old cardigans

13. It’s the only number I play, and it is only played once a night… at the end of my shift. The minimum is ten dollars and I intend to bet just that: no more, no less. As I casually place the ten-dollar chip down, the dealer gives me a genuine smile and says, “Good luck this time sir.” He knows my name is Sam, just like I don’t need the nametag on his shirt to know his is Phil, but on the off chance that I win, he doesn’t want to give anyone the false impression that something shady is going on between the employees… especially not at 4 AM. In fact, the only people who are still at the tables at 4 AM are casino employees, drunkards, and the pitiful souls who are trying to magically reverse an all-night losing streak. At this hour, empathy is a scarce resource, so it’s best to keep your happiness to a minimum or it might get snatched from you.

Phil spins the roulette wheel and then places the white ball at the edge of the rim. A quick moment later, he sends the ball flying in the opposite direction. It will take about twenty seconds for the entire transaction to be completed, but to everyone at the table, it feels like an eternity. In those twenty seconds, life choices are questioned, regrets are in full circulation, and every once in a while this will serve as the sobering moment that someone needs to turn their life around… that is unless their number hits. Then all bets are off.

As I pan the room I see desperate eyes and haggard faces. At this hour the winners have already gone home and with them goes any tangible signs of success. An attractive woman in a tight, black cocktail dress downs what looks to be scotch. Her hair is a mess and her right eye is droopy. The man to her left is also dressed sharply and has his arm coiled around her waist. Though he looks a bit more composed, his eyes reek of desperation as well. I’ve seen him here since 1 AM and the once mountain of chips in front of him was now reduced to a single small tower that was barely higher than his fist.

“C’mon now!” I hear from an older man in a cowboy hat. His skin is weathered, either from the sun or the copious amounts of cigarettes he has been smoking. There are two ashtrays in front of him, all containing Marlboro butts. From the empty pack littered nearby, I reckon Reds. They nickname them “cowboy killers” for a reason; I hope he knows this… his doctor definitely does. Right next to me I see a tall, bald-headed man who is smiling. He, too, had a bigger pile a couple of hours ago, but he doesn’t seem too upset. It was rare to see someone like that at this hour. I guess he truly saw this for what it was: mindless entertainment. Nowhere else in the world would you see this eclectic bunch of people together, except at a roulette table in Vegas. The 4 AM crowd doesn’t have the glitz and glamor that earlier tables have, but never call them dull. In each of their faces were a thousand untold stories.

The first clatters begin. The white ball begins to weave in and out of numbers. There is no point in being excited this early because the ball will do this subtle, seductive dance a few times before it finally settles in. A dance that will leave most of the members at this table with lighter pockets. As the ball slowly loses momentum, more glasses will be downed and cigarettes will continue to burn but the smokers will forget to ash. Eventually, all eyes settle on one number.

When the white ball stops at 13 I don’t even crack a smile, just collect my winnings, leave three chips for the dealer, and stroll to the front of the casino. The hour for half-assed congratulations is well past, and I can feel the contempt of everyone at the table (except Phil). Over a four-month period lucky thirteen has hit three times before (tonight being the fourth), which gives me a slight advantage over the house. I’ll celebrate tonight’s small victory the same way I did the three times before: by getting a hooker and buying a pack of cigarettes. They say your vices will be the death of you in Vegas, which is why I have the system in place.

The cost of the smokes is always the same: $20. It’s a steep price to pay, but they are special clove cigarettes that are illegal in The States. One of the dealers on graveyard duty is Indonesian and buys a few boxes every time he goes back home to visit family. He smokes most of them but sells a box or two to turn a profit. In fact, he gave me my first one during a work break to help me stay awake and all other cigarettes have paled in comparison since.

While the cost of smokes was fixed, the price of a hooker wasn’t as straightforward. Three bills could get you half an hour with one of the finest hookers the Strip had to offer, or a whole night for one you picked up on the corner. That being said, after the first time, I learned that having a sleepover at your apartment with a stranger (that you just picked up on the corner) isn’t always the best idea, even if the sex is mind-blowing. When I woke up in the morning, my blonde companion wasn’t the only thing missing: so were my cell phone, wallet, and blender.

God, I miss that blender.

No, the benefit of ordering through a high-class escort service is it usually was relatively safe. The casino workers knew which agencies were legit, so there wasn’t the worry of being ripped off or harassed. In fact, most of the girls were regulars at the casino, so they didn’t want any trouble either. Being blacklisted from a casino would cost them a lot of revenue, so as long as the client wasn’t bombed out of their mind, most transactions went smoothly. I had a place a few miles off the Strip but preferred to just take out a room at the casino. I told myself this was for safety purposes, but the truth was it felt weird having a high-class escort at my dump of a place. No, as soon as I got up to the room I would shower, slick my hair back, and switch into my finest suit. I’m sure they thought I did it for their pleasure, but truthfully it was all for me. The call girls knew I worked at the casino, so they knew I wasn’t a high roller, but at least when I switched out of my work clothes and put on that fancy suit, I could pretend for half an hour that this was an actual legitimate sexual encounter. For that half an hour, I sometimes would forget the reality of my situation. In fact, I didn’t even have the money to spring for a hotel room, but typically, as long as the casino wasn’t overbooked or it was a holiday, the room would be comped.

Truthfully, the first time I did it as a way of symbolically ending my relationship with Amelia. I hadn’t talked to her since I hastily left New York. With a new number, she had no way of contacting me, unless I contacted her first. I felt horrible ghosting her, but anyone and everyone I came into contact with became a risk factor. Besides, she was the one who called off our engagement. The only person I called when I got to Vegas was my brother, Michael. I didn’t want Lana (my niece) or the rest of the family to get an even worse impression of me. He asked me what was going on and I kept it as vague as possible. I told him I wasn’t in any danger but just needed to stay under the radar for a little bit. Naturally, he worried. It doesn’t matter how old you get; an older brother will worry about their younger brother until the end of time. I asked how Lana was taking it and Michael told me she was pretty confused and cried a few times after I left, but eventually, he explained my departure in a way she was OK with. I asked if I could speak to her on the phone, but he said it was too soon. She wasn’t upset anymore, but that didn’t mean she was jovial either. It seems my bad luck with women extended well beyond dating.

Michael asked me how long I would be gone, and I told him the truth… that I didn’t know. In fact, I wasn’t sure what to do at all. I was tempted to just tell the police what was going on, but I was so afraid of the possible retribution on my family. They said curiosity killed the cat and I should have listened. Plus, there was no guarantee the police would even do anything. It would be different if I had some sort of evidence, but I had nothing at all to support my claims. No, for all anyone knew, all of this was just a figment of my imagination. I really wish I never looked inside that box. All I had to do was deliver it and my debts would have gone away.

Before I could beat myself up anymore, I heard three knocks on the front door. She was early. It was a good thing I was already in my suit as I wouldn’t have been able to remotely believe this encounter otherwise. She wore a fur coat that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous, but she carried herself with such confidence. In fact, she probably could make overalls look alluring. Underneath she had a tight green dress that hugged her body in all the right places. As she threw her coat on the bed, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and made her way across the room.

“May I?” she asked as she pointed towards the minibar. I wasn’t keen on paying for overpriced liquor, but I wasn’t trying to kill the mood. She walked back with two tiny bottles of scotch and two glasses.

“Need any ice? I like it neat,” she said, not wasting a moment to pour herself a drink.

“Not drinking tonight,” I replied.

“More for me,” she cooed as she prepped a second glass as well.

It was easier to just tell people I wasn’t drinking at the moment, but the truth was I still hadn’t touched a drop since New York. Things were already confusing enough as it was. The last thing I wanted to do was add some depression to the mix.

She took a sip of the scotch, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. She began to undress, but I was in no rush. I had twenty-six minutes left on the clock, but would only need seven max. Honestly, I just wanted to talk for a few minutes first. It was a sharp contrast to when I would get hookers in New York. In fact, I don’t think I ever made small talk back then, but the truth was I felt a bit lonely lately.

“So, how is your day going?”

She raised an eyebrow but humored me.

“It’s going.”

She began to unbutton my pants.

“Do you mind if we just talk for a minute? I mean no rush right?”

“It’s your half an hour. So should I keep my clothes on the whole time?” she said smiling. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing at me or genuinely amused that someone who was renting by the half-hour actually wanted to talk.

“It’s your call. Don’t worry, we’re still going to get down to business,” I said in a tone that made me unsure if this was what I even wanted.

She took her dress off and slid on the bed. I undressed too and lay next to her.

“How old are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Old enough,” she yawned. Either she was tired or my cookie-cutter questions weren’t that stimulating.

“So when did you move to Vegas?”

“I didn’t. I’ve always lived here. And I’m guessing by your accent that you originally came from the east coast?”

“Yeah, is it that obvious?”

“Well, we get a lot of tourists, so you pick up on these things. You work at the casino though right? I think I’ve seen you around the roulette tables before.”

“Yeah, I’m a cage cashier for the evening shift.”

“Graveyard you mean.”

I smiled. “Yeah, graveyard.”

“It’s OK, I work until 4 AM too. In fact, I was about to end my shift when your call came in. I had just finished up early with a client and was already here anyway, so I figured why not pick up a few hundred on the way out?”

I guess the illusion was over. She must have seen me cringe because she was quick to rub her hands all over my body as a form of damage control. While I was still turned off by her comment, she smelled wonderful as she nestled against my beard. She gently rubbed her nails up and down my chest and rested the nape of her neck on my body. It didn’t take me long to get aroused… and it didn’t take me long to finish. I began to wonder how many actual orgasms she received a night because it sure as heck wasn’t accomplished tonight in this hotel room.

After she finished putting her clothes back on, she twisted open the second bottle of scotch and took a nice long sip.

“You know, they say there are only two types of people living in Vegas.”

It was my time to raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what would those types be?”

“Natives and people who are running away from something.”

I winced.

“Honey, I may only be an escort, but I can tell you one thing. You can’t keep running from your problems your entire life.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just half-smiled. She gave me another kiss on the cheek and I tipped her another sixty on her way out. Oh well, it was still cheaper than a week of therapy. As soon as the door shut, I went to take a shower. As the suds dripped down my face, I thought about my life. Perhaps she was right… perhaps I was constantly running away from my problems. I wonder, if they didn’t find me, would I have found another reason to cut loose and leave New York?

Though I had the room for the night, I wanted to get out of there. As I made my way through the lobby I bumped into Evie. She worked graveyard shifts as a cocktail waitress. We had gone on a couple of dates, but I didn’t make much of it. In fact, most of us working graveyards had gone out together after work at some point or another. There weren’t too many people willing to start a date at 5 AM in the morning.

“Getting out of work late too?” Evie said with a slight yawn.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth.

“Yeah, it’s been a long night.”

She paused as if waiting for me to say something and then when the silence was too long, she spoke on my behalf.

“So do you want to grab breakfast with me? I imagine you must be hungry yourself.”

“Yeah Evie, that sounds good. Lux Café work?”

“I was thinkin’ the diner a couple of blocks from your place. I sorta wouldn’t mind a change of scenery, especially at this depressing hour.

“Yeah, that works too. You look nice by the way.”

She smiled. As we walked to the parking lot she threw on a baseball cap, Yankees to be exact. She was cute in a girl next door kind of way. We had talked enough for me to know she was 33, but she looked much younger… said her secret was sunscreen, lots of sunscreen. Evie had gone to NYU for undergrad, so half the time we talked about the city… what we liked, what we didn’t. It was some nice nostalgia for both of us.

She had been in Vegas for about four years. Her whole family lived back east in Upstate New York. After graduating from NYU, she hopped around at a few jobs but ultimately left with her fiancé to settle in San Diego. Though she liked being in close proximity to her family, he received a good job offer and she didn’t want to deny him the opportunity of a lifetime. Besides, home is where the heart is, and her heart lay with him. He worked a lot but said it was all for them. Things were good… until they weren’t. A couple of months before the wedding, she caught him cheating on her. She found out by putting a tracker on his car and following him after work one day. It led her straight to the house of someone in her fitness class.

Her family and friends were supportive through the whole ordeal and insisted she head back east for some much-needed R&R. She said she would, but was going to see the country first. As she drove back east, she got to Vegas and never left. It was never a long-term plan, but the more time she spent out in the world, the harder it became to head home. She had given up everything for the man she loved. A man she still cared for even though he was wrong for her in every way. Four years later, he was married and had two kids. And Evie? Well, she was still in Vegas, as if stuck in a time warp.

“You know you need to get some maintenance done on this Camaro, Sam. I saw that check engine light the last time we grabbed breakfast, too.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“OK, but if this car breaks down, the Uber is on you,” she said chuckling.

Michael would probably have a heart attack if he saw the condition that the car he gifted me was in. I hadn’t checked the fluids even once since I got here. On top of that, you didn’t need to be a car mechanic to know that the pressure in my tires was low. They say a car reflects an owner. I guess it was safe to say that the Camaro wasn’t the only thing I was neglecting to take care of. 

When we got to the Tick Tock Diner, there were only two other cars in the parking lot. Not many people came in this early for breakfast, but the place was still open 24/7. The pink neon sign in front of the storefront was flickering on and off. Evie told me it had been like that for years. Though the place looked run down, the food wasn’t half bad.

“You gonna tell the owner they need to do maintenance on the sign too?” I said with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh, no way. Don’t you know that you never tell anyone in the food industry what to do? If you do, it’s pretty much a first-class ticket to getting your food messed with.”

I had a disgusted expression on my face. “Do people REALLY do that a lot?”

“No, but I’ve seen it enough to mind my “Ps & Qs”.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s the most disgusting thing you’ve seen someone do?”

“Sam, if I told you, we wouldn’t be eating out right now.”

I insisted. She told. Before the coffee was even on our table I was driving her back to my place for breakfast.

“Turkey bacon or regular?”

“Sam, I wouldn’t have pictured you as the healthy type! Are you going to make me a smoothie as well?”

God, I missed that blender.

“Either way, I’ll have what you’re having,” she said with a warm smile.

“Turkey bacon it is. Coffee’s ready. Black, right?”

“Yes, please.”

Evie perched both legs up onto her chair as she sat at the kitchen table. It reminded me of when Michael and I were kids and we pretended the floor was lava as our mom mopped up. Cute. As I handed her the cup, she looked pensive.

“You know, you really are the strangest man I’ve ever met,” she said in a neutral tone that didn’t give me the daftest clue what she meant by it.

“Oh?” I replied without breaking eye contact with the turkey bacon.

She got up and paced the room with her sleeves pulled over her hand to keep the mug from burning her.

“Yes, maybe even the strangest. I’ve met a lot of weird men over the years in Vegas. But not like you. I’ve met men who had OCD rituals that lasted for hours, depressed men, manic men, men who came to live out fantasies, men who refused to grow up, and men who grew up too fast, but never someone like you. Heck, I even met a man who couldn’t get it up unless I sang him the Star-Spangled Banner first. But all of them at least had a rhyme or reason. You, are just an anomaly to me.”

She piqued my interest. “How so?”

“Well let’s start off with your demeanor. You look miserable almost every day like you’re living in some sort of constant nightmare, but then you eat turkey bacon, never touch a drop of alcohol, and exercise regularly. In fact, besides a handful of cigarettes and that one chip you bet at the end of your shift, I haven’t seen you get into much of anything. You’re clearly not afraid to live a little as you seemed to give up your old life pretty easily, but I dunno, you also seem stuck in your ways too. It’s nothing egregious, just… you are strange.

“If I’m the strangest person you’ve met, then I think you need to get out there more.”

“There’s more.”

I wrapped the sizzling turkey bacon in some paper towels to take out what little fat remained and placed it on the counter. Next, I threw on a couple of eggs while I began to cut up some fruit.

“Sam, why won’t you touch me? The others have told me you’ve slept with call girls a couple of times, but I’ve been over here three times and you haven’t even made the slightest move on me. Am I just not attractive enough for you?”

I guess the cat was out of the bag.

“You’re cute, it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“So what is it then? Are you just not the dating type? If so, that’s fine. I know you haven’t led me on or anything. Heck, you’ve treated me like a gentleman the entire time I’ve known ya, but sometimes we sit and talk for hours and I think to myself, there has to be a connection or something going on between us, but then it just seems to fizzle. Even when I did fall asleep over here, you gave me the bed and took the couch. You know I wouldn’t have minded if you shared the bed with me.”

Without skipping a beat, I began to butter the toast. The eggs would be done shortly, so everything else had to be finished by then. I liked cooking them sunny side up so that I could dip my turkey bacon in the yolks or sop it up with some toast. If the yolks hardened, it would ruin the entire meal.

“I honestly don’t mind Sam, it’s just I haven’t met a man in Vegas who is willing to talk for hours, go grab dinner, and have the occasional sleepover without wanting anything in return.”

I pulled out two plates and plated the turkey bacon, eggs, whole-wheat toast, and fruit medley. I sat down and took a big swig of coffee and looked at Evie. Why was such a strong, intelligent woman yearning for my approval in any fashion? Either way, she was pouring her heart out, so I figured I owed her the courtesy of a proper conversation.

“I was engaged once before as well,” I said as I handed Evie her plate. I sat down and cut into the egg. Perfection. I was glad to know I still could do some things right.

Her ears perked up and she straightened up in her chair. She listened intently as I went on.

“It didn’t work out well. Eventually, I got my life back in order, but that didn’t work out either. Listen, I’m not saying this to solicit some sort of sympathy. I know in the grand scheme of things I’ve lived a pretty good life, but the truth is, I’m afraid to be happy. The moment I acknowledge it something bad happens.”

“That’s hogwash Sam, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Maybe it doesn’t for you, but it does for me. I like you, a lot actually, but the moment I get comfortable and really start to think that I’ve found my happiness, something is going to randomly come through this town and take it away. So I avoid the highs and lows of life. Sure, it’s not really living, but it beats feeling like shit all the time.”

She bit her lower lip. She seemed annoyed by my answer.

“So you think it’s better to just be a coward and fuck escorts instead?” she said condescendingly. It took Evie only a couple of seconds to realize she had crossed a line and she quickly walked back her statement.

“I’m sorry Sam. That was uncalled for. You invited me over for breakfast, not a lecture. If you’re not interested, you’re not interested and I won’t push it any further. Your friendship is plenty, and I’m sorry for trying to push my needs on you. And now I’ve come over and insulted you and I didn’t mean to put you down about the escorts or calling you a coward, it’s just that I-I-I dunno you see the thing is tha-”

I leaned over and the table, tilted her chin up, and kissed her on her pouty lips. It was the first form of real intimacy I have had since being in Vegas. A calmness came back into the room.

“I like you, a lot, Evie. I just need to sort some things out, that’s all.”

There was something about her that was different. While Amelia was a very attractive, well-rounded, successful woman, something was off between us. I figured it might be a familiarity issue, but I wasn’t sure anymore. Some people just make your heart skip, while others don’t. Sometimes there isn’t any rhyme or reason to it. Either way, I felt Evie made my heart flutter.

“By the way, what is Sam short for?”

“Samin.”

“Like the fish?”

“Yeah, like the fish. Speaking of that, what’s Evie short for?”

“It’s not short for anything. It’s long for Eve.”

“Eve is a nice name too.”

“Not when your ex-fiancé used to call you by that name. Now it just sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me. Besides, my mom used to call me Evie when I was a kid. It brings back good memories.”

“Evie it is. So tell me, Evie… what do you want to know about me?”

“Everything you’re willing to tell me, Sam.”

“Aren’t you afraid your opinion of me may change?”

“Perhaps, but I’m a big girl. Besides, you’re not the only one in Vegas with a few skeletons in your closet.”

I took a deep breath in and sighed. I hadn’t told anyone in this town my true story, but I was tired of running away. In fact, so much time had passed that I didn’t even know if the things I was running from were even still chasing me.

I decided no more lies, so I started from the beginning, all the way from childhood. I told Evie about my dad, my mom, my rough childhood… worked through the investment scandal, falling in debt, working with the syndicate, deciding to deliver the box… opening the box. I watched her face as I mentioned all the painstaking details… but she never broke character. I was starting to get nervous. After I finished leading up to the events that brought me to Vegas, she finally spoke.

“Got any of those vanilla clove cigarettes left?”

I gave her a funny look. “Yeah… I have some. You smoke?”

“Not usually, but I think I might need one after that tale.”

We went out to the balcony and she pulled two cigarettes out of the pack and lit them both as I held out the lighter. We both took a few drags and plunked ourselves into some patio chairs.

“So you don’t have any evidence on the syndicate to get the police to help out?”

“Right.”

“And you are hesitant to tell anyone what’s going on because you’re afraid that they might hurt them or you in some sort of retaliation?”

“Yep. I also don’t know if the police can be trusted.”

“And that was the reason you packed up and left New York so abruptly?”

“I think so.”

“What do you mean, I think so?”

“Yes, it’s what caused me to pack up and leave, but I think I would have left eventually anyway. It was getting boring out there. I never admitted it, but I was tired of my old life.”

“But I assume you would have handled it in a proper way. Not just pack up and leave without saying goodbye to your niece, Lana?”

There was judgment in her voice, but, fortunately, this was an easy thing to answer since I still felt bad about the way I left.

“Of course not. I love Lana, Michael, and the rest of my family. But eventually, I would have left.”

She eased back into the patio chair. I guess the answer sufficed.

“In that case, we can still hang out and my opinion of you hasn’t changed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, you’re an idiot, but not callous. I mean you made a lot of foolish decisions, but they were all based on love and perceived necessity. The execution might have been poor at times, but never the intent. It’s funny how you’ve painted yourself to appear like such a monster when all that really happened was you made some bad choices and then tried to do the right thing. You need to stop being so hard on yourself Sam. Shit happens.”

I was surprised at how calmly Evie processed everything. I had been terrified to tell anyone the truth of what was going on, but she made it all seem so normal. I did have to remind myself though that I was in Vegas, speaking to another person who seemed to be running away from their past, so I had to take everything that was exchanged between us with a grain of salt.

When we got back inside she tried to kiss me passionately, but I stopped her. I knew where it would lead and I had literally been inside someone else not even eight hours ago. For some reason, she didn’t question me. Perhaps she already knew as well. However, it was close to noon and we were both fatigued, so we did share the bed to ensure some restful sleep (the couch could be lumpy at times). We cuddled a bit, but neither of us minded at all. It was nice just sharing a genuine intimate moment. When I finally woke up, the other side of the bed was empty. However, my melancholy face quickly dissipated as I smelled a nice aroma in the air.

“Figured you cooked breakfast, so I’d make dinner. Come on and eat up; we have to be at work in a couple of hours,” Evie said as she placed the contents of a recently heated wok onto two plates.

“Smells good, is this what I think it is?” I said, sniffing the scent of coconut milk and spices in the air.

“Yeah, well you said you liked Thai, so I thought I’d make a little crab fried rice. It’s not the healthiest, but I did make a papaya salad on the side.”

I unexpectedly started to tear up. I had gotten so used to bottling up my emotions over the years, that the slightest signs of affection were enough to get the waterworks started these days. Evie saw this and was startled for a second, but then wiped my eye as I tried to turn away.

“Sam, I know you love Thai food, but at least try it first,” she said tenderly while touching my cheek.

The food would have to wait as I swept her up and took her to the bedroom to finally satisfy both our urges. Afterward, we sat down and ate dinner together. It was nice, it was normal, it was mundane… and I loved it. Perhaps it wasn’t a matter of avoiding the highs and lows of life, but just dipping our fingers and toes in them from time to time. Maybe all of it was needed to remind us of the value and intrigue of life itself.

The next morning, we did the same routine. In fact, we did it the entire week. The only difference was when I passed Phil on the way out of the casino, I just gave him a wave and a smile. I spent the extra ten dollars I saved a night to buy a high-end blender from a pawn shop. Evie made me wash it three times before we used it. She said you never know what anyone uses anything for in Vegas.

While I tried my best to hide the nervousness that came with my newfound joy, I apparently couldn’t contain it at night. Evie said I often had nightmares and would sweat in my sleep. It didn’t bother her, but she did ask me if I remembered what I dreamt about. Most of the time I wouldn’t remember, but I did tell her sometimes it was about what was inside that box. Some things you just can’t unsee, no matter how many times you close your eyes.

After two months, I decided to officially call Evie my girlfriend. I told her that there was always that slight risk of my past showing up to haunt us, but she didn’t seem worried. In fact, she gave me goosebumps when she said that if it came down to self-defense, “I’ll do what I have to do to survive.” If she was afraid, she surely didn’t show it, on the outside at least.

It’s funny how as soon as Evie accepted me, I began to have questions of my own. I guess insecurities will bring that out of anyone. I started wondering about her ex-fiancé more… the details, what he was like, the last time they talked, all that stuff. I also started asking her about her childhood, if she had visited her parent’s home since the breakup, and things of that nature.

During our next breakfast club meeting, I decided to bring it up. While I wasn’t personally keen to hear about her ex-lover, I did want to know her past story, to know if there really was the possibility of a future between the two of us.

“I haven’t talked to Mark in three years… at least since he got married. While I’m not proud to admit it, when he was engaged, I did try to have an affair with him. I’m not fully sure what compelled me… part of it was revenge towards the woman who took him away from me, and part of it was hoping that that might serve as the spark to somehow reconcile us. When I look back, I don’t understand why I was so vexed at the woman he cheated on me with, but not at him. In fact, the only reason we didn’t cheat was that he canceled our plans at the last minute. He said he had an urgent business trip come up, but my gut feeling told me that he had a change of heart. Either way, I’m glad it didn’t happen.

By the way, her name was Vicky. Like I said before, she went to the same gym that we did. I had a few yoga classes with her but we didn’t interact much… just the usual ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ stuff. I had seen Mark talk with her a few times, but nothing that I could fault him for. I always felt insecure around her but figured it was all in my head. Besides, if I had brought it up to Mark, he would just say I was being paranoid. It didn’t do much for my psyche when my suspicions were confirmed.

For years I couldn’t say her name and blamed her for everything that happened between Mark and me, but the truth was if it wasn’t her, it would have just been someone else. It also makes me wonder if Mark cheated before that as well. There were so many late nights over the years.”

She looked flustered, so I changed the subject.

“What about your parents, they seem like they love you a lot. When was the last time you visit them?”

“Two years ago, for Thanksgiving. I love them and my siblings, but I never moved back because I needed a fresh start. I knew if I went home I’d be constantly reminded of Mark and what never was. Not that any of them were on that asshole’s side, it’s just, I dunno. I guess I can’t judge you too harshly because I ran away from a good thing too. If anything, I don’t even have an adequate reason for it. I just needed to be alone for a while. I still talk to my parents every couple of weeks, but I told myself I’d go back when I had figured things out. Unfortunately, that day never came.”

Perhaps misery did love company. In Evie’s eyes, I saw a woman who was seeking her redemption as well. She went to school for journalism and was top of her class. Working as a cocktail waitress during the graveyard shift at a mid-tier casino wasn’t exactly the storybook ending she was probably hoping for.

As I saw her head plunk down next to her coffee mug, I picked up my chair, moved it next to her, and put my arm around her shoulders. I was tempted to pry more, but experience had taught me now was not the time. I opted to cook dinner and let Evie sleep in. I made some salmon and asparagus, which wasn’t as good as her Thai crab fried rice, but her plate was empty so perhaps it was half decent, or she was deferential.

During dinner, Evie asked me my zodiac sign. I didn’t picture her as the astrology type, but I guess we all needed something to believe in and lean on from time to time.

“Scorpio, huh? Makes sense,” she said, deeply engrossed in thought.

I raised one eyebrow. “It does, does it?”

“Yes, it does,” she said smiling.

“And how about yourself, when’s your birthday?”

“Same as our nation’s.”

“July 4th?”

“Yup.”

“And that would make you a…?”

“A Cancer.”

“Which means…?”

“That we match.”

The table was quiet. Evie began to look a little bashful.

“You think it’s silly, don’t you Sam? I mean, I’m not saying that I fully believe in it, just was curious,” she said, looking down at her shoes.

I gently rubbed her shoulder. 

“If you had told me that a year ago? Yes, I probably would have even been a jerk about it and openly mocked it. But since then, I’ve seen a lot of things that make me wonder about a lot of things in life, so no Evie, I don’t think it’s silly at all. And if you believe in it, I’m glad Scorpios and Cancers work out well because I think we are a good match too.”

“You swear you’re not just saying that?” she asked, with a skeptical look on her face.

“I promise, but truthfully, if I was just trying to be polite, I would have said something similar.”

She smiled. “Good enough for me. I don’t mind if we disagree, just try to be as honest as you can be, that’s all I ask.”

After that, we both got ready and Evie taught me about snails. Apparently, they can hibernate for up to three years if necessary. Evie knew so many random facts that she could get a job making the underside of Snapple caps. Moments later we were debating political topics. We disagreed on a few issues but eventually agreed to disagree. So this is what a healthy relationship was like. You discuss things and find a middle ground. No thrown dishes for a minor disagreement, and no refusing to talk to me for a few weeks because I didn’t give the right answer.

As I drove us back to the casino, Led Zeppelin came on the radio. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. The same song was playing when I left New York. 

“What’s wrong Sam?”

It looks like Evie was just as perceptive as Amelia was. I hesitated.

“Remember, as honest as we can be,” she reminded me.

I sighed. “What if they come back? What happens then?”

“I don’t know Sam, what does happen?”

“How would I know?” I said, slightly annoyed at her for giving a vague answer to my vague question. Hypocrisy at its finest.

“You say it like you have no control over your actions. You choose what you want to do. You can keep running, you can stay, you can call the cops. You can do whatever you want. What do you want Sam?”

“I just want it to stop, so I can be happy like everyone else,” I said, taking a quick second off the road to look her in the eyes.

“Are you happy now?” Evie asked. Her voice was slightly elevated as if she was worried about what my answer might be.

“Of course Evie! This is nice… you and I. But I do miss my family too. Heck, I even miss New York.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and gripped one of my hands that was on the steering wheel.

“So stand up to them. Stop running. If you never stand up for yourself, you’ll always be frightened and be miserable. Is that what you want? You know what, don’t answer that. Of course, it isn’t what you want. Sam, I love you but stop making it seem like things are always out of your control. Sometimes the actions we take can lead to some negative ramifications, but the choice is ours.”

I pounded the steering wheel. “So what do you want me to do? Go up to their headquarters, knock on the door and tell them to cut it out or I’m going to thrash them up and down the Lower East Side?”

She laughed. “Maybe not something that direct, but finesse the situation a bit. Sam, stop selling yourself short. I know it seems bad, but you’re a bright guy. I know you don’t have the answers right now, but maybe they will come to you over time. I believe in you. Now I think you should believe in yourself.”

I was feeling defensive. “Well, what about you? I mean it’s not like you ever really faced your issues too. Last time I checked you were on hiatus from life too. I mean some guy breaks your heart and you’re just going to check out of life? You graduated at the top of your class and are a gifted writer… there is no way you can tell me cocktail waitressing for sleazy tips in the twilight is where you wanted to end up at 33.”

As soon as it left my mouth, I realized I had messed up. I apologized and told her she was right and I was just scared and feeling defensive. Before we could even get to the casino, we had already made up. As I said, a healthy relationship was going to take some time to get used to.

As we exited the car, she gave me a kiss and told me we’d talk about it over breakfast. And that we did. It was nice being vulnerable around someone without worrying that they would leave over the smallest sign of trouble.

When 4 AM rolled around, we headed back and I cracked the eggs, threw the turkey bacon on a pan, and took the blender out for a spin. This time around, we dissect everything in Evie’s life.

“I’m not exactly sure where to start, I mean you pretty much know everything about me already,” she said while slowly nipping at the end of her spoon.

“Well, tell me why you stopped writing. It sounded like you did that all the way up until you moved to San Diego.”

“Yeah, well, I always liked writing. When I was back in NYC I worked the relationship column for a small online magazine and mostly did freelance: essays, short stories, even some ghostwriting work for novels. I never brought in any real money, but it was fun, and I liked to think I was half-decent at it. I was only in my twenties but I was already making some waves. I even got a couple of op-ed pieces in the New York Times.”

“That’s amazing! I have a cousin who has been writing to the New York Times for years and has never gotten anything published. He’s not a bad writer, but more into mystery novels. He’s still waiting for his big break.”

“Ah, well good luck to him. It’s a tough industry to break into,” she said empathetically.

“So? What happened that made you stop?”

“Well, when I got to San Diego, I planned to keep writing, but Mark and I were arguing a lot. This was the first time we were actually living together and it wasn’t a smooth transition. I was putting all my energy into fixing things with Mark that afterward I honestly didn’t have the time or strength for anything else. Then a few months later, I found out he was cheating on me. I felt like a phony because here I was, giving other people advice on relationships and mine was falling apart before my very eyes. By the end, all my self-worth was determined through Mark. Even after I confronted him, I wasn’t ready to end it. It was so embarrassing. We had the wedding invitations already sent out and everything, so I had to contact everyone to tell them that the wedding was off. That was the one nice thing Mark did. He ended our relationship when I wouldn’t. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I went through with it.”

“And after that? Just no passion to write anymore?” I said, with hyperfocus.

“I tried here and there, but whatever I submitted wasn’t accepted. Something was off… I just didn’t have the panache anymore. It was always a big fear of mine, of many writers… that one day you would wake up and just not be able to do it anymore. And that appeared to be the case. I don’t know if it was because of the whole Mark issue and I just didn’t believe in love after that, but I never got back into it.”

“Do you still not believe in love?” I asked, slightly hurt by her phrasing.

Evie quickly caressed my arm, looked me lovingly in the eyes, and said, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I very much do, but didn’t you feel the same way after Amelia? Like you had to relearn what love really was?”

I did. In fact, intimacy, in general, wasn’t the same after Amelia. The withdrawal from Amelia took a toll on me. While none of it was real affection, it was the most exciting rollercoaster I had ever been on. While I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Evie, it was different, it was calm. Over time I had learned to enjoy it more than the time I spent with Amelia, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say from time to time I missed that adrenaline rush. 

After reminiscing for a moment more, I answered her question.

“Yeah, you could say that. So do you think you’ll ever get back to writing? I mean, without sounding like a dick, I guess I just want to know what drives you these days?”

She sighed.

“Sam, I’m not sure. In the beginning, I was depressed, but now I feel something different. I mean I have no trouble getting up in the morning and I generally enjoy my days, but something distinctly feels off. Even with you, I’m happy, I enjoy your company a lot, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t often feel like I was in some sort of haze, as if I was in some sort of dream I couldn’t wake up from. Have you ever felt like something was just off but didn’t know what?

“The multiverse”, I said, as if on autopilot.

She looked at me with a puzzled look. “The multi what?”

“The multiverse. In quantum theory, they have this concept called the multiverse, and basically, it is a hypothetical set of possibilities, different universes that include our own. Supposedly, every action we take forms a path, and at the same time, every action we don’t take would form a different path or alternative universe.”

“In English, Sam?”

“Maybe this isn’t your right universe to be in. Somewhere along the way you made a decision or two and created a world that wasn’t meant for ya.”

She took my words seriously. “So what do I do now?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno… ultimately you have to get back to your right world. I guess you’d have to somehow reverse it.”

When we got to the casino parking lot we sat in silence. Both of us just looked up at the stars, wondering what random series of events had to happen to get us to be right here, right now. Eventually, we headed into the casino.

Several hours later, when our shift was over, Evie asked if I could drop her off after breakfast. I asked her if something was wrong, and she smiled. “Just have to wash some laundry. Are we still on for dinner?”

Like I said, this was going to take some getting used to.

The next two months we spent just having fun. Evie couldn’t afford to take days off, so most of our rendezvous occurred between 4 AM and 12 PM. Neither of us was really into the nightlife, so many of our dates revolved around eating guilty pleasure foods (neither of us could stomach any more turkey bacon or green smoothies). We made it a goal to eat at every single breakfast buffet on the strip. We even started dressing up a bit. After careful consideration, we decided that the Wicked Spoon at The Cosmopolitan was the best.

I never really thought about much in Evie’s presence. I guess you tend to not overthink when you’re happy, but on an occasional day that she went home to do some laundry or get a little personal time, I thought about the series of events that brought me here. My birthday was coming up next month, which made me feel a little extra reflective. I was happy to be here, with Evie, but I couldn’t help think that both Evie and I could be in different places. This was a safe bubble that we were residing in. While enjoyable, I worried it wouldn’t be sustainable. Both of us would eventually need more. Perhaps not from one another, but from ourselves. Yes, it was time to grow.

The next time Evie slept over, she awoke to spicy scallop hand rolls (from her favorite restaurant) and a flat red envelope.

“Oh, my! I see you rolled out the red carpet for me tonight! My favorite dish and I wonder what is inside this… could it be concert tickets to Beach House? Haha, who told you they were my favorite band?”

“You got the ticket part right, but guess again.”

I was sweating from being nervous and Evie noticed. Her excited look faded to one of skepticism as she slowly opened the envelope with shaky hands.

As she read the printed paper, she sat down without saying a word. The silence was too much, so I interjected.

“I’m tired of running Evie. The last few months have been perfect, but I can’t stop thinking about the conversation we had about the multiverse and things being slightly off. I want a life with you, but we both have unfinished business and at some point, it’s going to hold us back, I know it. I’m not forcing you to come with me, just bought you that ticket to show you that…”

She placed her legs up on the chair and leaned in a bit. She did that when she was anxious to hear what I had to say.

“To show you that I love you, I’m going to solve my problems so I can move on with my life and I was hoping you’d come with me. As you said, it’s been ages since you saw your family and we both talk about The City all the time. I’ve been saving up for a while. I have enough for about a year’s worth of rent. You’re welcome to stay with me for free the entire time. In fact, your company would be much appreciated.”

The room was quiet. Evie didn’t look mad, but I could tell I had just dropped a lot on her very fast. After a couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

“So is this it for you Sam? Like are you leaving Vegas for good?”

“I don’t know Evie. All I know is I’m tired of running.”

“And what if I don’t go? Is it over between us?”

“I hope not.”

She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

“No, it’s not Evie, but I can’t force you to be in a long-distance relationship with me either while I go play detective on the east coast. I just want to wrap this stuff up and move on with my life. I want normalcy. I want to tell Michael what’s going on. Hell, I just want a hug from Lana. No more secrets, no more running.

“I need some time to think about this Sam, I hope you don’t mind.”

She was staring at me and not the floor. I was hoping that this was a good sign.

“Sure, take all the time you need,” I said pensively.

There was no tension between us, but dinner was quiet… so was the car ride over to the casino. As soon as I cut the engine of the Camaro, Evie grabbed my wrist as I tried to take off my seatbelt. The next five minutes were entirely silent. I stared at the stars. I enjoyed doing that from time to time. It reminded me of how small and inconsequential everything we do really is in the grand scheme of life. It was amazing how we made things out to be a matter of life and death when the truth was that the sum of our actions was but a blip on the radar. It’s a strange paradise, indeed. 

“Yes.”

I snapped out of it. “Yes to what Evie?”

“Yes, I’ll go Sam. Under two conditions.”

“Go on.”

“I get to document everything. I want to write about you and this whole situation you’ve gotten yourself into because, honestly, you can’t make this shit up. I know exactly what they mean now when they say real life can be stranger than fiction. Not saying I enjoy seeing you suffer in any way, but this would make a lovely mystery novel. I can publish it under a pen name and change enough details so no one ever knows, but I’m inspired to write about the human condition again.”

“Done. And the second criteria?”

“I get to meet Lana when you explain things to Michael. I’ve heard so much about her, seen her photos, but it doesn’t do it justice. If you can meet those two demands, then I’ll go. Otherwise, I’m sorry, I’ll have to find someone else to make me turkey bacon and drive me to work.”

She was grinning so I breathed a sigh of relief.

“You drive a hard bargain, but yeah, you can meet Lana too. Also, do you really think my life is interesting?”

“Oh, 100%. I mean this shit is fucking weird Sam. I mean I’d have to jazz it up a little bit, embellish some parts, but I think it could work… maybe throw in an obscure title of some sort? Something that is explained in the text, but still vague enough that most wouldn’t be able to connect the dots without being told where to look.”

I was laughing so hard. As I looked into her soft eyes, I didn’t know how my life was going to unfold, but I could tell you this: I didn’t care. It was all worth it to be here, at this very moment. Whatever happened next, I would be fine. She would be too.

“Oh yeah? And what would you call this story… the story of my woe and weirdness?” I said, half-jokingly, half-serious.

“Who knows, we can figure that out later, besides, we don’t even know how it’s going to end. All I know is that I won’t write a cliffhanger ending. Those are so frustrating. Everything will be wrapped up neatly in one book.”

“And what if we can’t tell my tale in one book?!” I gasped in a joking manner.

“Sam, nobody’s life is that important that they need two books to tell it.”

As we chuckled, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I silenced it… I just wanted to enjoy this moment uninterrupted. Two seconds later, Evie’s phone rang. I looked at my Timex. It was ten past eight, we were late for work.

“Ah shit, it’s probably Mike. His number doesn’t always show up when he calls from the casino. Hello, is this Mike? I’m just heading into the building now and-”

As I unclicked my seatbelt and grabbed the car door Evie grabbed my wrist again. With fretful eyes, she handed me the phone.

“Hello?”