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Love,
Evelyn
HELLO?” HER VOICE SOUNDED EXACTLY like it used to. Sweet but somehow firm.
“It’s me,” I said.
“Hi.” The way she warmed up in that moment made me hopeful that I might be able to put my life back together, the way it should have always been.
“I did love him,” I said. “Max. But I don’t anymore.”
The line was quiet.
Then she asked, “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’d like to see you.”
“I can’t see you, Evelyn.”
“Yes, you can.”
“What do you want us to do?” she said. “Ruin each other all over again?”
“Do you still love me?” I asked.
She was silent.
“I still love you, Celia. I swear I do.”
“I . . . I don’t think we should talk about this. Not if . . .”
“Not if what?”
“Nothing has changed, Evelyn.”
“Everything has changed.”
“People still can’t know who we really are.”
“Elton John is out of the closet,” I said. “Has been for years.”
“Elton John doesn’t have a child and a career based on audiences believing he’s a straight man.”
“You’re saying we’ll lose our jobs?”
“I can’t believe I have to tell you this,” she said.
“Well, let me tell you something that has changed,” I told her. “I no longer care. I’m ready to give it all up.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m absolutely serious.”
“Evelyn, we haven’t even seen each other in years.”
“I know you were able to forget me,” I said. “I know you were with Joan. I’m sure you were with others.” I waited, hoping she would correct me, hoping she would tell me there had been no one else. But she didn’t. And so I continued. “But can you honestly say that you stopped loving me?”
“Of course not.”
