Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Evelyn who never left a job half done. If a stray dog had a cut on its ear, she stayed out in the rain until she wrapped it in a clean cloth. If her neighbor’s roof leaked, she was up on the rusty ladder holding the nails. She did not [music] do these things to be nice or to hear people say thank you. Around her was broken.
That was just who she was. But on this particular evening, Evelyn felt completely broken herself. She stood in the middle of her stepmother’s massive kitchen staring down at a shiny white piece of paper on the marble counter. The kitchen smelled like expensive vanilla candles and roasting meat, but the air felt so thick and hot that Evelyn could barely breathe.
Her throat was dry and she kept squeezing the hem of her faded blue skirt until her knuckles turned white. Across the counter stood Victoria, her stepmother. Victoria was not screaming. Instead, she was slowly cutting a piece of chocolate cake with a silver fork making a Scratch. She looked up at Evelyn with cold, calm eyes.
Victoria said that if Evelyn did not sign the marriage paper by midnight, the checks for the hospital would stop. She [music] said the private room where Evelyn’s grandmother lived would be locked. [music] The machines that helped the old woman breathe would be turned off and she would be sent to a crowded, noisy state clinic where nobody would watch her.
Evelyn felt a hot drop of sweat slide down her neck. She looked at the paper, then at the silver fork in Victoria’s hand. She asked why it had to be him. She asked why it had to be the silent man who lived in the alley behind their big house. Victoria took a slow bite of her cake, chewed it, and wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin.
