by Amelia LeFay
I’d pushed everything out of my mind in order to focus. It was easier that way. The moment I got off track, I found myself moping around, and I didn’t have time for that. There was so much going on in my head, it felt like it was going to explode.
“Well, just call her okay? I’ll leave so you can get back to whatever this is…” She waved over the papers and photos in front of me. Moving over, she kissed my cheek. “Get some rest before she comes back too…maybe clean up. I know she was a maid, but a welcome home mess isn’t the way to go.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, Irene.”
She winked before going back to the kitchen to get her bag. Following her when she got to the door, she turned back to me and smiled. It was a real, genuine smile; I hadn’t seen one on her face in years.
“I met someone. Someone great,” she told me. “I really wanted to tell you.”
“Why me?”
She looked annoyed at that. “You’re really going to make me say it.”
“Say what?”
“I love you, you big idiot. Honestly, you’ve always been important to me, like a big brother. I know I’m always a mess, so telling you that I’ve met someone, a normal everyday good person, from a good family, who really cares about me, is important. Maybe I can introduce you to him and all that when you aren’t busy with work.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say until she got the elevators. “Irene.”
“What?”
“I love you, too.”
She smiled, waving back at me. “I know! But it’s good to hear.”
Waiting for the elevator doors to close, I walked back inside. Flipping the phone around in my hand again, I went up to my room where the charger was plugged in the bedside lamp as always. In the last three days, I couldn’t remember coming up there. I had slept on the couch for the most part. Entering the bathroom, I nearly gave myself a heart attack as I pissed. The man in the reflection looked not at all like me. I hadn’t shaved since they’d left, there were food stains all over my shirt, and my black hair was standing straight up in every direction.
“Jesus Christ, Max,” I muttered to myself, flushing the toilet and stripping down. I had just turned on the water to wash my hands when I heard it.
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
BUZZ
My phone was vibrating so much it fell off the stand. Picking it up, a stream of messages came in nonstop.
‘I doubt he or anyone else could make up for the two of us.’
I had no idea what he was talking about, but the picture of them together bothered me.
‘You and Wes are both pissing me off. Just talk about it okay. It’s night here so talk to you later.’
‘Morning’
‘Feel like talking today?’
‘I guess not.’
‘Wes misses you, he’s just can’t let himself give in.’
‘The host has a husband. You sure you weren’t just imagining he was hitting on you?’
Oh! I had completely forgotten I’d texted him about that.
‘Max! Back to the most important thing in the world…me. I think I found something I actually like doing…guess what?’
‘I’ll just tell you then. I went to this dress store and there’s this old woman that has been making dresses for the girls here for the last twenty years. She’s hilarious. I think I might want to make clothes! Sure I’m not going to be the next Ralph Laruen or anything, but maybe a small store somewhere. The moment I thought it, it was like everything become clear, and I got this big fat duh. I’ve been making, sewing, and fitting almost all of my own clothes since I was thirteen. What do you think?’
‘Jane feels like she found her meaning in life. The least you can do is text back.’
‘I get you’re pissed at Wes but don’t stop talking to me!’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Max. I tuned in to see you on the news. You weren’t on tonight?’
‘Are you all right?’
‘If you’re fucking with me Max, I swear to God I’ll beat the shit out of you.’
‘Call us.’
‘We are coming back home. Nothing better have happened to you.’
Ten missed calls: Jane.
Thirteen missed calls: Wes.
“Your voicemail is full, please clear the messages. First message,” the automatic voice said before I heard Jane’s voice.
“Hey, I’m calling just to check up? You’re kind of freaking us out. Call us back, okay?”
“Next message.” This one was Wes. He took a deep breath. “You win. I give in. Call me.”
“Next message.” It was a Jane again. “Wes is in love with you. You know that. He knows that. I think what happened was…your mom freaked him out. She honestly freaked us both out. When you love someone you want to share that openly, and you don’t want to hide; you don’t want to become a dirty little secret or worse completely pushed out. Part of me feels like this is my fault. I’m sorry…”
“Next message.” Jane. “I’m sorry because I butted in between the both of you. I’m also sorry because I’m really happy I did. I’m happy with you both, so you not answering the phone is terrifying. I have abandonment issues. You can’t check out like this. It fucks me up emotionally.”
“Final message.” Wes. “We’ll be back in Boston sometime around midnight. We’ll talk then. I love you.”
“End of messages.”
I sat there so overwhelmed that my lungs burned, or at least at first I thought it was my lungs from the aching pain in my chest. It wasn’t my lungs; my heart ached. It ached to hear them sounding so scared. It ached to know they cared so much. I just ached, and the harder I tried to calm myself down, the more painful it became.
I called Jane back first, knowing both of them would get the messages when they landed.
“Jane.” I spoke to her voicemail feeling like an absolute idiot. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to ignore your text or calls. I’ve been working on this story…but that’s bullshit and not an excuse. I feel like a complete shit. You opening a boutique is an amazing idea, but don’t count yourself out. You really could be the next Ralph Lauren. We’ll talk about it when you come home…yeah home, because I’m glad you’re in the middle, too. I’m glad we both have you. Sorry again.”
Hanging up, I dialed Wes but, as expected, he didn’t answer, and I ending up speaking into his voicemail too. “I’m an ass—you knew that when you first met me—but I’d never fuck you like this. I’m sorry I have been out of it. When you get home we’ll talk…fuck this…I’m coming to the airport. I’ll even bring flowers or some shit…cause…cause… I love you too, Wes. Screw what my mother says.”
Rushing back to the phone, I dialed quickly.
“Hello, Mary’s Magnificent Maids—”
“It’s Maxwell Emerson. I need a maid, maybe two, at my penthouse this evening. They need to be done by midnight. I don’t care the cost. Is that possible?”
“Of course, Mr. Emerson.”
“Good, I’ll send you the code,” I said, hanging up on her.
I then entered the bathroom and grabbed my razor and comb. I honestly felt nervous. How the fuck was I going to explain how I’d gotten so wrapped up in work that I chose to forget about them for three days when they cared enough to panic about me? I really was a fucking ass. I knew they’d be pissed, and that we’d all end up fighting…but after that…we’d be fine.
“The fucking what!” Wesley took a deep breath before hanging up his phone just as I did as we walked through the airport terminal. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“He sounded sorry,” I replied, not realizing I was taking a deep breath too.
He’d really scared us. The first day passed and I didn’t think about. The second I was annoyed, and I could tell Wes was too, but he kept telling me Max was probably just working. Then when we went to watch the news coverage online and he wasn’t
on, I saw it on his face…something wasn’t right. The third day when Irene said she hadn’t heard from him and when we still couldn’t get through, we both barely even finished packing. We just grabbed our passports, said goodbye to his mums, and drove the rental back to the airport. Wes, being the hotshot, was able to get the last flight out.
“I’m going to kill him,” Wes muttered to himself, but I was sure he still was on edge.
“Try not to do it, the airport is full of witnesses. He said he’s picking us up right—”
“Breaking News, BRMJ is reporting Maxwell Emerson, son of hotel mogul and former Governor Alistair Crane Emerson and sitting senator Elspeth Yates, the headline reporter for YGM’s The Emerson Report, was in a car accident at 10:49 this evening…”
Everything seemed to become muffled as Wes and I turned to the screens in the terminal. I thought I was dreaming or that maybe I’d misheard or the reporter had made a mistake. However, it wasn’t just that one reporter. It was all of them. All the reports had a picture of Max plastered there like one of the headshots you use when people die. Then there were terrifying scenes of his midnight blue 1962 Ferrari…or what was left of it.
Slowly, I ripped my eyes away from it to stare at Wesley. He stared openly, his mouth parted and his green eyes wide. His whole body was so still it was scary. The only things that moved were his eyes, and they looked from screen to screen before he finally blinked. Lifting up his phone, he started to dial, walking quickly at first.
“Max,” he said into the phone. “Max answer the phone. Max this isn’t funny. The news…have you seen the news? Call me back.”
He hung up and dialed again and again until he started to run. I ran with him while all around us the screens kept repeating the same thing.
Maxwell Emerson, 31, in critical condition.
It felt too sudden, too quick, too…not right, and because of that, it felt like a walking nightmare.
Chapter Twenty
“Sorry, ma’am, we can’t let anyone in this side of the hospital,” the security guard told me.
“I’m his fiancée! MOVE!” I screamed at him. He just held his arms out as if that would stop me.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have no way of proving that—”
“You have ten seconds to move or I’ll break you.” Wes sneered at the man, who only called for backup.
“Jane!”
I turned around to find Irene with her eyes so red I knew it had to be true. It was really true. Running up to me, she wrapped her hands around me and squeezed tightly.
“Have they told you anything?”
“They won’t let us through!” My head felt like it was on fire and I couldn’t breathe.
“Us?” she frowned, finally noticing Wes. “Chef Wesley? What are you doing here?”
“Good question.” I knew that voice. Walking behind the guard blocking our entrance was Elspeth dressed in a black suit. Her hair was pulled back and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked so human in that moment, not like the monster who had tried to destroy everything less than a week ago.
“How is he?” Irene was the first to speak up. She let go of me and walked up to her. “I don’t understand. I saw him just a few hours ago!”
Elspeth tried to speak but just flinched. Her eyes were tearing up and her hands were shaking, but she tried to hide it by clenching them closed.
“Aunt Elspeth!” Irene screamed at her.
“He’s in pretty bad shape,” she finally managed to say, fixing the pearls on her neck. She coughed once and rolled her shoulders back. “It’s a miracle he’s alive…that’s what the doctors are saying. But it’s still…it’s still…it’s bad.”
“I need to see him—” Wes stepped forward, but she stuck her hand out.
Just like that the grieving mother was gone and the monster was back. “The only people allowed in are family, which means me, his mother; Irene, his cousin; and Jane, his fiancée. Who are you again?”
“Elspeth!” I screamed at her. She could have stabbed me in both eyes and it would have been less painful.
“Jane, what is it? Come on.” Irene pulled my arm, but I pulled it back, standing next to Wes, who was breaking. His pale face and his whole body were motionless.
“Don’t do this Elspeth; it’s not right—”
“Either you stay here with him, or you can see my son. God knows…” she said, closing her eyes. “You may regret it if you don’t.”
I slapped her.
I wanted to do more than slap her, but when I lifted my hand again, Wes caught it.
“Go. I’ll wait out here,” he replied.
“Wes—”
“Go. I need a second anyway.”
“Wes—”
“Jane, please.”
Nodding, I let go. Elspeth, the heartless human that she was, just turned back around. Irene looked between us with a confused expression as I walked down the hall. Pausing halfway, I turned back to Wes, but he was already walking quickly away.
With every step I took forward, I felt my stomach knot up until finally we were in front of Max’s room. I could hear the machines when they opened the door, but I couldn’t see in. I couldn’t bring myself to take that step.
Elspeth walked to the window beside the bed. There was a man; I remembered him from the Google search I had done earlier: Max’s father. He sat in the chair opposite the hospital bed with his hand on his face.
“Oh my god,” Irene cried, throwing her hand over her mouth.
That’s what it took for me to go in, and when I saw him… When I could barely see him under the bloody bandages, I shook. I cried out so loudly, yet I couldn’t even hear myself. Walking up to him, I put my hand on his scraped hands.
“Max,” I whispered. “Max.”
I barely made it the toilet in time. Hunched over, I couldn’t stop vomiting. My whole body shook as I kneeled over the rim. The sobs that came from my own lips didn’t seem human at all to me, but I couldn’t stop.
So this is hell.
“I don’t want any members of the press around here. Any slipups and I swear I’ll have your heads,” Elspeth directed at what I could only guess was her security detail. When they finally left, she turned back to come into the room, but I stood there staring back into her broken eyes.
“Let him in,” I demanded.
“I’m not doing this with her—”
“Let him in!”
“NO!” she screamed at me. “If that is too hard for you to understand, I’ll have you thrown out.”
“You’re going to throw me out into a sea of reporters, Madam Senator? Good, because I’ve been told I’m very photogenic. Crying on cue? I’ve got that down pat. How could I phrase this? ‘My future mother-in-law hates me, because I’m a poor nobody. She’s always been against me, and now she won’t even let me by his side.’ I’m no media mogul, but I’m sure the press will eat that up. It’s better than the real story, isn’t it?”
She rubbed her forehead. “Are you going to do this? Now?! My son is laying broken…dying, maybe, in bed…and you’re going to—”
“I’m doing it for him. It’s not about you! It’s never been about you!” Why didn’t she get it? Why didn’t anyone get it?
“Excuse me, young lady.” Max’s father stood up. “Who do you think you are speaking to? Get out.”
Taking a deep breath, Elspeth came into the room and I closed the door behind them.
“I’m…I’m one of Maxwell’s lovers,” I told him, knowing I was pushing it, but I couldn’t think straight. The only people who mattered to me right then were Max and Wes…and both of them were suffering.
“One of?” Irene looked up from Max’s bedside.
“Jane, enough.” Elspeth grabbed my arm tightly, but I yanked it back from her.
“Mr. Emerson, your son, Maxwell Emerson, he’s not in love with me. We are in a relationship, but…but, he’s in love with a man by the name of Wesley Uhler. They’ve been seeing each other for the last four ye
ars.”
“Excuse me?” His eyebrows bunched together.
“Nothing, she was just leaving—”
“Touch me again lady, and I will show you that I have a very ugly side.” I moved away from her, looking back to Maxwell’s father. “Your son, your adult son, is bisexual. He’s in love with a man, and if Max was able to speak, he would tell you that he wants him here.”
“Young lady, you’re very confused.”
“Days ago your son took me to his station and introduced me as his fiancée. People know who I am. You can be disgusted. You can pretend like it’s not true or that this is all just some sick game or whatever, but either way, you will let Wesley in here, or I will walk outside and air the Emersons’ dirty laundry for the whole world to see. I don’t have a family. I don’t have anyone who’ll ask me what the hell am I do doing or hate me for my choices. I don’t have some bullshit façade to stand behind. But you do. So either you let him here in secret, or I’m going to start talking the ears off some reporters. Your choice.”
He looked to Elspeth, but I was far too pissed to look at her.
“This one time—”
“He comes in whenever you’re not here.”
“Don’t push it.”
“Do you know why people don’t negotiate with a suicide bomber?” I asked him. “Because it doesn’t work. Any person willing to destroy themselves cannot be negotiated with. So you either kill me now, or you do what I ask. If two men in love freak you out so much, you can wait outside, but Wesley has the right to be in here for as long as he motherfucking wants.”
He tilted his head to the side, and I knew I’d won. That’s how much these people really cared about protecting their image over their own son’s happiness.
Fuck them.
I could hear my phone ringing, but I couldn’t bother to get it or get up from the bathroom floor. I just sat there trying to think. Why the fuck did I have left? Everything I had been so worried about seemed ridiculous. Maybe for a split second I had gotten jealous of Jane, how freely she could be part of his world while I had to just keep waiting. Maybe I had foolishly thought he would just confront his family and we’d be able to work through all of this. Now all of it seemed so insignificant.