His voice trails off.
Emerson doesn’t say anything. Just presses in closer, hoping he knows that she understands. Knows how that painful feeling of missing comes in waves. You just have to ride it out. Brace yourself and let it wash over you, wincing as it does, until it eventually subsides. It can only pull you under if you let it.
Neither of them says anything for a while. Emerson can’t deny it: She likes this. Likes the ambience. The music. The closeness. She feels safe in a way she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.
“Em?” he says softly.
She looks up at him again. “Yeah?”
He doesn’t respond right away, and Emerson’s heart speeds up as she wonders if this is where it will finally end. If she’ll finally stop fighting and let things spiral in a new direction, like a top on a table, moving closer and closer to the edge.
It’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. Touches her cheek just slightly. And then he finally says, “Thanks for being my best friend.”
She swallows hard as she realizes in that moment that nothing is going to change unless she speaks up. Vince will remain the loyal and faithful friend she’s wanted—no, needed, until the very end, unless she tells him her feelings have changed.
Because they have. Haven’t they?
How can she be sure?
She wants to be sure.
For now, she looks into his warm and caring eyes and says, “Stop it. You know I don’t like that sentimental crap.”
He gives her a lopsided grin. “Actually, girl, I think you kind of love it.”
She shakes her head in indignation as she moves in close to him again. He knows her too well.
“I THINK we’re gonna go,” Emerson says as the song ends and Phillipe and Jackie linger in each other’s arms.
“Oh,” Jackie says, stepping away from her dance partner and toward Emerson and Vince. “Are you sure? I mean, I think it’s okay if we stay.” She looks at Phillipe. “Right?”
“Absolutely,” he says. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
“Jackie, you should definitely stay,” Vince says. “But we have some stuff we want to do.” He goes over to Phillipe and shakes his hand. “Thanks for everything, man.”
“Yeah,” Emerson says, rubbing her hands together nervously. “This was great. Thank you.”
Phillipe goes to Jackie and puts his arm around her. Willing her to stay, Emerson thinks. And she should. It’s like they belong together.
Jackie turns and looks at Phillipe. He smiles. She turns back and says, “Okay. Well, it was great meeting you guys. I mean, really great. This was so … perfect.”
“It was,” Emerson says as she walks over and gives Jackie a hug. In her ear Emerson whispers, “And he’s perfect for you.”
And then, they’re heading toward the door. Leaving Paris for the great unknown. Emerson is surprised at how hard it is to go. She likes it here, where there’s tea and cookies and lovely music. But she knows it’s important they leave the two of them alone. There is only so much time, after all.
“ ’Bye,” Vince says, giving a little wave.
“You should take my car,” Jackie says. “You still have the keys, right? Take it. Go somewhere fun.”
Emerson shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you sure? I mean, what if you want to go somewhere?”
“I have a car,” Phillipe says. “I can take her anywhere she wants to go.”
It’s settled, then. They are now the proud owners of a BMW. And with it comes a kind of freedom neither of them has had for a really long time.
“Thanks, Jackie,” Emerson says.
“No,” she says. “Thank you. Running into you guys tonight was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
And then there’s nothing left to say. Except good-bye, which Emerson can’t quite get out. Apparently, Paris is a hard place to leave. So she just waves and walks through the door quickly.
She wraps her arms around herself as the cool night air brushes her skin.
“You okay?” Vince asks as he fishes the keys out of his pocket.
“I think so.”
“Hard to leave?”
“That place was enchanting,” she says. “You’re really good at this thing we’re doing. This Make-a-Wish-for-the-Apocalypse, or whatever you want to call it.”
Vince laughs. “Make-a-Wish-for-the-Apocalypse? You have such a way with words, Em.”
She walks around to the passenger side. “And you have a way with making wishes come true. Are you secretly a fairy godmother or something?”
They get into the car. “That’s it. You’ve found me out,” Vince says as he puts the key in the ignition.
“Well, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But seriously, come on. You couldn’t have picked a better place to give Jackie a taste of Paris.”
“Yeah, the mood was pretty unbelievable.”
Emerson shakes her head. “And on top of that, she found romance, which is what everyone wants when they go to Paris.”
Vince doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just stares at Emerson. “Is that right?” he finally says.
Emerson gives Vince’s leg a little shove. “Well, unless you’re a doofus wearing a Charlie Brown T-shirt.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, settling back in his seat and turning the key. “My fairy godmother dress is at the cleaner’s.”
She smiles. “I’m sure it is. So, where are we going now?”
“How about the library?” Vince asks. “You said you wanted to look at books, and I’m dying to find out the name of that kid in the Peanuts gang. Like, you wouldn’t believe how much it’s bugging me that we can’t remember his name. What do you say?”
Emerson chuckles. “Sure. Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do, right?”
WINDOWS ROLLED down.
Cool breeze in their hair.
Bare feet on the dash.
It could be the
perfect summer night
if not for the fact that
doomsday is now
officially here.
There’s one radio station
still playing tunes.
Vince turns it up,
because this song
demands to be heard.
They sing at the top
of their lungs
along with good old
Tom Petty.
The wai-ai-ting
is the
har-dest
part.
THE NIGHT has gone from warm and friendly to sad and lonely. Carl sits on the floor of the napping room, weeping.
He’s dead. Jerry is dead. Carl tried to wake him, to let him know he had to be going, and that it was such a pleasure to meet him. But Jerry didn’t move.
He jumped back at the realization of what had happened, and then sank to the floor, his head in his hands.
Carl knows he should be happy for the old man. And maybe, deep down, he is. After all, Jerry died peacefully, while sleeping, in a place where he felt close to his wife. Unlike the rest of them, Jerry doesn’t have to sit in fear of what will happen later.
In so many ways, Jerry is better off. Carl knows this, and yet he can’t stop crying. Perhaps it’s not about the old man as much as it is about himself.
He doesn’t want to die. He thought he did, earlier, and thought it would be easier to help things along. But now, as he stares at the old man, so still and quiet, it hits him—what it all really means.
He’ll miss the sound of rain on the rooftop.
The smell of cookies baking in the oven.
The warmth of sunshine on his skin.
The beating of his heart in that dreamy, tender moment before his lips meet Trinity’s.
Her touch. Her lips.
Her.
So many moments he took for granted, and suddenly, he wants to experience them all, again and again, a thousand times at least.
<
br /> If only he could stop crying. Could get up and move and find a way home.
But there is death in the room. And death makes you feel sad in a way that nothing else does.
How can something inevitable be so hard to accept?
“I’m sorry,” Carl whispers.
For Jerry.
For Trinity.
And for everyone who must live today worrying about what’s to come.
“WOW,” VINCE says as he pulls on one of the doors that lead to the Multnomah County Library. “It’s open.”
“You know what they say,” Emerson tells him as she walks through the door he holds for her. “Knowledge is forever.”
Someone even left some lights on here and there, too. They walk through the lobby, and although Emerson expects to see other people, no one is around.
“Hey, Vince, why do you think we still have electricity? It’s kind of weird, isn’t it? Did you read anything about that? In the newspaper, I mean?”
“Nope. Who knows what’s going on? Maybe they’re keeping it on to make things a little less scary for everyone.”
“Hm. Maybe.”
Emerson heads toward the children’s section and Vince follows. When they find the comics and graphic novels for kids, Vince starts scanning the shelves.
“I’ll be over in the picture books,” Emerson tells him. “Come and find me when you’re done.”
“Got it.”
As she immerses herself in the picture book stacks, the slightly musty smell of old books transports Emerson back to the days when her mom took the girls to the city library every other week during summer vacation. Afterward, they’d stop for ice cream cones at the Dairy Queen. Emerson rotated through the flavors of ice cream and dipped coatings, because she loved trying the different combinations. Chocolate ice cream dipped in cherry. Vanilla ice cream dipped in butterscotch. And her favorite, twist ice cream dipped in chocolate. Her mother used to get so mad as Emerson tried to figure out which combination to order.
“Hurry up and decide,” she’d screech as they sat in their car at the drive-through menu. “There’s a line behind us.”
Her sister, on the other hand, got the same cone every time—vanilla ice cream dipped in cherry. That was the thing about Frankie. She never caused problems. She was the easy child—the one you could count on to do the right thing all the time.
Emerson had often longed to be more like her sister, but whenever she tried, she grew bored within ten minutes. There seemed to be a need, deep inside of her, to shake things up as often as possible. Before her mom had kicked her out, Emerson had ignored her curfew again and again. If she got grounded, she simply snuck out once everyone else had fallen asleep.
After all, there were parties to go to. Cemeteries to play in. Hikes to go on in the dark, without a flashlight. Fear, excitement, elation—she wanted to feel it all. Every time she went out with her friends, they tried their best to push the fun factor up a notch or two. They always wanted more.
For Emerson, life was about trying every flavor of cone possible. Doing the easy thing, the right thing, just didn’t seem to be in her DNA.
When her mom told her she had to go live with her dad, Emerson had cursed her fun-seeking DNA. If only she’d tried harder to be more like her sister.
Now she searches the shelves for the one book she suddenly wants to find. As she looks, she runs across many childhood favorites—The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, and Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type.
And then, there it is. The one she’s been looking for. She runs her hand across the red cover and smiles down at the adorable little bear.
Corduroy. The bear who wants, more than anything, to find a home.
She turns the page and begins to read when Vince startles her. “Franklin,” he says, standing over where she’s sitting on the floor. “The black kid’s name is Franklin.”
Emerson nods. “That’s right. Now I remember. Glad we won’t lose any more sleep over that one.”
Vince plops down next to her. “What’d you find?”
“One of my favorite books.”
“Will you read it to me?” he asks with his impossible-to-resist lopsided grin. “Pretty please?”
“I’d love to,” she says.
And so, she reads the story, slowly, taking lots of time for them to admire the illustrations. When she gets to the end, and Corduroy finds a home, Emerson’s voice catches in her throat.
“Hey,” Vince says, putting his fingers under her chin and turning her head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
She swallows hard. “I just wish I could go home.”
“Then what are we doing? Let’s go. We have a car, remember?”
Emerson shakes her head. “No. It’s not that easy.”
“The hell it isn’t.”
She reaches over and, very carefully, like there’s a real live bear in between the pages, puts the book back in its spot. “It’s not about going home,” she tries to explain. “It’s not about the place, you know? It’s about the feeling. The feeling of being home, with people who want you there. That’s what I want.” She waves her hand at the bookcase. “What Corduroy wanted.” She stands up. “You get what I mean.”
Vince stands, too. “You’re right. I do. But, Em, things have changed. You haven’t been home in a long time, and with everything that’s happened, I’m telling you, I really think she’ll be happy to see you.”
She shakes her head again, because it seems completely absurd to even imagine a happy reunion.
“No,” is all she says.
“You won’t know unless you try.”
It’s true. She won’t. But she also won’t have the door slammed in her face.
“You know that saying, ‘Ignorance is bliss’?” she asks him.
“Yes.”
“Well, sometimes ignorance is also necessary for one’s sanity. And since it’s one of the few things I have in my possession at the moment, I’m not quite ready to give that up.”
BEFORE VINCE can say anything else, a woman and a little girl approach them. It seems odd to see them there, even though it shouldn’t be. It’s a public library, after all. Still, Emerson stares at them, wondering what they could possibly be doing here, in the middle of the night. The little girl should be in bed, sound asleep.
“My apologies,” the petite woman says, with an East Indian accent. “We don’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Vince says. “We just finished reading Corduroy. It’s a good book, if you’re looking for something to read.”
“We were asleep, in the corner,” the woman says matter-of-factly.
“Oh no, we woke you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry,” Emerson says, because she means it. “We didn’t know anyone was here.”
“It’s okay,” the girl says. “I’m not tired anymore.”
“It probably seems strange, that we’d be sleeping here, but we left home a couple of days ago and didn’t really have anywhere to go,” the woman explains. “We’re just sort of … waiting.”
“Waiting until Papa leaves, and then we can go home again,” the girl says. “He was getting really mad about everything, so we left. Mama said he needed some time alone. But hopefully we can go back the day after tomorrow.”
Emerson looks at the woman and she can see the pleading in her eyes. The girl doesn’t know. She’s clueless about what’s going to happen soon. Her mother has somehow managed to keep it a secret from her.
“He’s not handling things well right now,” the woman explains. “It’s harder for some people than others, yes? But soon things will be back to normal. Soon everything will be fixed. I’m sure of it.”
“Right,” is all Vince says.
“I should introduce ourselves,” the woman says. “I’m Rima and this is Inika.”
“I’m Vince, and this is my friend Emerson.”
“It is our pleasure to meet you,” Rima says.
“How old are you, Inika
?” Emerson asks.
“Six,” she replies.
Emerson turns and looks at Vince, wondering if he’s going to offer to do something for them. She feels sadness for these two in a way she didn’t feel with the others. Probably because of the little girl, she decides. There’s so much Inika hasn’t done yet. So much she’ll miss out on.
Vince kneels down in front of the young girl. “I’m wondering, what do you want to be when you grow up? If you could be anything, what would it be?”
“That’s easy,” Inika replies. “I want to be a vet. You know, an animal doctor. Mama says I can be anything I want to be.” She looks up at her mother with her beautiful brown eyes. “Isn’t that right?”
“That is correct,” Rima replies as she strokes her daughter’s silky black hair.
Vince smiles. “You love animals, then?”
“Yes, I love them so much. My papa never let me have one, but I’ve always wanted to have a kitty. I even have a name picked out.”
“You do?” Vince asked. “What’s the name?”
“Simba,” Inika says. “Like in the movie.”
“I love that name,” Emerson says. “The Lion King was one of my favorite movies when I was little. Hey, I have an idea. How would you like to go and see a bunch of kitties? I know you’re not allowed to take one home, but I bet you could stay and play with them as long as you wanted.”
Inika’s eyes grow big and round. “Really?” She looks at her mother. “Can we, Mama? Please?”
Vince leans in and whispers in Emerson’s ear, “The animal shelter?”
Emerson nods as she talks to Rima. “See, we’re doing this thing where we help people make their wishes come true. Someone did it for us, and so we’ve decided to do it for other people, too. It’s been a lot of fun.”
“I don’t think so,” Rima says, her brow furrowed. “We like it here. It’s safe. Quiet.”
All We Have Is Now Page 6