by Shelly Crane
"Mason, no," I protested softly, more to myself than to him. "You were the one person in my life that didn't lie to me. That didn't expect anything from me."
"And I don't expect anything now," he assured. "I know that I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry, but to me, it didn't seem like a lie, it felt like...a necessary omission. Emma, I'm so sorry. I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I didn't want you to come back into your life with the last memory anyone had of you, other than the ass that ran you over, with you drunk at some party. And when you woke up, you couldn't remember anything and were upset, it just made me even more sure that you didn't need to see that last night of your life yet. You needed to accept that you weren't the same girl, Emma, and not have some memory making you doubt that you could be different, that you could be whoever the hell you wanted to be." Every time he stopped talking, he gritted his teeth so hard that I heard it. He went on. "And you're not the same. You're you, Em, and making sure that you saw that, even with everyone else doubting you and wanting you to be something else...I felt like I was the only one on your side. But," he gulped painfully, his face agonized, "I was wrong. I should have just told you and let you decide for yourself." Even though he looked away, he still held my face. He stared at the wall. "Good ol' Mason strikes again."
That statement almost made me stay.
Almost.
I ached for him. I got it. I understood that he was looking out for me, but my heart just couldn't handle anything else. I leaned in and kissed his cheek as slowly as I could move. I wanted to savor this. I needed to remember exactly what this felt like. If another coma struck me down, I wanted to keep this somehow.
His face was so smooth today, like he shaved just for me. I squeezed my eyes shut at that thought. When I leaned back, his eyes were squeezed shut, too.
I pulled away, letting his hands fall from my face to his lap. He didn't try to stop me, which I was glad for. He didn't open his eyes either. I looked back once more as I opened the shop door. He was a magnet, pulling and begging me to come back without even trying. But my head needed clearing and I had some things to think about. So I made myself walk out the door, closing it softly behind me, and started my walk home. The tears started with the click of the door and didn't stop until I was home. They weren't gut-wrenching tears because I didn't even really know what they meant.
Was I angry with Mason? Yes. Did I understand why he did what he did? Yes. Was I done with him? I couldn't imagine that. What was I going to do now? I had no clue.
No, the tears that I cried were just something that needed to be done. I had gone through the mourning stage. I mourned the old me and I was accepting of my place in this world now. Now...I just kind of missed her. I missed Emma because I wanted to ask her a million questions. I wanted to live in her head for just a day to see where she was coming from and what she would have done in my place.
I wiped my face with the wrist of my sleeve as I made my way up the long driveway and stopped at the front door. It was then that I heard it. The beater. I turned to see Mason's car passing the gate and felt my lips fall open.
He followed me to make sure that I got home safely in the dark, even after I left him there like that. I felt a little piece of the doubt and hopelessness that had surrounded my heart since I woke up break off and fall away. To have the love and protection of someone like Mason was a once in a lifetime thing. I had no doubt that whatever happened, I'd never find someone like that again.
Useless Fact Number Sixteen
On average, people are more scared of spiders than death.
I pushed my way inside the door, only to be met head-to-chest by the butler. "Miss," he said briskly.
"Hey...man." Dang, I couldn't remember his name.
His brow lifted pompously. "Hanson."
"Hey, Hanson. Sorry I ran into you." He stared. "What's shaking?" I said wryly and started to make my way past him and up the stairs.
"Have you been crying, miss?"
I stopped and turned. "Uh...it's just windy out. Thanks, though."
"Are you certain?" He stepped toward me just a bit. "Not that I'm calling you a liar, but you don't look windblown, miss."
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "You caught me, but I'm fine."
"Was it your parents? Or that young man that you go to see?"
I squinted. "What?"
"That has caused you to cry."
I smiled at his candor. "Neither. Both. Just...a collection of lots of things." I sat on the bottom step and pulled me knees up to my chest. "Would the old me have come in crying when she had a bad day?"
He pressed his lips together and put his hands behind his back.
I laughed silently and stood. "I didn't think so. I'm going to bed, Hanson. Night."
"You know, miss..." he started a little too carefully, "just now you've spoken more words to me than you ever have which had nothing to do with some chore you wanted me to do for you."
I felt my breath catch. "I'm sorry, I..."
He smiled. It was reassuring and sincere. "When I overheard your parents say that you'd woken up and couldn't remember anything, honestly, I thought you were pulling a prank." I grimaced. He wasn't the first person to suggest that. "But seeing you since you got home, watching your eyes show such so honesty, hearing you speak with your parents... You were always a tight-knit family. You were always respectful of them, but you also always got your way." He smiled a little wider. "And now, you're still respectful, but you worry so much about letting them down. No offense, miss, but the young woman who used to reside in your bedroom wouldn't have cared about that and she certainly wouldn't have said she was sorry for running into me."
I let that soak in. "I feel like all I do is apologize anymore."
"You don't have to apologize to me. Or anyone, for that matter. I can only imagine what it would be like to wake up and not remember my life, but the only explanation that comes to my mind is...a second chance. Most of us don't get those."
I swallowed and nodded. He nodded his head once in return and made his way from the pristine foyer. I stood there for who knew how long before finally making my way to my room. The stairs no longer caused me such shortness of breath and it felt good to have a piece of normalcy back.
My cell buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out reluctantly and read the text from Andy asking—well, not really asking, but more like stating, that we were going to Prom together on Friday. He said his tux was black with cream. I could get a swatch and match the color if I needed to. I shook my head.
He was thick-headed, that was for sure. I plopped down on my mattress and kicked my shoes off the side. I let my cheek press into the cool surface, calming and resting my senses. I felt like I was on a precipice that was the most important I'd faced so far. It was all I could do to hang on and see what happened when the cliff gave way. I couldn't face my parents tonight and didn't know if I was surprised that they didn't call me down to dinner or not. I was surprised, however, that Hanson knocked on my door with a tray of fruit and a slice of apple pie for me. I took it gratefully and smiled at him as he shut the door. How had he known that solace and food was what I needed?
I ate, took a shower, put on some cute sleep shorts and a tank that matched to a T, and then lay on my bed and looked up at the dragonflies. My father must've been the one to put these here for me, too. My father who was angry with me for liking peaches.
I knew that wasn't fair. I knew that wasn't really the reason, but it was all I had right then. I was still on top of my comforter with the lamp on when Isabella came in, and it didn't escape my notice that she didn't mention my missing dinner. "Emmie, I got you something."
I looked down the length of my bed at her and raised my eyebrows. "You did?"
"Uhuh," she said and grinned. The dog had followed her in and sat by her feet. Yeah, the dog missed me all right. Isabella had a bag draped over her arm. I knew it was a dress. A freaking prom dress.
"What is it?"
"Well," she stalle
d and swung the dress bag up so quickly that I jumped. "Tada!" she squealed and unzipped the bag, revealing a gorgeous- beyond-belief cream dress.
I felt sick. "You talked to Andy, huh?"
"Of course. He called me, said you had worked everything out, and that you had agreed to go to prom with him. So I went to his house today, got a swatch to match his tux, and went right to Macy's!" I made a face. "Well, honey, I had to go to Macy's on such short notice. If you had given me more time, we could have gotten you fitted at Vera Wang-"
"That's not what I meant." I sighed and looked at the dress. "I'm not going with Andy. He shouldn't have told you I was."
She stood still for a few seconds before lifting her arms in surrender, the dress draping and flying like a flag of guilt. "Then who are you going with?" I squinted and looked away. "You're going, aren't you? Aren't you, Emma?"
"I don't know." Why should I?
"You have to. You'll regret it if you don't."
"No offense, Isabelle, but how would you know that? I think I'll survive without Prom on my résumé."
"I know because I never went to mine," she explained softly. "And I always regretted it."
"Why didn't you go?" She looked at me strangely. "What?" I asked, but then I understood and sighed. "We've had this discussion before, haven't we?"
She nodded. Then she tossed the dress on the chair and sat on the bed beside me. "We were too poor for me to go."
My lips parted. "Really?"
"Mmhmm. My father was so upset about it, but none of my five sisters got to go to Prom. It was just never something that fit into the budget, no matter what we did." Her lip quivered a bit. "I suppose it's why I'm so hard on you about things. I never want you to live like I did, never want you to have to tell your daughter that she can't go to Prom one day."
"I know what you said to Mason," I blurted and looked right at her. I wasn't angry and I was just wanted all my cards on the table.
"I did. I said those things and probably a few more things that he was too much of a gentleman to tell you about." I waited. She stared at the carpet before I saw her lip tremble. I was so shocked at the sight that I could do nothing but stare. She turned to me, her head shaking, tears on her cheek, and I lost it.
"Ah, Mom," I whispered and put my hand on her knee. I noted how soft the fabric of her white slacks was. "I'm-"
"You called me Mom." Her voice was high and her eyes were wide. "You called me Mom," she repeated, as if to break me from my stupor.
"I did," I admitted quietly. "To be honest, this is the first time that you really feel like it."
She laughed a little. "Because I'm crying like a goon?"
I laughed at that. Goon. "No, because you're facade is down and you're being real with me. You're not asking me to do anything for my future or how I'm doing. You're just being...you." I squinted and stared into her eyes. My own eyes glazed over and I let it all come out. "I wish I could remember you, so badly. I can almost, almost grab onto some memory when you look at me like this."
"Oh, baby," she cried. "It doesn't matter." She pulled me to her and for the first time, I latched on. She smoothed my hair and I felt like someone's daughter. Her daughter. I started to spill my guts.
I told her all about what Andy had done to me, and my friends, and lastly, Mason. I didn't spare her the details at all, and she was peeved about the tattoo, let me tell you, but the part about him knowing me one night before the accident made her very quiet. I didn't know what that meant. I missed him already and I told her so. She didn't scold me about seeing him behind their backs, or about the party I'd been to that night that would ultimately be my demise, or that Mason and I were going to tell them we wanted to see each other regardless.
No. She just absorbed.
I lay back and pulled the pillow down. I patted it for her and she smiled before lying down next to me. We both looked up at the ceiling and I reached over to turn the lamp off. The dragonflies practically swam in the dark above us and she told me about them without my asking. "You used to get so mad at your brother when you were little. He would pull the wings off dragonflies and you'd throw an out-n-out hissy fit, say they weren't hurting anything, and that they were pretty and harmless, that they didn't deserve to die."
"Well...they don't," I said and she laughed before rolling toward me a little to get closer. I put my head on her shoulder, still looking at the ceiling. She went on.
"So when your father bought this house, you said it would be amazing if you could have dragonflies for pets." I smiled against her shoulder. "Your father...being the big softy he is, knew there was no way to keep them as pets, but he searched high and low until he found these." She pointed to the ceiling. "You were our only child that was never scared of the dark. You never had nightmares. You never came and asked to sleep in our bed. It was because of them. It was more than just plastic bugs on your ceiling. It was more than that."
I nodded. "It was." I felt myself tearing up again. "He's mad at me."
She knew who. "No, he's mad at himself. I don't have any doubt that you two will find your way back to each other. You always had this connection. He's... He's sorry, baby. He's so sorry."
I didn't want to talk about Rhett anymore. He didn't want me, so I just closed my eyes and snuggled closer under her arm. Before I knew it, I jolted awake a tiny bit when Rhett pulled a blanket over us both. I closed my eyes so that he wouldn't know I was awake. He leaned over me and kissed Mom's forehead. Then he kissed mine before rubbing my head. "My girls," he muttered. "Back together again."
He plopped down in the chair next to my bed and rubbed his face hard. "God, what am I doing wrong?"
I held in my tears just barely and closed my eyes again to let sleep claim me.
In the morning, he was gone and so was Mom.
Mom. I smiled. It felt so good to embrace that. I got ready for school, though I didn't want to go. I skipped breakfast and half expected Andy or Mason, or both, to be waiting for me, but they weren't.
So I walked and that was fine. When I arrived, the trio waved and kept going. I felt good that maybe at least one fire had been diffused. Now, if I could just get Andy to take a hint and then figure out about...Mason. Sigh.
Andy was in his car and watched me go past. It was beginning to be beyond his wanting to help me. It was creepy. So I steered clear of him all day. I hadn't done my homework the night before since Mom and I had a cry-fest, so I just took notes and listened. All anyone talked about was Prom anyway. I was glad that they had moved on from talking about me. Though I was tired of Prom already and I hadn't even gone yet.
I wondered if Isabella...Mom was right. Would I regret not going? Was that one of those things that I needed to do to feel...normal...
I pulled the list from my purse and on number four wrote Prom. Ok. It was settled. I didn't really have a date, but I was going. So I muddled through the day just like that, and the next, which wasn't too hard since Rhett had a work dinner. I convinced Mom to watch a movie with me and we ate in the den. She even went and put on yoga pants.
Yoga. Pants.
It was like seeing the Pope wearing a Christmas sweater.
The next was P Day. Prom. Mom threatened to pull me out of school early to have my hair and nails done because that's apparently...what people did. Not I. I said I could do my own and wasn't interested in being tortured pre-Prom. It was actually kind of nice, because after lunch, half the student body was gone. We basically did nothing the rest of the day. We watched the Dicaprio version of Romeo & Juliet in English if that's any indicator.
That night, I almost changed my mind. It had been two days since I'd seen Mason. I had picked up the phone so many times to text him, but didn't. I didn't really know why. I wasn't really mad at him. I was confused, but not about him. I knew I wanted to be with him, it was just a matter of kicking away my pride and going back over there. To be honest, the reason I think I left was because I felt cheated once again. Even Mason got to know a piece of me before the accid
ent. I wanted to know her and it wasn't fair that I was always the one out of the loop. I doubted he'd come here for me. He probably thought I hated him.
A horrible pain went through me at that thought. He probably did think I hated him. I just left and didn't look back. He probably thought I hadn't thought of him at all since I left when the reality was the opposite. But if I hadn't had that fight with Mason, would my mom and I have resolved our issues? If I hadn't been sulking in my room, she wouldn't have come to see me and talk, now would she?
Gah, all of this made my head hurt. Maybe I could just skip Prom and go see him instead... No. What if he was angry with me? I hadn't thought of that. What if he was upset that I had left and wasn't interested in reconciling? He had done so much for me and I just walked out on him. He hadn't texted me either or come to try to talk. I bit my lip and threw myself back to the bed.
Oh, no. That was it, wasn't it? He was done. Well, I'd have to figure out how to make it up to him then. I'd have to-
"Emma!" I jolted up to find Isabella in my doorway. "What in the blazes are you doing not getting dressed!"
"What?"
"You're going to Prom," she commanded and pulled me from the bed with a wide grin. "Oh, just...everything that I thought you'd miss and now you get your chance." She burst into tears right there.
It may have been wrong of me, but I just couldn't break her heart. I'd give her this night and then tomorrow, I'd go get Mason back. I'd tell her that I was absolutely done with Andy, and Mason and I were absolute. If he took me back...
I pushed that away and let her practically rip the shirt from me. The bra came next and she placed a strapless bra on that was basically cups and nothing else. It was magic for all I was concerned. But I couldn't dwell on that because she was putting the dress over my head and twisted my hair up before I could even think. I slipped my heels on and looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was a soft cream and had a strapless top that bunched at the high waist to cascade down the front. I had to admit that I looked beautiful, even if it was wasted on no one.