I Was the Fifth Friend, Until They Made Me Nothing Chapter 10

I Was the Fifth Friend, Until They Made Me Nothing Chapter 10

“Evelyn, the award results are in.”

Helmut placed an envelope on my desk.

My fingers didn’t shake when I opened it.

Silver Award.

The Zurich Emerging Visual Design Silver Award.

Kilian leaned over from the next desk.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Want to celebrate?”

“Sure.”

He took me back to the little restaurant beside the Limmat and ordered the same pork knuckle I’d eaten on my first night.

“How long have you been in Zurich?”

“Five months.”

“Do you know who else won silver that quickly?”

“Who?”

“No one. You’re the first.”

I laughed.

After dinner, we walked beside the river in the chill of early winter.

My phone vibrated.

An email from Ethan.

This one was short.

“Evie, Mom wants to know if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

I thought for a moment before answering.

“No.”

“Are you planning never to come home again?”

“I’m planning to build a life here first.”

He didn’t reply.

Two days later, Miles sent me a message.

“I ran into Ethan at the mall. He was standing alone outside a dessert place, staring through the window. I asked what was wrong. He said it used to be your favorite.”

I read the message and set down my phone.

My old favorite place.

He had finally remembered.

But only because he happened to walk past it.

Not because he had taken me inside while I was still there.

“Miles, you don’t have to tell me about them anymore.”

“Okay. How are you?”

“I’m doing well.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sent a tiny thumbs-up emoji.

“Good. If you ever need anything, call me.”

“I will.”

It was the last gentle thread connecting me to that former life.

That night, I sat beside the window.

A small pot of rosemary Helmut had given me rested on the sill.

I hadn’t brought the pothos I’d planted freshman year.

I hadn’t taken anything from Ryan’s studio.

And I certainly hadn’t taken the puzzle with only four people in it.

None of those things belonged to me.

I took out my award certificate and looked at it.

My full name was printed in full: Evelyn Parker.

There was no five-pointed star.

No photograph with half my face cropped out.

No undersized chair at the end of the table.

My phone lit up again.

A message from Ryan.

I hadn’t expected him to contact me again.

But he had.

“Evie, I passed Bayview today. The succulent you kept on the studio windowsill died. I watered it, but I couldn’t bring it back.”

I stared at the words.

It had taken him five months after I left to realize that the succulent needed water.

I had cared for it for two years.

He had walked past it countless times.

He had never noticed it.

Not until it was dead.

Just as he had done with me.

I typed a few words.

Then deleted them.

I tried again.

And deleted those too.

In the end, I sent one sentence.

“Stop watering it. It’s dead. Let it be.”

Then I scrolled to the top of our conversation.

The first message was the friend request he had sent freshman year.

“Hi, I’m Ryan Hayes from the architecture program. I heard you’re an incredible artist. Would you teach me?”

His profile picture back then had been a sketch of a bridge.

When I accepted his request, I replied, “You draw better than I do. Why would you need me to teach you?”

He said, “Because your work has warmth.”

Warmth.

He had said my work had warmth.

Three years later, he’d decided I was someone who no longer needed warmth.

I closed our conversation.

I didn’t delete it.

I didn’t block him.

I simply never opened it again.

Light from the Limmat shimmered across my ceiling.

I put the award certificate in a drawer and switched off the lamp.

I had a new project starting tomorrow.

The day after that, I was traveling to Lausanne for work.

The following week, Kilian was taking me to see the season’s first snow in the Alps.

My calendar was full.

Every plan on it belonged to me.

No one would change their plans at the last minute and leave me behind.

No one would buy only four iced coffees.

No one would crop me out of a group photo.

No one would say, “Evie never cares about things like that.”

I cared.

I had always cared.

It was just that no one had cared when I did.

Now I didn’t need anyone else to care.

Caring about myself was enough.

[The End]