“It’s really good to see you, Evie,” says Annie, smiling at me from across the table. “I was beginning to give up hope on ever spending time with you again.”
“I know,” I say. “And I’m sorry. Things have just been so… you know.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Well, no. Not really. I can’t imagine what must be going through your head right now. But still. It’s… No. It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here now.”
I take a sip of the wine that Annie bought me. It’s been a long time since we had the chance to hang out together, but she remembered what I liked without prompting. She was always good at the details. I was always the sort to charge into situations blindly without paying attention to the finer points of what was going on. And I guess that was my problem that got me into this position in the first place.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, her eyes wide. She’s so beautiful. How has she been single all this time? I must look a complete wreck. That must be why she’s asking.
“I’m holding up,” I say. It’s not a complete lie. While I’m still prone to bouts of depression and uncontrollable crying, I do at least feel like I can go out into the street and face people that I want to see rather than people that I have to see.
“Hmm,” she says, running her finger around the rim of her glass, frowning at me. “I hope so. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Sorry,” I say again. I feel like I should apologise to everyone. Of course, “everyone” now represents such a small number of people that it wouldn’t be a particularly big challenge to do so. I’ve driven everyone away, retreated into my own little world ever since all this happened.
“Stop being sorry,” she says, admonishing me in a friendly way, a gentle smile on her lips. “It’s all right. You can get through this, Evie. Whatever happens. But I think you know that.”
“Yeah, I do,” I say. “I made a choice, and I’m having to deal with the consequences. I couldn’t have predicted what those consequences could be when I made the choice, but now I’m having to deal with them. I might have another choice to make soon, or it might just be another consequence. But… I think I might be ready for it.”
“Attagirl,” says Annie. “You sound like you might be. I think that’s the most words you’ve spoken to me at once in a good long while. You sound stronger.”
“I am,” I say.
Our food arrives. Annie tucks in to her chicken and bacon salad, while I pick at the rice of my chilli con carne idly, occasionally lifting a few grains into my mouth.
“You’re not hungry?” she mumbles, her mouth full of a lump of chicken.
“No, I am,” I say. “I’m just… thinking.”
“Well stop,” she says, swallowing. “I know pub food isn’t exactly haute cuisine, but food’s food, and look at you. You look like a beanpole. Get it down you.”
I smile and laugh weakly. I’m lucky to have her, my last remaining family member. The Anderton line stops with us, unless–
I banish such thoughts from my head and take a big mouthful of the chilli. It’s spicy, but not overly so. It tastes good after the crap I’ve been eating for the last while. Cooking just hasn’t felt particularly high on my list of priorities while I’ve been living in that shithole, and besides, with the amount of times the power goes out each week, it’s unlikely I’d be able to keep the oven on for long enough to cook something interesting.
“So,” Annie says, pushing her bowl away. She’s finished already. “I’m sorry to bring this up, but… how are things?”
“You mean with Adam, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“They’re… I don’t know, Annie,” I say, swallowing another mouthful of the food. It’s good. “I keep feeling like I’m reaching him — this last time I was so convinced that he was there, that he was responding, that he was listening to me — but every time it just seems to all come crashing down again. They’re doing some ‘tests’, they say, but they won’t say what.”
“To be fair, Evie, if they told you, would you understand?” she asks, smiling that warm, gentle smile again. “They are doctors, after all.”
“You’re probably right,” I say, smiling back at her. “I know there’s nothing I can do. I just feel so… you know… responsible for this whole situation.”
She takes my hand in hers.
“Look, Evie,” she says. “I know you keep blaming yourself for all this. But you said yourself: you couldn’t have predicted these exact consequences. It’s a choice you made — a choice you had every right to make. It’s not your fault that the fallout from it was so terrible. You can’t go on blaming yourself for what others do, or what those things they do make you feel. That’s all on them.”
“I shouldn’t have lied,” I say. “I should have just been up front with him about it. He told me what he wanted. I just didn’t know how much he wanted it. I should have–”
“Coulda, shoulda, woulda,” she says mockingly. “Come on, sis. Looking back on things won’t help. The past is behind you. You can’t change it. So there’s no point dwelling on it. It’s not as if you get a ‘do over’ to try again, is it?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head sadly. “No, you don’t.”
There’s a silence for a moment. A waitress comes over and clears our table.
“Everything all right?” she asks, balancing our crockery on one hand and placing some dessert menus down with the other.
“Fine, thanks,” I say quietly. She nods and walks away.
“Let me ask you something,” Annie says, mercifully breaking the silence. “It might be a difficult question, but I think you need to consider your answer if you haven’t already.”
I take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say. “Ask away.”
“If… if he does come back to you — and I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much — then what are you going to do? Are you going to give him what he wants?”
I ponder this for a moment. All this was caused by my own selfish desires, going against what he wanted. I resented him a bit for putting me in this position, but I felt I owed it to him to be there and be the first face he saw when he came back.
“I honestly don’t know,” I say. “I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.”
I'm Not Doctor Who 