This disease doesn’t scare me, I know I won’t feel any pain, and I need you to understand that. I know it scares you, I know there are many occasions you will be angry and wish I was there, and that’s okay. That’s human, but when you cry or get angry, know that I was there. In that space in your heart you reserved for me. All the laughter, the lessons . . . remember them, wrap your arms around them and embrace them, Emma. Teach your children and grandchildren. That’s my legacy. What I was able to share with you, I want you to share with others.
As sad as I am knowing I’m not there today, I’m sadder for the pain this will bring you. The questions swarming inside your pretty little head, the sorrow drowning your body, the doubt that you matter to me. I’m sorry for that.
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I love you. I’m proud of you. No matter where my mind is our hearts are connected. That is unbreakable. Look up at the sky each night knowing we are going to be waking up to the same sun, we are both looking at the same sunset, we are both staring at the same moon . . . we are both existing in this big world together. You a part of me and me a part of you. When I’m no longer on this earth, I’m still with you, experiencing it all through your eyes.
I hope in this lifetime I’ve made as big of an impression on you as you etched on me. You’ve taught me humility, grace, morality. You brought me love, laughter, and faith in what love can create. You, my dear Emma, mean more to me than words can say, and I’m so damn sorry I can’t remind you of this daily.
My biggest regret is not telling you more how much I loved you, not stopping to smell the flowers with you often. So don’t make my mistakes. Live each day as it’s your last, don’t settle for anything in life, don’t stop leaping and climbing from one venture to another . . . and never forget I love you.
All my love,
Nana
She knew what I would need in my darkest hour. She knew me better than I know myself. All in past tense. Alzheimer’s can suck a dick . . . with a side of an STD. The guilt I’m wallowing in is suffocating. I hear the creak; the dock alerting me my prince has come to comfort me. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, tell that to someone who believes it. I won’t bother you but I need to be here.” He is rubbing his hand over his chest, and I don’t doubt my pain is his. It’s the way we work. It’s the only thing we’ve known.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Want to talk?” He pulls me against him and leads us both down to a sitting position.
“Not really. I’m sitting here reading her words, and I feel like shit.”
His fingers grip my chin, “I don’t think that was her intention, Ems.”
“It wasn’t her letter. It’s me. For months, I’ve dreaded going to see her. I’ve let it become an obligation instead of the best part of my day. I grip the handle to the door leading to her room, and I inhale and chant, ‘Only a few minutes.’ Like I’ve put a timeframe, and all of a sudden it’s become a punishment. What kind of person does that make me?”
“Honest. Baby, it is a punishment to you. Not because you don’t love her, but because you love her so much. Seeing her, never knowing what that will entail is an upheaval. Your emotions are like a yo-yo. You do more than most do. You may feel it’s an obligation, but I know you . . . it’s not. It may be a chore getting you there, but you don’t skip it. It’s killing you going to school. Sure, you may be relieved you don’t have to see it every day, but it’s still tearing you up. You’re human, not perfect. This has been an adjustment for all of you, her as well, and there isn’t a right or wrong way. Nobody has created a map for this portion of our lives, and we do the best we can. You have done the absolute best.”
“She told me to stop missing her. To live my life.”
“And?”
“How can I? Each step she isn’t here is a major blow. My vision for each milestone had her in the forefront.”
“Sometimes we have to adjust our dreams. Make them the reality we deal with.”
“Reality sucks.”
He chuckles. “Sometimes it does. You’ve got to let this go, Ems. You can be there for her, keep her memory alive here,” he kisses my head and places his hand over my heart. “You have to go to school, experience life, and quit wading through it. Dive deep and slay the waves. She’d want that.”
“That’s what she said.” I laugh at the crude humor not at all funny in the moment.
“She’s a smart lady.”
“The best.”
“And so are you.”
“I’ll try.” And I will. I will try for her. For him. Most of all for myself because I don’t want to let her down.
“That’s all we can do.”
“Damn, look at you acting all smart.”
“College man, baby.” He puffs his chest to amuse me.
“Yeah, don’t get too smug there, boy wonder, I’m now a college gal.”
“Yep, and after this summer, we’re on equal footing. How did I bust my ass for two years, and my girlfriend who just graduated is the same year as me? Overachiever.”
“Well, when this girlfriend had no boyfriend at home, all those AP classes looked appealing.”
“I still don’t have a major.” He drops his head. Confusion, frustration, and shame are evident in his voice.
“I know.” An impasse none of us can broach. He has to figure this out himself.
“I’m thinking of just a basic business major.”
“That’s smart if you don’t know what you want.” I keep my voice soothing.
“I know what I want.”
“And I support you. But remember what you said about having to adjust your dreams? I just want you to be smart.”
“That’s all I have. The only compromise I can offer. I don’t want to fight.”
“We aren’t fighting. Get a business degree. After playing pros if you want to do something else you have that option. Nothing is set in stone.”
“Except us.”
“Except us.” I close the distance between our mouths and kiss him like he’s my lifeline. At this moment he is. My leash to the shore. My constant in this frenzy amid us.
I pause at the front of the spa. My nerves spiraling, the anxiety creeping throughout my body strangling me. I close my eyes and exhale. “Open the door, baby.” Will’s deep voice resonates deep inside giving me the final push to do this.
I woke this morning with excitement churning and a smile stretching my cheeks. I forgot for a minute. It crashed down upon me, the uncertainty of what today will bring. Who will she be? Who will I be to her? I was grateful for this opportunity but nervous just the same. I didn’t want to overwhelm her, but I needed this day.
I needed it for me.
I needed it to remind me.
I needed it to keep close to me when I went to school.
I needed the reassurance I was hoping for. I put too much pressure on myself and her, wagering today was somehow going to erase her diagnosis and obliterate my fear of life without her. Avaricious of me, acting like an entire life of love and lessons comes down to one day, but I’m hanging by a thread. The present is suffocating the past, and the past is where my Nana is, the present is where she resides in body not in mind.
“I can do this,” I whisper.
“You can. No matter what happens today it’s still a memory you can put up here.” He taps to my head. “It may vary in what you dream, but remember you have to adjust for reality. It’s just as special.” His words wise. His actions noble. His love healing.
Nana and her aide are waiting in a private room, soothing music piped through the speakers—aromatherapy burning . . . Nana is calm. She’s smiling, relaxed, and dare I say eager. She’s chatting with the aide and pauses when she sees me. “This is my friend. She’s come to celebrate my birthday.” It’s not her birthday, and I’m her granddaughter damn it, not her friend.
“Hi, Nana. Hi, Adelaide.” I let the smile cling to my face the way Bible beaters cling to the cross. Like somehow it will save me.
It will hold me up when I want to crash to the floor. “Ready to be pampered?”
Nana nods and squirms in her chair, excited like a toddler going to an amusement park. The coordinator comes in and leads us to the changing room and instructs us what to do and what services we will get. They’ve arranged it to all be done in one room so Nana won’t be shuffled, and we can minimize confusion for her. We’ll begin with a facial and pedicure, followed by a massage.
It all flows smoothly, all seamless with nonsense and chitchat. Nana tells me what she’s been cooking (she hasn’t), what trips she’s preparing for (she isn’t), and how Papa will love this shade of red she chose for her toes (he would). She becomes antsy during the massage, and my focus is trained to her movements. I can’t relax. She begins swatting the masseuse’s hands, rolling from one side to the other, avoiding her touch. Adelaide comes to her and tries calming her. I sit up and pull the towel tight and go to her. She’s sitting up and ready to get away from the table.
I reach for her hand and begin leading her to change. I open the door to the locker room and freeze. “Emma, I don’t think you should do this again. I don’t like you in with strange people allowing them to touch you.” I whip my head so I can see her face. Emma. She just called me by my name. Her eyes are clear, pulled tight in worry, clearing her throat drawing my attention to her mouth. It’s moving.
“What?”
“I said don’t make me talk to your father. He wouldn’t like you naked with these people. Promise me you won’t come back.” I open my mouth and can’t form words. I blink my eyes, clearing the moisture pooling there. “Emma, calm down. I was here today, but I just don’t think this is appropriate. I’m hungry, let’s go.” I allow Adelaide to lead her and help her dress; I stand rooted to the spot where my heart mended. The crack that’s taken residence has fused together whole again.
By the time I’m getting dressed, that has changed. She’s agitated, refusing to speak, and close to a full tantrum. We rush her to the waiting car, and she doesn’t say goodbye. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t bother me because for a few minutes today I was Emma. Her Emma. I was still someone to her. I’m not lost.
Chapter Twenty-Four
William
Camp flew by this year, and it’s probably because I knew I’d have three uninterrupted weeks with Emma. The first week we didn’t leave her apartment. The second week we spent at mine so she could help spruce it up. I care that it has a bed and television, all the other frou frou shit is out of my league, but my girl insisted, and I can’t deny her. She’s been relaxed since her spa day; her tears of joy damn near brought me to my knees that day. It’s what she needed, what she craved, and what she had been waiting on. The week here has zoomed by, and living off campus has allowed us to avoid run-ins with the riff-raff she hates. It’s the biggest positive to me living in my own place. Blake is coming by to eat pizza with us, Emma insisted since he helped us with heavy lifting today.
“I could still tell him not to come?” I’m hopeful she’ll agree.
“Stop. He saved our ass today. Carrying furniture up three flights of stairs, helping you set it up—”
I cut her off. “You mean putting it in five different places while you directed us. I would have been fine with a mattress on the floor and T.V. mounted to the wall.”
She rolls her beautiful eyes at me. “Okay. Okay. Still he helped and a few hours won’t kill us.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re such a baby.” She chucks a damn throw pillow at me. It set off the colors in the couch perfectly, per her vision.
“No, I’m just taking advantage of having you to myself. It was so limited the last few years I’m like a midget at a mini-skirt convention and taking advantage of it.”
“You have issues, Will. Midget at a mini-skirt convention?”
“Better than saying pig in shit. I wouldn’t dare refer to my girl as shit.” She shakes her head at me, swatting me on the back of mine as she passes. I grab her and make her tumble into my lap. I attack her neck, blowing raspberries across her chest and jawline.
“Stop!” Her giggles get louder as I continue. The doorbell saves her delectable ass. Blake walks in like he owns the place, carrying a six-pack and some wine coolers for Ems. She isn’t much of a drinker, and I’m thankful for that, I’d hate to worry about that being hours from her. I understand why she chose University, but I was hoping she would have come here with me.
Two more years, I remind myself. Those two years will be different from the first two. It won’t be months without seeing each other; it won’t be juggling her high school courses, my college classes, and rules. We’ll get to live like adults and be able to manage our lives.
“Make yourself at home,” I tease Blake.
“Thanks,” he replies while putting his feet up on the coffee table Emma insisted I buy from IKEA.
“Feet off.” She shoves his legs down and places his beer on a coaster . . . that match the carpet. I’m very domesticated.
“Sheesh, it’s like living with my mom.” Said coaster is chucked at his head and hits its target. “Ouch, woman.”
She wags her finger at him and heads to order pizza. “Don’t piss her off. And you’re leaving in three hours. Not a minute longer.”
“Relax. I won’t cockblock you.”
“I appreciate that.” He fires up the Xbox, and we duel on GTA waiting for the pizza to arrive. Teasing lasts throughout the entire night, Emma and Blake one-upping each other. They try to drag me into it, but I know a losing battle, and I enjoy watching them. This is what I wish I had the whole time. Friendship my girl approved of, and a friend I could depend on. Better late than pregnant . . .
I hate leaving her, but school starts in two days, and I still have to get my books. She has to finish getting hers, as well. I linger, bending down for another kiss, and one more after that. “I don’t want to leave, baby.”
“I don’t want you to go.” She grips my shirt tighter.
I rest my forehead against hers, inhaling her scent, feeling her skin . . . filling my heart with enough to last me until I see her again. Which should be three or four weeks. She wants to get her footing before she comes for the weekend. We are trying to work it on my bye week so I won’t have a game to play in, just practice. “Time will fly,” I try to convince myself along with her.
“I know.” She releases me and kisses me once more, backing up. “Go, before I change my mind.”
“Love you.” I steal another kiss.
“Love you, too.” She gives me her beautiful smile as I turn to leave. I think it may be harder spending more time together than it was never seeing each other. Saying goodbye sucks.
Time passed quickly with phone calls, FaceTime, and texts. We both agreed we would go home at Thanksgiving and two weeks at Christmas giving us the last ten days just to ourselves. Probably at her place because it’s an hour from our hometown versus four to five.
I’m rushing home from class to straighten up so she doesn’t see what I’ve done to the beautiful home she created for me. Blake is here more often than not, so I’m picking up take out boxes, laundry, beer and soda cans, water bottles . . . you name it and it’s strewn from one end to the other of this apartment. He is staying at the dorms this weekend but said he’ll stop by to see her.
I’m taking out the trash when I see her arrive. Rather, I hear the horns blaring from her failure to use turn signals, cutting off a car to make the turn, and then nearly side swiping the entrance sign.
She went home last weekend and visited Nana and has been down since. It’s hard to gauge her mood and when she is faking it, so I don’t worry. She said there was no change and that is normal, but I think she is expecting a miracle. She refuses to give up hope, and while I admire that, it scares me because her heart will keep getting broken.
I open her door and pull her to me. “You’re going to piss off the wrong people with your driving.” I kiss her lips, and she punches me in the gut.
“My driving? If those assholes weren’t so close to me it wouldn’t have been a problem.”
“Ems—” I stare at her in disbelief. I don’t know why she can’t admit she drives like shit with eleven accidents, all single and self-induced, under her belt. Her bumper has been painted more times than Kim Kardashian has posted naked selfies. It’s ridiculous.
“It’s not my fault, Will. This fucking boat I drive doesn’t help.”
“O—kay,” I relent. It’s a losing battle. At least it’s a short drive for her to go home. Next time I’ll make sure I drive to her place. That will be safer for everyone.
The weekend flew by. Emma and Blake drank until she was sick, which pissed me off. He can’t be that careless with her. I’ve noticed any weight she put on over the summer has disappeared, and she admitted to running every night.
“I don’t like you running at night,” I remind her as I’m walking her to her death trap.
“Andy is there, I promise it’s safe.” She and Andy have become chummy, and I don’t have any reason to be jealous, but I’m getting pissy about that situation. He and Holly are still together, but Emma said they are doing some kind of ‘open relationship’ shit; as long as he doesn’t get any ideas with my girl, we’ll be fine.
“Just slow it down. Cut back to a few days a week, no need to do it every night.”
“Stop. I’m fine, and you’re not my dad.”
“I just worry.” Her snippiness this weekend is weighing heavily on me.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired and getting ready for mid-terms is killing me.” I fill in the blanks of what she isn’t saying. She misses home, misses me, and hates not seeing Nana every day. My Ems hates change, and this entire year has been one big change after another.
“Drive safely, and take a nap when you get home.” I feel guilty for letting her get drunk and not sleep this weekend.
“I will. Love you.” She kisses me and climbs in her Tahoe.
Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) Page 17