Two Line Intersection
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own the show and I'm making absolutely no money from this. Trust me.
A/N: So, I haven't seen Everwood in weeks and all I have of Season 3 are recaps that are spoiling me utterly and yet…this appeared. A bit of a
different style for me but hopefully it works. Oh, and if you're waiting for an update of any of my other works well; oopsie?
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Bright left on a Tuesday afternoon.
It wasn't really any different than any other Tuesday afternoon except that there was now a Bright-shaped hole in everyone's lives.
But Bright figured this hole was probably more of a pinprick now, rather than a tangible gap.
When Bright left he wondered what other people would think. He thought that his mother might cry. And that his father would yell. And that Amy would say that Bright needed to do what Bright needed to do because she would want to seem concerned and caring but also wouldn't want the attention off her for more than five minutes.
Or maybe they wouldn't notice that Bright had gone at all.
Maybe all that would happen is that one less dinner plate would be set at the table, though his mother's hands wouldn't catch when they went for a fourth plate like they had when Amy wasn't there.
Or maybe all that would happen is that Mikey would have to find a new waiter, who would probably be just as good at the job as Bright.
Or maybe all that would happen is that his father would yell at someone else, except his father does already yell at everyone else and so Bright can't work out what his use in Everwood was anyway.
When Bright left he wondered what Ephram would think. And then he realised that Ephram probably wouldn't think much about it at all. Or at least he wouldn't care much about it all. And that thought hurt so much that Bright had to stop thinking about it and concentrated on everything else he was leaving behind.
And those thoughts didn't hurt at all.
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When Amy told Ephram that Bright had left he stared at her for a full minute before he was able to speak.
"What?" Ephram realised that his voice was unreasonably high but it didn't seem to want to go any lower.
Amy stared right on back at him. "Bright left."
"What?" Ephram repeated, his eyes wide.
Amy laughed. "I know. He just took off. Didn't leave a note or anything. Rang Mom from a gas station for, like, a minute." She shrugged. "Even left his cell phone."
"I can't believe he left without saying anything to me."
Amy smiled sympathetically. "Well, it's not like you guys were that great friends anymore."
Ephram just stayed silent.
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Bright spent a lot of time trying to work out how he had ended up where he was.
This time was generally spent in musty hotel rooms, staring up at ceilings with rapidly growing damp patches, lying on sheets that stank so strongly of nicotine that Bright was beginning to crave a cigarette.
The scary thing about it all was that Bright could pinpoint the exact moment when his entire life began to lead him down a path to cheap motel rooms. It wasn't like those tacky books where the person always says they had no idea how they ended up where they were.
Bright knew.
It was a warm evening underlined by a bottle of rum and full stopped by shattering glass.
And then there was Ephram.
Bright can't decide if Ephram was the one thing that finally pushed him away or the one thing that nearly made him stay.
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"You've barely touched your food." Andy tried a smile. "Don't worry. Nina cooked."
Ephram continued to spin his fork around, embedding it in his mashed potato.
"Bright left."
The smile fell from Andy's face and he sighed. "I heard." He glanced at Delia, who was now, too, sulkily playing with her food. "But it's not like you two were that great friends anymore."
"I know." Ephram sighed at the repetitive phrase. He looked confused. "I just miss him."
"Me, too." Delia declared, defiantly.
Andy spared her a smile. "He's barely been gone three days."
Ephram shrugged. "Well, I miss him."
Andy stared at his son and began to play his food. "Well, I guess it's true what they say: You don't know what you have till it's gone."
Ephram just stayed silent.
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Bright tends to drive a lot now.
He never really appreciated the art of driving before. He just liked the idea of getting from point A to point B and any romance that might have been imagined behind the wheel of a car was lost when he watched one spin out of control under his fingertips.
But Bright finds he likes it now.
He likes the hum of the engine, punctuated by aimless chatter from the radio. He likes the feel of the wheel beneath his hands, reminding him that he can still do something. Even if it's something as everyday as drive a car.
So Bright keeps driving.
And sometimes he packs the car up and drives somewhere new and sometimes he just drives and tries not to read the signs.
He finds they all seem to say Everwood. And that they all seem to be in the direction he is heading as though this last ditch attempt at a life will end where it started and Bright will be left with the life that he was headed towards from the moment that Amy was born.
Sweet, perfect little Amy, who could walk and talk so much earlier than Bright and was always so much more well-mannered and always so much more his parent's favourite.
Bright finds himself thinking about her as he drives and sometimes he sees her name on the sign and he finds himself making a sharp U-turn because he wants to be nowhere near her.He's not sure when he started to resent his sister so much.
Maybe it was the day that she was born and stole his place in his parent's hearts.
Maybe it was the day that she breathlessly declared she and Colin were dating.
Or maybe it was the day that she stole the seat on a plane that Bright desperately wished he'd had the courage to board.
Or maybe it was everything all together and his sister was just a really annoying person.
Sometimes the sign says 'Ephram' and Bright finds himself feeling as though the wheel is out of control again and he's not sure which way he wants to turn.
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Delia had been standing in the doorway of Ephram's room for fifteen minutes before he noticed her.
"That must be a really interesting piece of ceiling." She clambered onto his bed and stretched out next to him.
"What?" Ephram didn't bother looking over at her.
"You've just been staring at the ceiling for, like, forever."
Ephram shrugged as well as he could whilst lying on a bed. "So?"
"You miss Bright," Delia informed him in a knowing voice.
"Yeah," Ephram twisted a little to look at her. She was staring at the ceiling where he had been. "So?"
"You didn't miss him this much when he was here."
"That doesn't make sense," Ephram said, irritably, staring at the ceiling again.
"Yeah, it does. Because you two weren't that great friends anymore."
"I really wish people would stop saying that."
Delia shrugged. "It's true though." She started to play with the hem of her sweater. "You know, I think you miss him more than you would miss Amy."
Ephram just stayed silent.
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Sometimes Bright picks up the phone in whichever cheap motel room he's staying in and lets his fingers dial a number.
He only ever lets it ring three times because he doesn't really want to talk to anyone and if he makes the call he can tell himself he tried to talk and no-one was answering.
Except sometimes people do answer.When his parents or Amy answer the phone he slams it back into it's cradle before the salutation has even left their mouth. He can imagine the conversation he would have with them down to the last word that would be spoken. And for some reason Bright hates that. He hates that he knows them and himself so well. He's only eighteen and has only known them for eighteen years so surely there still should be something new to find out.
But Bright knows exactly what they would say to him. And he knows they would yell at him for leaving and tell him to come home and he knows that it would never even occur to them that poor, simple Bright might have had a reason for leaving beyond the intention of hurting his parents.Because his parents have never credited him with that sort of self-awareness or intelligence or really much of anything.
When his grandmother answers the phone he hangs up quickly after hearing her deliver a few choice words down the phone.
Bright doesn't think she would listen either because she too seemed to have the Abbott family credo of Golden Child Amy down to the tee.
And, well, he's still kind of scared of her.
When Laynie answers the phone Bright feels a slow burning in his chest that tends to spread to his hand and the phone tends to fall to the bedspread and he can hear little, sweet Laynie Hart deliver a goodbye that he never used to think her capable of.Bright sometimes thinks that maybe he could talk to Laynie. That maybe she would understand the growing resentment that Bright has for his sister. That maybe Laynie would understand the crushing compulsion that drove Bright to throw a backpack and his favourite CDs in the truck and drive right on out of town.
Except that when she answers the phone all Bright can hear is her brother, answering the very same phone so many times so many years ago and he hates it.
And Bright can't talk to Laynie because he can't quite rid himself of the guilt that he carries around like the albatross they discussed in eleventh grade English.
Bright never rings Ephram so when he finds his fingers keying in the number he can't help but wonder how many rings he'll leave it before hangs up.
So when Ephram answers Bright wonders how many words he'll leave it before he hangs up.
And when Ephram asks him where he is Bright's not sure if he says the name of the town out loud or not.
But when Ephram says he's going to come and fetch him Bright drops the phone back into the cradle because he's so goddamn fucking fed up of people saying things they don't mean.
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When Ephram answers the phone he's expecting it to be Amy or one of Delia's friends or a patient of his dad's or possibly his grandparents.
He doesn't expect the heavy, dead silence of the other end of the line.
"Hello?" Ephram tries again. He's about to hang up when something hits him. "Bright?"
There isn't an answer but the other person doesn't hang up and Ephram tightens his grip on the phone. He doesn't want to examine the gut instinct that's telling him it's Bright too closely; he just wants to follow it.
"Where are you?" No answer. "Everyone's worried." No answer, though Ephram's slightly surprised that he doesn't snort in disbelief.
"Bright, please." Ephram can't disguise the note of desperation that's sneaking into his voice and he realises that he's never been this desperate to hear anything Amy had to say. Or even this desperate to see her after weeks apart. "Tell me where you are."
When the answer comes Ephram can tell it's Bright though the voice is so far removed from the confident, boisterous voice that he's always known.
"I'm going to come and get you."
The slamming of the phone is his answer.
"Who's on the phone?" Andy mouths as he walks into the house and sees Ephram standing with the phone to his ear.
Ephram just stays silent.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bright isn't exactly used to getting visitors so when the knock comes on the door he takes his time dragging himself upright to answer it.
He assumes it's someone who has the wrong room but he drags his hand through his hair anyway and tries to smooth out the obscenely wrinkled t-shirt.
When Bright opens the door the last thing he expects to find is Ephram standing there, looking tired and rumpled.
"Ephram, hey."
And Ephram answers him.
END