by L. D. Davis
“Donya is barely seventeen and her career path is unpredictable. You have several years left of school. What made you think that getting engaged was a good idea?”
“You married Mom when she was nineteen,” Emmet objected.
“Times were different then,” Fred snapped.
“I don’t care if you don’t approve—” Emmet started, but Fred cut him off again.
“You’re damn right I don’t approve!” he roared.
Though I shouldn’t have taken it personally, I did. I felt like it was me specifically he didn’t approve of, and that thought hurt me deeply.
“You don’t have to approve,” Emmet argued. “I’m old enough to make my own damn decisions, and you have no legal claim over Donya, so you don’t get to make her decisions either.”
“Your relationship is entirely inappropriate,” Fred said, slamming a hand down on the table. “You were supposed to look after her like a younger sister, Emmet, not seduce her.”
“I wasn’t seduced,” I piped in, insulted, but I was ignored.
“She is not my sister,” Emmet spat out. “My mother did not give birth to her. Your sperm had no part in her creation, and she’s not adopted. She’s part of this family, yes, but she’s not my damn sister, dad.”
“You stepped over a line that should have never been approached!” Fred yelled.
“The only line between Donya and I is the one that tethers us together,” Emmet, said, getting to his feet. Holding my hand, he pulled me up, too. “I’m disappointed in both of you,” he said angrily. “I didn’t expect you to be happy about being lied to, but you should be relieved that we have each other.”
Emmet led me inside. Sam followed us.
“Emmet,” she said his name firmly. “Come back outside.”
“I don’t want to go back outside,” he snapped. “I don’t need to hear any more bullshit about how you don’t approve and how inappropriate our relationship is.”
“We’re upset,” Sam said with a frustrated sigh. “We are all saying things we don’t mean.”
I thought Sam met every word of what she said, but I remained silent.
“What do you think I’m saying that I don’t mean?” Emmet demanded. “Do you think that I don’t mean it when I say I love Donya? Do you think I don’t mean it when I say that I won’t give her up? Which part, Mom? Because I happen to mean every last word of it!”
I put my hand on Emmet’s arm to calm him. He glanced down at me and took a deep breath. He looked back at Sam, but there was a little less tension on his face and his body.
“You’re making a mistake,” Sam said gently with a gentle nod as she looked at us. “It was easy to fall for each other because you’re close, and you’ve spent so much time with each other, but once this initial…infatuation or whatever it is passes, you’re going to realize that you’ve made a mistake, and I don’t want it to be after you’re already married.”
I stared at Sam with my mouth hanging open. Her words were like ice cold water pouring over me. I didn’t believe we had made a mistake at all, but it chilled me and hurt me that she and Fred believed that we did. I had always been rather sensible, but they didn’t believe I was being sensible at all. They thought that Emmet and I were just lusting after each other.
Before Emmet could open his mouth and verbally rip his mother’s head off, I spoke first, just as gently as Sam had.
“I love Emmet, Sam. He loves me, and maybe you will never understand the connection we have, but this is more than lust. This isn’t a wild, short affair, and it’s not some childish puppy love. This is real. I feel him here,” I said, putting a fist to my heart. “No matter where we are, how far we are from each other, I feel him, and he feels me. We had no immediate plans of getting hitched soon, but Emmet wanted to claim me, and I wanted to be claimed.” I looked at Emmet lovingly for a moment before turning back to Samantha. “Maybe life will be unpredictable. Maybe there will be something strong enough out there to tear us apart, but we are eternally joined. In the end, we’ll always find each other. So, you don’t have to approve. You don’t have to like it, but even if we wanted to, we can’t break the bond that holds us together. It will always be there, regardless of what you or anyone else has to say about it.”
Sam stood there gaping at me for a long time. When she finally closed her mouth, she looked dazed. To my surprise, she dabbed at her eyes, but no tears fell.
“I’m going to go talk to your father,” she whispered, and without another word or glance, she went back outside.
Emmet looked down at me and cupped my face in one hand.
“You are so perfect,” he whispered before kissing me gently. He pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head.
“I better go talk to Emmy,” I said after a moment.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, releasing me.
“No. I have to do this one on my own.”
I left him in the kitchen and went upstairs to face my best friend.
*~*~*
“I am trying to be understanding here, I really am,” Emmy said a little while later in her room. “Your mom just died, and the dirt hasn’t even settled on her grave yet, so I really am trying to be sensitive to your emotions and all of that shit, but you’re sitting there with that big ass rock on your finger that I didn’t know about until now and you what? Want me to be excited? You want to start discussing bridesmaid’s dresses and color schemes? Because I’m so not there yet, D.”
I sat in the chair near her bed, nervously pulling on my ponytail. Emmy sat on her bed with her legs crossed facing me.
“I’m just trying to make you understand why I didn’t tell you,” I said to her.
“I don’t think there is a reason in the world for you not to tell me if I was really your best friend,” she said. “Unless imminent death was one of those reasons. Was there a chance that someone would die if you didn’t tell me, Donya?”
“No,” I said quietly.
“Then I see no reason for you to withhold such pertinent information from me. I tell you everything. You know me right down to the deepest, darkest corners of my life, Donya, and you give me nothing. Like ever. I got used to not knowing what you’re thinking or feeling, I actually kind of admired that, but this wasn’t one of those things that you do not tell me. All of the times I brought it up—”
“You mean all of the times that you told me how much the idea disgusts you?” I interrupted, releasing my ponytail. I folded my hands in my lap and stared at her.
“Emmet is my brother, Donya,” she said, looking at me as if I was stupid. “I would be grossed out by him kissing anyone. It’s a sibling thing, and you should have known that because you’ve been a part of this family almost all of your life.”
“In the beginning I was just afraid of how I was feeling,” I said to her. “I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone because I couldn’t even wrap my own mind around it. And everything was so touch and go in the beginning. Everything was so complicated. ”
“What about when you got your mind wrapped around it, Donya?” Emmy asked. Her tone was harsh, but I didn’t blame her. “It doesn’t seem so complicated now.” Her eyes flicked to my engagement ring.
“I was going to tell you a couple of times, but you always had perfect fucking timing, and you would tell me how gross you thought it was.”
“So what?” she retorted.
“I didn’t want to hear your shit about it, and then we weren’t together for a long time, so it just didn’t seem to matter.”
“How long has this been going on?” she cried. “You make it sound like it’s been years and years.”
I looked down at my jeans and started picking at imaginary strands of fabric.
“It was years?” Emmy nearly yelled.
“Not exactly,” I answered.
Emmy groaned in exasperation and looked away from me for a moment while thoughts raced through her head. When she finally looked back at me, her face wa
s harder than it was before.
“Whenever it started, you should have told me long before now,” she said. “I want to know details, every detail, but before that happens, I’m going to tell you that you shouldn’t have held back, Donya. I am your best friend, at least I thought I was,” she said bitterly. “Your true friend may give you some shit about who you love, but in the end, if he is good for you and to you, your true friend would have been supportive. I would have been a little grossed out at first, but I would have gotten over it. You didn’t even give me a chance to experience any of this with you, or to be there for you, and I know you needed me. I finally figured out that when Emmet left for college, and you got all depressed that it was because of something that happened between the two of you. You didn’t have to do that alone, Donya, but you chose to shut me out. You’ve shut me out for a long time, and I’m not sure if I can get over it.”
I bit my lip and willed myself not to cry. There were a lot of people I could live without in the world, but Emmy was not one of them. If she couldn’t get past it, I didn’t know where our friendship would be, if we’d even have one. The thought of not having her hurt so badly, I had to put a hand on my chest to try to relieve the ache. That ache combined with other aches, like the loss of my mother and the conversation I had with Fred and Sam were almost too much to take, but admittedly, the possibility of losing Emmy caused the most pain.
She took pity on me. Her face softened some, and when she spoke again, her tone was gentler.
“We are best friends, Donya,” she said. “And sisters. I would have never done anything to make you unhappy, and you should have known that.”
“You had grandiose thoughts about who I was and I…I didn’t want to let you down,” I said just above a whisper.
“I wouldn’t have felt let down because you were screwing my brother,” she objected. “Now I feel let down.”
She got off of the bed and went to her closet. She came out carrying a bottle of tequila, of course, and two shot glasses. She stood between me and the bed and put the shot glasses on the nightstand and filled them up with the amber liquid. She handed one to me and took one for herself. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I was thankful for the shot. We took them together. I made a face, but Emmy may as well had been drinking air because she didn’t even blink after swallowing the shit.
“Pussy,” she muttered and bumped me with her leg. “One more and then you’re going to tell me everything, from the beginning. You won’t leave anything out, unless it’s specifics on sex because I don’t want to know anything about my brother’s junk.”
After a second shot that I swear took a year or two off of my life, Emmy settled back on the bed, and I propped my feet up on the bed and rested my head on the back of the chair.
“It started when I was seven,” I said, feeling less tense than I had minutes before.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Do you want to hear the story, or not?” I eyed her.
“I have a feeling by the time I’m done listening to this I’m going to need at least a half dozen more shots.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emmet and I stood on opposite sides of the small island in his modest kitchen inside his apartment in Cambridge. It was rare that I got to visit him because my schedule was so bizarre. In fact, I had just flown in from Paris earlier that day. Instead of flying to New York and hitting the ground running, I flew into Boston, shut my cell phone off and surprised Emmet as he was coming home from a class.
Emmet, Emmy, and Sam had gone to Paris to watch me walk the runway in ten shows during Fashion Week. It was a fabulous cluster of shows from the audience’s perspective, but in reality, behind the scenes it was stressful and exhausting. The weeks leading up to the event made me wonder how there weren’t mass model suicides.
It had been more than a year since my mother’s death and the Graynes’ discovery of my relationship with Emmet. It took some time for my relationship with Fred, Sam, and Emmy to improve, but I never felt that they loved me any less, and their support never wavered. In fact, days after my eighteenth birthday, Fred and Sam met me in New York for dinner and presented me with my very own trust fund.
“You are as much our child as Emmy,” Fred had said. It took everything in me not to start bawling with love and appreciation there in the restaurant. Since the fund was set up by Fred and Sam, I didn’t have the same stipulations that the other kids had. Obviously, I couldn’t lounge on my couch and watch soap operas all day every day and expect to collect, but I definitely was not as bound as Emmet, Emmy, and the rest.
My career had become a behemoth. I was a young fashion and commercial model in demand. My face was in all of the top notch magazines, on a few billboards, and I had been on television and had small parts in two more movies. I had a fantastic contract with a major cosmetics brand and was favored by a couple of the best designers on the planet.
I was a very busy woman, and for a long time, Emmet had been a very patient man. There were many missed holidays, missed weekends together, and sometimes weeks without seeing each other. I even missed several family events. I promised Emmet that I would be all his for his spring break, but Alberi Durand, the designer that had been so kind to me when I first got started in the industry, had offered me a major campaign after I walked in his show. His brand had rapidly grown in popularity. His designs were loved by models, celebrities and even other designers. I had two days before I had to be back in Paris, and by the time it was all over, spring break would be all over, too.
“You’ve been in Paris for weeks,” Emmet argued after I delivered the news. “And you promised that you would take this time off.”
“I know I promised,” I said solemnly. “But it’s a major campaign with Alberi Durand,” I added imploringly.
“I don’t care if it was the fucking French president, Donya,” he snapped at me. “I’ve been patient and supportive all of this time, and all I have asked for is one week.”
“I know,” I said again. I knew I was beginning to sound like a broken record already. “But that’s why I’m here now. I can give you two days before I have to fly back.”
“Two days?” he asked incredulously, with his eyes opened wide. “You’re going to sleep at least one whole day, as you always do when you have a moment to catch your damn breath. It’s really just one day, Donya.”
He was so disgusted with me. It was all over his face, in the tone of his voice, and I could feel it radiating off of him. I opened my mouth to apologize again, but he talked over me.
“You promised me, and I believed you,” he said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You swore that you would take the time off. When I last talked to you less than two days ago, you gave me your word that you would not work for a week and that you would be here tomorrow. I believed you,” he said again, glaring at me. “I had plans for us, and you just blew them all to hell.”
“What plans?” I asked quietly. I felt like a douche rag, but it wasn’t like I was breaking our plans to go be with someone else. I was breaking our plans so that I could work.
Emmet stormed out of the kitchen without saying a word. Hesitantly, I turned and followed him. In the living room, he opened a drawer in his desk and produced a long, thick envelope.
“What is that?” I asked when he only stood there holding it.
“Airline tickets for Mexico!” he shouted. “And confirmation for the all-inclusive beachside resort we were going to stay at. This was supposed to be our little getaway—away from school, away from your work, and away from the family. This was supposed to be our time to get our relationship realigned before you went traipsing off across the globe again, and you just fucked it all up!”
I stood there, stunned, as he slammed the envelope into my hands. I blinked down at it. It felt like a hundred-pound weight sitting in my hands. I felt really bad about canceling last minute on him, but he had to have known it was a possibility. He knew how unpredictable my schedule could be.
“Realign our relationship?” I asked. “Our relationship needs realigning?”
“Are you kidding me?” He gaped at me.
“What’s wrong with us? I didn’t think there was anything wrong with us,” I said in a bit of a panic.
Emmet snatched the envelope out of my hands and put it back in the drawer.
“I can’t believe you even have to ask that,” he snapped. “You have your designer head so far up your own designer ass right now.”
I gasped, and it was my turn to gape at him. Emmet had not said anything as cruel as that to me since he told me I was too young and dumb, and even then that had not hurt as much.
“You’re never here,” he said. He was trying to control his anger, but he was barely holding back. “You show up late, if at all when we’re supposed to meet somewhere. You begged me to meet you in Milan for New Years and you ‘got stuck’ in Berlin for two days. There have been countless cancelations when we’re supposed to meet in New York or here, and even when you’re supposed to be taking time off to be with me or the family, you end up working. If you’re not working, you’re exhausted from working, and you sleep our time away. You don’t know anything about my life anymore because it’s all about you. You don’t know shit about my classes, my GPA, or my applications to law schools. You don’t know who my friends are or what I do with my time. We’ve been slipping apart for months, Donya, and you don’t even fucking feel it!”
I felt as if he had slammed a sledgehammer into my chest. There was so much pressure, and it hurt like hell. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move; I was rooted to the floor in front of him. I wanted to look away from his hurt and angry expression, but I couldn’t make myself turn my head or avert my eyes. Everything he said was true, but I felt like I had to justify my actions.
Softly, with a quavering voice, I said, “My career is so short. Soon, I’ll be too old for the work I’m doing. My time in this aspect of the industry is so very limited. In a few years, I’ll shift gears and slow down.”