Work Text:
ride away
gonna take me from my man
by the way
no, they'll never understand
/\/\/\
Heidi and Mark had a deal. It wasn’t something set in stone or sealed by contract, but after months of fighting, there was one thing they finally agreed on: Mark wouldn’t leave Rochester until after Evan’s seventh birthday. He’d already moved out early January, living from a suitcase in a friend’s apartment, but the plans for him to officially leave were all set for March.
So, when a U-Haul truck with a Colorado postcard painted on the side pulled into the driveway on February 18th, Heidi was livid.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she fumed, trying to keep her voice down. She didn’t need to wake the entire neighborhood at six in the morning.
“I’m starting a new job soon,” he tried to reason. “It’s just easiest if I just pack my things and leave now.”
“You really are a colossal asshole, aren’t you? His birthday is in four days, Mark! We had an agreement.”
“Heidi, it’s just easiest—”
“To just abandon your son?”
He pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. With just a sigh and the shake of a head, he pushed pass her, opening up the garage. He figured he’d start outside, to avoid waking Evan up so early. The plan was to get in and get out without his son know. But when he pulled up the old metal door, he didn’t expect to be greeted by a lime green, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bike, complete with training wheel.
“What’s this?” he asked, as if it weren’t obvious.
“A birthday present,” she said, trying to avoid eye contact.
“How much did it cost?”
“Does it fucking matter? We split our bank accounts months ago!”
He gracelessly pushed it aside before sorting through toolboxes and storage bins. Heidi went back inside to mope on the couch. Evan woke up an hour later.
No child rose as early as Evan Hansen did. It was like he made a vow to beat the sun every morning. Admittedly, it wasn’t very hard to rise before the sun in February, but Evan never failed to be up and ready for breakfast without a trace of sleep in his eyes. This was the one morning where Heidi prayed that her son would just sleep in.
Her prayers weren’t answered.
He smiled so wide when he saw the U-Haul truck through the screen door. He smiled even wider when he saw his dad emerge from the back, walking down the ramp like all the superheroes he had seen in the movies. Superheroes always walked down ramps out of cool spaceships. It just made sense to him.
He knew Mom and Dad didn’t love each other, but they still loved him. That had to be enough.
“Dad!” he called through the screen.
“Buddy!” Mark shouted back, opening the door. He scooped the small boy into his arms. “Wanna see something cool?”
Evan nodded.
Mark took him to the front of the truck, placing him behind the wheel.
“Can I honk the horn?” Evan asked, kicking his feet excitedly as they dangled high above the pedals.
“Real quick,” Mark instructed. “But only once. It’s early and you’ll make Mommy mad.”
He honked the horn with a small, timid hand. Real quick, just as his dad said. Laughing, he turned to see his mom standing on the front doorstep, arms crossed, brow furrowed. The yellow porchlight reflected the wetness on her face. He couldn’t bare to see Mommy cry. He immediately went to jump from the truck, but his dad caught him, pushing him back into the seat.
“Why don’t you honk it again,’ he urged, more as a statement than a question.
“No!” Evan squealed, squirming in his father’s arms.
“Evan, please—”
“I don’t want to!”
At that point, he started screaming. For such a quiet boy, Evan could scream and wail like there was no tomorrow. Even as a baby, just seconds old in this world, he overtook the delivery room with his shrieks. It was a surefire way to grab his mom’s attention. Heidi was by the truck in mere seconds, ripping her little boy from Mark’s arms.
“Just grab your shit and leave,” she spat. “It’s already packed anyway.”
She ran upstairs with Evan in her arms, shutting herself in his room. She told herself over and over that she was doing this for him, she was distracting him. They played with Little People, Legos, and Hot Wheels. (I wish I had a truck like Daddy’s.) They filled out several coloring pages. (No, Mom, the farmer’s shirt is red) She read him every picture book he loved, reading “The Tiny Seed” by Eric Carle at least four times. (I’m like the tiny seed.) She was doing this for him. She was distracting him.
After nearly two hours, Mark knocked on the door.
“Everything is in the truck,” he said. “I’m about to go.”
She just looked at Evan with weary eyes as he drove his Hot Wheels up the wall. He paid no mind to his parents watching him from the doorframe.
“Evan,” Heidi said, “do you want to have breakfast with Dad?”
He looked over with wide hazel eyes, nodding like a bobblehead. Heidi stayed in Evan’s room down the hall. Mark made toaster waffles for him and Evan. Heidi listened to everything they talked about. They didn’t speak much. It was light and casual. Mark didn’t once mention Colorado. Evan didn’t ask why he was going or where he was going.
Evan was a smart kid. He’d known this day was coming.
It just wasn’t supposed to come so soon.
Mark didn’t even bother to wash the dishes he dirtied before he left.
Evan and Heidi stood by the mailbox and watched as he pulled away, the sun just starting to peak over the rooftops. Evan clutched a stuffed mountain goat tightly in his arms. They stood there long after the truck had turned out of view. Eventually, she took his hand and they went inside to get dressed.
She didn’t know if the echo was new or just extra loud that morning.
Evan went to his room. Heidi went back to the living room.
The couch was gone. Four little craters in the carpet were all that remained. Items previously caught under the couch now sat out in the open. One of Evan’s socks. Some spare change. A fork. Various little pieces of trash. Heidi sank to her knees in the middle of the room, staring at the faded rectangles on the wall where pictures had once hung. She didn’t break the catatonic state until Evan returned, dressed in a striped shirt and shorts.
“It’s the middle of February, Evan,” she laughed. “You’re going to freeze outside!”
“We’re going outside?” he asked, playing with her hair absentmindedly.
“I have a surprise for you, but let’s put sweatpants on.”
“I don’t like sweatpants,” he whined, but he complied and changed.
Heidi lead him to the garage, trying her best to stay calm, to stay together, to stay strong. He waited anxiously, rocking back and forth on his feet. She tried to build excitement, tried to make the surprise bigger than the events of the morning. Who was she kidding?
His dad just left and took the couch with him. A Ninja Turtle bike wouldn’t hold a candle.
But she still opened the garage and wheeled the bike out onto the driveway.
“Happy birthday!” she practically sang. Evan studied the bike.
“My birthday is in four days,” he stated with a very matter-of-fact attitude.
“I thought you’d want one of your presents early.”
A smile lit up his face as he grabbed the handles.
“You got the one with Leonardo! Just like my nightlight!” He hoisted himself on the bike, planting his feet on the pedals. He didn’t move. He just sat on the bike, staring down at his feet. “I’m scared.”
“You have to be a little scared,” she said, kneeling down next to him. “Being scared means you’re about to be incredibly brave. I’ll hold onto your back.”
She held on as he took his first wobbly push of the pedal. She even let him ride in the road, just as long as she was behind him. He picked up speed. He picked up confidence. Heidi was almost convinced that he didn’t even need the training wheels. They played outside with the bike until lunch time. The day got surprisingly warmer the longer it went on.
Who knew the sun could be so bright in the white winter sky.
They spent the afternoon inside. Heidi cleaned up the area where the couch once was and threw pillows and blankets down over it. She made PB&J (cut into triangles with the crusts cut off) and popcorn. She even let him have a Sprite as they sat back and watched High School Musical. Evan sat with peanut butter all over his face, singing along to every song, not missing a beat. They sat there long after that, watching nearly every movie they own. They even ordered out pizza for dinner.
It wasn’t a productive day by any means, but she got to spend it with her son. That’s all she needed.
He feel asleep just 20 minutes before Cars was finished. They had watched it once already, but he just had to watch it again. Still, she let the movie finish before scooping him off to bed. She tucked him in as he slept soundly but didn’t even make it to the door before he sat up, suddenly wide awake once again.
“Is there another truck coming?” he asked, the light of the hall reflecting off his tear filled eyes.
“What?” Heidi asked.
“Are you going to go away?”
Then his little face contorted into a mess of snot and tears, crying for the first time that day. He pulled the comforter to his face, soaking it in an instant with alligator tears. Heidi was once again by her son’s side, taking him in her arms. She grabbed the stuffed mountain goat, holding it up against him as they rocked back and forth.
“I’m not going anywhere, Evan,” she whispered to him. “I’m staying right here. I’ll always be right here.”
Evan just cried and cried and cried. Heidi just rocked and rocked and rocked.
The house had always felt so small. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a study that was more of a closet—three people crowded the house. But now it was only two and she felt like Alice in Wonderland, shrunken down, and watching the world from below. The doors felt fifteen feet tall. The bed felt a mile wide. The living room felt like a desert.
She was just a piece of dust floating through the endless halls.
She didn’t realize she was crying until Evan wiped her tears away.
“I’m not going anywhere, either,” he repeated, hiccups nearly overtaking his frame.
/\/\/\
you'll ask your reasons why
what once was yours is mine
my baby's gone