Emma

by Carol Robi

  “I highly doubt it,” I tell him. “Atleast, I don’t remember ever meeting you.” I add.

  “Yeah.. What am I thinking? I would never forget you if I had met you before.”

  My heart leaps at his words, and I momentarily sag. He swiftly moves closer to support me.

  “Are you ok?” He asks, one hand around my waist for support, the other cupping my cheek.

  It is that moment, the moment I have dreamed of for about a decade. The moment I have daydreamed about ever since I met him. I look into his eyes, my heart hammering painfully under my ribcage. I feel the strain of it, my pulsating veins, the pain in my chest, and the constriction of the band tied under my breasts. It is all meaningless, standing here in his arms.

  He looks confused. Not as confident as I always thought him. He studies me, really studies me, and for a moment I fear that he has made me. That my cover is blown.

  Then his lips meet mine.

  Chapter 6

  My heart stops.

  No, really,. It stops.

  I know it because of the low beeping from inside my shirt. My heart monitor. Soon my mother will be calling, or my brother, or both. They both have the phone app that connects with my heart monitor, and alerts them when something like this happens.

  Shane pulls back, and my body reacts to his absence violently. Violently enough to force my heartrate to pick up again. The rollercoaster that is my emotions!

  “What is that?” He is referring to my heart monitor which is still beeping, though a little less urgently, now that I am back on track.

  As if on queue, my phone rings. I have no time to answer Shane. I must reassure my family right now before they go into a full blown panic. I stare at the screen. It’s Lachey calling.

  “Hey..”

  “Hey, your monitor went off! What’s going on..? I am on my way.”

  “No, Lachey. It’s alright. It was just a short spike..”

  “Emma..?”

  “Trust me..”

  “No, I cannot just let it go. I’m coming to get you..”

  “No!” I say, a little too abruptly. “Please don’t. I’ll come..”

  “Emma..”

  “I’ll come. I’ll come now.. In a few minutes, but I am coming.” He is silent for a while. I feel my phone vibrate even as I wait on him to answer.

  “Mom is calling..” I start.

  “Ok.” I let out a grateful sigh. “I’ll wait for you. Come soon.”

  “Alright. Thanks.”

  “No probs.” I then hang up.

  Shane makes as though to say something, but I hold up my hand to stop him, as my phone vibrates again. I pick up mom’s call.

  “Honey..!” The heartfelt cry is touching.

  “Mom. I’m alright. I.. I just had a moment of excitement. I am fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am. I promise.”

  “You’d tell me if something was wrong. You do know how serious..”

  “I know, mom. I promise. I am fine now.”

  I look up with apprehension when my mother says goodbye and hangs up. My spell is now broken. I am Emma again. Awkward Emma. What am I doing here?

  I turn away from Shane’s questioning eyes, and from whatever question hangs at the tip of his tongue, and start walking away fast.

  “Lane?” He calls puzzled, shuffling hurriedly after me.

  “Please.. Please don’t follow me,” I say, my courage completely washed away.

  “Lane, come on. Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, when he quickly catches up to me, swinging me around to look at him. I meet his eyes, and implore him.

  “I want to go home now,” I tell him. “Please let me go.”

  “Okay,” he says. The concern in his eyes is heart wrenching. “But are you alright? Do you need me to drive you home..?”

  “No. Please.. I just want to be alone. I’ll call a cab.” I speak hurriedly. The confident in my voice is long gone, and I daren’t look in his eyes to confirm what I know would now be disinterest. My fairy tale night has come to an end.

  “I could walk you back to the road..”

  “Shane, please,” I insist with a quiet voice. “I just want to be alone!” The beeping from my chest has stopped, and my words are now the only thing that echoes between us.

  He lets go of my hand, and with my head still bent, I turn and run, my shoes in my hand. I do not go back the way we came, but rather cut through the forested area around the beach, and then go around to find my brother where I left him.

  I lean against him as I wait for my heart to even its pace again, even as he wraps his small hands around me protectively.

  When I look back up at him after a minute or two, I wear the largest smile I can manage on my face.

  “Lachey,” I whisper. “I just had the most fantastic night of my life.”

  Chapter 7

  That is the problem with something so wonderful happening in your life- it makes you not want to live anymore. It makes you want to curl up in your bed for the rest of your life and relive that moment- that moment which you know you will never experience again.

  It’s the problem I have been having for weeks now. I float through my life even more a zombie than I had been before. Lachey is the only one that notices. He is the only one that truly knows me. He says nothing though, and for that, I am grateful.

  The first few days after that weekend, I had overheard the guys and girls talk about the cool chic they met by the beach.

  “Dude she’s so hot!” I heard Drew say, and flushed terribly as I walked past them, my head bent low in my hoodie.

  “Whatever happened between the two of you, Shane?” Trevor had asked another time. I had listened as intently as I could for his answer, but he had just shrugged and begun talking about the game coming up that weekend.

  Even the girls had talked about Lane Crawford. Melanie was glad the ‘skunk’ left.

  “She was so pale- she practically looked sickly!” Melanie had crooned.

  “Melanie you are just being mean because your Drew was flirting with her shamelessly!” Sherry had put in, and she, Enuka, Kate had roared in laughter. Melanie had remained downright mean all day after that, throwing her yoghurt over a freshman that tripped on the straps of her bag that had been lying by her on the school’s main stairs.

  My life went back to its normal mundane existence. I lived for my Tuesdays, but never took the chance to look up from my books. I listened to his every movement though, struggled to hear his every whispered word. And at night, in the comfort of my 1.5 by 3 bedroom, I relived that kiss again and again. I replayed the moment leading to the kiss- his hand snaked around my waist, his other holding my cheek so tenderly for fleeting seconds, right before he leaned in, and kissed me.

  The memory is seared into my brain, and I will probably never forget it. People talk of peaking in life. Real peaking- like getting an awesome job, winning the superbowl, or being crowned prom queen. Well I have a moment when I peaked too, and it was the moment Shane Peters kissed me.

  I look up to catch Lachey studying me over his burger, and I try hide my goofy smile, choosing the moment to drink from his cola. I forgot to pack a drink with me this morning, so he has let me share his.

  “You never told me,” he starts. “How was the party?”

  “Fine,” I tell him.

  “Your monitor beeped.” This he says quietly. Like a statement, but I know he expects an answer.

  “I was fine.”

  He is still looking at me questioningly.

  “I had my first kiss,” I say as a whisper.

  Our eyes are still locked to each other. I see him raise an eyebrow, right before he drops it, and tilts his head to study me closer. Then he smiles. I love him even more for it. I smile too, and turn back to my sandwich. We eat in silence thereafter.

  ……………..

  “What do you say to me taking the weekend off next week, and we could go up to the lakes, rent a little log cabin and hav
e fun just the three of us? We could even catch that game your school is playing there in Randale on that Saturday,” Mother calls from her room that evening as I am busy stirring the chilli con carne I am making for dinner today.

  I look over the kitchen island and catch Lachey’s eyes widened with dread. They mirror my exact sentiments.

  “It will be good to support your school team, and also make friends,” she says, walking from her room towards the living room. She walks around the kitchen, and stops to stand by me, watching the contents I am stirring in the pot.

  “Mmmh! Smells great, baby,” she says, brushing my loose white strands away from my face before placing a kiss on my cheek.

  “What do you think?” She asks again, walking past me towards my brother who is lying on the couch, gaming as usual. I watch as Lachey places the handheld device down, and looks up at my mother.

  “What?” Mom asks cluelessly. “I loved going to school games when I was your age.”

  “You were popular,” Lachey says.

  “And a cheerleader,” I add. Mom turns to look between Lachey and me.

  “And..?” She asks, shaking her head at us. “So what? Games are fun. All that cheering, and team spirit. It creates a feeling of togetherness. It brings schoolmates together. And.. I’ll let you know something baby,” she says, turning towards me now. “It’s not only cheerleaders allowed to cheer. Even spectators cheer,” she says.

  Have I mentioned that my mother is not the brightest pea in the pod? Well then, now I have.

  “Mom it’s just..” I start. “It’s not our thing,” I say shrugging.

  “And what is your thing, Emma?” I shrug, and turn back to my cooking.

  “What about you, my prince,” mom starts on Lachey. I chuckle under my breath as Lachey attempts to push her off his case.

  “Come on,” mom says later as we are eating our dinner. “Tell me what your thing is. I just want us to have a family weekend. It has been a while since we had one of those,” she pleads. I pity her, so I give in and speak up.

  “Well.. Lachey likes using the internet a lot, so going to a cabin that might only be lit by a generator and have no internet will not be fun for him.”

  “Okay. And what about you honey?” She asks me. “What do you like to do?”

  Suddenly my whole being crashes as I stare at her and realize that I do not know. Or worse, there is nothing I like to do. I am not only a nobody, I am an actual nobody behind the surface. She must read the panic in my eyes, for she hastens to calm me down.

  “It is ok. You’re still young. You’ll find out,” She reassures me.

  But the damage is done. That night, all I think about is who am I. Maybe the main problem with my existence is that I do not live at all. I do not know who I am. Lane would have known. Lane likes books, she had talked about that with Trevor back at the beach. Trevor had read most of the books she had, though he said he liked physical books. The smell of old books in libraries, he had said with his delightful British accent. Lane, Emma prefers ebooks. He had laughed at that, and said that no true reader prefers ebooks to actual paper. What she had been unable to tell him is that a reader that enjoys staying in the comforts of her mother’s house, and not walking outside and meeting strangers and people that would scorn or push her around, would love ebooks. All the books she could have just at the tip of her fingers. She could not tell him that though, as he was speaking with Lane, and Lane does not share the same fears as Emma.

  That morning when I hear mom opening the front door at about 4am, I slip out of my bed, tie my robe around me, and walk out to the corridor.

  “Honey!” My mom calls surprised, as she rises from unstrapping her shoes. “What are you doing awake? Did I wake you up?” I shake my head in answer.

  “I was waiting for you,” I tell her.

  “Why? Is something wrong?” She asks, letting her thick fur coat drop onto the floor as she walks over to me. She envelops me in her arms for a few moments, before pulling back and studying my face in the dim light.

  “I like books,” I whisper to her.

  “Oh Emma!” She exclaims, cradling my face to her again. “I know. I just wanted you to know that too,” she tells me. I smile against her chest, even though the strong perfume she has on tickles my nose.

  My mom is brilliant in her own way, I realize.

  “Now go back to sleep, and tomorrow we can strategise on how to make your brother abandon his beloved internet for a couple days. Then I can book us that log cabin. You could spend all weekend reading, and I could pamper us with some beauty treats and scrubs. What do you say?”

  All she got in answer were my sniffles.

  Chapter 8

  I like books, I repeat to myself again and again as I follow my brother into the large library. I have been here only about a handful times. He leads me to the reception desk, where I deliver the signed card from my mother, and my first ever library card is processed.

  I then follow my brother around as he shows me the rest of the library, and where I can find what. As expected, he spends most of the time showing me the scientific journals’ section, or the comic books section. He knows, though, where my interests lie, and after he picks out all the reading materials he wants for the weekend, he shows me to the literature and fiction section.

  Now I know what Trevor truly meant when he said he loves the smell of old books. I close my eyes and drink it all in happily, letting it soak into me. When I open my eyes again, my brother is beaming up at me. I smile back cheerfully, and in the next few hours spend my time running through the alleys, peeking at books I already read and loved, feeling their covers, engraved titles, and fingering their yellowed pages.

  I have a hard time choosing my four books to take with me this weekend. In the end, I opt for the classics. I want to re-read them as actual books. I grab at Emma, my favourite Austen book. I then find E. Gaskell’s North and South, another of my favourites.

  I am still looking for Anna Karenina, intently searching along the TO section of the shelves for Tolstoy, when I bump into him.

  I literally just bump into him.

  “Sorry,” we both mumble at the same time. But unlike me, who remains standing there awkwardly, he just continues searching through the shelves unperturbed.

  “There you are,” he whispers. I know he is talking to himself, having forgotten that I am there already.

  I read the book’s cover with peaked curiosity as he pulls it out. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy! What a significant coincidence!

  I surprise myself most when I speak up then.

  “Is there another copy left?” He now turns and looks at me puzzled, reminded of my existence.

  His eyes are still green, I realize. Beautiful green pools that I could lose myself into forever.

  “Anna?” He asks, lifting the book in his hands. I nod, roped in even more by the familiarity with which he terms the book.

  “Let me see,” he says, looking where he found it. “There is another edition here.. but no,” he adds, placing it back before I can protest. “It’s just paperback. You would probably prefer a hardcover. I know I would,” Shane says, flipping though a few more books.

  “Here,” he says, dragging out a beautiful hardcover book with an elaborately engraved cover. I fall in love with it immediately. He sees the glee on my face as I trace the patterns on its cover.

  “Good, huh?” I nod, looking up at him with a wide smile. He looks momentarily stunned, and I panic and start to turn away.

  “Wait,” he says, and I stop. He walks quickly towards me, and stops right before me.

  “I remember you..” I start panicking again, and my every instinct begs me to run away as fast as I can.

  “From detention?” He says. I let out a relieved sigh at this. “Right?” I nod in answer. “You had good reflexes, and a great throwing arm.” I laugh lightly at this, welcoming his wide smile.

  “I’m Shane,” he says, stretching his hand towards me. My breathing is labou
red as I take his hand in mine.

  “I’m Emma,” I tell him, not believing my turn.

  “Glad to meet you, Emma,” he says. “Let’s see the collection you have with you here,” he adds, grabbing at the books in my hands faster than I can turn away. We wrestle playfully for them, but he manages to read the titles.

  “Typical girl!” He exclaims.

  “Says the guy I just found searching for Anna Karenina!” I answer, surprising myself at how easily and confidently I speak up. It is the books, the library. I am confident in here. I feel safe.

  “In my defence, it was written from a guy’s point of view. Yours is about girls seeking rich men to marry..”

  “That is not true!” I protest. He raises an eyebrow at me in answer.

  “Okay, it is true in the case of Emma, slightly, though you have to admit that Emma does also go through her own journey of self-discovery. As for the case of North and South, you could never be more wrong. Elizabeth wrote this book to expound on the political and social issues at the height of England’s industrial revolution. Social, economic and political issues are discussed in depth in this book, and the romance is only a delicious sprinkled chocolate topping to the ice cream that is the story she weaved together.”

  I stop suddenly, shocking myself at all I have just said, even as I look ahead and watch my brother smile at me proudly from the end of the alley where I left him. I look away from him, and turn to the boy in front of me who is staring at me with open admiration.

  “You should read it,” I manage to whisper, most of my courage having already been spent on the long speech I have just delivered. I cannot remember ever having talked that much before, not even with my family. Only Lane could talk that much about something. But I am not Lane, now. I am Emma.

  “I should,” Shane says with another of his prize winning smiles cutting across his lips. “I should,” he repeats, more to himself.

  I start to walk away, for he seems to have forgotten about me again.