Knowing nothing would come out of what I said, but needing to talk to someone about it, I did. “Hi, Chloe, this is Emma.” I continued my way to the cafeteria while leaving said message. “Grampy had an accident, and we’re in the hospital.” I loved voicemails, so impersonal, I wanted to kiss them every time they replaced the person I didn’t want to contact, but had to. “I’ll tell them you’ll try to call and don’t have money for the fare. It’s been a while; I think someday I might tell them…not today. Love you, big sis.” I hung up, closed my eyes and searched for some strength before I continued with the charade I put up with.
Food in hand I went to Grampy’s room. When I handed the food to Nana, she asked me about Chloe. “Did you call her?” I nodded. “I did too, but she never calls back.” With a shrug and a smile, I steered the conversation toward Grampy’s health.
Yet Nana didn’t let it go and circled back to my sister. “Chloe has a life, an important job that doesn’t pay well.” I opened my mouth and then closed it. Nothing I said would come out right or make things better for me. They loved Chloe and talking about her with them would bring them more ache and pain than what they had already gone through.
“We coped in different ways since my Anna died, Emmy. You became detached, insensitive and unemotional. What happened to my delicate girl whose soul was filled of love, imagination and wonder? Have you used a brush, a pastel or clay since Anna died?” I shook my head and turned toward Grampy’s bed begging him to wake up before I had to endure another lecture of how horrible I was.
“Emma, you threw yourself into school, what child finishes at twenty one and gets a job like yours?” I had feelings, just not any I wanted to share with the class. Yes I worked, but I loved my job. And who cared about painting? My throat became tight and my stomach was clenched by the fist of truth. The pain grew as it squeezed tighter, making the pounds of metal inside scratch the walls with the sharp edges.
“My carefree girl, who twirled around with a fairy costume doesn’t believe in knights with shiny armors or dragons anymore.” I scratched my nose and crinkled it. “But I’m fine with it, because I respect you and it became your way of coping. I only pray one day she comes out again, to play. The same way you should respect Chloe.” A nod and a flat smile was my response to her request. My silence about my sister had nothing to do with all the gibberish she gave me. I loved them and didn’t want them to endure the truth about my reserved attitude to all Chloe-related subjects.
My grandfather’s recovery didn’t go as smooth as we had hoped. I stayed three weeks helping them. I hired around the clock nurses, but in the end I had to move them to an assisted living home; because not only was Grampy not responding well to his physical therapy, but also Nana got depressed. Moving to Connecticut wasn’t an option for me. I had to work, help pay their bills and also I needed to stay away from them. Getting too close and losing them would’ve been emotional suicide. There weren’t walls thick and tall enough to protect my heart if I lost them. And I knew the accident had been my fault for being careless with them.
“Are you still there, Emmy?” Grampy asked, snapping me out of my fogged trance. I mumbled in response. “Good, did you arrive safe, or are you still in New York?”
“I arrived yesterday.” My response came abrupt, because I tried to suck back the tears that threatened to spill. Be brave, I reminded myself, he’s going to be fine. Grampy has to be fine. “You’ll be proud of me. I called Grandma Lily, as I promised you. I left a voicemail and hopefully I’ll get to see her this week.”
For the three weeks I lived with my grandparents, they tried to convince me to make an effort to get in touch with my paternal grandparents and Chloe. I needed my family. They wouldn’t be around forever, and they needed the security of knowing that I would be taken care of.
“Have some fun, go and meet a good boy.” Grampy told me. “One who will take you serious and take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone. Life is better shared with others. Love, and let others love you.”
I blurted the first thing that came to mind to stop his discourse about me having some kind of love-life. “Grandma Lily hates me—”
“Nonsense, Emmy.” Grampy stopped me before I got my rant out. The one where I said that they both decided I wasn’t who they wanted as a granddaughter. “You were their favorite since the day you were born.” He patted my hand. “We don’t have one, but since you’re the only one that we see…well you know. Give them a call, not today, but soon. Promise?”
“I will.” Putting my other hand on top of his, I rested my head on his shoulder. In hope that these weren’t some “see you in the next life” words, I promised him that I would seek out my other set of grandparents. “Promise that it will get done soon.”
“Today I’m going to Gaby’s for a family barbeque.” I tried to gear the conversation because he was quiet.
“Eat a hamburger for me.” Grampy’s voice was replaced by loud coughs. “Sorry, sweetie, I think I’m going to hang up now. I’m not fully recovered.” An understatement; he sounded terrible and I understood why he didn’t talk as much. “I love you, Emmy, have a little fun for a change.”
“Love you too, Grampy, tell Grams I’ll call her tonight.”
Chapter 7
Emma
I SAT ON THE bed to put myself together before Gaby picked me up. Three seconds after the clock turned to eleven, a knock on the door announced Gaby’s presence. I slipped on my new open toe Gucci wedges, adjusted the strap and checked myself in the full size mirror behind the door one last time. Flat hair checked, flouncy white and black sleeveless top adjusted and my skinny jeans looked fine. I applied my soft peach lipstick, spritzed lavender essence one more time and shoved my cosmetic bag inside my tote.
“Ready.” I opened the door, and she glared at my wedges. My almost five foot ten height with shoes wasn’t to her satisfaction, but I didn’t care today. I felt small and needed a prompt to help me keep afloat from everything that surrounded me.
“Why can’t I come inside, Emma?” she asked, suspicious after I shut the door behind me. “Are you hiding a hot guy, or you got a new fetish you don’t want me to know about?”
“No and you are weird. Fetish, really, because I closed the door?”
“No, well, I thought we could talk.” She checked my face and pulled a strand apart from my hair and slid her index finger through it. Ouch. “Why did you flatiron your hair? I like your curls.”
“You and everyone that doesn’t have to deal with the mess.” I smoothed my hair with both hands while we walked to the elevator doors. She called the elevator and magically the doors opened. Inside, I inspected her face. Her dark eyes were analyzing mine…. The firecracker was hiding something. I could see it in the way she was measuring my temper.
“Spit it, now,” I said, when the chime announced we had reached the main level and the doors opened. But Gaby ignored me. “You’re pulling a Gaby.” Thankfully my long legs could keep up with the marathon like speed she walked with to her parked car. “I’m not going to like it.” Gaby stopped, gave me a glare and continued. “Two doors, number one has an unpleasant blast from the past.” Which I had been mentally prepared to do. “Two, a guy. Which one? Don’t pimp me, Gaby, you know I hate it.”
“Pimp you?” she fake shivered. “No way, I learned my lesson. Tom, he will be at the party. Daddy invited most of his top sales guys.”
“Why is he a car salesman?” The guy scored a full ride to Stanford, so I didn’t get it. “What happened to Stanford?”
“Malory,” she said. “And Stephanie Brooks too. He has four children now, the two oldest are five years old. Do the math.”
“Twins?” Gaby shook her head. “One for each slut?” My eyes widened when she nodded.
Tom was my worst decision during my teenage years. We began to date when I turned sixteen, and continued up until he decided to screw me over. Or I didn’t let him do me. He slept with Malory—because he could. I never let things go
too far, but he gave me grief when I stopped him after each heated make out session. Unlike Malory, I wasn’t ready. Tom swore he loved me, translation—let me inside your panties. Senior trip I planned to give it up—for him. But things didn’t work as I wanted. My parents didn’t have the money to pay for my trip and they used my own savings for Chloe’s college expenses.
“Sorry, Emma, we don’t have the money,” Mom explained, after I begged her for the fourth time to let me go. “Our expenses increased, and it’s just a stupid trip.” She didn’t understand my social life was hanging by a thread.
Years of saving my birthday, Christmas and odd jobs money gave me the power to pay for myself. “Fine, I’ll use my own money!” Who the hell had they thought they were? I was a few weeks shy of turning eighteen and had a hefty savings account waiting for me. Or so I thought. My online banking system told me my balance was two dollars and three cents.
The best lesson learned that evening was that parents shouldn’t have access to their children’s checking accounts, because they think that gives them the right to steal from them.
I walked toward the studio, where she was working on a brand new piece of glass. “Where’s my money?” I yelled at her. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked for it? You can’t just barge into my bank account and drain it.”
“I won’t allow you to talk to me like that, Emma Lilian,” she raised her voice. “Wait until your father comes out and he’ll deal with you.”
Before I retired to my room, I threw one of my clay pieces on the stained glass she had been working on; shattering it and yelling at her. “I hate you, you’re ruining my life.”
Wise words every teenager throws to their parents at least once every week. Though it was the first and only time I used the clichéd phrase, and at the moment, I felt each word I blurted out. Dad came from his office yelling that I shouldn’t talk to Mom like that. They excused their actions, no, they shielded themselves behind Chloe. She needed the money. New York was expensive.
A day later, my sister and I had a huge fight over those savings. She insulted me and called me a selfish brat. I was harsh with my entire family, and Mom compared me to Grandma Lily.
I didn’t tell my boyfriend about the trip until the last minute, afraid of a letdown. He climbed inside the bus and didn’t look back at me. For an entire week he ignored me because I didn’t go or have the decency to tell him before that day. I did it to avoid his cold shoulder, and yet I still got it. My world crumbled for the first time, and his indifference felt like a stab in the heart. Tom ignored my texts and voicemails during that week.
The same week, Mom closed herself into the studio and never came out—at least while I was awake. Not that I cared much, I wasn’t speaking to either one of my parents. Dad never came home. Gaby went to visit family, somewhere around the world. She was best friends with Waldo, and they wrote ‘Where in the world are Gaby and Waldo’. Never heard of it? Well, the dumb book didn’t sell much.
Early Monday, right when I was heading to my car, I saw Dad’s car pulling into the driveway. He had circles under his eyes and it looked like he had been wearing the same clothes for a week. They reeked of alcohol. He had skipped an entire week of my life.
“I love you, Dad.” I hugged him before I left for school because I thought my behavior provoked the fight with Mom and him. “I missed you.” But I didn’t apologize for my behavior.
“I love you too, Emmy.” He hugged me back and kept the embrace a little longer than usual. “You’re my favorite girl,” he said, tightening his grip. When he released me, I turned one last time to the house. Mom wasn’t a morning person and instead of waking her up for her eight o’clock class as usual, I left her there. Avenging what she had done to me.
Once I got to school I noticed that Malory Horton’s car occupied my usual parking spot, next to Tom’s. Serendipity gave me the warning, but I ignored it. Whispers and pity looks received me with open arms while I walked from the parking lot to the inside of the school. Gaby ran to me and drug me to the janitor’s closet, which was only a few feet from my locker.
“Gaby, I love you, but I’m not into girls.” She didn’t laugh at my joke, not a good sign. “I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re going to say, so you might as well say it now.”
“Malory and Tom hooked up during Spring Break.” Within seconds my cell buzzed with a text message, but she had already dropped a bucket of ice cold water over my head, leaving my entire body frozen.
Tom: Emma we need to talk
“Seriously, he gets to dump me? Why didn’t he tell me those words before sleeping with Malory?”
“Sorry, Em.” Gaby began her rant of how he didn’t deserve me, but I tuned her out because it wasn’t the point.
Heck, “I’ll miss you” meant different things for me. Tom meant to say “I’ll screw another girl while I’m away”. My parents ruined my life. Prom wouldn’t happen—my second chance to lose it with Tom. If the world ended, I’d die as the virgin cat lady—no cats—I was allergic. “The rumors say they’d been doing it for months, and word is out that he’s doing Stacy too,” Gaby continued her little report. That was two full bullets of bad news before my calculus class. What else could go wrong? I sighed and left the closet. Tom approached my locker but I stopped him with my hand.
“Save it,” I said, and ripped the pictures of the two of us from my locker door. Our moments together meant crap to him. “How long, Tom?”
“Don’t do this, Emma,” he responded.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, and slapped the pictures against his chest. They fell onto the floor and he looked astonished at them. “I waited, and this is what happens. Well I’m glad I never had sex with you. Fuck yourself and the rest of the school, Tom.”
By midafternoon Tom’s betrayal and Gaby’s secrets dissipated to make room for the Anderson tragedy, the boy was no longer important. I never returned to school.
Due to my mourning state and excellent grades, I graduated with the grades I had as of that day and kept my valedictorian title, but I didn’t go to graduation.
Coming back to reality, I rewound part of Gaby’s news. “Wait, five years old?” She nodded. I made a few non-complicated finger calculations, thank you Miss Jane—my kindergarten teacher. “That comes out to before Spring Break, cheater. His hormones wasted the full ride scholarship. Any other news before we arrive? I would rather avoid the loud ‘what the fuck, Gaby?’ Makes me look trashy in front of others and always draws unnecessary attention.” She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. We were getting closer to ground zero. “Perfect. Shall we review the rules? No pimping, no pimping and seriously, no pimping.”
She pulled into the garage and gave me an indignant glare, as if she had never pimped me. Should I remind her about the nine, possibly ten atrocious blind dates she was responsible for? Before she gave me some lecture or we fought about my lack of dating, I opened the car door and got out, pulled my tote bag, and headed toward the porch.
Chapter 8
Emma
THE OLD SUBURBAN neighborhood, cookie cutter area with identical lots and perfect manicured lawns, surrounded me. This was the American dream, white picket fence and 2.5 children. While walking, I pulled out my phone and checked my emails. No one had an emergency on a Sunday; I could only hope. But, miraculously there was a job, my precious. I slammed the phone to my chest and petted it like a fuzzy friend.
Then the realization of leaving my laptop in the hotel made me slap my forehead. Without my portable office, I’d have to use paper and pencil. But I’d do whatever I had to in order to convince Liam to give me the project. First order of the day was to say hello to the Clements. Then I’d work my magic, take a picture and email the initial proposal to Liam.
I got ready to face Mrs. Clement, or Tina, as she insisted to be called back when I turned thirteen. Which I didn’t, Mom would’ve kill me for being disrespectful. She opened the door and gave me a hug worthy of five years of a
bsence. The woman blurted words in Spanish while crying all over me. The little woman came up to my breast, and I hoped she didn’t wet the area or I’d be sobbing myself. This sounded insensitive, but those weird things happened to me. Smeared mascara over the nipple area wouldn’t look very appealing at a family barbecue, though I was used to it in certain ways.
I remembered the time I walked around one of the finest restaurants in London with a piece of toilet paper under my shoe. A huge piece no less. Luckily, most of the customers only had eyes for my hot companion, not my shoe.
“My little girl.” Gaby laughed at the irony. She was almost five feet tall and the heels gave her only a few inches above them. Mrs. Clement was strange, but fun. She pulled me inside and called Gavin and Mr. Clement. “John, Gavin—Gaby and little Emma are here.”
The noise stopped and everyone turned to see who the hell little Emma was. Gavin gave me a hug and introduced me to his girlfriend. Cute girl, and nothing like Chloe; very polite, did I mentioned nothing like Chloe? Because he did several times, emphasizing he was happy. Good for him. He and my sister dated during high school, so why he would care about her after so many years was a puzzle I decided to overlook. Gavin excused himself and went to the garden with his brother in law to be and cousins—dragging the so called “girlfriend” by the waist.
Looking closer at the walls and the fireplace, I noticed the art hanging around it. I didn’t like it one bit. Their main piece was the oil I painted during one of my visits to Half Moon Bay. I threw it in the trash with everything else, but what happened? Tina Clement, of course. My photographs and other pieces of art splattered around their house in a strange way of decoration. A pang inside my heart sent an alarm to my entire system; a way to avoid a sentimental scene in front of the strangers that surrounded me. I wanted to grab them and…burn them? No take them home, Emma. They were mine, a piece of who I was long ago.
Getting by (A Knight's Tale) Page 5