She wore a Brooklyn sweatshirt with leggings and sneakers. Her hair was in a messy bun with little stray pieces of auburn falling out the sides. It was the effortless look that so many other women strive for but don’t quite pull off. It took her 2 tries and 7 minutes of adjusting those loose strands before she got it right.

Tiffany always pulled it off too.

Evie looked in the mirror making faces and practicing poses. She really should add some type of blinds to her house, those big floor-to-ceiling open windows give her home the modern look but make her so vulnerable to predators and stupid teenagers trying to sneak a peak of her getting out of the shower.

I saw her in the little coffee stand at the entrance of Fondren. Oh, she had me whipped from the start. She warmed me from the center of my chest down to the tips of my toes. Her smile was infectious and genuine, I could tell.

It’s the way Tiffany always smiled, even when she wasn’t happy.

I handed that Cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, but not before peeking at Bailey’s awful scribbling and engraving her name to memory, Evie. That was 17 weeks ago though, and she hasn’t come back since.

I waited for her to come for another cup, but she never did.

Didn’t she feel the same spark I did? Not even a little? Why go through the trouble of thanking me so evidently that morning before class then? Why let me get a glimpse of her, only to lead me on but leave me in the dust? I can be what she needs! I know I can. She has no idea what

I could do for her, how I can be there for her, protect her. She needs that of me, and I can give it to her!

But no. No, no, no, no, I understand that she’s busy. If I wanted to see her, I had to be the one to make time for her. For the last 17 weeks I have been gathering every piece of information I can get on her and her routine. All with the power of the internet. Her Instagram bio gave me her full name, star sign -Aries, graduation year, and major. Her TikTok gave a peak at her bedroom with the beautiful king canopy bed. Black furniture with white and sage accents all over. Your LinkedIn gave me a peek at her professional and educational background, all of which I have to say are extremely impressive! I mean not many people get to intern in Germany, Scotland, and Buenos Aires before even graduating undergrad. Honestly, she made it all too easy to find out about her.

Though really, if she didn’t want me to be able to get to know her why would she make it so easy? Evie, this is how I know I must look out for you. Protect her from predators. And I will, ... I won’t let what happened to Tiffany happen to Evie.

Red locks appear in my consciousness, and the sound of a beautiful boisterous laugh echoes in my head. I shake my head to erase the memory.

That’s why I just started to get to know her from afar, like tonight at the lake. The trail surrounds the entire shore, and the trees arch over the pavement creating a tunnel of red, yellow, and green as the leaves change color for the fall. The entire path is about 17.1 miles long, but she only covers about 5 in the hour it takes her to feel accomplished in her workout. Today she went left rather than right. It’s only been about an hour and a half since I saw her and I’m walking back to my car. We made eye contact, but I don’t think she recognized or noticed me. She likes to look

through these missed connections pages when she’s bored and needs a laugh. I don’t think she’ll actually see this one or pay any mi-

“Hey, sorry to bother you! I’m Evie. I’ve seen you walk the trail a couple of times and thought maybe I would come to say something... hope you don’t think that’s

super creepy!”
My heart races.

“Hey there, I’ve seen you a few times too. A little stalkerish but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt!”

We laugh together, in perfect unison. Just like Tiff. Already connecting. I extend my hand forward,

“I’m Stephanie, it’s nice to meet you, Evie.”

Those familiar hazel eyes stare into my soul, and that beautiful smile appears across her perfect complexion,

“Oh my god, I love your shirt... Purple is actually my favorite color.”

Her voice is a lot deeper than I remember it; that day at the coffee stand she sounded so chipper when she thanked me and walked away.

Tiffany’s voice never really changed. It was always the same tone throughout, even when she was happy or excited. She just seemed to get louder, but her tone was consistent.

“Steph?”
Shit, what did she just say?

“I promise I’m not lording you back to my house to kill you. It’s just a cup of coffee.” She leans back a little pointing in the direction of her modern mansion with the floor-to-ceiling windows I know so well. Her house, I get to go inside? She wants me back at her place.

“All right, but any funny business and I’m out.” I raise my arms in surrender, signifying she wouldn’t leave me any other choice. She laughs a little and bops her head towards her front door. I let her take the lead and guide me up the yard. She turns the knob swiftly and the door opens.

Evie. Didn’t she lock the door? What if someone wanted to steal her from me? What if someone tried to go inside and hurt her while I wasn’t watching?

“Oh, my parents have a great security system. I can watch and lock the whole house from an app on my phone.”

Did I say that out loud? Get a grip, Stephanie.

She continues, “You don’t have to worry about me though, I know when to pay attention.” she gives me a little wink at the end of her sentence with a self-assuring smile.

Tiffany’s hazel eyes pop into view, as she attempts to wink at me from across the dining room table. I hold onto that image for a moment, almost having forgotten how warm honey hazel her eyes were. She had mom’s eyes.

We walk through the long corridor leading into an open kitchen and living room. A beautiful modern staircase leads to the upstairs second floor. The kitchen is very simplistic with white marble countertops and black mahogany cabinets. Gold handles glisten brightly with a hidden fridge and pantry blending in. Evie opens the cabinets above her black porcelain sink,

pulling out two black ceramic mugs shining bright. She turns on the gold faucet of her sink and rinses out the two cups, “I don’t usually have guests and I’m by myself most of the time, so I tend to just use the same mug.” The black mug, chipped over the rim. She walked out of the kitchen with it this morning and headed upstairs but I lost view of her from where I watch over her outside.

She presses some buttons on the fancy cappuccino machine to the left of the sink; it’s the only item visible on the countertops. Everything else is swiftly put away in its cabinet, out of sight. She places one of the cups under the pegs of the machine, then pulls out the filter and refills it with the coffee she took out from the drawer underneath the counter. I lean on my forearms against the corner top of the island, scanning the room as she prepares our mugs. The room is smaller than I imagined. Although everything seems out in the open, visible from any spot in the space, there is nothing to decorate her home, no pictures, trophies, books, or TVs. Everything seems brand new as if it has never been touched. There are small imperfections as proof of life, but you really have to search. There is a minimal indent on a corner of the couch, cushioned to a single person’s build. She must spend a lot of time there because the spot on the couch hasn’t seemed to regain its natural figure. Her imprint remains, and I wonder how long ago she was sitting there for it to be so evident even now.

I look over at the immense floor-to-ceiling windows I’ve grown to know so well. From the kitchen, the open view of the lake is beautiful. I search for the bench I stand near when I’m outside watching over Evie and make sure it’s not visible from inside. The view cuts off near the shore of the lake, so you’d have to stand in front of the window to really see anyone walking on the path, perfect.

The cappuccino machine rustles a little as steam and coffee pours out of the spout and into the mugs. She opens the fridge that looks like a simple cabinet door and pulls out a carton of milk, tops off the mugs, handing me mine with a smile, and sits next to me on one of the island’s stools.

“So, do you live alone?” I ask, knowing the answer but wanting the few details I couldn’t dig up online.

“Basically, yes. Officially, no,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “I technically live with my parents; this is their house.” She looks around the empty house that is not a home. “They travel a lot for work, so they’re never around much.”

Images of Tiffany and I alone in the living room while mom slept off whatever she had had the night before whirl by. I understand Evie, no one watched over us when we were kids either. “That seems lonely,” I tilt my head to meet her eyes. She searches a little, for comfort or understanding, I don’t know. I want to place a hand over hers in support but before I can she takes a deep breath in and stands, walking over to her spot on the couch as I follow behind her. “Yeah well, they pay the bills and keep the lights on,” I settle next to her on the couch, leaving a bit of room between us, “and I don’t have to pay rent so, it's okay.”

“What do they do?” I ask, taking a long sip of my mug. I taste the espresso.

“They manufacture artificial intelligence systems for different companies around the world. My dad creates the systems and travels to fix any kinks they might have upon installation, while my mom travels to sell them and figure out what exactly certain companies look for.”

“A dream team, then?”

She laughs a little at that, setting down her mug on the coffee table in front of her. I take another swig of mine.

“Not exactly. My parents haven’t spent a night together since I was 7.” I choke a little, then remember how to swallow.

“You’re kidding.”

I only ever really had Tiffany. Mom was never around or even awake to really watch us, and Dad had gone out for beer when I was 3. Don’t know why he needed any, there was always beer in the house. In the fridge, on the counter, the living room floor. Anyway, it was always just Tiff and me. But that was all I needed anyway.

“Nope. They always have something to do for the company. But honestly, I think they each just try and make an excuse for not being home; for not being near each other in the same house, in the same room, in the same bed. Never mind that they have a daughter and a son together; why would that make any difference?”

I ponder a little, “You have a brother?” Never in the seventeen weeks I’ve been with her have I noticed anyone besides her, her mom, or her dad in the house.

“Yeah, Ethan. He’s, my twin. We got good at not letting people know we were watching, listening, paying attention, and taking note of everything. Especially Mom and Dad; all those years of leaving my brother and me to fend for ourselves made us independent and resourceful. Who was going to watch out for us if not ourselves.”

Evie, have you been hiding him from me? I would have noticed a male version of you.

Tiffany would have never left me to fend for myself like that. She always made sure I was taken care of. Does he do that for her? Whatever, that doesn’t matter now. I’m here.

“He’s not around much,” she continues, “he’s studying abroad for a while. But we talk on the phone often.” The space between us has closed a little and I rest my elbow on the back of the couch to lean on my hand. As she leans forward to get her mug, I notice the bench I know all too well in a clear shots view. A thin screen covers part of the window so that the inside is not visible from the outside, but the view from here is clear as mud.

“You probably didn’t know that since you can’t hear me talking on the phone from outside.” She takes a deep sip of her cup, then settles in the same position that I’m in. My body tenses and my blood runs cold. “He always played the role of big brother even though I was worn a whole eight minutes before him. Always looking out for me, shutting doors, and distracting me when our parents happened to be in the same house long enough to fight. Or even when it was just one of them home, but they yelled at me when I walked into their office to ‘interrupt’ whatever they were supposedly working on.”

She takes another sip.

Tiffany cooks eggs over the stove as I sit on the countertop singing to her as she works. There’s a knock on the front door, and Tiffany looks over the window above the kitchen sink to get a glimpse of who it could be,

“I just met you today, Evie.”

Her expression doesn’t change, and her tone stay consistent, “I just introduced myself today.” Sip. “You met me that day on campus when I ordered coffee at your stand.” Sip. Sip.

I swallow. Not finding the words.

She continues, “I told you; I take note of everything. But so do you, Stephanie Elizabeth Henderson.” Sip.

Tiffany’s voice echoes in my head, “Stephanie Elizabeth Rhodes!” I stay hidden under my bed, determined to win our game of Hide and Seek. “I’m coming to get you!”

“Who the hell are you?” I say, a little more on edge.

She ignores me, “In fact, you’re the only one who has ever paid attention to me. I’ve watched you watch me from the day I stopped by for coffee.”

I sit up straighter on the couch, analyzing the situation in front of me. She’s crazy, right? I love her but she’s crazy.

“The intensity behind your eyes when you first saw me. There was something about it; you wanted to know more. And I guess so did I because I’ve been watching you ever since.” She leans on the couch cushions: Relaxed and unphased. “You made things a lot easier when you started coming to me though. I tell you, that 40-minute walk back to your house on Ellsworth was a bitch; I even started walking in the mornings to get into shape.”

Tiffany walks away from the stove to the front door; I hear her open it and argue with our mom about going missing for two days, but I don’t pay attention. Tiffany always told me to ignore it and think of something else. In that moment my tummy rumbles and the smell of eggs burning overpowers my senses.

I stand from Evie’s couch and walk swiftly to the front door. I need air. I feel her follow me, so I quicken my pace - she doesn’t. I reach the front door and pull. Nothing. I start tugging at

the knob willing it to open, but it doesn’t. It feels like it’s bolted shut. I feel Evie behind me, I feel her everywhere she goes. The smell of burning eggs reigns in the air, but no one is cooking.

I close my eyes and I’m back in my kitchen, sitting on the counter, eight years old and starving. They were the only two eggs left from the groceries this month, and I didn’t want them to go to waste. I leaned over a little to pull them away from the hot stove, but I heard a slap and a scream. Tiffany cried out as mom kicked her. I shut my eyes but lost my balance trying to sit up from leaning over the stove. I fell forward and the small open flame of our gas stove burned right through my princess Aurora jammies. I feel like I’m on fire. I screamed in pain and fell over the counter, the smell of burning eggs seething through my nostrils. Tiffany came crawling in, a hand over her stomach and blood running down her cheek. Mom slammed the door of her room.

I turn, looking at her, “Dammit Evie, let me out.”

My heart beats in my chest as I feel a single drop of sweat fall down my neck. I close my eyes again and feel Tiffany holding my hand as I lay on a hospital bed. She has stitches on her cheek and a lady who I’ve never met sits in the corner of the room. She wears a skirt-suit and is holding a folder in her hands. I squeeze Tiffany’s hand and she raises her head from the edge of the bed.

“Hey Stephy! How do you feel baby?” her tears fall slowly as she smiles at me.

Tiffany always called me baby, the way a mom would. Mom treated us like a burden and referred to us as “wastes of space” or “mouths to feed”, even though she never actually fed us.

“Who is that, Tiff?” I say, ignoring the seething pain in my stomach. I don’t feel hungry anymore. “How does your burn feel baby? I told you to never go near the stove, I didn’t want you to get hurt Steph.” She strokes my hair, ignoring my question.

“Tiffany, I’m sorry but we have to get going.” The lady in the suit says.

“Where are we going?” I ask Tiffany, “Where’s mom?”

Tiffany closes her eyes and continues to stroke my hair, “Mom is umm, getting the help she needs. Mrs. Sanders is going to take me to a group home and well, you’re going to be taken to a foster home with a really nice couple who has a big yard, and a dog, and you’re going to go to school every day and make friends.” Her tears pace quicken, and she bites her bottom lip.

My grip on her tightens, “I don’t want to go, I want to stay with you! You take care of me, you’re the only friend I want! You’re my sister Tiffany!”

“Stephy, I can’t take care of you anymore. I’m only fourteen, I can’t watch over you by myself I need help too.”

“Then I can take care of you! I promise I can watch over you now! We’ll switch, you don’t have to go away! I’ll take care of you! Please I promise I can do it!”

She leans over and buries my face in her neck as I sob. She cries with me for what feels like forever. “I promise I’ll look after you from afar baby. You don’t have to worry about me.” She whispers. She holds me tight, and I don’t remember ever even falling asleep, but when I woke up Tiffany was gone. She was alone.

Evie leans against the wall of the long corridor, crossing her arms and lifting one foot for support, “Oh come on Stephanie Henderson, it’s okay for you to keep tabs on me but I can’t do the same? Isn’t this what we both wanted? To be seen by the person we love?”

She walks toward me, I take a step back, but my back meets the door. She’s mere centimeters from my face, and I feel her breath on my skin, her hair smells of lavender.

I moved in with the Henderson’s a few days after being released from the hospital. It took a while, but I settled in with them and took a liking to my new life. Tiffany would send me letters and I would reply, but as time went on, the letter became less frequent and eventually they stopped entirely. She never stopped calling me baby. And I realized that maybe she called me baby because she wanted to be called that too. She wanted to be cared for too.

I didn’t notice right away how much less she had been writing until the Henderson’s told me she had died in the group home she was in. No one wanted to tell me how, but I attended the funeral days later.

Standing over her tombstone, I remembered the promise I had made. She would always be watching over me from wherever she was... but I had failed to watch over her like I had promised. Tears swelled in my eyes as I focus on the smell of lavender overpowering the smell of burning eggs.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” I ask again. Not knowing the answer.
“Oh Steph,” she says, placing her forehead on mine and cupping my cheeks with her hands,

“Baby, you know my name.”
Tiffany’s hazel eyes pop into view, she winks at me from across the dining room table.

Those warm honey hazel eyes; She had mom’s eyes.

“I just want to be seen by you. You see me, watch over me like no one has before. Why does it have to be from afar?” She slides a hand up my neck and moves a strand of hair away from my face.

I had failed Tiffany just like our mother had failed us. I didn’t watch over her when she needed me most.

My breathing intensifies and I feel like I’m on fire.
Tiffany is dead, but she still watches over me. Can she see me now?

I feel you everywhere I go Tiff.

I cup Evie’s neck and we lock eyes; but those honey hazel eyes somehow seem cold.

“C’mon Steph, you know you love me too. Why else would you watch me like I’ve been watching you?”

Tiffany’s eyes were always warm.

I inhale.

Burning eggs.

“Because you remind me of someone I loved.” I missed Tiffany. Who we were, her and I, together against Mom, against questioning teachers and worried neighbors, against Child Protective Services. But, at the end of the day, that is who we were most of all – children. I lean in closer to Evie’s lips, she closes her eyes and tilts her head up a little in my hands. I miss my sister. I feel Evie relax into my grip and I look at her face, her auburn hair, taking in every last detail as I picture my sister’s eyes, my sister’s smile, my sister’s voice. I missed our connection. I stare at Evie and let my tears fall as I whisper against her lips, “but you’ll never be Tiffany.”