The Rescue

by Izzy Daniels

  Whoa .

  Well, first of all, Emma said her mom was shot in the abdomen. Could the article be wrong? I back out and open up all of the relevant ones into new tabs. After reading through them, it’s clear Emma received misinformation. But how? Maybe it would ease her pain to know her mom died instantly, that she didn’t suffer. I want to confirm it before I try to bring it up with her. I start a search for Paul Sherman using his age and previous locations. There are so many hits, but I sift through social media accounts and with the right ages. I narrow it down to a couple, but my instinct says it’s this one. If I’m right and he’s the one, he’s a lawyer and still living in Maryland. He is partners in a firm with someone named Edward Pereti. I find their website, but as I write down the number I hear Morgan letting herself in, so I decide to wait on calling him. I need to do it in private.

  “Hey, girl,” I call down to her.

  “Good morning. Am I interrupting things down there?” What? Oh.

  “Ha ha, funny. Emma couldn’t come over today, she’s trying to catch up on her homework. How are you?” I ask as she stops at my bedroom door.

  “Great. You? You look tired,” she asserts impolitely.

  “Thanks, Ass. I have news,” I say. Lots of things are going on right now, but this is the one thing I can talk to Morgan about. “Emma asked me to be her girlfriend yesterday. I’m officially off the market.”

  “What?! That’s awesome. I didn’t know she had it in her. I figured it would be you,” she exclaims. She holds up her fist and I bump it with my own.

  “Yeah, me either. I was pretty surprised. But in the best way ever. Obviously,” I say.

  “Wow. I am so happy for you guys. So your official anniversary is November 1st,” Morgan postulates.

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” I reply. I hadn’t even thought about that. “Well, anyway, make yourself at home, I have to get some work on this paper done, I am so behind.”

  “Wonder why,” Morgan says sarcastically. “Did you guys seal the deal?”

  “Whoa, whoa. A lady never tells. But yes and it was awesome. Better than awesome,” I tell her emphatically. She gives me an unhappy groan.

  “Now, I’m officially the only virgin left in any college anywhere. Great. Thanks a lot, Brooke.”

  “Hey, that’s not a bad thing. Waiting for the right person is worth it,” I say truthfully.

  “Blah blah, leave me alone Hallmark card,” she says grumpily.

  “They have Save Your Virginity cards now? The world is a-changing,” I joke.

  “Ha. They call them V-cards for your V-cards. Oh jeez, just go do your work and leave me alone with my bitter jealousy. Kay, thanks,” Morgan says dejectedly.

  “Okay, okay, you big baby,” I tease. She flips me her middle finger and my laughter follows her down the hallway as she walks back to the living from.

  The articles are still open on my screen and my stomach sinks a little bit. I minimize the windows and start working on my paper. For real this time . It’s an eight page paper on operations and quality business management. I have to highlight the useful tools we’ve discussed in class so far, briefly explain what they are, their importance and how to effectively use them for the success of a business. I crack open my textbook and start typing vigorously, only stopping to adjust which foot I’m sitting on from time to time.

  Almost two hours later Morgan leans against my door frame again and peeks in at me. “You going to be ready to go soon? We have like thirty minutes to class,” she informs me.

  “Yeah, for sure. I’m getting hungry, if I get ready in three, you think we’ll have enough time to grab lunch from the cafeteria?” I ask her hopefully. They make the best chicken pitas.

  “Hells yeah. I need a grilled cheese in my life. Move it, sister,” she commands.

  Morgan heads back toward the living room as I shut down and shove my feet into my boots. I lace them up, grab my stuff and we’re out the door. On the drive, she regales me with the story of how she became obsessed with the cafeteria’s grilled cheese sandwiches, involving bribing the personnel to add an extra slice of cheese. The girl really loves her cheese.

  ...

  Naturally we have to park in fucking Egypt. It reminds me of the first day I met Morgan, actually. Thankfully, this day isn’t as hot. In fact, it’s cool and airy. I’m feeling it. I find a nice breeze very refreshing and it adds a little pep to my step. By the time we reach the cafeteria, I feel invigorated and hopeful. Whatever I find out about Emma’s mom, we can handle it together. Emma wants to be with me, and right now, that’s all I need to know. As her girlfriend, I can help her realize she deserves love. In time, I can help her see that her mother wouldn’t want her to blame herself. Maybe she’ll even learn to love me back. I got this .

  Naturally, I push on the door labelled PULL and Morgan snorts in laughter behind me. Whatever. I still got this . Stupid door . The cafeteria is teeming with people, so we head straight for the food. Morgan steps in her sandwich line behind two jocks miming plays from some sport and I beeline for the pitas. As I wait, a distinct bacon scent wafts my way and I turn to see Jack in my bubble.

  “Sup, dude,” he says to me, mouth full of something.

  “Hey, there. How are you? Did you get my email about putting that stuff together the weekend before Thanksgiving?” I ask him. We’re basically done with our group project apart from a peer survey, then putting it all together and sending it off.

  “Yeah, that works for me,” Jack replies. “How are things with you and Emma?” I don’t know how much he knows, so I just go with a generic response.

  “Great,” I say. It would be inappropriate to shout that we’re girlfriends who have hot, hot sex. Right?

  “Awesome, because I was wondering what your plans are for the holiday?” he asks over another bite of his burger. I hadn’t given it much thought. I usually just ignore Thanksgiving and eat mac and cheese by myself.

  “I don’t have any. I’m plan free. Why do you ask?” I reply.

  “Because I’m extending an invite from my mom to you. She wants you to join us at our house for Thanksgiving dinner. I was going to ask Ems if it was cool, but I saw you first,” Jack tells me before chugging his soda.

  “Really? Does Emma spend it with your family usually?” I ask surprised.

  “Duh, she’s practically been cooking the whole thing since she was sixteen. The restaurant is always closed,” he states. “So, can I tell my mom you’re coming?”

  “Aw, you’re such a momma’s boy,” I razz. “Yes, I’d love to come, thank you.” I’m genuinely touched. Plus, it will be fantastic to spend Thanksgiving with my girlfriend.

  “Shut it. I love my mommy,” Jack says with a frown.

  “She is pretty great,” I placate.

  “I gotta jet. I’ll text you times for our project meetup,” he says while wiping his hands on his shorts.

  “Cool. See you.” I wave goodbye with a giddy grin on my face. If Emma doesn’t have work or school, I get to have an entire day with her. I watch as Jack leaves the cafeteria in his long, careless strides before turning back to my line.

  I order my pita and grab a bag of chips. Morgan is waiting for me at the condiment station holding out a stack of napkins for me. She has a weird look on her face. We pay and make it all the way to the small two-seater by the window, before I ask, “What?”

  “What, what? Don’t you what me. Explain yourself. Who was the tall drink of water?” She grills.

  “Huh?” I ask, confused. “Ohhh. That’s Jack.” Tall drink of water? Ha. More like hot mess.

  “Ah, Jack. The mysterious best friend of the now girlfriend,” she says. “Is he single?”

  “No idea,” I tell her with a shrug. I never thought to ask him.

  “Find out. He’s hot and I’m a virgin in need of a tumble,” she declares. Her wanton comment causes me to choke on my chip. Morgan leans forward to thump me on the back, repeatedly and unnecessarily.

  “Ow. Fuck, dude, that hur
t,” I say about my throat and my back.

  “Well, you can’t die before you introduce me,” she replies honestly.

  “Wow, some friend you are. Yeah, alright I’ll look into it. Now let me eat in peace,” I order her.

  Morgan’s cheshire cat grin stays during my entire meal, but I ignore her. I’m hoping Emma not coming over today wasn’t about us taking the next step in our relationship. She seemed perfectly happy with it last night. I pull out my phone to text her, but I don’t know what to say and I don’t want to bother her during class. I’ll stop by the restaurant for a visit after class. I slip my phone back into my bag, throw the strap over my shoulder and gather my garbage.

  “I’m going to get to class. See you later?” I ask Morgan.

  “Yep, text me. Peace in the Middle East,” she says dismissively. I nod and drop my stuff into the bin and head out.

  ...

  Paying attention in class is nearly impossible when I’m this distracted. Now that a brief worry about Emma regretting asking me to be her girlfriend has been thought, it keeps niggling at me, despite all efforts to not let it. So, naturally, my brain starts replaying every single failed relationship I’ve had and I’m helpless to the onslaught. Apart from my first girlfriend, I haven’t fallen in love with anyone until Emma. I’ve dated a few girls in the last couple of years, but none longer than four months. It just doesn’t work out. Truthfully, I haven’t wanted to fall for anyone, so I haven’t let it happen. The reason , I remind myself, is that I moved too often . I’ve always loved traveling and it took priority over any girl. I’ve been searching for the perfect picture, not the perfect home . But that changed the minute I laid eyes on Emma, somehow. Now I’m at risk for some serious heartache. Heartache I never wanted to experience again.

  My right hand twinges and I realize I’ve been squeezing my pen to death. I drop it on my notebook and shake out my hand. The fog clears a bit from my internal turmoil and I try to focus on the man up front. He’s wearing a polo with a geometric design that stretches across his protruding belly when he waves his dry erase marker around animatedly. He has a kind face, with smile lines and a shiny, balding head. He’s laughing at his own joke and when no one joins him he just waves the marker again and continues talking. He’s kind of adorable in a fatherly way.

  Not at all like my father, of course, but what I imagine some lucky girls get to have. The kind that comes to school plays and cries when you go to prom and kisses your forehead before bed. My dad was never seen without his long sleeved button down, tucked tightly into his black mom-ironed dress slacks. Meticulously groomed mustache, thick black hair trimmed to perfection. I used to joke with my sister that he wore his suits to bed because I’ve never seen him in anything else. She didn’t find it funny, only commended his dedication to hard work and complimented his dress-for-success attitude. Suck-up . Eventually he winds down his speech and frees us. I pack up and head towards my next class. This one I will definitely pay attention to. Uh huh .

  After this class I’m done for the day and I can head to the restaurant to see Emma. First thing every class, there’s a short essay question on the reading that we have about fifteen minutes to write and submit. Professor Barrow is in her mid-thirties and has fluffy brown hair and really expressive eyebrows. She always wears knee length skirts with sensible black slip-ons. She’s also about seven months pregnant and most of the girls in class only want to talk about the baby. ‘Does she know the sex? Does it have a name? What theme is the nursery?’ I admit that I’m pretty fascinated by it, too. There’s like a living human in there. Crazy. After I finish my question, I decide to message Jack.

  Hey. Are you single? What’s your type? I’m so subtle. Luckily, he answers right away.

  Why, you need some vitamin D?

  I laugh out loud and reply. Gross! Are you on drugs? No. I’m asking for a friend. And regretting it now .

  You know hugs are my drug of choice. Ok ok sry. No type. What friend?

  Someone far too good for you, but she thinks you’re hot. She hasn’t watched you eat yet though. Can I introduce you?

  Jack doesn’t hesitate to reply. Fo sho.

  Grow up. I’ll text you the deets later. I write back.

  Kk.

  He’s such an ass. Sadly, I actually find him amusing. I don’t know what that says about me. He’s been good to Emma, so I suppose that endears him a bit. I can kinda see him and Morgan hitting it off. Like cheese and bacon, I guess . You know, if you’re into bacon. Though a couple named Jack and Morgan makes you wonder if they hit the bottle regularly. I send Morgan a quick text letting her know he wants to meet her. I turn my attention to Professor Barrow as she starts addressing the assignment but my phone buzzes and I glance at it to see that Morgan has sent me a ton of emoticons, including a Satan smiley, a mailbox, an eggplant, a rabbit, and a bunch of big smiling faces. I don’t know what she means but I’m pretty positive it’s sexual, so I don’t reply but just drop the phone into my bag with a smirk.

  When class finally ends, I walk six thousand miles back to my jeep and head for the restaurant. My nerves are kind of all over the place. My hope is that she was just overloaded with school work. That her not coming over has nothing to do with her regretting being my girlfriend or still freaking out that I told her I loved her. I’m sure it’s fine.

  Connie waggles her blue nails at me when I push inside the entrance. I bypass the hostess station and look around for Emma in her section. She’s clearing dishes off of a booth into a gray bucket, but otherwise she only has one table from what I can tell. She would call it a two top. My gut clenches as I force my boots forward. Her hair is falling down over her right shoulder and she keeps pushing it behind her ear. I hear a tiny sigh of frustration when I get close enough.

  “Hey, Em,” I say. My voice is just above a whisper so I don’t startle her. Her head pops up and looks over her left shoulder at me.

  “Oh, hi! What are you doing here?” She asks, looking perplexed. She turns back to the table and wipes it off with a rag from her apron. My brow furrows. This isn’t her usual greeting, by far.

  “Sudden craving for pizza. And to see my girlfriend,” I reply, adding the last part tentatively. She pauses in her wiping. She grabs the bucket and moves past me toward to kitchen, silently. “Emma?”

  “Yeah, grab a booth and I’ll be right back,” she tells me and tosses a small smile over her shoulder. Then she quickly walks off, passing behind the swinging doors before I can open my mouth again. Okay then. I sit in the same booth she just cleaned and wait for her to come back. Minutes pass before she finally emerges. She stops at the soda fountain and heads back towards me. As she sets down a water in front of me, she slips into the seat across from me.

  “Thanks,” I say stupidly.

  “Sure thing. Girlfriends get free water,” Emma jests. She gives me a silly grin and my stomach muscles finally loosen. She called me her girlfriend and she’s smiling her real smile. Everything is fine .

  “Oh, is that right? I feel special,” I joke back. I smile at her and take a minute to study her face. Her eyes are tired and her freckles are invisible underneath makeup, but her smile is definitely genuine. Strange, that she’s wearing makeup . She’s been navigating her teenage years without a mother so maybe it makes sense that she’s just now begun to experiment with makeup. I don’t want to make her feel self-conscious, so I decide not to ask her about it.

  “That’s right. You’re the specialist,” she says. “I put in an order for a slice of cheese. Did you want any garlic knots today?” She fiddles with the trash from my straw with her right hand.

  “Nah, just a slice will do. So, how are you? How was class?” I inquire.

  “Boring and a lot of work,” she says with a dramatic eye roll. “You? I’m happy to see you.”

  “I’m happy to see you, too,” I comment. “Oh, by the way, Jack asked me to come to Thanksgiving to dinner at his house. Is that okay with you?”

  “Really? Of course, t
hat sounds great! I’m free the whole day,” Emma says brightly.

  “Speaking of Jack, Morgan wants to meet him,” I tell her. “She spotted him in the cafeteria and she made me find out if he’s seeing anyone because he’s cute or something. Crazy, right?”

  “What!” She exclaims. “Wait… That’s actually brilliant. I think they could be adorable together.”

  “I think so, too,” I say and we laugh together. We spend a few more minutes coming up with silly scenarios for introducing them. When Emma stands up I notice she has her wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage. My mirth morphs into concern. “Hey, what happened to your arm?”

  “Oh.. just me being a klutz this morning,” she says with a dismissive wave. “Okay, pretty girl, I have to go check on my two top and then grab your slice.” She pecks my cheek before she hurries away. I lean back against the booth cushion, lost in thought. Everything seems good. We laughed and she kissed me. So why do my alarm bells keep ringing?

  …

  It’s almost 6:00 p.m. when I climb into my jeep, but I have to finish what I started earlier. I enter Paul Sherman’s office number into my keypad and listen to the ringing. Six rings and I realize there’s probably no one there this late. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. I pull the phone away to click end when I hear a male voice.

  “Good evening, Sherman and Pereti,” is says.

  “Uh, hi. Yes, I’m looking to speak with Paul Sherman. Is he available?” I ask.