Traces of Eve

Chapter 7

ALICE | Now

The sound of the whistle shatters the silence, and the runners start their sprint rather sluggishly from where I'm perched.

It's been an hour and forty-five minutes since I finished packing my stuff. An antagonizing hour with my thoughts filled by Eve, the cadence of her slightly deep voice and her obsession over colourful clothing.

"Don't you miss it?"

I yelp, frightened that I've been caught off guard. My stomach knots into coils, my head snaps sharply to my right and makes a pop sound that makes me cringe.

My best friend, David flops on the space beside me and unfurls his fingers from a water bottle. I try not to look at him or listen to the sound of each sickening crack as his hand works its way over his knuckles. I even hold my breath so his scent doesn't waft through my nostrils. Most boys swim in their cologne but not him, it's faint and lingers only for a while.

"I'm sorry I scared you. Well, among other things," he mumbles. I've never seen him sheepish almost as if each word needed some induced courage to say them.

I used to have some fuzzy warmth in my stomach whenever we spoke like all the girls in our year who's seen him play basketball. My words always tumbled out in an awkward way that had me reeling from our encounter each time we crossed paths, but him being my best and only friend helped calm those nerves. 

I saw what every girl dotted over—plump lips even for a guy, a chiselled jaw that elongates his visage, the dulcet tone but guttural sound to his voice and his effortless charm.

Sometimes he makes jokes about how he can charm an old lady into stripping for him, no kidding, I'm always convinced it can happen. But then, he stopped talking to me for a while now, and I can't pinpoint when exactly it happened. It just did. So out of the blue that I'm surprised he's here.

"It's okay. I get it." 

He can drop his friends like flies do when they meet a bug zapper. Last year, he was best friends with Chris Aggrey-Fynn, now me, and I can't help but wonder who'll be next.

"So, do you miss it?" He jerks his head to the field. "I mean running on the track."

I shake my head, no, not like I want to run away from this conversation but I can never get away fast enough. My problems always have an uncanny way to bounce back.

"It's not something I want to do anymore," I admit with a shrug. It's been long since I gave it any thought. No one at home knows I ever ran on the field, it was only ever Eve who had the pleasure of knowing. 

"Why are you here? Don't you have class?"

"Coach wants to see me." His eyes skim the corridor while he says this and I feel as though my chest has been dented, carved inwards. "I guess he's not coming anytime soon."

"Oh." Why have I been foolish in thinking he was here to see me. His abrupt switch from silent mode to casual talk is stirring up confusion, and I don't like that many questions playing my mind when all I want to do is not think at all.

"What about you? Did you get into trouble or something?" He laughs at the prospect thinking it's so unlike me. 

Silent Alice. Goody two-shoes Alice. Reserved Alice. All the versions he knows of me can't possibly be caught in the wrong crowd least of all be called to the office. It's funny how only Eve has the broken pieces of me while I gave everyone else the healed ones without cracks, the part I was raised to play.

When I don't join him in or try to lighten the mood and dispel the awkward moment, he shrinks further into a shell I hadn't known was there. A concerned look mares his face and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Come on Alice, something must've happened if you're here."

For a moment, I forget my own voice, not knowing how to say it because the news is still fresh in my mind. It's a wicked reminder that life with Eve was too short. My lips press into a thin line as I fiddle with the hems of my skirt.

"Eve's dead," I deadpan while running my fingers over my forehead as if that'll rid me from the imminent migraine.

"Shit, " he mutters. 

Uncharacteristically, I burst out laughing because his cussing isn't something Eve would've approved of.

Sad eyes descend on me. Oh no, not David too. All the dejected glances and the pitiful looks make the whole situation feel more real than it already is.

Eve can't be dead.

Eve can't be dead.

Eve can't be dead.

"My aunt called the principal. Eve was involved in a car accident. I have to go home."  I hate that I sound like a broken record. The words coming out of my mouth sound almost robotic. I'll have to go to a funeral, my first, and it's not something I pleased about.

"That's worse than me getting kicked off the team." He confesses and I'm relieved to know it's not me. It never was. I'm tempted to ask what spared on such a decision from his coach, but the expression on his face makes me eat my words, swallow them down.

"I won't say anything about that but if you-."

"I'm not going to ask you if you're okay because you just might cry." He teases, his voice gruff and a bit jarring.  "You know I don't deal with tears well."

"I'm not gonna cry, " It's not like I can.

"Right now, all I need is someone to help carry my heavy load. That's if you don't mind."

"Alright."

***

We hear the clicking of heels against the stone-paved ground and we both look up to see my Aunt Tala making her way towards us. She's dressed in one of her own designs— an African print lime green dress coat that falls below her knees and dangling from her arced arm is an Oyé bag. She's a clear depiction of a typical African Queen.

Today, I'm not graced by her usual smile. Aunt Tala has the sweetest smile I've ever seen, sugar-coated and delicious. Her smiles were a rebuttal to my many accusations years ago, it still is though. Unlike Eve, she treats me with caution. She's careful what to say and what not to say, what to do and what not do because I have flares of anger often—I can't help it. To her, Eve's like the grown-up daughter she never had and me, well, I really don't know where that leaves me. I guess I'm the plus one package that comes with Eve and now that she's gone what's my fate?

Regardless of my coolness towards my aunt over the years, I find myself stepping into her embrace. Her arms fold around me, melting my body to hers, and I catch the sweet fragrance of her perfume and the funky scent of wood from her workshop.

"Oh Alice, " she pets my hair like she would to our pet marmalade cat, Mimi. "I'm so glad to see you healthy and well. "

Healthy and well. I feel like I'm dying inside. She unfolds away from me and gives me a good look at her. A pang of jealousy hits me hard in my chest just by seeing her bloodshot red-rimmed eyes, slightly runny nose and big defined dark circles tattoo under her eyes. Her grief shows through, unlike mine. The jealousy of grief is instantly replaced by guilt. I loved Eve, so why can't I shed one stupid tear for my sister?

"How are you holding up, dear?"

"I'm okay, " I lie, "Can we go now? David's agreed to help carry my luggage, but he still has a class at the moment. I don't want to keep him out for too long. "

She wants to know why I didn't just ask for one of the school's ground's men. I don't tell her I feel nervous around adults. I simply shrug.

"It's no big deal."

She lifts her gaze from mine and smiles sweetly despite everything.

"Hello, young man, " she offers him her hand. Aunt Tala calls every one younger than her, young man or young woman. It sounds like her catchphrase whenever she meets someone with a youthful face.

"Hey, Mrs Aidoo. I'm so sorry for your loss." He shakes hers.

"Thank you. Let's get this heavy stuff in the car quickly—we don't want to keep you waiting. "

While we're loading the boot of her Ford with my suitcase and trunk, David catches my eyes.

Are you okay? He mouths.

I merely shrug, which is rude considering he actually cares, however, if he's annoyed by it, he doesn't show it. He hugs me tightly, hanging on as if I would disappear.

"Take care of yourself. I'll text you when school's out." He says and then he's gone, jogging toward the tent and back to class.

When we are in the car on our way home, I notice my Aunt glancing at me from time to time.

"I can hear you thinking from here," she tells me. Her eyes dart quickly from mine to the road and I hold on tightly to the seats, a new fear rolls off me like wisps of cotton. Is this what Eve felt moments before the car crashed? Did she scream, cry or even think of what could have been if she hadn't entered it, if she hadn't lied to me when I called her on Sunday when I asked if she was going out or not. Some part of me didn't want her to be out partying for the wrong reasons because I needed her as emotionally drained as I was after our fight.

I bounce a little in my seat because of the dilapidated road. It's a dreadful bumpy ride and each rise and fall shreds my nerves further.

"I have something for you." She reaches into the glove compartment with her left hand and retrieves a ziplock bag. "It's your sister's stuff. These were the only things that didn't catch fire in the accident. It was also the only way Eve's body was identified. "

She chokes on the word 'body' and it is a serious blow to my gut. Another reminder. I don't say anything when I take the bag from her. I'm not sure if I can stomach it all, least of all speak.

I palm the surface, feeling what is left of her small Susen purse underneath my flesh. It almost feels like touching her again. I pull the purse free from the ziplock and open it up. It's no surprise to see a picture of both of us lying on the sand at Kuviki Beach, our grins are lopsided and our eyes are filled with joy. The picture was taken three years ago before Eve left for school.

"Do you remember that day?"  My Aunt Tala asks, her voice mellows down to a whisper as if she's seen her for the very first time. She won't be able to recount each detail because she wasn't there, but I don't want to. Sharing the memory will be like giving up a piece of Eve.

My words are purposefully incoherent so she doesn't delve deeper into a monologue because that's what she'll revert to. Indulging me is futile and we fall into an uncomfortable silence louder than anything I've ever heard. 

I continue my hunt and find a gold necklace tucked inside. Part of the chain has a dark prominent shade and when I touch it, my fingers are stained with a little soot. It has the name Eve plated in gold at the tip of the chain. It's the same necklace I gave Eve on her birthday. It all comes back to haunt me— our conversation during lunch, the car ride to Legon, the flight ticket on her desk, the website advertising cheap hotels in Ontario, Canada—I finally remember everything.

It's an even harsher reality to know that Eve was going to leave me. She did, after all, just not how I expected it.