Emily Calls It (The Emily Series)

by Laura Albright.

  “Well.” He stood back up. “I’m here if you need me.” He seemed sincere, but I wondered if he was the slightest bit put off that I didn’t call him the night before. I shook my head. No. He’s not Graham.

  TWENTY

  The Funeral

  I packed the most sensible black sheath dress I owned. Heels, hose, and a long black coat went along with it. I fastened the pearls my grandparents had given me for my graduation around my neck. I didn’t even want to chance packing them. They looked absurd with my grey tee shirt and jeans, like I cared what I looked like to get on a plane anyway. Even in his state of grief, my brother still had the strength to tease me.

  I threw my bag and coat in the trunk of his car and slid into the passenger’s seat. The airport was only minutes away, but who knew, with traffic. We gave ourselves plenty of time.

  “Nice pearls,” was the first thing he said to me, of course. “You trying to make some sort of statement with that get-up?”

  “Yes Ethan, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I said dryly. He gave me a sideways smile through what I could tell was sadness, and started the engine.

  The flight was quick. I tossed back the last of my tomato juice right before the flight attendant came by with the trash bag. Reserving an ice cube, I sucked on it as we landed. Taking off and flying were easy for me but the landing was always a little nerve-wracking. I gripped the armrests, pushing my brother’s arm out of the way. He knew my fears, but still felt the need to give me a judging glance.

  We grabbed our bags from the overhead compartment and went single file off the plane. I was really looking forward to seeing my mom but scared at the same time. I knew she would be wrecked, and it was so hard for me to see her like that. I spotted her in the crowd almost immediately. Alone, eyes puffy, but with a huge smile when she saw us emerge from the jetway. She leapt right into logistics.

  “So, Grandma is with Renée and they’ll be home shortly.” We were a tight-knit group. Mom and her sister Renée were really close, as we were with our cousins. “Hunter’s at the house with your cousin Tony.” It was almost as if she was reading off a list. She went on without skipping a beat. “Emily, we’ll need to get the flowers together, and you’ll have to help me with the food.” I nodded but I don’t think she noticed. We got to the car and she kept talking even while I circled to the other side of the car and dipped into the back seat.

  “And Ethan, we’ll need you to help with…oh, I don’t know, but there will be plenty.” She shook her head and paused with both hands holding onto the steering wheel.

  “Are we going to your new place, Mom?” Ethan asked.

  “Oh honey. I’d love for you to see it, but everyone’s at Grandma’s.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the time, Ethan.” I added. He looked over his shoulder at me as if to stifle my butting in.

  “I just think Grandma would like you to stay with her,” Mom said.

  And you probably don’t want her to be alone. I thought, but didn’t say. We turned up the familiar street I’d played along all my life. There was nothing different about it. I always liked to think of it as a small slice of Earth frozen in time. Even as we pulled into the driveway, I held onto my childhood memories as if they would disappear if I didn’t cling to them. As I walked up the steps, I recognized all my former hiding places. The little nook behind the hose bib, and the small cut-out in an otherwise huge juniper bush. All great for hide-and-seek.

  I walked through the door knowing he wasn’t there but I looked for Grandpa. I could still smell the spicy hint of his cologne mixed with the grooming lotion he used on his hair. I looked around. It looked like some kind of modified Thanksgiving holiday. Everyone was there. Cousins, neighbors, friends. Food was lined up on the buffet and across the dining room table. But the atmosphere was somber. It wasn’t giving thanks, but I still felt the warmth of family around me.

  Ethan and I passed out hugs like napkins at a picnic. It was weird and surreal. My head hurt, my eyes stung, and I felt like one of those softener sheets you pull out of the dryer: limp and tired. When the commotion moved from me to my brother I found the nearest seat and parked it. Lo and behold someone was waiting for me.

  “Tony, hey.” I reached up and wrapped my arms around my cousin. He knelt handing me something in a coffee cup. He winked at me without saying a word. I took a sip. My eyes widened. It was cool not like the herbal tea I was expecting. Also sweet…and what was that? Yep, alcohol. He nodded his head in agreement as if I had asked out loud. I held my cup closer to me when I saw my little brother Hunter race by. He waved but was far too busy with the other cousins to say hello.

  Tony patted me on the head. “Enjoy,” he said as his smile tilted ever so slightly upward. I continued to sip, and no one seemed the wiser. Ordinarily we “kids” wouldn’t have attempted to drink alcohol around our parents and family. But today was different. Just as the drink numbed my stinging, aching body, I saw the front door open. Grandma.

  I didn’t want to overwhelm her at the door, but I couldn’t help myself. With coffee cup still in hand, I walked right up to her and brought her into my arms. She seemed smaller than usual. I was able to get my arms all the way around her and she rested the side of her face against mine. She seemed no bigger than a fifth-grade girl, but I was sure it was just my imagination. When we pulled apart, she smiled up at me with the warm, familiar smile that always put my fears to rest. With one hand she clasped my elbow and with the other she smoothed my hair behind my ears.

  “Let’s see that beautiful face.” She never liked my hair hanging in my eyes. “There she is.” She tilted my chin with her forefinger. “Your masterpiece, Susan.” She looked at my mom while holding my chin. Mom smiled a half-smile, a lot for her under the circumstances. A self-proclaimed daddy’s girl, that one. At least that’s what Grandma always said about her.

  Ethan was behind me waiting to greet Grandma. I greeted Auntie, giving her a smile that was more laced with heartache than the one I showed Grandma. She held me close and ran her hand over the back of my head smoothing my hair further.

  “I see you two got in OK.” My aunt rested her hands on my upper arms. “Did you get something to eat?” She pinched my shoulders and pressed her thumbs against my shoulder bones. “You’re nothing but a peanut.” Leave it to Auntie to point out any part of me that she thought was too thin. I rolled my eyes.

  After the greetings, everything seemed to settle down to a subdued calm again. Family and friends were dotted all over the house holding buffet plates and glasses of whatever alcohol helped them cope. Before we knew it, the sun set and people started to say their goodbyes. Or at least “we’ll see you at the service in the morning.” Next to Tony, I yawned and rested my head on his shoulder. Of all my cousins, he was by far my favorite. When the other cousins would join forces with my brothers to tease and torture me, Tony always had my back. He patted my head before walking yet another guest to the door.

  That night was more surreal than I can describe. Few of us stayed at Grandma’s, but no one really ever seemed to retire in a normal fashion. I saw Mom doze off on one of the couches, and Auntie had her head propped on her hand as if she was awake. She wasn’t. Ethan lay on top of the covers fully dressed and fast asleep in the twin bed next to mine. And Grandma. When I didn’t see her in the living room, I looked for her in the family room. She sat in Grandpa’s chair quietly asleep with her head resting on the side of the wingback. I couldn’t bear to wake any of them. Instead I found the nearest crocheted afghan and laid it across her. I slipped into my pajamas, and for the first time in ages went to bed without washing my face.

  The next morning I woke with a jolt. Everyone was rushing around waiting impatiently for his or her turn to shower. I went straight for the coffee and noticed a new pot brewing. How long had they all been up? I looked at the clock on the stove: it was only seven. Goodness. And I was the last to rise. I listened to the coffee perk and drip into the pot, tapping my fingers on the edge of the cup expecta
ntly. I had barely taken two sips when Ethan approached, looking out of breath.

  “You’d better get ready,” he said taking my cup from me. I stared at the cup instead of him, annoyed he was ruining my morning ritual.

  “Why is everyone so rushed?” I asked insensitively.

  “We have a lot to do. Now go.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom as if I were a dog being relegated to the back yard. Even though I was peeved, I followed his direction and hurried to pull myself together.

  In less than half an hour, we had all piled into two cars and arrived at the church. Grandma went straight to the pastor with Mom and Auntie following only a few steps behind her. He touched each of their arms as if to leave them with a calm only a pastor can impart. I stayed with Ethan, ready for whatever kind of direction he might give me. He pushed me toward the flowers being delivered, and I did my best to place them where I thought they should go. Next we greeted everyone as they signed the guest book and took their seats. Between shaking hands and giving hugs, I looked around for Grandma and watched her remain a pillar of strength. I saw her smile but never did she once look as if she was crying.

  We took our seats and the pastor went into a eulogy about Grandpa’s life. I thought it was nice, but so much seemed to be left out. The way he tilted his head when he tried not to show how happy he was when I beat Ethan at cribbage. Or the way his hearing aid buzzed every time I hugged him. There were so many memories. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away. Why would I? Then a few more fell when I noticed Ethan’s tears. I reached over and rested my hand on his for the remainder of the service.

  At the gravesite I tried not to focus on what was happening. I looked around at all the faces, sad and wet with tears. It went by quickly and I was relieved when we got in the car to go back to Grandma’s.

  At the house, I settled into the room I normally slept in. It was the same as it had been since I was a kid. Of course I slept in it the night before, but now it was like I was seeing it for the first time this visit. The two twin beds had matching light-blue and rose-colored quilts. On the wall hung a pair of paintings, one of a little girl in a white rocking chair holding a little grey bunny. The other, a little boy in short pants and suspenders leaning against a white picket fence. Those paintings hung in the room Ethan and I shared when we visited for as long as I remember.

  I picked up my pajamas. Last night I was thankful I brought something to sleep in more substantial than my typical sleep shirt; it was much colder here. I shrugged to myself and stood. I poked my head into the hall and noticed the guest bathroom was occupied. I walked quietly back toward Grandma’s room. She was standing in front of her dressing table taking off her jewelry. I walked in behind her and noticed her reflection in the mirror. Her face was the saddest it had been all day. Alone, she was able to show her true feelings. I felt a lump in my throat and thought about turning around.

  “Emily.” She tilted her head in the direction of an earring she was pulling from her ear. “Come in, honey.”

  “I was just wondering if I could use your bathroom, but you’re in the middle….”

  “Oh, please. We’re family. We can share.” Her face changed when she spoke to me. Warmth returned and her eyes had the slightest sparkle to them. Something I hadn’t seen seconds before. She pointed to the bathroom.

  “Go ahead. I’m still fiddling around here.” She looked down at her dressing table. I went into the bathroom and slid the pocket door closed. The smell of her soap, Dove I think, surrounded me. It comforted me as if I was in the suds. I took a deep breath and pulled it in through my nose as I lifted off my dress. I felt a tug at my neck and realized I was wearing my pearls. Of course I was. I’d just forgotten. I smiled to myself and continued to change into my pajamas. I quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth then slid the door open. But, looking around, I didn’t see Grandma. I went back to my room and tossed my things on the floor next to my bag. I caught a quick chill and was suddenly annoyed at myself for not bringing slippers. My toes were so cold the tips were extra pink. I reached down and grasped them hoping to give them a little warmth.

  “Hey.” It was Ethan. “What’re you doing?” He looked perplexed.

  “My feet are cold, what?” I batted back. I was sure I looked silly.

  “Ask Mom for some slippers.” He pointed with his thumb towards the door. I got the message. He wanted to change. That was cool; I didn’t want to witness that. I walked into the living room where Mom and Auntie were sharing a glass of sherry. They were slouched so far into the couch they looked like they could’ve faded into the fabric.

  “Mom?” They both looked over, as most mothers do. “Do you have some slippers I could borrow?” I didn’t think there was a chance she brought some over, but you never know.

  “No, but you know Grandma won’t mind if you borrow a pair.” I almost said I couldn’t find her, but I didn’t.

  “OK, thanks.” I turned on my heel and headed toward the kitchen. She wasn’t there either. I crinkled my forehead wondering where she had gone. Finally I opened the sliding glass door and tiptoed down the steps. The chill of the concrete against my toes was icy cold, but I crept around the corner until I saw her dark form. She sat on an old wood glider running her hand across the armrest. Her black hair with just a few grey stands in tight curls framed her usually rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes. Today her cheeks were pale and her eyes were glassy and tired. She looked like she didn’t get much farther in the changing process. Both earrings were missing but she still wore her dainty watch and bracelet. She looked up and smiled scooting over for me to join her. I sat down and tucked my legs under me. She rested her hand on my arm and rubbed as if to warm me. Comfort me. Me. When I knew she was the one who needed it so much more. She didn’t even attempt to talk about Grandpa, but instead leapt right into questions about my life.

  “So, do you have a fella?” I sighed not knowing how to answer.

  “Well…no, not really.”

  “Hmm, you hesitated. Tell me Emily. Is he a babe? Is that what you call them?” Her attempt to joke with me was endearing.

  “Grandma?” I couldn’t believe she was trying to use contemporary lingo. How funny to hear her ask that way. “There was this one guy.”

  “Oh, that boy we met at your graduation. Christian, was it? He was quite nice.”

  I paused thinking back to the time. “Quite nice” was a lovely way to think of it.

  “Yeah.” I sat for a second thinking about Christian. Then I snapped out of it. “But we drifted apart shortly after that summer. I had another boyfriend. Didn’t Mom tell you?”

  “Oh honey, your mother never tells us, I mean me, anything.” She stumbled over excluding Grandpa and it made me even sadder.

  “I dated a guy at school almost all freshman year, but then it didn’t work out.” I stared down at my fingers in my lap not really wanting to tell her more.

  “Why was that, dear?”

  “He…well…there was another girl.” I felt ashamed, even though it wasn’t me who did the cheating.

  “Hmm.” She rested her hand on mine. “Then that’s it, right? You moved on, I presume.”

  “Well…” I said. Just then the kitchen light flicked on and the shadow across her face illuminated. It was disappointment. She was disappointed in me. And that just killed me.

  “Emily, this is your life. This is all you get,” she said as she rubbed my hand.

  I thought about that for a moment. I don’t know why, but one simple comment from my grandmother hit me like a ton of bricks. I blinked hard and wrinkled my eyebrows searching for a way to digest the importance of those words. All I could think was how foolish I had been. Thinking, or rather, not thinking, how precious this life is. This life. My life? And what had I been doing with it? In comparison to hers, my life of inconsequential relationships with guys was nothing. Nothing at all. Yet, still I was confused. Torn.

  “I know it is, Grandma. I just don’t know
what to do.” I shrugged. She touched her chest with her hand and closed her eyes for a moment. I watched her. This strong but soft woman who had seen so much.

  She reached across and pushed the hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ears. Then she lightly touched the pearls around my neck.

  “Yes, you do. You have everything you need already, Emily. The beauty and strength that I have seen in you since you were a baby. You know exactly what to do. You always have.” She leaned back and the chair rocked, stirring up a cool breeze.

  “Grandma?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Well,” she paused. “Grandpa and I always loved it here. This is our home…my home.”

  “But won’t you be lonely?”

  “Oh honey, I’ll miss your grandfather. I miss him now, but...” She looked at me again, but this time even in her sadness I saw her strength. “Being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely, Emily. You’re just one person instead of two.” I looked into her eyes then. I think she really meant it. And it was possible she wasn’t just talking about herself.

  “Now, let’s get you inside. Your little toes must be freezing.”

  In that moment I felt a surge of something. Maybe a returned confidence. I couldn’t quite place it but I knew it was there. Now the question was, what would I do with it?

  TWENTY-ONE

  Home Sweet School

  The only flight out we could get was at the crack of dawn Monday morning. We both had to be in class that same morning so it was going to be a long day after a tough weekend. But somehow when I woke up at 4:30 I wasn’t thinking about that. I continued to replay the conversation with Grandma in my head. I felt like such a…I don’t know, loser. I had spent so much time wrapped up in Graham. So much time worrying about being alone. Now, after losing my grandfather so suddenly, all the drama I had perpetuated this last year seemed trivial. A mere distraction from what was real.