The Emi Lost & Found Series

by Lori L. Otto

  “No,” she smiled. “I don’t normally dress like this. I was feeling a little daring tonight.”

  “Well... Stunning.” Speechless.

  “Stop,” she blushed again as the first song died down.

  “Listen, I’m going to get a drink. Would you like something?”

  “I’ll go with you,” she said as we walked toward the bar. “I’m a little thirsty.”

  “You’re Emi, right?” the bartender asked her.

  “I am,” she smiled, looking confused.

  “Your brother pointed you out to me earlier. He stocked Bellei, your favorite wine, like you requested.” He began to pour her a glass, but she put her hand up, stopping him.

  “I’m really thirsty right now,” she laughed. “Do you just have, umm, maybe a ginger ale?”

  “Of course,” he said, setting the wine down and filling a glass with the soda Emi had requested. “Sir?” the bartender directed his attention to me.

  “Do you mind if I try your wine?” I asked her.

  “Don’t want it to go to waste,” she shrugged, smiling. I tipped the waiter and we took our drinks to a nearby table.

  I smiled, examining the pale strawberry color and inhaling its bouquet. “It’s sparkling,” I told her after taking a sip, surprised by its flavor and body. “A little dry... acidic... earthy.”

  “Don’t judge me,” she laughed. “It’s a Lambrusco. It’s a good one, though. The texture is a little like champagne.”

  “No, it’s nice,” I smiled as her cheeks reddened with her explanation. “Would you like a sip?” I asked, tilting the glass toward her.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “Think I’ll take it slow tonight. Don’t want any repeats of that night in college,” she laughed. I smiled, wishing secretly for a repeat of the kiss.

  “So, I have to ask you, Emi,” I began, still a little nervous. “How is it that you’re here alone tonight?”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised. “No, I’m not.” She laughed nervously as my heart fell. “Um, I’m here with Nate, my boyfriend. He’s the one singing in the band.” She pointed to the stage and I looked at him a little more intently. “He’s actually the guy that picked me up from that party.”

  Of course he was, only he was no longer that awkward, lanky kid. He was the one I had accepted that she was meant to be with, and somehow they were still together. I knew I had seen him before, but he had grown up a lot since that first meeting. I nodded, inhaling deeply. My hopes were dashed, for a second time, by one man. I finished the glass of wine quickly as I sat silently through the rest of the second song. I sensed that she knew that I was interested, and that she could see my disappointment.

  She said “boyfriend,” though. They weren’t married, not even engaged, by the look of her ring finger. As another song began to play, I looked up to see him focused on his guitar and decided to just take a chance.

  “Would you like to dance?” The song, a jazz song I remembered playing at my junior prom. The lyrics couldn’t have been more perfect.

  She smiled and shrugged. “Why not?”

  I took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor. It was a slow song, and as much as I wanted to pull her close to me, I was careful and deliberate about leaving space between us. I was never that guy. As soon as I felt the warm, soft skin of her back under my fingers, I adjusted my stance accordingly. If I were her boyfriend, lucky enough to hold that place in her life, I wouldn’t want another man touching her.

  Nate looked up from his instrument and watched as I danced with his girlfriend. I felt defiant for a second and nodded in his direction, smiling, raising my eyebrows just enough to make a statement.

  I paid particular attention to the lyrics he sang, finding it strangely ironic how they described that moment in college perfectly. My heart did skip a beat when I had kissed her that night. My attraction to her was instantaneous.

  “You two have been together a while,” I commented as I stared at the singer.

  “Not really,” she laughed, her sparkling eyes calling out for attention. I had to oblige and got lost in her gaze. “We’ve been friends forever... but we’ve only been dating a couple of months.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Seriously.”

  “That surprises me,” I admitted.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I could just tell when I saw the way he looked at you that night that he loved you... deeply.”

  “Nuh-uh,” she countered.

  “Really,” I said. “In fact, I had been thinking about asking you out, but when I saw you together, I just thought that you two were supposed to be together. That’s what your brother told me way back then.” I thought about the wasted years... ten wasted years...

  “Huh,” she said, glancing to the stage. “Well, maybe we were.”

  My heart sank, wistful. I couldn’t believe it was happening. As much as I felt something between them that night, ten years ago, I was sure that I was feeling something between us as I held her in my arms. I had no doubt in my mind.

  “Maybe,” I smiled, my last attempt at flirting. “Maybe not.” She blushed again and laughed, holding my attention with her pale green stare as we continued to dance. She took my breath away. I saw something in her eyes that gave me hope, and at that point, the thought that I was creating what I wanted with my mind, making up this strange current between us, began to diminish. Her gaze continued, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t, break away first. Before the music ceased to play, we had stopped dancing, and were temporarily lost in one another’s eyes, neither one of us able to breathe or to speak. The need was incessant to acknowledge what had just happened between us, but my vocal chords refused to cooperate, just as they had when I first saw her before the party had begun. What would I have said to her, anyway? Did you feel that?

  “Thank you,” Nate said through the microphone as the music stopped. The sound of his voice was what finally made her look away. I was actually hopeful, my mind a flurry of ideas of things to say or do. She blushed, deeply, her eyes avoiding mine. That was a strange exchange between us, and I just felt like something was there. I watched Nate exit the stage and begin his walk toward us. The awkwardness of his earlier youth left no evidence in his self-assured stride. He was stopped by Chris and Anna, and I tried to think of some diversion, some way to get a little more time with her.

  When I looked at her to speak, though, I noticed her stare was now firmly affixed on her boyfriend. She was smiling, he was staring back at her, eyes intense and intent, determined. He glanced at me, only briefly, but I saw the same look in his eyes that I saw at the fraternity party, that same warning glance. Again, just like that night, I hoped that he would take care of her, that he would be good to her. She was lost to him, again... and it was obviously meant to be. When he reached us, he touched her face softly and I was finally witness to the kiss that I had always dreaded.

  And what had he said to me? “Thanks for looking after her.” My stomach churns at how prophetic that statement truly is, now.

  He then took her by the hand and led her out of the ballroom. She didn’t even turn back to say goodbye, not even a wave this time.

  Paralyzed, heart racing, I stood staring. The doorway, empty. The vision of her gone. Her perfume lingering in the air around me, I breathed deeply, taking in all that remained of her. As her scent dissipated, the crowd around me came back into focus, but I was alone.

  I knew there was something between us, I knew it in the pit of my stomach, but I had to accept that there must have been something more between them. I didn’t want to, but I had to. God, how I wished that he wasn’t in the picture.

  And, god, how I had regretted that sentiment from the moment it came into my head. I had no way of knowing how the events of that evening would unfold.

  As I lie in bed listening to the soft patter of raindrops on my patio, Emi’s head resting on my shoulder as she sleeps quietly, the horror of that night continues to play out i
n my mind.

  After she had left with Nate, I had a few more drinks and mingled with the rest of the guests at the party. My mind was full of ideas to get more time with her. I would get that time with her, I just knew it. I had concocted the perfect plan, and would put it into action the next day.

  Shortly before midnight, I decided I would head up to my room. Watching happy lovers greet the new year with a kiss wasn’t particularly of interest to me. Chris caught me on my way out in the hallway.

  “You taking off?” he had asked.

  “Yeah, great party,” I smiled. “Congratulations again.”

  “Thanks man, and thanks for the toast.” His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out and looked at the name on the display.

  “Hey, Emi, what’s up?” he asked. He was silent, putting a hand over his other ear as he struggled to hear. A look of confusion spread across his face. “Emi? Em, are you there?”

  “What’s going on?” I asked quietly.

  “I’m guessing she didn’t mean to call me... I can hear her and Nate. Hold on...” He walked farther down the hallway, away from the noise of the crowd. I followed him, curious. “I don’t know, maybe I don’t want to know what’s going on,” he joked.

  “She left the ballroom with him about two hours ago,” I told him. “Right after he performed.” I remembered the look of desire that was exchanged between them. “You should probably hang up.”

  “I think she’s crying... or wait... maybe not, he just told her he loved her.” He strained to hear more. At the moment, I had heard enough and started to turn away. “No, she’s definitely crying.” He continued to walk toward the lobby as all the color drained from his face, and I followed, worried for his sister.

  “Emi!” he yelled into the phone. “Emi, can you hear me? What’s going on?”

  “Were they staying here?” I asked. “What room are they in?”

  “Emi!”

  I walked to the front desk and asked the concierge to call her room. “Chris, what’s his last name?”

  “Wilson,” he told me.

  After letting the phone ring, she informed me that no one was answering.

  “I don’t think they’re here.”

  “Something’s happened, man,” he told me. “She just keeps crying and asking for him. And I don’t hear him... ‘Nate, focus on me, please.’ That’s what she just said. I think he’s hurt.”

  After a few minutes, he handed me the phone and asked me to try to listen. “Oh, Nate,” I heard her say as my heart faltered, hearing her proclaim the name of this other man, sorrow filling her voice. I then heard her crying, confirming Chris’s fears that something was wrong. I had wished that he wasn’t in the picture.

  “I’ll go get your family.” I handed him the phone and he nodded at me as I ran into the ballroom to find Anna.

  “Chris just got a call from Emi... we think something’s wrong. Can you find his parents and come to the lobby?”

  “Sure,” she said as a few of her friends scoured the room for Chris’s family. After asking the concierge to bring my car up, I returned to my friend’s side, wanting to be there for him, but wanting even more to find Emi, to help her. My heart began to race.

  “I think I hear him... no, that’s not him. It’s a man’s voice. I think I hear a man’s voice. I don’t hear her anymore.” Chris, normally cool and collected, was in full panic mode. Anna and Jen rushed past us to the elevators. His parents and their spouses stood around us.

  “I’ll go see if his car is here,” Chris’s dad said, wanting to help. After a few more minutes of silence, Chris’s face looked hopeful.

  “Emi!” he yelled again. “Emi!” He turned to us and told us what he had heard. “She just said, ‘Wake up, Nate.’ And I hear that other voice again.”

  Anna and Jen returned to the lobby, shaking their heads. “They don’t answer the door,” Anna said. “I don’t think they’re here.”

  “Nate’s car isn’t here,” Chris’s dad informed us. “The valet said they left together around eleven. Said they were holding hands, dressed casually, everything seemed normal.”

  “Shhhh!” Chris exclaimed. “I can’t hear!” He walked away from us to separate himself from the speculations of his parents.

  “Yes, hello!” he said anxiously into the phone. “Who is this, what’s going on?” Anna and I joined him. She took his hand while I put my arm around his shoulders. He was shaking, the fear evident in his every action. “An accident...” Oh god. “Where? It’s my sister... Emi... I’m Chris, I’m her brother... Where are you taking her? Okay... That’s her boyfriend, Nate... We’re leaving right now.”

  “Where?” I asked him, keys in hand.

  “Methodist General.”

  “I’ll take you. Do you want to follow me?” I asked his parents, the women in tears, who nodded and rushed behind us.

  “Is she okay?” his mother asked.

  “I don’t know,” Chris said, stunned. “I didn’t ask... I don’t know...”

  “It’s okay, Chris,” Anna soothed him as they both got into the backseat of my car. Chris’s older sister climbed in the front seat, clutching her bag and crying.

  “We’ll be there in five minutes,” I told them. “We may even beat them there.”

  She has to be okay. I’m sure she’s fine. I repeated this over and over in my mind. There was something between us. She has to be okay. I have to find out. I drove quickly but cautiously to the emergency room. We arrived at the same time as two ambulances. My stomach sank when I saw her on the stretcher, bloody and unmoving. I wouldn’t have recognized her if it hadn’t been for her distinctive hair. The doctors met the EMTs at the door and rushed her inside. I stood back as Chris and his family went in after them, wanting to give them privacy, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. I watched as the other ambulance door opened, more doctors waiting. They pulled out the second stretcher, blood soaking through a white sheet that covered a body. I heard the EMTs announce a time of death.

  I wanted to throw up at the sight of it. I struggled to stand upright, my body unsteady. I took a deep breath, or two or three, remembering my thoughts as he stole her away from me earlier in the night. I had wished that he wasn’t in the picture! Did I do this?

  He had died. How was she? She looked bad, really bad. I had to find her. I ran into the lobby and asked where Chris and his family had gone. They directed me to a separate waiting room down the hall. I felt the need to tell the family. I felt the need to apologize. I felt the need to confess all of my sins. I felt completely responsible.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “We don’t know,” their step-mother said. I got Anna alone, away from the family.

  “Anna, I think Nate... um... is gone. The other ambulance just carried a body. They announced what time he died.”

  “Oh, god,” she cried, the family quickly gathering around. “Nate didn’t make it,” she sobbed. Everyone gasped together, cries quickly following, Chris pulling his fiancée into his chest. The family looked at me.

  “I saw them bring the body in.”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “I think so... but no,” I said, suddenly hopeful. The thought hadn’t occurred to me that it might not be him. “I’ll find out.” I had to know. I had to know what I had done. I hoped to God that it wasn’t him. I hoped that he survived... he could have her forever... I would never interfere. I didn’t mean that I wanted him to die! It was a selfish thought... it meant nothing.

  In the lobby, I caught one of the EMTs as he was walking out the door.

  “Was that man... that other body... was that man in the same car that the woman was in?” He nodded.

  “Oh, my god...” I moaned, guilt-ridden, sick. I returned to the family and confirmed my earlier news. I had to sit down and put my head between my knees. I couldn’t breathe.

  “She’ll be devastated,” Chris’s mom said. I had done this. A doctor finally came out to talk to the family. He expl
ained she was in a coma, had a broken arm and leg and had some internal bleeding. She was in serious condition. There was more, but the doctor took the family aside and spoke in whispers.

  Suddenly, another woman came in, who I barely recognized without her perfect hair and make-up as Donna Schraeder, a wealthy woman who sat on the board of one of the charities I was heavily involved with. I was just at her house earlier that week for a fund-raiser. Another wave of sickening revelation washed over me. I’d seen her name in print many times as Donna Wilson-Schraeder. She was Nate’s mother? I heard her say that she thought Emi was pregnant. I saw her family deny it. I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t even allow myself to consider the possibility. I never once thought about it again, until Emi confirmed it herself, months later.

  Donna’s sobs filled the waiting room when the news of her son was delivered to her by the attending physician. I walked to her, slowly, and held my handkerchief out to her. She looked confused, likely wondering why I was there, as she barely acknowledged me.

  “Take it,” I told her, pushing it into her cold hand. It’s the least I can do after wishing your son was no longer around. Oh, god...

  She finally clamped her fingers around the swatch of fabric, as she became hysterical, yelling, crying, completely inconsolable. It was too much for me to bear. I felt dizzy, as if I might faint, or throw up, or both.

  “I’m... uh... Chris, call me,” I told my best friend. “She has to be okay. Please let me know if she’s okay.”

  “Can you go back to the hotel?” he asked me. “A lot of people are worried. Can you let them know?”

  “Anything, Chris. I’ll do anything.” I had to atone for this.

  “Anna,” I pulled his fiancée in and hugged her, Emi’s best friend. Her tears soaked my shirt.

  “Thanks, Jack,” she said, sorrow making it impossible for the words to come out in more than a whisper.

  I walked out of the building, passing two more ambulances on the way to my car. The stretchers removed from both of them contained covered bodies. I can’t believe he died. I never wanted him to die.