“You meeting someone here, chickadee?” The bartender had made his way back over to where she sipped her drink. He had coiffed blond hair, like from the fifties, and turquoise glasses.
“Nope, just wanted a nice meal and was tired of being home,” she answered honestly.
“You sure you ain’t meeting a man? You’re quite attractive.” He pronounced it with the emphasis on the last syllable, holding it for three beats.
She grinned. “You are too.”
“Where you from, my chickadee?”
“Atlanta,” she answered. What was with her and honesty all of a sudden? She guessed that she felt safe, being anonymous, the bartender not knowing her. She’d probably never come in here again.
“Me too,” the bartender said, his face filling with joy. “What part?”
“Dunwoody, you?”
“Grant Park,” he answered and put his forearms on the bar facing her. “What can I get for you?”
“I think I want the blue cheese filet. Medium, please.”
“Anything else?” He eyed her curiously. “The onion rings are to die for.”
“Okay, I’ll have those.” She closed the menu and reached across the bar, handing it to him. “Oh, and A Long Goodnight, please.”
“Ooooooo, honey, that’s my favorite drink. I had to talk the manager into putting it on the menu.” He sashayed a bit as he walked to the computer and looked back at her. “I’m Daphne, by the way.”
“Emma,” she replied and sipped the remainder of her drink.
A few minutes later Daphne brought over her drink. “I wish you a long goodnight, girl.” He nodded toward the drink as he set it front of her.
“Oh, that’s not happening,” she muttered.
“And why not? A fine young thing like yourself…”
Silence.
“Well, don’t you worry, sugar, you’ll find the right man. You’re as cute as a button.”
Daphne walked back down the bar toward some other customers and Emery sipped her new drink. It was amazing. The combination of strawberry liquor, rum, and lemon soda made it refreshing and not overbearing. She could totally get drunk off these. That’s what she planned on doing, so she signaled to Daphne for another.
An older man sat down next to her and nodded to Daphne. After he ordered, he smiled at Emery. Her insides incinerated in fear.
“How are you?” he asked, and began making small talk. He was being polite, but all she saw was Phil.
Emery blinked at him, turning to focus on Daphne coming back with her third drink in less than thirty minutes.
“Here you go, miss. Sir.” Daphne winked at Emery and then returned to making drinks.
“I’m here on business, you?” the man asked her.
Chills ran down her spine and she gulped her drink, threw sixty dollars on the bar, and ran out. She was making her way down the steps when Daphne called out “Emma!” with the emphasis on the last syllable.
Emery turned around, watching as he rushed down the stairs and handed her a carryout bag.
“I know you didn’t forget your food, chickadee,” he said, his eyes full of concern.
“Thanks,” she muttered. “Did I leave you enough?”
“You did, with a nice tip.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, little one, I saw how he looked at you. That’s nasty.” Daphne bent his frame to where he was eye to eye with Emery. “Sometimes you just have to leave.”
Didn’t she know that… She gave him a weak smile and a wave and walked the four blocks back to her place. That’d been a fucking disaster, but at least she’d had drinks with other people in the room. She was starting to feel like an alcoholic, with all the solitary drinking. The smell from the steak and onion rings made her mouth water. Emery sighed in resignation as she picked up her step to go home and eat alone again. Always alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Cracks
She and Lucas were on their way to one of the occupational therapist appointments she’d scheduled. As they got out of the car and walked toward the office building, she took his hand. He stiffened at the contact and she dropped his hand, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.
“Okay, so I’ve been thinking,” she said casually. “I’ve changed my mind about my female superhero.”
He looked at her with what looked like awe, his big brown eyes widening at her words. “Who?” He signed. Then he grabbed her hand again and she had to stop herself from crying.
She stopped on the sidewalk and looked at his innocent face. “Before I tell you, is there any way you could try to explain to me why you don’t talk?”
He shook his head and walked past her. Emery knew this was a gamble. All the research she’d done about kids said to embrace whatever form of communication you could get.
“She-Hulk,” she called to his back.
His shoulders bounced a little with laughter and shook his head. He turned to her with a scowl. “She’s ugly,” he signed. “Why would you change from Wonder Woman to her?”
“Well, she’s a District Attorney, so she fights criminals in her real life, and then she turns into She-Hulk and actually kicks people’s butts…I like that.”
Emery reached Lucas and opened the door for them, then ushered Lucas in first. She was happy to be with him, almost falling into the seat next to Lucas after she signed him in. Some of the kids on her caseload were difficult to be around, either based on their circumstances or their behavior. Lucas was a borderline pleasure.
She bumped her shoulder into his. “So, how was school?”
A cloud passed over Lucas’s too skinny face. He shrugged.
Emery grabbed a Z-bar she’d started keeping in her purse for her kids. “Here, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Lucas took it from her hand with a grin; she’d brought his favorite kind.
A guy stepped through the door and his eyes locked on Emery’s. It was an intense examination and it made her blush. “Lucas,” he called.
“I’ll wait here, okay?” Emery asked.
Lucas nodded, shoving the entire bar into his mouth before he walked back with what she assumed to be the therapist. She pulled out a book and waited for the session to be over.
“Ms. Simpson?” a man’s voice called after about an hour.
Emery looked up from her book to find the same pair of brown eyes piercing her again. “Yes?”
“Could you come back here for a few minutes before you take Lucas home?”
“Of course.” Emery followed the guy through the door into what look like a home gym. She waved at Lucas, who was playing with something at the far end of the room.
The guy guided her toward a small office and ushered her into the room, closing the door behind him. “Where’s Jane?”
Startled by the abruptness of the question, Emery took a step back.
He shook his head. “Sorry, I…I don’t want Lucas to come in here.” He extended his hand. “I’m Chris.”
“Emma,” she recited, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip and his fingers slid away from her hands slowly. “Jane left and I took over some of the kids on her caseload.”
“Listen, I think Lucas may be getting abused at home.”
Emery’s head cocked to the side in question. “The school hasn’t said anything. Why do you think that?”
“Well, any time I tried to physically guide him through anything today he withdrew, mentally and physically.”
Emery thought for a minute. “Did you see any bruising? Any marks?”
He shook his head, and then ran a hand through his blond curls. “No, but I just see this so often it feels like there’s something.”
Emery nodded. “Look, Chris, thanks for giving me a heads up, but I can’t really do anything with a feeling. I know what you mean, though, and I’ll keep an eye out. I can do more random house visits as well.”
Emery grabbed the doorknob to leave, but Chris’ grip on her bicep stopped her in her tracks.
“Do I know you from somewhere?”
Emery shook her arm out of his grasp and looked at him, really looked. He seemed vaguely familiar. “No, I don’t think so.” She quickly opened the door and motioned for Lucas to come with her.
Her calendar alerted her that she was going to have her first home visit with Lucas’ mother today. It wasn’t the agency’s first interaction with her, but Emery had never met the woman. She willed herself up out of the chair and into the shower. She’d decided she could simply live in her bathroom. It was created by someone that knew exactly what people needed to relax. Shedding her clothes, she locked her bathroom door out of habit and walked into the portion of the room separated by glass and turned on ten jets and the rain shower. Steam filled the room and her lungs. She let the water beat back the fear she had for the day.
Days had flown by her as she struggled with her massive caseload through the fall. Her work overwhelmed her and saved her. It broke her and then filled her with an optimism she wasn’t used to having in her brain. She dove headfirst into the world of these kids and at times it threatened to swallow her whole. She blinked and Christmas had already passed.
As she massaged shampoo into her hair, she contemplated the work she was doing. The good she intended sometimes didn’t come to fruition, but she lived for those glimpses of goodness. The peek into the possibility she was making a difference was just the positive she needed, whether it was a smile on Lucas’s face or the utter regret over what they’d done showing on a parent’s face. She lived for those moments.
She dressed and poured coffee into her travel mug and took the drive to a house that she’d been dreading entering. Emery had a feeling, a bad feeling that began in her toes and curled around both of her legs and wrapped her arms, pinning them to her body and making her paralyzed.
Emery shook off the premonition as she walked up the front steps to what looked like what were called old factory homes. They’re really shotgun homes that were built near the factories near the Savannah River. A woman opened the door with a scowl on her face before Emery even knocked.
“Hi, I’m Emma Simpson from—”
“I know who the hell you are, lady,” Lucas’s mother interrupted. She turned and walked to the couch and slumped into it. “I know how all this works. You’re trying to take my kid from me…trying to make me seem unfit.”
That doesn’t seem like it’ll be too hard to do. “No, ma’am. I’m trying to get you services so that Lucas has what he needs from school and home.” Emery took in the dirty surroundings. There were empty fast food bags, cups, and containers scattered around the room. The smell of cigarette smoke permeated the house. Emery coughed into her sleeve.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Trina,” Emery started, recalling her name from Lucas’s file. The black roots showing through her bleach job were quite distracting. “Can I call you that?”
“It’s my name.” Trina lit a cigarette and pulled an empty Mountain Dew bottle out from in between the couch cushions.
“Listen, Trina. I promise I’m not the enemy.” She was still standing in the entrance of the room, too nervous to move farther into the house. “If things are fine here Lucas will be here. You deserve to be together as a family. We just have to check some things out and then get you guys what you need.”
Trina looked up from her cigarette. “You for real, little girl?”
Emery straightened up. “I am for real. I really like your son. He’s a good kid. I want to help. Let’s work together.”
“I’ve been through this shit before. I don’t know who you are, but I know you aren’t trying to work with me. You work with them. Now tell me what I have to do and get out of my house.”
Emery was taken aback. She’d dealt with many different scenarios at parents’ houses over the last few months, but she was hoping to get through this one on a good note. “Fine.” She threw the packet of paperwork on the table. “Fill this out and let me know you’re done. I’ll come back and ask the questions I need to ask.”
“Don’t let me stop you from leaving,” Trina responded sarcastically.
Emery shook her head as she opened the door and moved toward her car. She did understand the push back to her position, but she really didn’t want to have to take any kids away from their parents. Though she knew from personal experience that sometimes that’s the best thing for the kid.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Hell is Not a Proper Synonym
Emery opened her eyes to the bright light of the sun shining through her blinds. It was supposed to be hot today. It was a Saturday and she was going to spend her birthday alone. The first one she’d ever spent alone. Rachel offered to come, but she had finals all week and needed to study.
Christmas, her birthday—they would all be spent alone, living like this. Solitary, without anyone except for Rachel, who was beginning to have her own life, and rightfully so. Emery didn’t know if she could remain untethered to anything. She felt as though she was floating—no friends, no one to just sit with and enjoy the quiet.
She pulled up her phone and saw she had a message for Romona Hicks.
To: Romona Hicks
From: Rachel Helms
You’ve come a long way since we first met. You are strong and brave and I am so glad we were arrested together. I hope you can do something special for yourself today. Sorry I couldn’t make it.
To: Rachel Helms
From: Romona Hicks
You aren’t allowed to ever be sorry for not being able to come hang with me. You’ve done so much for me. I’m not brave or strong, but whatever I am is because of you. I love you. Study hard.
She typed the message out on her phone and then closed her eyes, thinking of something “special” she could do today. Emery put her phone down and grabbed her brand new journal from the bedside table. She’d run out of the pages in the last one and had placed it with her others in the top of her walk-in closet. Taking the pen out from in between the pages, she started writing.
I
Noah,
It’s been almost four years since I was raped for the last time. That’s 1423 hash marks. I’ve made 1423 marks saying I wasn’t touched that day. In a way, I have healed. You helped me heal and see that there were people out there that I could trust, who could love me. I’m helping kids, which I always wanted to do, but I can’t help the one that I’ve wanted to all these years because I’m scared. I haven’t healed in many ways. I have a constant reminder of what he did to me. I see it every morning and it reminds me who I am. My name could be Emily, Emma, Erin, Elizabeth, but deep down I will always be Emery. I will always be the girl who was raped for three years and ran from it all, leaving my baby sister behind. I will never heal the fact that I don’t like people to touch me. I’ll never change the fact that I have to sit here by myself so I don’t get too involved with someone and then have to move. I haven’t
She turned her leather cuff around and stared at the words, wishing she was strong and brave. A loud crash made her put her pen down and run out of her apartment. The noise sounded like it had come from Ms. Carter’s apartment. She ran down the stairs and started knocking frantically on the door.
“Ms. Carter!”
Emery was still in a tank top and tiny boy shorts, but she burst through the door to run to the window in the front. Before she reached the bottom step, she realized she didn’t have a way to get back in and grabbed the door, shoving a rock under it to hold it open. Shielding her eyes, she peered through the window, but she couldn’t see anyone. Then she saw Dixie, Ms. Carter’s dog, run through the den and start barking, so she knew Ms. Carter was there; she didn’t go anywhere without that dog.
“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. She knocked on the window, which only led to Dixie jumping and barking at her.
Emery jogged back into the house and then up the stairs, looking for her phone. Emery didn’t want to be anywhere near cops, but what if that sweet old lady was hurt? She cal
led 911.
“Um, yes. I’m concerned my downstairs neighbor is hurt or unconscious.” Emery took the phone with her and gave her address as she ran back down the stairs. “No, I heard a really loud crash and I’ve been knocking on her door. I can’t see her, but I know she’s there. She doesn’t go anywhere without her dog.”
The operator made her give a description of the house and Ms. Carter and then said they would send EMS.
Emery sighed in relief when she saw an ambulance screech down the street a few minutes later. It was only when two men exited the vehicle that she realized she didn’t have on real clothes or a bra. Embarrassed, she covered herself the best she could and answered their questions.
One of the EMS workers called someone about the need to get into the house. “Police are on their way.” He smiled at Emery as he informed his partner.
“Okay, well…can I go now?”
“Oh, sure. We’ll take it from here. We have your phone number in case we need something,” the other man looked down at his notepad, “Emma.”
“Thanks.” She put her head down and walked upstairs. She couldn’t stay to see what happened. She hoped Ms. Carter was okay, but she needed to stay clear of any law enforcement. As she reached the door, Emery made a quick decision about what she would do for her birthday.
Emery raised her head from where she lay on her towel close to the shoreline on Hilton Head Island. It only took a little over an hour to get to the beaches on the island from Savannah. She’d never been, but had overheard people at work talking about how nice it was “on the island,” so she’d hurriedly packed lunch and a towel and googled the route on her phone. Her skin was already a little pink from the sun. Sighing, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and pulled her phone out of her bag. She’d been there for over three hours already.
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