by Lori L. Otto
“I’ll see you home,” Shawn volunteers.
“Oh, no, Shawn, really, it’s okay. I got it.” I trip over my feet as I try to walk away.
“I insist,” he says with a laugh. “It’s late, you don’t need to be out by yourself.”
I really don’t want the company, but I agree to let him walk me home. On the way, it begins to sprinkle. Shawn takes off his jacket and holds it over my head to shelter me from the rain. This time, I don’t question his motives, I just accept that he’s a nice guy.
Shawn gawks when we get to my building. “This is where you live?”
“Yes,” I say nonchalantly, noting how wet he has gotten as the shower picked up. “Listen, do you want to come in and dry off a little?”
“That would be nice,” he says. I’m relieved that Marcus isn’t working tonight... I think I would be a little embarrassed, ashamed, if he were to see me bringing a guy home.
When we get upstairs, I go to my closet to find a dry shirt for Shawn to put on. I pass over two of Nate’s shirts and find an old concert t-shirt of mine. It would be too small for Shawn, but it was the best I could offer him. He happily takes it and puts it on. I take him a few towels so he can pat his hair dry.
“Thanks for walking me home,” I say to him, stumbling as I take off my heels.
“Thanks for letting me,” he says wandering to the window that overlooks Central Park. “Great view.”
“I know,” I say, feeling unclear. “Hey, would you like some coffee or something?”
“Sure, black,” he says walking back toward the living room. He puts a towel down on the couch and sits down as I make the coffee.
“You can turn the TV on if you like,” I tell him. While the coffee’s percolating, I go to the restroom and change into a dry pair of jeans and a polo shirt. I pull on some warm socks before stopping by the kitchen and pouring two cups of coffee and taking them to the living room. I set them on the coffee table and then sit down at the other end of the sofa.
“Thank you,” he tells me, taking a sip.
“You’re welcome,” I smile, still feeling a little strange.
“These paintings are pretty cool, did you do them?” Shawn asks, motioning to the artwork on the walls.
“Uh, nope,” I say. “My, uh, former boyfriend was a painter.”
“He is really good,” he says.
“Yes, he was,” I correct him.
“Oh,” Shawn says. “I forgot that. I’m sorry. He’s, uh... he passed away, right?” Yes, Shawn, he died. I really didn’t need a reminder. I feel a pang in the pit of my stomach.
“Yes,” I respond, lingering on the thought, staring at the painting.
“I remember Teresa telling us that awhile back. I’m sorry,” he apologizes again.
“It’s okay,” I sigh, returning to the present... to this strange man sitting next to me on the couch.
“Don’t be upset,” he says, sensing my mental distance and leaning into me. Before I know it, his mouth is attacking mine. It takes me a moment to realize what’s going on. I push him away, shaking my head and laughing.
“Wow,” I say, completely taken by surprise. I look down at my hands to avoid eye-contact. Shawn obviously has something else in mind. He lifts my chin and kisses me again, this time gently. It’s been so long since someone has kissed me, and I’m briefly caught up in the moment. I close my eyes and envision myself kissing Nate. When I start to believe it’s really him, I gasp and push Shawn away again. “I can’t do this,” I tell him.
I’ve betrayed him. I’ve betrayed Nate, in his own apartment. What is going on? How did this happen? Is it really happening? Am I just drunk? Confused? Generally out of my mind?
“I’m sorry,” Shawn says. “I was just trying to take your mind off things.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just not ready for this.” We sit in awkward silence, drinking coffee. Finally, I apologize for my rudeness and ask him to leave. Glancing out the window and seeing the rain shower outside, I let him borrow an umbrella and tell him good night.
A strange end to a strange night. I close the door behind him and change into some pajamas. The rain turns into a thunderstorm. Lightning flashes in the loft intermittently as I lie in bed, trying to go to sleep. Again, I’m alone, but tonight, I feel that’s the way it should be. It’s the way I want to be. The way I feel I’m supposed to be. Now... and maybe forever.
Nate, I think, hoping he can hear my thoughts. I’m not sure what’s going on. Please, believe me, I love you. I will always love you. I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight. I’m sorry. I just feel the need to apologize... please forgive me, I’m begging you... and Nate?
I tuck my knees into my chest and begin to sob.
How is our little girl, Nate? I miss her so much. I miss you both so much I can hardly stand it. The emptiness is back, Nate! I thought I was past this... but it still hurts so bad. I realized something the other day... in my memories of that night, Nate, the bad ones, the ones I want to forget... I don’t remember being concerned at all for our baby. I don’t know why. And I feel guilty. Why did the thought not ever occur to me in the car that night, as we both lay there, hurting, dying?
I would have been a good mother. I say this more to convince myself. Nate... do you ever miss me? Do you feel sadness where you are? Come comfort me, please. I need you... so badly. I can’t do this without you. I want you back. I want a family. I would do anything, Nate... Please forgive me for tonight, Nate. Not just kissing Shawn... but for feeling something... for Jack. It had to be the alcohol. My heart belongs to you, will always be yours. I love you... forever, Nate.
I don’t remember going to sleep, but when I awaken the next morning, my eyes are so dry and uncomfortable and the headache has returned. Regardless, I am surprised that I managed to sleep all night by myself in this loft. I would be proud of myself if I hadn’t succumbed to the feelings of sadness and loss last night, to feelings I thought I could handle better by now.
I walk to the bathroom to get some aspirin, and am briefly alarmed when I realize my sister didn’t come home. I find my phone in my purse and see that I have two messages. I listen to them as I take the pills.
The first is from Jennifer. “Em, I hope you made it home okay. Wish you would answer your phone. I’ll be home in the morning... don’t worry about me. If you need anything– anything at all– just call me.”
The second is from Jack. “Hey... we should talk. Call me sometime.” My stomach turns, feelings of regret settling in immediately. I love Nate. I quickly delete the message, as if that will erase all the confused memories I have of last night. I grab a diet soda from the refrigerator and head back over to the bed, lying down gently. They’re mornings like these that make me wish I had curtains or something to keep the blinding sun out of this place, to maintain the darkness. My head hurts too much for this. I pull a pillow over my head and try to go back to sleep. I wonder why Jack thinks we should talk?
I wake up again when my sister comes home. She comes over to the bed and sits down, waiting for me to pull the pillow off my head. When I don’t, she does it for me, greeting me with a silly smile.
“What’s up?” I mumble.
“Did you have fun last night?” she asks.
“Sure...” I moan, still not ready to get up, lying in silence.
“Well, I did, too, Em, thanks for asking.”
“Sorry, Jen,” I tell her. “I had a little too much to drink last night... and it hurts.”
“So what happened with Shawn?”
“Nothing. He kissed me, it was weird, I asked him to leave.”
“Em!” she scolds.
“What? What was supposed to happen?”
“It was raining, and you kicked him out?”
“I gave him an umbrella,” I explain, justifying his exile to the wet streets of New York.
She laughs. “Emi, you’re a mess.”
“I’m just me... so what happened with... what’s his name, anyway?”<
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“Garrett,” she says, “and it was wonderful.”
“I’m guessing you...” I really didn’t need to ask. The smile gave it away at first glance.
“Yes,” she grins. “It was amazing, Emi. We–”
“TMI,” I tell her. “I’ll take your word for it.”
She huffs and walks into the kitchen to get some water. “I saw Jack at the club after you left,” she says.
“Really?”
“Yeah, he was at the bar... didn’t look to be having much fun. He was twirling around a ring or something, just staring at it.” I grab my right hand. My ring! That must be why he wanted to talk to me.
“Hmmm...” I say, not wanting to talk about him at the moment... I have to sort out some things, feelings. “What time is Clara coming home?”
“I have to go pick her up this afternoon,” she says. “I think I’ll take Chris and Anna out to dinner to thank them. Do you want to come?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I’ve got a headache to do and some work to get rid of... or the other way around... whatever.”
She laughs, then asks if she can take a shower.
“By all means, go ahead. I’m still not getting up.” I pull the comforter over my head and attempt to sleep a little more while Jen showers, but I can’t help but be curious about Jack. We should talk, he said. If he had just wanted to give my ring back, wouldn’t he have said as much? I don’t know what to think about him. So it’s best not to.
“What don’t you know?” my sister asks. I hadn’t realized I was saying the words aloud. She pulls the comforter back and sits down.
“Nothing,” I say, trying to blow her off.
“No, what?” she presses.
“Really, Jen, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s Shawn, right? Do you like him?”
“Jen, no, it’s not Shawn, no I don’t like him, no, it’s nothing... please, just drop it.”
Later in the day, after Jen leaves to pick up Clara, I decide it’s time to get out of bed and shower. My headache finally gone for the time being, I feel like I’m able to face the day, or what’s left of it, anyway. I opt for a bath, relaxing in the hot water until my skin begins to prune. I get dressed and fix my hair, apply some makeup and decide to go to Grand Central Terminal for a bowl of soup and my favorite pie. Comfort food sounds ideal. A comforting hug would be even better, coming from someone I feel completely comfortable with. If only Nate were here to make me feel whole again.
I sit down in one of the big, plush chairs and settle in for some people watching, again hoping for a distraction. I am able to lose myself in the afternoon chaos, wondering where people are going, imagining the great adventures they may be on. It certainly keeps my mind off things I don’t want to think about.
I take a bite of pie as I realize my phone is vibrating in my pocket. I struggle to put my hands on it, and answer it before I even see who’s calling.
“Hello?” I say, my mouth full of food.
“Emi?” It’s Jack. Shit, I’m not ready to talk. He told me to call him. He’s not supposed to call me. Shit. “What are you doing?”
“Uh...” I swallow. “Eating pie at Grand Central?”
“The little place with the green awning?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit.
“That place is good. Hey, I have your ring,” he says. So maybe I was just over-thinking things. Maybe he did just want to give me my jewelry back.
“Oh, yes,” I say. “I forgot about that.”
“Well, I’m right down the street,” he says. “Can I bring it to you?”
“Umm... well-”
“I’m already on my way,” he says. “I’ll be there in five.” He hangs up abruptly.
I was going to tell him no, that I would get it at Buddakan next Saturday, not wanting to see him, not wanting to see if I would feel things I shouldn’t– no, didn’t want to– at the mere sight of him. I’d rather just believe that those feelings were caused by the wine, and nothing more. I am not ready for this test.
I wrap up the remainder of the pie and put it back in the bag. All of a sudden, my stomach is in knots and I have lost my appetite. I begin to look for Jack around the entrance to the food court level. When he finally comes down the stairs, the feelings I had been dreading return. I stand up to meet him half-way across the walkway. He’s dressed in a suit, looking handsome, put together, every strand of hair perfect, his skin smooth from a recent shave.
“Hi,” I smile, wondering if I should hug him or shake his hand or greet him in some other fashion. I do nothing.
“Hey,” he says. “Can we sit down for a second?”
“Sure,” I tell him.
“First, here’s your ring,” he says, holding it out and dropping it in my open palm.
“Thanks.”
“So, did you have a good time last night?”
I smile a little and nod, remembering the way I felt with him.
“I mean, after our talk, with your friend?”
“I, um–” I’m not really sure what he’s asking.
“God, I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business. God,” he laughs. “I mean, are you okay? I wasn’t sure, the way we left things.”
“What’s none of your business?” Did he see Shawn and I leave together? Surely he doesn’t think... “He just walked me home,” I blurt out subconsciously, my eyes wide at my strange admission.
“No, I–” he hesitates, a subtle smile on his face. “I didn’t–” He shakes his head, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “I just want to know if you’re okay, that’s all.”
“Of course, yeah,” I nod, embarrassed. “Yeah. It’s just... I don’t know. Some days I’m just... sad. I can’t really help it. It was one of those days yesterday,” I explain.
“I’m really sorry. I wish there was something more I could do...” Again his tender eyes envelop mine.
“And I wish I knew how people could help me,” I tell him. “I just think this is something I have to do alone.”
“You’re never alone, you know that, right?”
“Sure,” I smile.
“One other thing... I just want to apologize for last night. I don’t know what got into me,” he says, no longer looking me in the eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“It was just... I don’t know... awkward, wasn’t it?” he laughs.
“Oh,” I manage to say, shaking my head. “I don’t know...”
“We’re okay, though, right? We’re good?”
“Oh, of course,” I say confused, not knowing why we wouldn’t be. Could he sense that I had feelings for him? And maybe he feels he was leading me on? Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Shit. My face gets hot, my palms sweaty.
“Good,” he says, abruptly standing. “I’m on my way to Marie’s, so I need to get going. I’ll see you Saturday!” He watches me intently.
“Okay,” I say, even more confused now than I was last night. It’s one thing to think I have feelings for someone who might be interested in me... but he’s not? Really? Great.
When he’s out of sight, I quickly open the bag and scarf the rest of the pie. Before I leave, I go and buy another one to take home. A little emotional eating might do me some good. Maybe my ring would fit again soon.
By the time I get home, after wandering the streets of New York, my sister is already home with Clara. My niece greets me with a big hug and kiss. I grab two forks and sit down at the table with my pie. Clara pulls up a chair and picks up the extra fork.
“How was your stay with Uncle Chris?” I ask.
“Good,” she says, matching my somber mood and picking out the apple slices in the pie and eating them one by one.
“Hey, Emi,” Jennifer says. “Anna wanted me to remind you that you’re going to do the fitting tomorrow.”
“Crap,” I say, eying the pie I shouldn’t be eating. Ever since the accident, I just seem so absent minded. I forgot that we had plans to do that. �
��Right, what time?”
“Noon,” she says. “She’s going to pick you up.”
“Alright,” I say, sighing.
“What’s with the pie?” my sister asks. “And the frown?”
“Nothing,” I tell her. “Just feeling a little down.” About Nate? About the baby? Could it be about Jack? All the feelings are getting mixed up at this point.
~ * ~
“What time will you be back?” Jen asks the next day as Anna and I are walking out the door.
“By five,” Anna says. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
“Um, Em,” Jen whispers to me. “Do you think you can watch Clara tonight?”
“Garrett?” I ask. She nods her head. “Sure. We’ll see you later.”
“Thanks,” she says. “Bye!”
At the dress store, Anna stands on a raised platform, modeling her elaborate wedding gown. It’s strapless, a pale champagne color with gorgeous beading and intricate embroidery with a mocha-colored sash. “That dress is perfect. It looks so amazing on you, Anna. Chris’s jaw will hit the floor when he sees you walking toward him in that.”
“You think?” she says.
“I know. Do you want me to take a picture to send to your mom?”
“Please, she’s dying to see it on me.” I snap a few pictures with my phone and show them to Anna for her approval. She nods. I’m expending so much energy on keeping the mood happy that I’m worried she’ll see right through me... see how fake I’m being. If she notices, though, she doesn’t bring it up. Perhaps she just wants to be happy today... she deserves that.
“Okay, your turn,” she says, stepping off of the platform.
I groan, feigning annoyance with the fashion show.
“Hey, Maid of Honor, you’re going to like this, damn it!”
“Just kidding, Anna,” I smile. “I really am excited to put it on. It’s just the modeling part I hate.” My dress is like a simpler version of hers, with the colors reversed. It’s beautiful, likely the prettiest dress I’ve ever worn. The salesperson helps to dress me, and when she zips it up, I can feel that our last alterations are perfect. I stand on the raised platform in front of Anna.