, Evie's father used to say. I pray you don't experience too much trouble, but know that if you do, you'll be stronger for it. I know you'll be strong, because you're my son.
Evie spotted Rebecca leaning against a tennis court fence. Alone, with her arms crossed across her chest. She looked downwards, at her ratty tennis shoes kicking around a small rock.
Evie approached her.
–Hey Rebecca, she said.
–Oh… hey… er… Evie, said Rebecca, looking up. Evie's friends stared her down. Rebecca's face formed an awkward smile.
–How are you guys… girls. Sorry.
–I saw your painting, said Evie.
Rebecca's face brightened.
–You like it?
–I liked it better when I painted it.
–Oh, yeah… I-
–Shut up. You ripped off my painting and you know it. You can't just take someone else's idea and do whatever you want with it. Did you even have any idea what that painting meant to me? Of course you don't. I put so much of myself into that painting. Then you come along and think you can just take that away?
Evie stopped. Rebecca stood before her, ruined, eyes filling with tears, face confused.
–Don't… just… get rid of the painting, okay? said Evie.
–I… I just… I thought it was a nice idea, said Rebecca.
Unable to contain her crying, she ran off as to not allow Evie to see her sob.
–Holy fuck, you go girl, said Alex. I'm proud of you.
–Change your mind about showcasing that painting? asked Lucy.
Evie turned to them. God's will had shifted, that much was clear. Her parents were no longer a part of it. But… what of the three standing before her? Even with God gone she couldn't account for their place in the world.
Standing there, near the tennis court, feeling hollow and useless, Evie realized these flesh-stuck fellows intended nothing save to till the ground from whence they were taken. So, their place in the world was sure. But how tragic a fate is that?
With no providence to guide her Evie stood, solitary.