All We Have Is Now

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All We Have Is Now Page 10

by Lisa Schroeder


  Emerson laughs. “He does like his piano, doesn’t he?”

  “He sure does,” Vince says, pulling her into him for a quick kiss. “You remember that, okay? You, girl, are my piano.”

  “WHAT ABOUT you?” she asks when they get into the car.

  “What about me?”

  “You want to help me. Maybe we should help you, too.”

  Vince turns the key and puts the car into drive. “I’m not following you. I don’t have anyone to make up with. Not like you.”

  “We could visit your mom’s grave. Take her flowers, maybe?”

  He glares at her. “That’s stupid. I don’t need to do that. I made peace with it a long time ago.”

  She picks at a fingernail, wondering if she should go further. From time to time, she sees glimpses of the feelings he works hard at hiding, and it makes her sad for him. What he’s gone through is worse than anything she’s experienced. If she needs to deal with things left undone, shouldn’t he do the same?

  “Are you sure about that?” she asks with trepidation, knowing he’s probably not going to take the question well. “About being at peace?”

  He stops the car and puts it into park. “What are you doing, Emerson? Because whatever it is, you need to stop. Right now.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just … I don’t want you to have any regrets, either. Maybe you’d feel better if you went and visited her one more time. Sometimes I get the feeling that you’re—”

  “That I’m what?”

  She says it quietly, hoping she doesn’t upset him. “Pissed off. About her dying and leaving you all alone.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “So, you don’t want to go see her?”

  He grits his teeth, then takes a deep breath. “See her? Emerson, it’s not her. It’s a grave.”

  “Okay, but it’s the only way you can visit her. I mean, you’re making me see my family, so—”

  “It’s not the same!” he yells. “You don’t know anything, Emerson. About any of it. Which is why you need to leave it alone.”

  “That’s right,” she says, louder now as she glares at him. “I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me. All I know is your mom died, you lived in some crappy places, and then you ran away. Why won’t you tell me more?”

  He groans as he squeezes the steering wheel so hard, his arms quiver. “Because, what good would that do? Don’t you get it? I don’t want to relive any of it. It’s gone. Over. There’s nothing I can do to change the hand I was dealt. Any chance of something good happening lies ahead of me, not behind me. I’ve got to keep moving forward, so please, stop trying to pull me back there.”

  “Then why can’t I do that, too?” she asks, her voice softer again. “Why can’t I move forward with you, and forget about everything else?”

  He shakes his head as he puts the car into drive. “Because, girl. Your family is here. Alive, you know? And maybe that isn’t a big deal to you, but believe me, it is.”

  Emerson doesn’t know what to say.

  As Vince turns the corner and heads down the road, he says, “When you hug them, you’ll be glad.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because no one regrets a hug. You only regret not giving one when you had the chance and didn’t take it.”

  IT HAD been raining

  for weeks.

  Dreary.

  Gray.

  Hopeless.

  It felt like

  Mother Nature had

  her heart broken

  and everyone was forced

  to suffer along with her.

  It was a Sunday morning

  when Kenny came into Emerson’s room

  and told her to get up.

  He needed her to hold

  the ladder while

  he cleaned out the gutters

  of the two-story house.

  She’d been out late the night before.

  Nothing sounded worse than

  getting out of her warm bed

  and standing in the pouring rain.

  “Get Frankie to do it,”

  she muttered.

  “No, Emerson,” he said.

  “We talked about this yesterday.

  She helped me clean out the garage.

  It’s your turn.

  Now get up. Let’s go.”

  She refused.

  He yelled.

  She put the pillow over her head.

  He reached down and yanked her up.

  She struggled and slapped.

  He wrestled and wrangled.

  He held her tight as he said,

  “Get dressed. Now.”

  “All right!” she screamed.

  “Let me go.”

  Her mother appeared,

  as Emerson staggered across the floor,

  to her dresser,

  telling herself not to cry,

  not to cry,

  not to cry,

  because she would not give

  him that satisfaction.

  “What’s going on?” her mom asked.

  “She wasn’t cooperating at first,” he said.

  “But she is now. Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

  Her mother sighed.

  Rubbed her large belly as if

  it might grant her three wishes.

  “I’m so tired of you two fighting.”

  Emerson spun around,

  rage firing the movement.

  “He barged in here and dragged me

  out of bed! Who does that?”

  “She wouldn’t get up,” he replied.

  “And we’ve got to get those gutters clean.”

  “You couldn’t wait a few hours?” her mom asked.

  “No,” is all he said to her.

  “Be out there in ten,” he yelled at Emerson

  before he stormed out.

  Once he was gone,

  Emerson let the tears fall.

  “Mom,” she whispered.

  One word.

  One tiny, little word.

  And in it,

  a longing,

  a wish,

  a prayer.

  What Emerson wanted

  in that moment

  was so simple, really.

  Why didn’t her mother know it?

  See it?

  Feel it?

  They were only a few steps away.

  In seconds, she could have been there,

  holding her daughter,

  consoling her,

  telling her everything would be all right.

  Instead, she said,

  “Hopefully, it won’t take too long.

  Then you can go back to bed.”

  As her mom left the room,

  Emerson wondered if

  it was all she had to give

  or all she wanted to give.

  She listened to

  the rain fall outside.

  Gray.

  Dreary.

  Hopeless.

  IT IS the headache from hell that won’t quit. Carl drifts in and out of sleep. Or maybe consciousness. He’s not sure which, and wonders if it matters. All he knows is if he stays very, very still, with his head resting on the nice, soft pillow, and doesn’t open his eyes, he can keep the nausea at bay.

  He wishes he had his wife by his side to comfort him.

  Soon, he tells himself.

  Hopefully soon.

  EMERSON DECIDES she needs to say one more thing. “Vince?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you think of something you want to do, something for yourself, will you promise to tell me?”

  He pulls into a grocery store parking lot, parks the car, and turns to her. “I promise.”

  She leans in and gives him a quick kiss. “Good. That makes me feel better. Now can we go find some food?”

  “Absolutely. That’s why we’re here.”

  “I hope there’s something left.”

  They get out of t
he car and head toward the front doors, which are wide open. Maybe the owners figure if people need food, they’ll find a way to get in. Might as well make it easy for people.

  “Who knows?” Vince says. “We might get lucky and find some pork rinds and Twinkies.”

  “Well, I could probably eat a Twinkie, but fried pork rinds?” She shudders. “I think I’d rather starve.”

  It’s not like she hasn’t gone hungry before. She’s familiar with the gnawing pain in the belly when it’s been hours, or even days, since there’s been food to eat. They ate well yesterday, so she knows she could get through today just fine. And Vince could, too, if he wanted to. But right now, with things going so well the past twenty-four hours, it’s like he doesn’t want to stop. They barely got by for so long, it makes sense that he wants to make the most of their newfound freedom and all the benefits that come with it.

  Once they’re in the store, they scan the mostly empty shelves for anything that sounds good. There are some cans of soup and lots of beans, but of course they don’t have a way to heat them up.

  They pass a skinny red-haired woman and a couple of deathly pale guys with greasy hair and dark shadows under their eyes. Druggies, Emerson thinks to herself. Vince puts his arm around Emerson’s shoulders protectively. When they reach the end of the aisle, she turns around and watches them. “Let’s find something and get out of here,” she whispers. “They’re giving me the creeps.”

  “Okay.”

  The next aisle over, they find a lonely box of doughnuts and grab it. Vince also snags the last bag of chips: Fritos.

  “Frankie’s favorite,” Emerson tells him.

  “Yeah?”

  “She was crazy for them, but Mom had this thing against chips of any kind. I don’t know what the deal was, exactly, just that they weren’t allowed in our house. Anyway, I caught Frankie eating some in her room one time, and Miss Goody Two-shoes was really freaked out about it. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell Mom. I used it to my advantage, of course.”

  “What’d you get in exchange?”

  “She let me wear one of her shirts to a party I was planning to sneak out to that night. And she didn’t tell Mom about the sneaking out part, either. One of my better deals, I must say.”

  As Emerson thinks of her mom and sister, butterflies come rushing back into her stomach at the thought of seeing them again.

  It’s been so long.

  Maybe too long. What if it’s too late to try to repair things? Vince is so sure they want to see her, but he doesn’t know. He wasn’t there when it all went down. What if Mr. Optimistic is wrong about it all?

  “Oh,” Vince says, stopping right before they get to the front doors, “you know, we should get some water, too. Or something to drink anyway.”

  Emerson takes off running. “Back in a flash.”

  Of course, there are no bottles of water or juice to be found. Emerson turns around, deciding she’ll try to find the soda aisle on her way out, when she sees what appear to be two young teen girls, hiding in a corner, their knees curled up into their chests and their heads full of strawberry-blond hair resting in their arms. One of them raises her head and stares at Emerson.

  She walks over to them. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  The other girl looks up, too, tears streaking down her face. As Emerson studies her, she realizes the two girls are identical twins.

  “What’s it to you?” says the one who isn’t crying.

  “I don’t know,” Emerson says, surprised by the girl’s anger. “I saw you sitting here, and thought maybe I could help. Do you need a ride or something?”

  The other girl pipes in. “Our mom took off with a couple of guys. Just left us here. Said she’d come back for us in a while, but what are we supposed to do until then?”

  Vince walks up carrying the Fritos and the box of doughnuts and kind of looks around, like he’s taking in the situation. “What’s going on?”

  “I think we need to help these girls,” Emerson tells him. “Their mom left.” She turns back and asks them, “Did she leave with those two creepy guys? The ones who looked all strung out?”

  “Yep,” the angry one says. “That’s our mother. She really knows how to pick ’em.”

  “Help them how?” Vince asks Emerson.

  Emerson looks around the store nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe give them a ride home? Their mom said she’d come back for them, but what if she doesn’t? I’m not sure we should leave them here. How old are you girls, anyway?”

  “Twelve,” they say at the same time.

  She gives Vince a look that says, See? They need us.

  He pulls Emerson back a few steps. “But we had it planned out, remember? We’re going to see your family. Because it’s important. Time is running out, Em.”

  “Vince, look at them. We can’t leave them here like this. If we did, I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.”

  He narrows his eyes. “This isn’t about you trying to get out of something you’re scared of doing?”

  “I’m not thinking about any of that right now, okay? All I know is I want to help them. I have to help them. What’s wrong with continuing what we did yesterday?” She folds her hands in front of her. “Please? Besides, it’s still early in the day, right?”

  He thinks on it for a moment, and then nods. “All right. Let’s do it.”

  They turn back to the girls. “Come on,” Emerson says. “Let’s get you home. Your mom will know to go there if she doesn’t find you here, right?”

  “Hard to say,” the sad one says as she stands up. “But at least we’ll feel safer at home.”

  “Maybe we can leave a note,” Emerson says. She looks at Vince. “Can you run to the car and get a pen from the glove box?”

  He doesn’t reply, just takes off toward the parking lot.

  The girl on her feet helps the angry sister up as she says, “I’m Kailee, by the way, and this is Kendall.”

  Emerson quickly looks the girls over, trying to determine how she’s going to tell the two apart. Kailee’s hair is smoother. Shinier. Like she uses product and blows out her hair, while Kendall lets it go natural. Kendall has a lot more curl to her hair. She makes a mental note before she says, “Nice to meet you both. I’m Emerson and my friend is Vince.”

  He’s back in record time, with a pen and a piece of paper. Emerson has the girls introduce themselves to Vince while she writes a note.

  We took the twins home.

  They’re waiting for you there.

  Emerson puts the note on the floor, where the girls had been sitting. “I hope she sees it.”

  “We’ve done all we can do, I think,” Vince says. He looks at the girls. “So where are we headed?”

  “Well, we were up here visiting my grandma for the night, but we actually live in Salem.”

  Vince stares at the twins for a moment and then turns and looks at Emerson. “Did you know this?”

  “No, but it shouldn’t be a problem?” Emerson says. “It’s only an hour away. The tank is almost full, so we’re good.”

  He holds up the stuff he’s carrying. “Okay. We’ve got snack foods and a sweet ride, which is all you really need for a road trip. Let’s do this.”

  Emerson grabs a two-liter bottle of diet RC Cola, one of the only drinks left, as they head toward the door.

  “I’m excited,” Emerson says to Vince when they get to the car. “I haven’t been on a road trip in a long time. Maybe we should just keep going. Go see the Grand Canyon or something. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “Girl, at some point, you have to stop running. You get that, right?”

  “I was just teasing,” Emerson says.

  Although she has always wanted to see the Grand Canyon.

  IT’S QUIET at first, as they head toward the freeway. Vince and Emerson munch on snacks and guzzle down soda.

  “You want some?” Emerson asks, glancing behind her, at the girls in the backseat. “Vince
and I are firm believers in the caring-is-sharing philosophy. Except when it comes to the flu or other communicable diseases, of course.”

  “Sure,” Kailee says. “Grandma was still sleeping when we left, so we didn’t get breakfast. Mom didn’t want to have to say good-bye.”

  Emerson passes the food and drink to the back.

  “It can be hard, that’s for sure,” Vince says.

  “But she knew you were leaving, right?” Emerson asks.

  Kailee is taking a swig of soda, so Kendall answers. “She didn’t have a clue. Mom hadn’t said how long we were staying. We weren’t even sure. We just hoped we could get back and spend today with Teddy.”

  Emerson looks at them quizzically. “Teddy? Who’s that?”

  “Our Australian shepherd,” Kailee says as she hands Kendall the soda. “You can meet him if you want. He’s the sweetest dog you’ve ever seen.”

  “But you left him alone?” Emerson asks.

  “Yeah, in the backyard,” Kailee says. “We wanted to take him with us, but Mom insisted that was the worst idea ever.”

  “You guys must be thinking she deserves the Mother of the Year award,” Kendall says with a hint of disgust in her voice.

  Emerson starts to say they’re not alone with their mommy issues, but she decides against it. Instead, she leaves it to Vince to say the right thing.

  “It’s a really strange time right now,” he says. “I think some people just don’t know how to handle it.”

  “Well, I can tell you that ditching your daughters for two scumbags is definitely not how to handle it,” Kendall says. “And anyone with half a brain, or heart, would know that.”

  It gets quiet then, and the girls each take a doughnut from the box. Emerson turns up the stereo, thinking back to what Mr. Bow-tie said about music’s healing powers.

  “Mmm, I like this song,” Kailee says, bobbing her head to the music.

  “Doughnuts and Justin Timberlake,” Kendall says happily. “Now this is an awesome last day.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a question for you guys,” Vince says. “If you could go back and relive one day, which day would it be?”

  “Like, relive it because it was so awesome?” Kailee asks. “Or relive it so you could do it over because it was completely terrible?”

 

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