“I don’t blame you. I just…I didn’t want to believe it. I was so confused, and Jenn was so convincing,” I explained. At the mention of her name, I peered across the lunchroom. Jenn was glancing over at us, seemingly distraught by what she saw. I would deal with her later. For now, I had some catching up to do.
“This was so stupid. These last few weeks have been hell,” he said.
“They were for me, too. And my mom misses you,” I professed, smiling.
“Did you tell her about it?” he asked.
“No. But you’ll be happy to know that she took your side anyway,” I admitted with a characteristic eye roll.
“Of course she did. No woman can resist my charm,” he scoffed, stroking my hair.
“Well, that little fact is what got us into this mess to begin with,” I said smiling.
“Let’s not even go there,” Corbin added while pulling away to take a bite of his chicken patty.
“Seriously, Corbin. I love you so much. I just don’t want to lose you. And you’re so great. Any girl would want you. I guess I was just afraid that maybe you realized that,” I added hesitantly.
“Emma, honestly I’m not as great as you think. Not every girl wants me the way you think they do. Besides, even if they do, there’s only one person I want, and she’s sitting right beside me. I love you. Forever,” he added seriously.
“I know. I love you, too. Forever,” I smiled, overjoyed that it was finally over.
After school, I stopped by his house for our study date, although I knew we probably wouldn’t get much studying done. It was a few hours into our “session,” which turned out to be more of a make-out session since his dad wasn’t home, when I had to make a “pit stop.” It was then I noticed that the once bright orange bathroom was now a misty blue.
The next day at school, I confronted Jenn about the whole story. I presented her with the evidence that I knew she was lying. She knew she was cornered.
With tears threatening to overflow from her eyes, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“Why, Jenn?” I demanded, stunned at the finality of the fact that she had made up the story.
“I guess I was just sick of seeing you two so happy. I was jealous. I know, I’m a bitch,” she confessed.
I paused. Yeah, you are a bitch, I thought. But the softer side of me shone through. “Why are you jealous of us? What about you and Rodger?”
“We broke up. He cheated on me with Sasha,” she admitted.
“I thought things were going great?” I asked, stunned from this new revelation.
“Yeah, so did I,” she said.
“But what does that have to do with me?” I questioned, anger rebuilding.
“I know, it was stupid. I just…I was so upset over Rodger. And then there was you and Corbin, all lovey-dovey, all perfectly happy. I was jealous. I hated that you two were so overjoyed. You know, the whole misery loves company thing. I’m sorry. It was dumb. I don’t blame you if you hate me,” she muttered, eyes glancing at the ground.
I paused for a few minutes. I wanted to hate her for what she almost did. I should have hated her. But I couldn’t. Even though she had incited the worst two weeks of my life, she also helped Corbin and I in a strange sort of way. She helped us see what we truly had. She made me realize that our love was real, that we were meant for each other. She made us realize that we truly couldn’t live without each other. So I found myself wanting to forgive her.
“It’s okay. I understand. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” I said.
“Really?” Jenn asked, shock on her face as she gaped at me.
“Yes, really,” I said with a smile.
Just then, Bridget Hodges strutted right by. We both burst out laughing.
* * * *
Corbin and I had other tiffs, of course, but none as bad as that fight. It was that fight that made me believe we were meant to be together, regardless of the circumstances. I believed that no matter what came between us, the universe would toss us back together somehow. If only this had been the case.
I sigh, realizing that even the bad memories catapult me right back into the good ones. No matter how hard I try, I cannot force a dark cloud to loom over the past that we share. I can try to focus on the blackness of our days, but the light always shines through. I am blessed with vivid, beautiful, happy memories from our days together. Yet, this is also a curse.
I realize for the first time that my back and shoulders are aching, either from my tensed position on the couch, or perhaps from the mental strain of the day. I lazily trod up the stairs, making a sharp right into the bathroom. I can’t help but notice the misty blue color in a way that I hadn’t before. What a cruel coincidence. Or perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence at all. Perhaps this was the universe’s way of sticking its tongue out at me.
I light a few vanilla candles, pour oodles of pumpkin spice bubble bath into the tub as I turn on the hot water. The oversized bathtub is perhaps another perk of my current life, one I have never appreciated as much as today. As I take off my socks and step onto the white tile floor, a shiver runs through my body. I quickly strip off the “man pants” and sloppy shirt. I pull the ponytail out of my embarrassingly greasy hair. As I reach into the linen closet for a fluffy towel, a washcloth drops to the floor. I bend down to pick it up when my eyes inadvertently catch a glimpse of something on my hip. I am frozen in place at the sight. I can hear the water softly thudding into the tub and smell the pumpkin aroma filling the room, but I cannot move. I am standing on the achingly cold ceramic tiles naked and free, yet my mind and heart are not here. They have again been transported to another time, despite my heart’s protest.
Chapter Eighteen: Painful Promises
Emma
Memories
“Happy Birthday to you…”
A horrible, screeching voice boomed an off-tune version of the familiar song. I groaned as I kept my face buried in my pillowcase.
“Happy Birthday to you,”
Was I having a bad dream? At least in my nightmares, though, the voice was a little more in tune.
“Happy Birthday dear Emma,”
The voice was getting closer. I pulled the covers over my head in a vague attempt to hide from whatever was facing me today. The covers were yanked back as the last line of the song rang through the room louder and more forceful than before.
“Happy Birthday to youuuu!”
With the grogginess of sleep finally breaking down, I recognized my mother’s voice as she basked in the last note way too long.
“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked, glancing up to see a pink frosted cupcake with a candle in the middle of it.
“Singing happy birthday to my freshly eighteen-year-old daughter. What’s it look like I’m doing?” she smirked, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Now make a wish!”
I blinked at her, then eyed the alarm clock on my nightstand.
“It’s seven in the morning. And it’s Saturday. Are you nuts?” I interrogated, shaking my head.
“Actually, it’s 7:02. The exact time you were born. Sooooo, you know what that means, don’t you?” she half-sang. The candle wax was starting to drip all over the sugary treat still sitting on the plate five inches from my face.
“That you’re crazy?”
“No, idiot. It means you are officially eighteen! An adult! And I’m officially old,” she sighed. This temporary instance of bad news didn’t keep her down too long, though. In a millisecond, she was beaming again. “Anyway, blow out the damn candle so you can eat your cupcake without a half pound of wax!” she ordered.
Pushing air through my teeth in extreme frustration, I obeyed. The sooner I did as I was told, the sooner I could go back to bed. I huffed and puffed and blew out the candle. I’m sure my mother would have been disappointed to know that I didn’t make a wish.
She clapped in mock celebration. “Now, Corbin will be here in, oh, an hour or so.”
“What?!?” I yelled.
“Yeah,
he’s coming in an hour. So get your lazy butt out of bed, get dressed, and then we can eat breakfast together before he comes. I’m sure he’s got quite the day planned,” she winked.
“Doesn’t anyone appreciate the idea of sleep around here?” I asked grumpily.
“Sleep is overrated, anyway,” she added. How could the woman be so chipper this early? I sighed, knowing it was no use arguing.
“Well, birthdays are overrated, too,” I insisted as I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “What’s for breakfast?” I asked, pausing in the doorway to look back at her. She was still perched on the edge of my bed. She gave me a look like I was an idiot, and then held up the plate with the now-dripping cupcake.
“What, do you think I made these for show?” she asked incredulously.
“Cupcakes? For breakfast?” I asked.
“Why not?” she said, stealing a tad of icing from the plate.
I shook my head. “You are crazy. How did I turn out half normal?” I murmured, stumbling to the bathroom. She just laughed.
After completing my morning ritual, slothfully due to my lack of sufficient sleep, I might add, I joined my mother at the table. Dad was, of course, at the office. Lawyers don’t understand the concept of weekends.
“Soo…Corbin has a day planned for you,” my mom insisted. I was worried by how excited she was. “Then, tonight we’re having birthday festivities here! Dad promised he’d be home in time,” she added with a hint of suspicion in her voice. Lateness accompanied my dad as often as craziness accompanied my mother.
“I told you guys I didn’t want to celebrate,” I argued. Birthdays and surprises had never been my thing. I hated being the center of attention.
“Too bad. Do we ever listen to you?” she observed as she bit into a pink frosted cupcake. There were at least three dozen of them on the table.
“When did you bake these?” I asked, changing the subject.
“This morning.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Nope, not really. It’s a writer thing,” she said smiling.
“Remind me never to be writer then,” I mentioned. “These are good, though. Thanks,” I said, truly appreciating the efforts she had put into making this day special.
“I’ll wait to give you your presents until Dad’s here tonight,” she exclaimed. “You’ll love them, I promise,” she added as an afterthought. Like everything else, Mom got overly enthused with birthdays. Anything that could possibly involve a party and food pretty much enthralled her.
I devoured my cupcake, resisting the urge to gorge on a second. Then I went back upstairs to finish getting ready. I had no idea what Corbin had planned. I didn’t even know he was coming to pick me up this early. I hated the prospect that my mom was in on his plan—the two of them conniving together was never a comforting thought. Not having a clue what was in store for me, I opted for a pair of jeans and a plain, royal blue shirt. Comfy, casual, and versatile—everything I needed to get through the day. I threw my hair in a ponytail and found my jacket. As I was applying a few touches of blue eye shadow and freezing a few reluctant wisps of hair with spray, the doorbell beckoned me. Within a few seconds, my mother was popping open the door, as usual. I skipped down the stairs and was greeted with another “Happy Birthday” and a bouquet of wildflowers.
“I’ll shove these in a vase,” my overly helpful mother offered. “You two have fun!” she called over her shoulder on her way to scrounge up the perfect vessel for the flowers she was admiring. She was awfully excited for this day to get underway. I shrugged and walked out the door with Corbin. The cool, March air slammed me like a knife. I was glad I brought a jacket.
“How’s it feel to be old?” he asked jokingly.
“If I’m old, so are you,” I said matter-of-factly. Corbin had turned eighteen back in September. “Now where are we going?” I begged.
Corbin shook his head in an outright refusal. “You’re mom’s right. You’re horrible with surprises.” I sighed, feeling like a conspiracy between Corbin and my mom was undeniable at this point.
* * * *
Try as I might, I couldn’t hide the pure disdain that covered my face as the pickup truck lurched to a stop in a less-than-glamorous part of town. We were about fifteen minutes from home, but it felt as if we were in another country. The buildings around us would undeniably clamor to the ground if I shut the truck door too hard. A few shady characters eyed us from across the street, resting on the curb. I tried to nonchalantly avert my eyes from them, afraid of what staring too long might do. A truck that was even more dilapidated than Corbin’s sat beside us, barely in the parking space. In front of us was a red brick “building,” dingy and in severe need of repair. A glowing, neon sign read Ted’s Tats. I glanced over at Corbin slowly, with shock and horror on my face.
“What the hell are we doing here?” I asked.
“What’s it look like we’re doing?” he beamed, seeming oblivious to our surroundings.
“Um, well, if we don’t get murdered, raped, shot, or all of the above in the next five seconds, then I don’t have a clue.”
“Stop being so dramatic. We’re fine.”
“Are we fine? Because I don’t call this,” I said, motioning at our surroundings, “fine. I thought you were planning an amazing birthday surprise?”
“I did,” he said with a smug grin on his face.
“What’s the surprise? It better not have anything to do with Ted,” I said, pointing to the neon sign. I knew deep down that it did, but I was in denial.
“No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Ted, not really. It has a lot more to do with us,” he said, getting out of the truck. I stayed in my seat, my customary stance when I was angry, disappointed, nervous, or all of the above, which was true in this case. He came around and opened my door. I didn’t move.
“What do you mean by us? Corbin, what’s going on? I hate surprises. I especially hate surprises that have to do with Ted. And shady neighborhoods. And most of all, ‘tats.’ This place doesn’t even look safe,” I argued, panic overflowing in my voice.
“Just relax,” Corbin reassured me. “I did my homework. This place is reputable. Now get out of the truck,” he ordered, yanking at my seatbelt.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Well,” I proclaimed smugly, “I don’t know what you’re doing. But I know what I’m not doing here.”
“Yes you are. Now don’t be a pain,” he said, grabbing my arm closest to him. “Get out so I can talk to you,” he said.
“Talk to me? You brought me to this glorious place to talk?” I asked, pouring extra sarcasm on the word glorious.
“Stop asking questions. Now just get out, shut up, and relax,” he ordered.
“Stop being so bossy,” I sassed.
“Stop being difficult,” he argued. He had succeeded in pulling me out of the truck. I humphed, knowing I had been defeated.
“Okay, now, remember that first day we met?” he asked excitedly.
“Nope. No clue what you’re talking about,” I denied, looking away. A grin threatened to spread across my face. Being difficult was kind of fun. I should try this more often.
“Can you just humor me, okay?” he pleaded, true frustration building in his voice.
“Fine,” I begrudged. “Of course I remember. What about it?”
“Well, remember when I asked you to tell me some deep, dark secret? Remember?” I searched my mind for a minute, thinking back to that day. I shoved memories of his sparkling eyes and flowing hair out of my mind in order to retrieve the other memories. I didn’t have to dig far before it hit me.
“Corbin, no, you can’t think I was serious,” I said, horror starting to fill my mind.
“Of course you were serious,” he said, realizing that what we were doing was finally sinking in. “And so, today, your secret desire comes true,” he announced. “Isn’t this great?”
“Um, no,�
�� I contradicted him, truly terrified now. If only I could go back and retract those stupid words. How could I have known that a few years down the road, those words would lead me to Ted and his tats?
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fine. What’s a little pain?” he said, tugging on my hand.
“Um, a lot of pain, first of all. And second, I’m not going in there. I’m sorry, but your surprise sucks. You’re going to have to cancel,” I ordered. The prospect of needles jabbing into my skin was horrifying. The thought of what Ted potentially looked like, judging by the side of his building, was also enough to scare away even the staunchest tattoo connoisseur.
“I’ll go first. It won’t be that bad, you’ll see,” Corbin grinned. “Don’t be such a wimp. Besides, what better way to assert your newfound adult independence than getting a tattoo?”
“What do you mean, ‘you’ll go first?’” I inquired, truly surprised.
“I mean, we’re getting matching tattoos,” he said. Hesitation filled his face, “I mean, if, well…” he stammered, “if you’re okay with it. I mean the matching part. I just thought that it could be a sign—that we are in it for the long haul. I mean, I don’t have any reservations about it. But if you do…” he suddenly seemed worried for the first time all day, tripping over his words as they spilled from his lips. I grinned. He was charming when he was being humble and awkward.
“Of course I don’t have reservations about us, you idiot,” I said, laughing for the first time. “I think it’s kind of cute. But I can’t,” I said. Suddenly, regret crept up in my voice. I started to think about how serious of a step it was for Corbin to set this up, and for a moment, I had second thoughts about turning down his offer.
“Why not?” he asked, feeling relieved that my wavering had nothing to do with him.
“First of all, my dad would kill me. Kill me,” I annunciated with gravity.
“No he won’t,” he assured.
“How do you know?”
“Because I already asked your mom before I set this entire thing up,” he beamed.
“What?!”
“Yep. She was cool with it, of course. She thought it was sweet of me. Plus, she said you need to loosen up a bit and do something crazy. She said it will be fine.”
Voice of Innocence: A Coming-Of-Age Sweet Romance Page 13