by Sybil Ling
Emily waits for more, but it seems as though Blair has finished. She stares at him, exasperated, as he keeps his eyes down on the table.
“Why did you leave, Blair?” she almost shouts. “Why did you leave in the first place? I know it has something to do with me, and I know it has something to do with this Victoria, whoever the hell she is. But you can’t keep me in the dark like this, Blair. You mean something to me! You’re not just a blip in my life, you … mean something, and I deserve an explanation for whatever the hell is going on.”
Blair is immobile, not even the hand that’s grasping his glass of water moving. Finally he opens his lips:
“I can’t tell you that.”
Emily pushes her chair back with more force than necessary.
“Well fuck you then, Blair, okay? If you don’t want to tell me, then you don’t have to. But that means that whatever was between us is over. Because I can’t be with someone who’s just going to fuck me around and not tell me why.”
Emily storms out of the dining room, heading back upstairs and back into her room. She falls face-first onto her bed and cries, cries hard into her pillow. Her heart swells with pain, and she pours her emotions out of her, pulling from a well inside that feels like it will never, ever empty.
She thinks she can hear floorboards creak, and part of her wonders if Blair is going to be standing behind her, watching her cry. Well, let him watch. Let him see what he’s doing to me. He deserves to know, unlike how he keeps everything from me and then just treats me like dirt.
Emily lifts her head and looks behind her, but there’s nobody there. Her throat tightens, and she returns to bawling into her pillow, soaking it with her tears.
She doesn’t hear from Blair for the rest of the night.
Chapter 15
Tensions in the household have hit an all-time high between Emily and Blair. Their history together, that short-lived thing which Emily thought might be love but which turned out to be nothing at all, is still a deeply-kept secret from their parents. Emily’s mom tries talking to her, consoling her daughter over what she thinks is just compassion for a family member who almost died. But she doesn’t understand the half of what’s bothering Emily. Nobody does.
Emily starts working late at the hospital, disallowing her from coming home for family dinners. She lies to her mom and Wayne, telling them that it’s part of her internship. But in actuality the doctors are worried about how much she’s working, and some of them have even taken her aside, asking her if everything’s all right and going so far as to suggest she take a few days off. Maybe get some therapy.
But Emily just puts on a smile and tells them that no, she’s fine, she just wants to make sure that she stays ahead of the game so she can become a good doctor, like them. They squeeze her shoulder and give her a pitying smile, then go on with their jobs, leaving Emily where she is, brokenhearted and desperately trying to fill in that void in her soul with something as meaningless as work.
Back at the house, in the scarce moments when Emily is home, she doesn’t see Blair at all. Her mom told her that Blair is spending a lot of time in the garage, often working late into the night. That Harley Davidson that he’d crashed needs to be repaired, so she supposes he’s working overtime in order to get it done on time.
When Emily gets home late from the hospital one night, she hears a strange hissing noise coming from the garage. Approaching the door quietly — she wouldn’t be able to handle it if Blair opened the door and caught her eavesdropping on him — she recognizes the sounds of a welding torch.
When she hears this, however, she furrows her brow. She didn’t know they had a torch in their garage — Blair must’ve got one himself. But what types of repairs would he be doing that would require a torch? She didn’t think he did anything so serious as welding parts of cars and motorcycles back together … maybe he picked up something else to earn money more quickly?
Emily snaps her head back, realizing what she’s doing. She creeps away from the hissing sound and the closed garage door, angry with herself. Blair doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, she tells herself. What he does is his own business, and his alone. She climbs the stairs up to her room quietly, and goes to bed.
Chapter 16
It’s not until three weeks later — three long, lonely weeks — that Emily sees Blair for the first time. And once again, it’s in a way that she wouldn’t have expected for the world.
Emily gets home very late from work — past midnight this time — and opens up the front door slowly, carefully, trying not to wake anybody up. She’s still wearing her green scrubs, her glasses perched on her nose, and her hair is held back from her face with her usual loose elastic band.
The inside of the house is dark, and she can feel the tight atmosphere of sleeping people surrounding her. There’s no sound coming from the garage, which is a first, although the light is on inside. Over the past few days Emily has stopped paying as much attention to the garage, and has even stopped thinking about Blair. She feels proud when she thinks about this, but then realizes that feeling this pride is, in itself, a way of thinking about him.
Closing the door softly and locking it behind her, Emily slips off her shoes and tip-toes her way towards the stairs, but the sound of a door opening up behind her makes her stop and turn. Yellow, interior light floods the front foyer in a fan. There, silhouetted in the doorway is Blair. Emily stops, frozen in place, staring at him. He’s wearing his usual blue jeans and tight white t-shirt. The bandages have gone from his head and hand. He’s looking directly at her, his brilliant blue eyes dazzling compared to the bright light that’s shining out behind him.
“Emily,” Blair says, his voice sounding deep and resonating, despite him speaking in a low volume. Emily feels a shiver go up her spine at her name being called, and she mentally shakes herself. Stop it, you idiot! she tells herself. Don’t get worked up for nothing!
“Blair,” Emily says, and she’s pleased to hear that her voice sounds icy cold. “What do you want?”
“I need to show you something, Emily,” he says, and he turns his body to the side, allowing more light to filter past him and onto her. She can see just a fraction of the interior of the garage, the smell of rubber and engine oil making its way to her nostrils.
“What do you want to show me?” she asks, honestly curious but not wanting to admit it. Not out loud, at least.
“I can’t tell you in words,” he says. “I need to show you.”
Emily feels exhausted, both from her work and from her heart and brain trying to pull her in two different directions.
“Blair, can it wait until another time?” she says. “I just had a long day at work, and I-”
“No!” he says, his voice still low but with a harsh tone to it.
Emily freezes where she is, her heart rising up to her throat. Even after literally not even seeing each other for weeks, it’s crazy that Blair has such a strong hold on her.
“I need to show you now,” Blair says. “Emily please, I … I need you.”
Those last three words melt their way into Emily’s heart and she knows that, even if her life depended on it, she wouldn’t be able to say no to her stepbrother.
“Okay,” she finally says, her voice sounding weak in the dark, empty foyer. Emily walks towards Blair, his burning blue eyes on her the entire time. As she approaches the doorway Blair steps to the side, allowing her through. She passes by him, trying not to look him in the eyes. But the smell of him draws her, and it’s all she can do not to reach out and touch him, hold him, draw him closer to her.
Emily steps into the garage where she sees his immaculate working environment again, the tools organized perfectly along the side wall, with a different car from last time parked, and the skeleton of a Harley Davidson motorcycle sitting upright, the casing lying on the ground, heavily dented.
Emily turns around and almost cries out in surprise: Blair is already standing right behind her. His eyes are on her, burning i
nto her, and Emily finds herself at a loss for words. With him so close to her, she has trouble remembering why she was so mad before. She wants to be with him again, but part of her mind holds her back. He doesn’t want you, she tells herself. He’s troubled, and he’ll just hurt you again. Don’t let him.
“What did you want to show me?” Emily asks, secretly happy at the icy coldness still in her voice. Blair’s expression doesn’t change, but she’s certain that she can see something more behind his eyes. Or perhaps I’m just wishing that there’s something more? Come on, Emily, get a hold of yourself!
“I made something for you,” Blair says, glancing briefly over her shoulder, into the garage. She turns her head to look behind her, but she doesn’t see anything that would resemble a gift. The only things here are that motorcycle and the car.
“Well, what did you make me?” Emily asks, crossing her arms in front of her.
“That,” Blair tells her, nodding behind her, and Emily blinks at him. She looks at the car again — a glossy-looking Volkswagon Beetle — and turns back to look at Blair. Again, his expression hasn’t changed, but she can see happiness behind his eyes.
“What did you say?” she asks.
“I have a client who had a car he was going to get rid of,” Blair explains. “He was going to take it to the dump, but I bought it off of him. Twenty dollars is all he wanted. I’ve been spending the last three weeks working to fix it up for you, and it’s finally done.” Emily’s mouth is open, and finally Blair smiles — an actual, honest smile that lights up his whole face in a way she’s never seen before. “Do you want to take a look?”
“Blair, I …” Emily starts, but Blair holds up a hand to quiet her.
“Please … just take a look.”
Closing her mouth and giving a silent nod, Emily walks towards the car, accompanied by Blair. The vehicle is in incredible condition, considering that it was about to be thrown out. Inside are shiny leather seats, and the paint job looks brand new. Emily runs her hand over the roof, feeling the smoothness of the metal.
“I had to weld over some parts that were too damaged by the rust,” he tells her. “But I ran it through an emissions and safety test, and it passed both.”
“Blair … I don’t know what to say,” Emily mutters. “This is … I can’t accept this.”
“Emily … I need to talk to you. I need to apologize, again, for how I’ve been treating you.”
Emily opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it. She nods at Blair who, for the first time since she’s known him, looks nervous.
“Emily … I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I didn’t mean to get this attached to somebody — especially somebody like you. Especially … my stepsister. I’ve been cruel to you, and you deserve an explanation for everything that I’ve done. And that’s what I’m going to give you, now.”
He pauses, steeling himself, and Emily feels her heart going out to him, despite the anger that’s still in her.
“Has my dad or your mom told you anything about my past?” he asks her.
“Um … no,” Emily answers. She remembers that her mom told her that Blair is quiet when she came home from the airport, and that he likely wouldn’t become that close to her, but she never said why. “No, neither of them have.”
Blair takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly.
“I already told you before that I used to be a Chemical Engineer. I got my Bachelor’s in Chemistry and started working for a firm, doing an internship, just like you are. And that’s where I met Victoria. She was one of my lab partners. We didn’t like each other that much at first — actually, I almost requested to be changed into another lab because of her. But I didn’t, and in the end, and we became friends. And then we became more than friends: we became lovers.
“Victoria was everything to me. She was my … everything. We moved in together, and I found out that she had some friends who liked to party, so we started going out after work and on the weekends. Back then Victoria and I were drinking a lot, and we were doing a lot of drugs — nothing hard, just some pot and ecstasy every now and again. I could tell I was getting hooked to the lifestyle. It was something I wasn’t used to — I was a pretty straight kid when I was growing up.
“Victoria, though. She got pretty into it, and she had this idea that we could use our lab equipment to make something else … something new. I know I should’ve said no, but she insisted that we could hide it in our numbers everything we took. So we stayed late in the lab at night and started experimenting, cooking things up. Our first few attempts were complete failures, but we got better, and one day we made this solution that cooled into a crystalline structure. Kind of similar to methamphetamine, but with a different protein binding to what you’d typically find. It’s hard to explain.
“Anyways, we were so excited that we’d finally made something good. We could maybe sell it, and it was something that nobody else had ever tried before. Victoria said that she wanted to give it a test, to make sure it was okay …”
Blair sniffs, and Emily sees that his eyes are glimmering.
“She … she didn’t make it. The effect was instantaneous. I recognized it from people who we’d seen take too much E, but in her it seemed to happen all at once. Her mouth was foaming, and she began to convulse and collapsed on the ground.”
Emily feels her heart breaking for Blair, but he simply wipes away his tears and continues talking.
“I called for an ambulance immediately, but she died in my arms, before they even arrived. There was nothing they could do. The drug was too strong. It had come out too pure.”
He blinks and two shiny drops fall from his eyes. Emily feels ready to cry herself as Blair tells her more.
“I haven’t done any drugs since that day,” he says. “I haven’t had any alcohol, I haven’t done anything. That’s why my chart at the hospital said for me not to have any Morphine. And that’s why I’ve been so cold towards you: you look exactly like Victoria.”
Emily’s breath catches in her throat.
“What?” she says.
“It’s uncanny,” he tells her, shaking his head. “I thought that she’d come back to life when I saw you, or that I was dreaming. But you were alive — you are alive — and I had to deal with this, with something that I wasn’t ready to deal with just yet. I thought that I could ignore you, or make you not like me or not want to have anything to do with me. But the more I got to know you, the more I realized that, while you look like Victoria, you and she are completely different. You are your own person.
“That night, when you were crying in your room and I saw you, I felt myself reaching out to you. I haven’t had any sort of relationship after Victoria died, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about you, Emily. But that night I knew I wanted to help you. I wanted to hold you, and comfort you. And when we hugged in the garage, and I felt you in my arms … I found I couldn’t let go. That was the first time I’d made love to anyone since Victoria died.
“But it was too much. I couldn’t deal with it. I didn’t understand these emotions that I was feeling — I thought that part of me had died along with her. So I escaped back into my work. I tried to avoid you, and make you dislike me again. But I couldn’t stop what I felt for you. It only grew stronger, despite the little amount of time I spent with you — during our family dinners, for example.
“When we had to do dishes together that one night and we made love again, I swear I felt as though I was really, truly happy for the first time in a long time. But being with you, again — it brought up those feelings in me, and with those feelings came shame. Shame for being happy when Victoria was dead. And shame for using you the way that I was.
“So I ran away, and this time I didn’t stop at the garage. I took that bike. This God-damned Harley Davidson,” he stares contempt at the vehicle, “and I rode. I didn’t put on a helmet, because I never do, but it was dark. And I couldn’t stop crying, and my tears blurred the turn ahead of me, and … well,
you know what happened.
“Emily, I’m so, so sorry. These past three weeks I should have been talking to you, but I didn’t know what to say. So I worked instead. And as I worked I started thinking, and the more I thought, the more I realized how strongly I felt about you. And how I wanted to make something for you, Emily, and the only thing I could think was the only thing I was doing in here. So I made you this car. The bike,” he lets out a sarcastic laugh, “is something that I think I’ll never be able to fix. But I hope that I can fix what’s happened between us, Emily. I hope that you can forgive me, one day, for how I’ve been treating you.”
He stops talking and Emily, whose face is now streaked with tears, rushes forward as she wraps her arms around Blair. She feels his body stiffen at first … and then relax. He wraps his arms around her and holds her in return, the two breathing and crying together. Emily’s heart is full for this man, this man who she knew she could never give up on. She feels him squeeze her tighter and she squeezes him back, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.
“Oh, Emily,” she hears him say into her hair. Emily feels hot tears flow down her cheeks as Blair’s lips find their way to the side of her neck, kissing her softly, tenderly. Her body melts into her stepbrother’s as she turns her head, meeting his lips with her own. They hold tightly to one another, mouths pressed together. Emily feels Blair breathing against her, his body expanding and contracting, moving with a strong, solid fluidity.
Suddenly Blair pulls back from the kisses, and Emily opens her eyes to see him looking into her, his eyelashes speckled with countless tiny drops.
“Come here,” he says, and he takes her by the hand, leading her towards her new car. He opens the driver’s side door and releases the catch on the seat, making it bow forward. Emily allows herself to be lead inside, where it smells of new upholstery with a subtler fragrance, almost a hint of something underneath: Blair.