I.

As much as being in public left Amanda with twitching hands and nervous backwards glances, she had to admit that there was something grounding in the fluorescent lights of the hardware store.

These days, it was one of the only places she visited during daylight hours. John’s condition meant that journeying out of bed was always a dangerous gamble—one that Amanda was not willing to risk for anything other than what was necessary—so she was usually tasked with procuring supplies for Jigsaw’s tests. And they were always in need of more supplies. 

She stood in line with a basket full of lightbulbs, padlocks, and rolls of copper wire. The store was the busiest she’d ever seen it, and there were two people behind her also stuck waiting for the guy currently at the register to collect the change he’d accidentally dropped. 

Finally, after a full minute of scrambling, he moved out of the way and Amanda unloaded her basket. While the employee scanned everything, she thumbed through her wallet for the cash John gave her this morning. If she’d done her mental math correctly then she should have enough leftover to buy a chocolate bar to split with him. John rarely satisfied his sweet tooth these days, even when the chemo made it stronger than ever, much to Amanda’s chagrin. The work was important, but so was his happiness. She just wished he could understand that. 

“Okay, that’ll be $21.82,” the cashier said. Amanda had her hand wrapped around a $20 bill before the words properly registered. 

She shook her head as if trying to dislodge some loose change rattling around in there. “That can’t be right.”

The cashier grinned plastically, “That’s your total, Ma’am.” 

“No, it’s not. Did you scan something twice?” She looked through everything on the conveyor belt and ran the prices again in her head. The number she got was $18.42

“I’m afraid that’s the price.” Now the cashier’s smile turned shrewd. “Will that be a problem?” 

Yes, because I don’t fucking have $1.82. “No, not a problem. Gimme a sec.” Her hands shaking almost too badly to hold her bag, Amanda started digging through the satchel that John gave her looking for any loose coins. These hardware store runs were so expensive that she doubted she ever had money left over, but she wasn’t going to suffer the humiliation of returning to John empty-handed. He was counting on her.

A minute passed and no more money magically appeared. Amanda could feel the judgmental stares of the other customers on her back and that made her hands shake worse. God dammit, god dammit, god fucking dammit…

With a harshly cleared throat, the cashier opened his mouth to speak again, probably to call someone to kick her out of the store and then she’d have to tell John that she fucked up and they had to find a new supplier and he’d be angry because he asked her to do something so simple and she wasn’t even fucking good enough to accomplish that and what if he didn’t even believe her and thought she stole the money to get high? After all the progress she’d made, it wouldn’t matter because she’s always going to be the same burnout screw up who couldn’t even fucking—

“Whoops, sorry, I just realized I forgot to give you this to pay.”

Amanda tore her eyes away from her empty bag to the woman standing behind her who now had a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. She was shorter than Amanda by a few inches, with dark brown hair cut in a bob that flared out flatteringly around her face. She had an eyebrow piercing above her left eye and another stud in her nose. The hand that gripped Amanda’s shoulder was callused, with a wide palm and blunt nails painted in chipped shades of blue. The woman’s other hand was outstretched towards the register, holding a bright orange card that proclaimed “LOYALTY MEMBER” followed by a name.

Amanda blinked, stunned for a moment longer than she should’ve been before she realized it was her turn to speak. “Thanks…Eve,” she said, unsure.

“Well, aren’t you gonna take my card? It gives you a 10% discount, remember?”

Eve’s insistent grin and firm hand suddenly made a lot more sense. Amanda took the offered card like it was a given, but she couldn’t help another nervous glance at the other woman. Eve’s expression didn’t change, she only squeezed Amanda’s shoulder tighter. 

“I’ll be using this too,” she said to the cashier, handing over Eve’s card. The cashier hmphed but didn’t say anything beyond giving her her new total. A total that was blessedly under $20. 

Amanda gathered her bags as quickly as she could after holding up the line for so long, but she found herself hovering around the door instead of starting the walk back. She only had to wait a few moments before Eve came strolling out of the store with her arms stuffed with bags of PVC pipe. 

When Amanda approached her, Eve smiled like she was expecting to see her waiting. “Thanks for the save,” Amanda said. “I was a few seconds away from clocking the cashier and making a break for it.” 

Eve laughed softly at that. She had a nice laugh. “It’s no problem. Why pay for a loyalty card if not so I can help pretty girls in need?” 

Not knowing what else to do, Amanda laughed with her. She could feel her ears burning. “I’m Amanda. You’re Eve?”

“Evie, actually. Eve’s a little too biblical for my taste, but dear old mother didn’t give me much of a say in the matter.” Evie shrugged. “But she’s across the country and I’m getting my Master’s so now I get to be Evie.” 

She knew she should leave, shut up and pretend this conversation never happened. Let Evie stay a kind stranger and nothing more. Attachments were impossible in her line of work, especially if she was going to follow in John’s footsteps. But something about Evie’s lopsided grin and the glint of light off her piercings and the effortless way she’d shown Amanda kindness made her lean in and ask, “What are you studying?” 

When Evie’s grin widened, she knew she’d said the right thing. 

“So…” Evie’s smooth voice dragged as her fingers (painted a neon green this time) tapped out a pattern on their tablecloth. 

Amanda didn’t think she’d ever bothered to go to a restaurant that had actual tablecloths. Evie told her she’d made a reservation. Usually Amanda didn’t have to announce her plans for dinner to anyone but John and whichever other apprentice was working with them at the time (Adam or Hoffman more often than not nowadays). Now there was an entire business that knew she was going on a date at 7 P.M. tonight. It made her itchy.

“How are you?” Evie finally finished her long note. 

Amanda shrugged. The fabric of her leather jacket pulled at her stiff shoulders. It’d been a while since she tried to wear it. “Good. Things have been good.” A few moments of silence followed before Amanda realized her mistake. “Oh, how are you?” 

Evie’s face lit up and it warmed the part of Amanda that she thought she’d killed by now. “I’m fantastic,” she said. “I told you about my degree, right? In Sculpture? Well, part of that is a big graduate showcase at the end of the semester to display some of the pieces we’ve been working on. Kind of a precursor to the thesis shows we’ll all be putting on before we graduate. They’re entirely student-run, but getting on the committee is a pain in the ass because every higher up in fine arts is a misogynist.” Evie rolled her eyes. “I managed to impress one of the professors enough that he vouched for me, though, and I got in!”

Amanda wasn’t fully understanding why that was so good, but Evie’s enthusiasm was apparent regardless. She tried for a smile and the muscles felt strange on her face. It had been so long since she’d had this much face-to-face contact with someone not involved in John’s work. How much of this conversation was going effectively? 

“It’ll give me more experience when it comes time to submit my own work,” Evie went on. “I’ll probably make some good connections for after I graduate.” 

Connections Amanda understood. “That’s great.” More silence, another start as she realized she needed to say something to continue the back-and-forth. “What do you want to do after graduating?”

Minutely, Amanda watched Evie’s smile twitch. It didn’t fall, but it…dipped. And then it fell right back into place. Interesting…

“Now that’s a third date question at best,” she joked. “What about you, though? Are you a student?” 

“Yes.” Amanda answered before she could think about it. Then she realized that she couldn’t exactly say of what, or where she was studying. Or why. Fuck. “I mean, in a sense,” she started. “I’m learning a trade right now. Under my mentor.” 

“What trade?”

“Um—“ Fuck, fuck, fuck. “We fix people—er, things for people.” 

“Like a mechanic?” 

“Sort of,” Amanda agreed, trying to keep the relief out of her voice. “When something’s broken, it’s hard for people to live their best life. We help them get things back on track.”

Evie had faint crow’s feet that crinkled when she smiled. “How noble of you.”

Amanda looked down, “I try.” 

After fixing that major fuck up, the conversation was a lot easier. Evie talked more about her MFA program and being an artist, Amanda listened and asked questions and tried to never have to answer them. The other woman seemed perfectly okay talking about herself, but Amanda didn’t mind. Even without the secrets she was keeping, something about Evie was so captivating. She was so much more interesting than Amanda, so much more sure of herself and put together and capable. Amanda found herself thinking how much better suited to being a person Evie was. God, one date in and she was already this incredible. 

Eventually, as the night got darker and the restaurant emptier, their conversation took a more serious tone. One that Amanda was trying to prepare herself for. 

“It was hard for me when I was younger,” Evie was saying. “I was a little bastard. Even when I did listen, I had a bad habit of fainting at school, and no one wanted to be friends with the weirdo girl who had to take her iron pills at the nurse’s office three times a day.” She shrugged like What are you gonna do? and then unexpectedly grinned. “But when I got to high school, I found the other weirdos no one liked and we just,” Evie clasped her hands together in front of the table, “fit. Suddenly we could all be weirdos together.” 

“That must have been nice,” Amanda said. 

Nodding, Evie continued, “Yeah, mostly. My parents weren’t too happy about me hanging out with all the future dropouts, especially because my brother was doing the same thing. They were cursed with artist types. But I moved out as soon as I hit 18 and haven’t looked back ever since.” 

“I don’t talk to my parents either,” Amanda admitted. “I haven’t considered them family in a long time. At least your brother was in the same boat.”

Evie scoffed. “I thought so too, but when I told him I was moving out, we had a big fight. We were never super close, and that just pushed things over the edge. Sometimes it felt like we were competing to be the biggest disappointment.” She scowled. “And neither of us likes to lose.” 

Amanda didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t have siblings, nor did she understand siblings relationships. Nor did she want to. 

Luckily, Evie changed the subject before the awkwardness could linger. “What about you? You said you don’t consider your parents family; you got anyone in your corner?” 

Again, the answer came immediately and unconsciously. “John.” 

“John?”

“He’s the mentor I mentioned. But he’s done so much more than just teach me. John…he saved me. I was in a bad place before I met him. I was a bad person. John—he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential and he actually helped me reach it.” 

Evie whistled. “Sounds like a cool guy.”

“He’s incredible,” Amanda nodded. “I’m lucky to have someone like him guiding me.”

For the second time, Amanda watched as Evie’s easy smile seemed to shake and dip for no more than a second before it stood solid again. “Yeah, it sounds like you are.” 

When the turnstile jammed for the third time in as many seconds, Amanda had half a mind to leap the security counter and make a run for the gallery before they could catch her. She was fast, she knew she could do it. 

But getting thrown out of her girlfriend’s big art show when she was already fifteen minutes late would just make everything worse. 

After another agonizing two minutes bustling through security, Amanda made it to the actual gallery entrance. She could hear the sounds of faint clapping coming from inside, and pushed the door open to reveal Evie at the front of the room. She addressed the crowd with a practiced charm, highlighting the six different students on display and their disciplines of choice. Amanda tuned out the words and focused on the slightly plastic smile on her girlfriend’s face and the tight-knuckled grip she had on her champagne glass. God, Amanda had fucked up so bad. 

Eventually Evie’s speech ended and she turned the crowd of art critics, professors, family members, and whatever Amanda was away from her so they could mingle. Moving faster than was probably reasonable in the packed gallery space, Amanda came up in front of Evie with (what she hoped was) a look of complete contrition on her face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, before her girlfriend could start. “I was helping John and—“

“It’s always John, isn’t it?” 

Amanda stopped. “Excuse me?”

The cold look on Evie’s face shuddered and a tight smile replaced it. “Never mind. I’m glad you bothered coming at all. Even if the hard part’s already over.”

Wrong-footed, Amanda wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m glad I could make it too.”

“Did you hear my introduction?” 

“Yeah, you sounded great.” 

Evie’s smile turned a little sharper, and she said, “Thanks, but you don’t have to lie. I could tell it was going over your head from there,” she nodded at the podium that she’d been standing at. “I doubt anyone will try to make conversation with you, at least, so you won’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself. Just stick with me.” Evie put out her elbow for Amanda to link arms with her. 

A cold feeling trickled down Amanda’s spine, and her hands started to twitch incrementally, but she took Evie’s arm. Her girlfriend was right. She had nothing she could say to these artsy types, and anyways, she’d much rather watch Evie dazzle her way up the industry ladder than fuck up the show more than she already had. 

Evie led her to a group of a few of her professors chatting in a circle. As they got closer, she whispered in Amanda’s ear, “Dr. Edwards is the tall one in the corduroy. He’s on the committee for funding for the next academic year.” 

The implication was clear. Don’t embarrass me. 

“Dr. Edwards, Professor Gale, Professor Rush, so nice to see all of you supporting the students. How are you enjoying the exhibition?” Evie’s voice took on that disarming smoothness as she addressed each of the artist academics. Her smile was the perfect image of charm and authority alike. She may have been a student, but she positioned herself as their equal.

Amanda was impressed as always. Evie’s confidence reminded her of John’s sometimes. The absolute assurance in your own power, only brought on by having rightfully clawed your way to that point. Despite the fact that Amanda proved herself years ago in her own trap, she still felt like she was living on borrowed worth, leeching off the knowledge and trust John put in her. 

Some days she considered what her life would be like if she started using again, or if she kept cutting. But how could she, after all John tried to teach her? How ungrateful to even think about the possibility, when she knew John had never once considered ending his own life after the universe decided to test him? She talked a big game about carrying on his legacy, but she doubted that any successor to John would be worthy of the title of Jigsaw, least of all her. 

“Don’t you agree, Amanda?” Evie’s voice startled her out of her spiral. 

She hadn’t heard the context, but she knew what her answer needed to be. “Yes, definitely.” 

Evie laughed softly, “See, even someone like my girlfriend here knows the value of the program. Think about the impact shows like this will have on actual members of the community?” 

All of the professors appeared charmed by whatever speech Evie gave before Amanda zoned out. A bitter feeling rose up in her chest. This show wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things, not like what she and John were doing. No one was going to realize their true potential because they saw a nice statue. 

But the feeling faded almost as soon as it came, because Amanda knew that it was important to Evie. Evie, who gave speeches over dinner about how powerful art could be for the human psyche. Evie, who understood the place Amanda used to be at, but hadn’t needed anyone but herself to help her get out of it. John’s tests were a blessing, but there were so few people left in the world who could truly change without them. Every day it stunned Amanda that she’d managed to meet one of them. 

The rest of the show went off without a hitch. By the end of it, Evie was groaning into Amanda’s ear about what a long bath she was planning on taking when she got back to her apartment that night. And you can bring me a glass of wine and a chocolate bar like my little French maid, she’d joked. Amanda laughed, but the weariness hanging off of her from the entire event didn’t let up at the thought of spending the night at Evie’s apartment. 

Amanda lived with John, so inviting Evie over was impossible, which meant that she’d taken to spending a night or two a week at Evie’s place as their relationship grew more serious. Evie was always trying to convince Amanda to sleep over more, but with John’s condition being what it was, and some of their projects requiring constant supervision, Amanda didn’t feel comfortable committing any more time that she already had. That wasn’t an answer Evie liked to hear, though… Especially not when Amanda couldn’t give a reason beyond not wanting to leave John alone. Evie really didn’t like to hear that.

Once her closing duties were taken care of or delegated, Evie led Amanda out to the parking lot to  make out in the shadow of her old pick-up truck. Evie’s kisses were hungry tonight, whispering in the dip of Amanda’s collarbone how hot she looked dressed up for the event—how much Evie wanted to get her mouth on her all night. Even with Evie sometimes brushing the scars along Amanda’s cheeks, the feeling of being something didn’t go away. Here, pushed up against her girlfriend’s car, Amanda Young was wanted—desired, even. The power behind Evie’s roaming hands, the pressure of her body pressed hard into Amanda’s, made her feel like one of the art pieces Evie had hungrily stared at tonight. 

She belonged to Evie in the flickering light of the streetlamps. Amanda couldn’t think of anywhere else she was supposed to be.

That night, when they laid together in Evie’s full bed, nice clothes wrinkling in piles on the floor and a cold hand loosely splayed across Amanda’s stomach, she found herself unable to sleep. 

It was a common problem for her. Racing thoughts didn’t shut up just because it got dark outside, no matter how successfully she could quiet them during the day. Each night left a silent stage for her to consider her failures. Like how she’d almost ruined Evie’s big day, or how tempting the sealed case of razors she kept in a boarded up hole in the wall of John’s workshop looked this morning. Thoughts fell into the pits of her mind like snow falling in a winter storm. 

As it got later and later and sleep became further and further away, Evie’s arm around her started to burn. Amanda shifted carefully away, but moving just made the arm tighten, pressing against her abdomen like a brand. Evie clutching Amanda in her sleep was almost enough to make her leave the apartment then and there. The only thing stopping her was imagining how angry that would make Evie when she inevitably woke up at the movement. Amanda made Evie too angry too often to do it so deliberately now. 

Why was she even here? Who did she think she was kidding? Amanda Young was many things, but a girlfriend shouldn’t be one of them. There was nothing missing from her life before she met Evie. She had the work and she had John. That was all she needed. That was all she deserved. This—Evie, the apartment, the art show—it was all a distraction from her true purpose. Her only purpose. 

How could she let herself get distracted? How could she let herself think she belonged here?

Evie’s long fingers fluttered against Amanda’s stomach, tickling at first before her grip strengthened again and the feeling of being fully held washed over Amanda. All the rancid thoughts bubbling under her skin weren’t stopped, but they were contained. Trapped in Evie’s lean arms. The noise in Amanda’s brain didn’t cease, but it slowed. The distraction did its job.

Amanda still didn’t sleep for another two hours.