by Corri Lee
“Don’t you dare let your fucknut ex-boyfriend ruin your life. It was a freak accident and they happen. But like every community struck by a tsunami, earthquake, hurricane or katana-wielding axe-murderer, you just have to carry on as normally as possible.”
“Why would an axe-murderer need a katana?”
“Emmy.” Chris grabbed a newspaper from the closest table, rolled it up and tapped me on the nose with it. “Don’t force me to take twenty quid off you every time you use inappropriate humour to cope with a tense situation.”
“What? It was a valid question.”
“And your valid answer is that said axe-murderer has the ability to duel-wield. Now are you going to get your shit together?”
“A katana and an axe? Well that’s disproportionate. I mean, are we talking a ‘break here for axe in case of fire’ axe or a wood-cutting axe? Because those are two-handed.”
“Emmeline Elizabethan BaDonkADonk Tudor!”
“BaDonkADonk?”
“Emmy!” Okay, I was getting stupid. I blamed it on shock. “Calloway wants you to cancel that wedding. Do you understand that? His proprietorial bitch fit was nothing but a scream out for attention fronted by a misguided screw up. He’s having some sort of nervous breakdown ‘cause his business went bust paying damages to all the women he’s trampled. Are you going to let that control you?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing, Emmy. Calloway Ryan is just a raging lunatic in the cinema of your life. There was absolutely no reason why this had to happen, it just did.”
“I can sort of see it from his point of view, though. What we had wasn’t real, but it was functional. I think he strives on that and holds onto it out of desperation. Once I marry Blaze—boom—lovely Emmeline is gone for good.”
Chris folded his arms and cleared his throat impatiently. “Are you seriously sympathising with the man who just tried to kill you? Who next? Charles Manson?”
“That’s an inane speculation.”
“Life is inane. It’s inane, cruel and headed down the hot road into Hell. There’s been too much grief lately; it’s been shit for everyone. You’ve been ill, Blaze has been a bit of a cunt generally, Esme is leaving—”
“Wait...” Oh my God. It finally clicked. And he had the nerve to lecture me on my love life and try to prod me down the road to a ‘happy’ ending. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”
That seemed to hit a nerve. A rather large one. I wasn’t even sorry for it, I just hated hypocrisy with a passion. “Do you know what, Emmy? You actually have a really good life and it’s tough for the people who love you to just stand by and watch you try and force it all away. We know your fiancé better than you do, you realise that? Now we have to see two good friends get married and disappear on shaky foundations. I’d kill for a love like yours and Blaze’s. I’d trade in everything for a woman who loves me the way Blaze loves you.”
“So why haven’t you told Esme you’re in love with her yet?”
Chris stammered and turned away, his one visible cheek a glowing pink. If that wasn’t an admission of love, I’d have gladly walked out into Connie’s garden and declared my status as a sleep-walking killer myself. “She’s a redhead, Emmy. I’m programmed to want to tap that.”
“Oh, bollocks. I’ve got you pegged. All those times you two flipped a coin over me—you hated the idea of Esme getting it on with someone else, so that’s why you sulked. If you won, it meant she went home alone.” I laughed to myself, amazed that I’d been so blind for so long. “And here I was thinking it was me you wanted white picket fences with.”
“Fine, so I’m in love with Esme.” Chris fake-smiled bitterly in response to my applause. “But she’s fucking off and I probably won’t see her anymore, so is it so wrong for me to want someone else to be happy?”
“Yes.” It was wrong because all he had to do was tell her. There wasn’t even anything to stop him from moving to Chicago with her. His parents were both still alive, very happily married, and his mother thought Esme was the cat’s pyjamas. They’d have been elated to see him move out and settle down with someone as awesome as her.
Ultimately, we were both scared of the same thing: rejection. Neither of us wanted to confess something that could see us being pushed away as a consequence.
“How about a bribe?” I offered, now fixated on the idea of getting my two single friends together. “You tell Esme that you’re in love with her and I’ll get married.” I didn’t say it out loud, but I’d also come clean about Natasha before it happened. If he could find the courage to give away his secrets, I could, too. At least I already knew Blaze loved me. Chris’ potential drop to humiliation was much steeper and further than mine, I thought.
“That’s cruel.”
“Life is cruel. It’s cruel, inane and headed down a hot road into Hell. A wise man told me that.”
“You drive me nuts, do you know that?”
“A little crazier every day, I hope.”
His resignation was obvious. As luck had it, Esme chose that exact moment to enter the room, make-up wipes in hand, to deliver some news that brought on a whole new wave of nausea.
“Blaze is here, Emmy. He wants to see you.”
“He can’t see her,” Chris snapped sourly. “It’s bad luck.”
“Bad luck?” Esme swiftly threw the packet of wipes at him. “Karma can kiss my sweet tits, Christopher. She owes them.”
Jesus, the sexual tension between was extreme. Chris broke out in a heavy sweat just looking at her. If I’d been able to figure out his real feelings, Esme had to have, too.
Not that she gave anything away. Her composure was as ironclad as ever, a smirk just touching the corner of her lips. “You owe me, too.”
“How do you figure?”
“You’ve hardly spoken to me. I’ve been trying to pin you down in a conversation for days.”
“He’s here now,” I interjected. “He owes me, too.”
Not strictly true, but it did the trick. Esme never had to know that we’d discussed bribery, and if he spoke up—which I thought unlikely—I’d be the one who owed him.
Chris turned and gave me the dirtiest look I’d ever seen, and I figured I deserved it. The deal was he ‘fessed up and I got married. Putting the responsibility of getting a wedding ring on my finger on him wasn’t my intention, but that’s simply how it had played out.
Would I still get married if he didn’t do it? I still wasn’t sure.
Grimly determined, Chris squared his shoulders and turned to Esme, who hadn’t moved an inch. “I need to ask you something.” Dear God. He was going to do it.
“Me first, please. I want you to come to Chicago with me.”
I felt my heart stop in wonder. “You want him to do what?”
“I want him to come to Chicago. I’ve been thinking about it, and I can’t stand the idea of not seeing him for three months or more. Dan and Jon will video call but you know what this one’s like.”
Scoffing in utter disbelief, Chris pulled a face and headed for the doorway. “Not gonna happen.”
“And why not? I already asked your mummy if you can come out to play and she practically begged me to take you away. Get the hint, caveman.” Not waiting for his response, Esme walked straight out past him and called out behind her, “By the way, I told them you’re my boyfriend so we have to share a bed. Not viewing that as a problem ‘cause... you know.”
As far as talking about her feelings went, that was about the extent Esme was capable of, and that was really saying something. She hadn’t revealed the degree of reciprocation, but it made a good hint at it. Realistically, it was the best result Chris ever could have hoped for and he hadn’t had to do anything to get it.
When he turned around to face me with a crafty looking grin smeared across his face, I knew exactly what he was going to say.
“She did all the talking, you admitting nothing. The deal is invalid.”
“No, you’re invalid. If that can h
appen to me, you’ve got a universe full of opportunity waiting for you.”
He had a point, but he also didn’t have a clue. He thought it was as simple as me using my feet to walk a few yards and then say a few sentences. And I could have just done that, but I’d made a promise to myself. I couldn’t do it without talking to Blaze first.
“I want to see him.” Warring with his traditionalist ideals, Chris submitted and made for the kitchen to collect my groom. “Wait! I need a pearl of wisdom; encouragement or advice.”
“Seriously?” He thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. It was going to be gold-dust, I knew it. “When you’re feeling bad about yourself, just think of all the other big shit going on in the world. Look at major corporations going bankrupt, major fraud, war—... Just think of those things, knowing they were all ultimately caused by the actions of one idiot.
“And you weren’t one of those idiots, Emmy. You go, girl!”
“I so deeply hate you right now. There’s a line, and you just tea-bagged it.”
“It’s okay, I bought it dinner first.”
Laughter spilled from both our mouths, creating joy in spite of the day’s events. At the same time, someone cracked a joke downstairs and their mirth met ours halfway.
Happiness filled my house, though it stank of lies and sin. I thought all that evil was mine and I had a duty to carry it all myself.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The house emptied out when Blaze came up to see me, the original itinerary back on track. Cars for the wedding party were queued outside on the driveway, and had been waiting to transport everyone but Henry and I since I’d gone to dress. Almost immediately after I’d reached my bedroom, they’d arrived early and everyone had gone outside to admire the sleek Rolls Royce convoy.
That was why nobody had heard Calloway screaming at me.
The skies outside had started to darken, the sun’s lowest curve starting to dip under the horizon. We were running out of time, my fancy hairstyle was ruined, my make-up smudged and smeared. Still Blazed looked at me when he walked in, smiled and said, “Emmeline. You look beautiful.” I was pushed to tears again.
I let him clean me up the way he had done before; unpinning the tangled tresses and brushing them out smooth, then removing most of my make-up and replacing it with more. We didn’t talk the whole time, just let each other do our thing. He needed to care for me and I needed caring for. It worked out perfectly.
Blaze took a step back to admire his handiwork, held out a hand and finally said, “Are you ready to come and make me a very happy man?” I sat there useless once more.
As much as I placed Blaze’s happiness above everything else—or tried to—I didn’t see how our relationship could possibly bring joy. It might have, at first, but it couldn’t forever. Regardless of everyone else’s semi-optimistic philosophy to carpe diem the crap out of life, I thought and knew from experience that it would hurt less to rip the bandage off a fresh wound than one healing and only partially knitted back together.
I couldn’t give Blaze one hundred percent while Natasha was on my conscience and that was less than he even deserved. I would ruin everything one way or another and I was becoming increasingly keen on instant gratification.
“Emmeline, please.”
“I can’t marry you.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Collapsing backwards onto the couch next to me, Blaze tried to reach for me but I moved away. One tiny touch and I’d concede defeat, committing to a lifetime of holding back. If I so much as felt his breath on my skin, my resolve would start to decay. “Why does it keep coming to this?”
“Because we can’t take hints.”
“Right. Of course. We’re going down on a sinking ship but we’re trying to bail out the water instead of putting out the fires.”
“I guess...” It sort of worked but wasn’t especially cheerful in either direction. He could be forgiven for being off his game. “I love your hammy metaphors.”
Blaze cut me off quickly. “A reason, Emmeline. You owe me a reason and it can’t be Calloway. He’s an adult, and he should be able to handle being dumped like an adult. You cannot let this ruin our—”
“I’m not!” And I was so sick of people telling me I was. “This isn’t Calloway’s fault, this is mine.”
“Then give me a fucking reason!”
My mouth opened but no sound came out. I couldn’t do it. In the best scenario for it, I couldn’t tell him what I’d done. “I can’t.”
“No, Emmeline.” Agitated, Blaze jumped to his feet and started to prowl around the lounge. “Don’t do this. Not when our guests are assembling in my mother’s garden. I don’t care what it is you think makes you ill-placed for this marriage—I love you unconditionally.”
“You say that now.”
“I’ll say that forever. Emmeline. Please. Emmy.”
Something about him shortening my name down tipped me over the edge. In four letters were what felt like our bond breaking. It made me feel hopeless. It made me wonder if I’d become a shadow of myself that not even Blaze understood anymore.
“You don’t call me that!” I tried to rush to my feet but stepped on the front of my dress and met the floor instead. My teeth ground at the sound of a tear there weren’t enough minutes to repair. “You don’t call me Emmy. I’m Emmeline, I’ve always been Emmeline. Your Emmeline.”
“You think it makes any difference what I call you? If I called you Betty, I wouldn’t love you any less.”
Looking up at Blaze and past all my emotion, I saw what my refusal was doing to him. The eight weeks since he almost lost me had been mounting up to this day and I was denying him the fruit of all his patience and hard work.
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be my wife!”
“I can’t!”
Everything about this discussion felt like the end. The end of us, the end of freedom... I couldn’t possibly imagine a life after the next second. The future wasn’t just bleak, it was a vacuous black hole pulling everything into it’s springe, growing bigger and blacker.
All was already lost. There was nothing to lose. “I need to tell you something.”
“Tell me after the ceremony. Whatever it is, I don’t care. We can get through anything, or do you need another near-death encounter to realise that?”
“Define ‘anything’.”
“Anything is anything. I am always on your side. Whatever you believe and invest in, whether I agree with it or not, I will always back your corner.” Blaze sat down on the floor next to me and wiped away a new thick, mascara streaked tear. “No matter what.”
As expected, I fell apart from the closeness. I was desperate to believe that when he said our relationship could beat anything, he really did mean anything. I’d seen every side of him and only seen him lose his cool once. Blaze was not a threat or danger to me. I am always on your side.
“I killed Natasha.”
He stared at me blankly and shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did. Maybe. I know the inquest said she died from a fatal overdose but... I can’t dispute lab results but there’s a possibility that she may have died from suffocation.”
Blaze scurried back across the carpet like I’d bitten him. “What?”
“I was sleep-walking or something. I woke up and I couldn’t really control my own body. It was like I knew the way through that manor shaking with thunder and lightning, and just ended up in her room holding a pillow down over her face. I’d dreamt of doing it since shortly after we met.”
“She was the woman in your nightmare?” Springing back up again, Blaze started to pace and prowl the same three steps backward and forward right in front of me. He was on edge—that much was obvious. But he gave no other clues as to how he was reacting. “Is this why you tried to kill yourself?”
“Karmic retribution, Blaze. I didn’t get my brain back until it was done, and I thought of you and how much you’
d hate me. A life in prison I could have dealt with. A lifetime of your loathing was too much to stand. It was a coward’s way out and I have the yellowest socks Shakespeare would have ever seen. I couldn’t lose you. It hurt less to lose myself.”
“No.” A pointed finger aimed at my face, an inch from my nose. It shook violently and stayed there even as Blaze continued to walk. “You’re wrong. It was one of your episodes or something. There was no thunder or lightning that night, Emmeline; the skies were clear. If this has been weighing on your conscience for the past eight weeks, you should have told me so I could set you straight.”
I reached for that damned pointed finger, just to have it pull away. “I wanted to. Dad wouldn’t let me.”
“Henry knows?!” The anger in that question made me flinch. How was it that my father knowing the truth was the factor that really pissed him off? “I’ll fucking kill him. I should have been told.”
“He thought you’d blame yourself and I didn’t want that. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. Nothing anyone could have done.”
“I could have done everything to stop you blaming yourself.”
“No, Blaze. I have taken full moral responsibility for what I did. I wanted Natasha pulled out of her grave to prove it was my fault but I was told not to rock the boat. Everyone is happy to believe that she committed suicide but I know that I did it.”
“You didn’t do it!” Head lifted, Blaze growled up at the sky and clawed at his face until brutal red marks marred his skin. At some point soon, the denial would die off and the real ugly truth of how much he hated me would come out. I just wanted that to happen, for this all to be over and done with.
“I’m so sorry to do this on our wedding day.”
“Jesus Christ, Emmeline. It’s been eating at you, hasn’t it? That why you’ve been such a mess. You think you’re a murderer.”
“I—” If he didn’t start taking me seriously, I was going to make the death toll two.
“You didn’t kill her, okay? Whether you tried or not, it wasn’t you who ended her life.”