Evvie Drake Starts Over Quotes

Your head is the house you live in, so you have to do the maintenance.

And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore. She says it’s one of the reasons why parents sometimes feel sad when their kids are getting married. It’s not just the empty nest. They’re not the first call anymore. I’m not Andy’s first call anymore. It doesn’t mean I want to be his girlfriend, and it doesn’t mean I don’t like her. But it was sad. It’s different. The doctor says it’s important to be sad.

therapy is like a toothbrush. You can’t really put it to use for anybody except yourself.

The tag on her chamomile teabag said, There is no trouble that a good cup of tea can’t solve. It sounded like what a gentleman on Downton Abbey would say right before his wife got an impacted tooth and elegantly perished in bed.

You’re twenty-two, twenty-three, time is sort of infinite. It’s like a pool where you can’t touch the bottom.

There is no trouble that a good cup of tea can’t solve.

To some of the people who had watched him grow up, I think he was…a unicorn.” “He didn’t want bigger things?” “No, he did.” “Then why come back?” Evvie shrugged. “Because anywhere else, he’d just be a nice-looking horse.

Eveleth had always hated how blushing felt. It was accompanied by such a miserable desire to cease to be, utterly, to turn into a fog that could be waved away.

That therapy is like a toothbrush. You can’t really put it to use for anybody except yourself.

My therapist calls it grieving the first call.” “What does that mean?” “She says when something happens, good or bad, you can only call one person first. And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore. She says it’s one of the reasons why parents sometimes feel sad when their kids are getting married. It’s not just the empty nest. They’re not the first call anymore.

It’s not a question of whether you could try to do it by yourself. You can always try it. But it can be dangerous, and it’s harder. Trying to buck yourself up is the tooth pliers of mental health.

Instead, for luck, he asked them for 26, because Evvie’s address was 26 Bancroft Street. When he got home and he showed the shirt to Evvie, she said, “Hey, look. That’s my house number. Maybe it’s lucky.” He’d folded it up, saying, “Maybe.

Did you want to do something else? he asked. She sighed. "I think every plan I ever had involved everything happening later. You're twenty-two, twenty-three, time is sort of infinite. It's like a pool where you can't touch the bottom. I knew there would be something else, but it was always after. After, after. It was like I was waiting for something to start, and I was accidentally in the middle of it the whole time.

There’s this kid Mike Parco, who at the time is eight years old and is a serious, total asshole. I know you’re not supposed to say that about children, but I swear, it takes most men at least two divorces to be as mean as this twerp.

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it, you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental

...you wake up one day and you need a whole new plan.

When she started to cry, the upside was as it always was: the shower cry takes the logistics out of it. Crying has to be dealt with—it makes a mess, it swells up your face, it creates a little pile of tissues that are a tell. But the shower cry is the superspy’s cry, Evvie had always thought. It was between you and the tile walls, and everything that hurt turned into water, and the water went away.

In the car, Evvie cranked an Avett Brothers record she hadn’t listened to in almost two years. Technically, the song was about dying, but it sounded like hope: When I lay down my fears, my hopes and my doubts; the rings on my fingers and the keys to my house; with no hard feelings…

Dr. Talco tapped her index fingers together. “Did you know it’s possible to remove your own teeth with pliers?” Evvie looked at her blankly. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.” “No, no, probably not. But it’s true. If you have a bad tooth, you can take a pair of pliers, stick them in there, and pull as hard as you can. Is that something you would do?” “This feels like a trick question.” “Stay with it.” “No, I don’t think I would pull out my own tooth with pliers.” “That’s what I always tell people about therapy. It’s not a question of whether you could try to do it by yourself. You can always try it. But it can be dangerous, and it’s harder. Trying to buck yourself up is the tooth pliers of mental health.

I think every plan I ever had involved everything happening later. You're twenty-two, twenty-three, time is sort of infinite. It's like a pool where you can't touch the bottom. I knew there would be something else, but it was always after. After, after. It was like I was waiting for something to start, and I was actually in the middle of it the whole time.

He still woke up some days and believed for fifteen seconds or so that he had something to do, until he remembered he didn’t. The sixteenth second was a killer.

guys on the Internet who spell ‘loser’ with two O’s.

Dean, people don't like...fragility. It makes them nervous. They're scared thinking things just happen. They think there's always something you can do to keep monsters from getting under the bed.

Evvie’s Scandinavian grandmother had claimed that young women dream about the husbands they want, old women dream about the husbands they wanted, and only the luckiest women, for a moment in the middle, dream about the husbands they’ve got.

She sent him a yellow heart. All the hearts were different to her, shaded and pleasantly oblique and sent in a language only she spoke - which maybe meant it wasn't a language, just a diary hiding in plain sight. The yellow heart was for gratitude.

The part of the future that was in focus had shortened; the part that was just a wall of fog went on forever. He still woke up some days and believed for fifteen seconds or so that he had something to do, until he remembered he didn’t. The sixteenth second was a killer.

Everything she said, he treated like it ended in a semicolon.

Therapy is like a toothbrush. You can’t really put it to use for anybody but yourself.

...she missed home, so she called me Eveleth. I am named after my mother’s unhappiness.

no, of course she didn’t believe in telepathy, but what was “best wishes” on a birthday card, after all, except the idea that your good thoughts might matter?

Who eats pumpkin pie in a bathing suit on a boat in the middle of the ocean?

It's not bad to know a little something about the things you don't care about,

You have nothing to confess,

All she could think as she finally, finally kissed him was finally, finally.

sorry about the noise. Knocked a box off the counter. It’s never the box with the sheets in it, you know? It’s always whatever will make it sound the most like you tried to murder a robot by throwing it down a couple of flights of stairs.

You would be shocked how many people tell me that they got through cancer, or divorce, or having their house burn down. But then they lost their keys or they ran out of coffee or the dog chewed on their slipper and they fell to pieces. It’s just that last insult.

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it, you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental intimacy, like you’ve peeked at the person naked through a shower door.

I have been lying on my couch for thirteen, going on fourteen months. I have barely gone out. I have fed myself and made ends meet. I hope that’s not the proudest of me you could be. I hope surviving not being married to a doctor anymore is not the greatest thing you can imagine for me. I went to school. I’m going to live another fifty years probably. I hope this isn’t the highlight.

I think every plan I ever had involved everything happening later. You’re twenty-two, twenty-three, time is sort of infinite. It’s like a pool where you can’t touch the bottom. I knew there would be something else, but it was always after. After, after. It was like I was waiting for something to start, and I was actually in the middle of it the whole time. Does that make sense?

Evvie’s Scandinavian grandmother had claimed that young women dream about the husbands they want, old women dream about the husbands they wanted, and only the luckiest women, for a moment in the middle, dream about the husbands they’ve got. But even accounting for the narrow ambitions this formulation allowed, Evvie’s dreams about Tim were not what her nana had in mind.

You have nothing to confess,” she’d said.

The amount of time people who have just met are supposed to look directly at each other, particularly without talking, is a unit that’s both very short and very precise. When you exceed it you get suspicious, or you get threatened, or you get this flicker of accidental intimacy.

The shower cry takes the logistics out of it. Crying has to be dealt with. It makes a mess. It swells up your face. It creates a little pile of tissues that are a tell. But the shower cry is the super spy’s cry.

Trying to buck yourself up is the tooth pliers of mental health.

Grieving the first call. When something happens, good or bad, you can only call one person first. And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore.

She slid in beside him and was seized briefly by the thought of hopping back out and wrapping herself in blankets for the day. She had three DVR’d episodes of Survivor she hadn’t even watched, and she could choose not to bump along for four hours in a truck for the pleasure of helping a grown man move a half-ton tchotchke.

quilt

then she spent the rest of the day in bed, with the quilt up to her chin, lying on her side, reading a romance novel on her Kindle.

She says when something happens, good or bad, you can only call one person first. And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore. She says it’s one of the reasons why parents sometimes feel sad when their kids are getting married. It’s not just the empty nest. They’re not the first call anymore.

If she let the day pass, she thought she might start to disappear, cell by cell, bone by bone, replaced by someone who looked like her but wasn't.

This was how she knew without a doubt that reputation, in many forms, was bullshit.

Why do they have Christmas every single year?" she asked. "Oh, boy," he said with a smile. "Where's this going?" "I think it's a very fair question," she said, tipping the rest of her drink into her mouth and making the little kuh! noise she always did when she swallowed liquor. "Nobody has enough time for it. Nobody wants to go through the whole..." She waved the had without the glass in it. "I don't think they need to have it every year." "How often do you think?" "Every four years, like the Olympics." "The Olympics are every two years now." "Okay, every four years like the Winter Olympics, you lawyer.

Linda Holmes’s Evvie Drake Starts Over

That’s what I always tell people about therapy. It’s not a question of whether you could try to do it by yourself. You can always try it. But it can be dangerous, and it’s harder. Trying to buck yourself up is the tooth pliers of mental health.

My therapist calls it grieving the first call.” “What does that mean?” “She says when something happens, good or bad, you can only call one person first. And if you’ve been somebody’s first call, it’s hard not to be their first call anymore. She says it’s one of the reasons why parents sometimes feel sad when their kids are getting married. It’s not just the empty nest. They’re not the first call anymore. I’m not Andy’s first call anymore. It doesn’t mean I want to be his girlfriend, and it doesn’t mean I don’t like her. But it was sad. It’s different. The doctor says it’s important to be sad.

But the shower cry is the super spy's cry, Evvie had always thought. It was between you and the tile walls, and everything that hurt turned into water, and the water went away.

This was a thing she did not believe in at all, as she would admit if she were pressed. But the feel of it was wonderful--the feeling that she could package her feelings and put them to use, wrapping them up, and no, of course she didn't believe in telepathy, but what was "best wishes" on a birthday card, after all, except the idea that your good thoughts might matter?

Eyebrows that looked like she won them playing poker with Audrey Hepburn’s ghost

She felt her brows go up, then down. Her mouth tightened, then loosened. Quick, quick, quick, what does a neutral expression look like again? “You did.” She was shocked. No, satisfied. Maybe gleeful. No, wait, she was just toe-curlingly eager. Also panicked

But the shower cry is the superspy's cry...It was between you and the tile walls, and everything that hurt turned into water, and the water went away.

The sun was starting to slip away and leave an orange thrum behind it, and the lights in the park glowed white.

don’t know how much time you’ve spent around Boston, but the streets are designed to prevent anyone from successfully figuring out where they’re trying to go.

Evvie, I can’t get over how great your house is,” Monica said, grabbing the conversational wheel and pulling as hard as she could away from the ditch as the tires squealed.

his parents loved him so much that over and over, they had made him worse.

She knew logging had the highest per capita death rate of any U.S. occupation

Oh, that's right, she thought. I remember having good days.