“You’re turning red again, Em.”
I glare. “I’m thinking about how I want to make him pay.”
Drew smirks. “No, you miss him, and you’re mad that you do. Besides, it sounds like he’s tortured himself quite a bit.”
“Whatever. I’m going to the beach.” I walk out the front door, and I hear her yell after me.
“Hey, while you’re out looking for shells, look for some common sense while you’re at it!”
I raise my middle finger high at her as I continue walking to the ocean, desperately needing to sink my feet into the sand. My phone is burning a hole in my back pocket. It’s been turned off since that night. I haven’t wanted to answer any calls—especially from Mason. But Drew is right, I miss him, but that doesn’t erase the anger. What he lied about and held back from me was huge and insanely disrespectful. He had so many moments, so many months to tell me what happened, but he didn’t, and I don’t know what to do with that piece of information.
On the other hand, knowing this has broken him, knowing he was the last person with Derek, giving everything he had to try and save him, slicing his palm open to cut a stranger out of the car, dragging them away before it exploded… I’m beyond thankful for what he did. I don’t blame him for Derek’s death one bit, and I’ll tell him that when I calm down from this. I just can’t handle the blatant lying for so long.
After an hour on the beach with my feet in the ocean, I feel a bit clearer. Walking back into the house, Drew is getting food out to make dinner.
“What’s on the menu?” I ask, and she gives me a side-smile, noticing my change in spirit.
“Pasta. Duh.”
“If I eat pasta one more time, I will blow up and blow away like a blimp,” I tell her. “Oh, I know. Let's go out and get Mexican.”
“I know you probably have logic in there somewhere, but I’m having trouble finding it.”
“Oh, shut up and let's go.”
“Fine, fine. You’ve convinced me. Are we going comfy or dressing up?”
“Hello, this is my heartbroken trip. I'm not getting around any more than I have to.”
“Comfy it is. Let’s go.” Drew pulls me upstairs, and she runs a brush through my hair before putting concealer under my eyes to make me look less homeless. Her words, not mine. Soon, we’re out the door walking to the restaurant since it’s close by. Holding my sandals in my hand, I sink my toes in the sand as we walk along the water in comfortable silence.
Drew speaks up as we get close to the restaurant. “Have you heard from him yet?” she asks me.
I shrug. “Dunno.”
Drew’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
I wait to answer as we arrive, letting the waiter know it’s just us. He zig-zags through the tables and we’re finally sat on the patio. Twinkle lights hang above us and the ocean sways beside us while we place an order for drinks.
I finally answer Drew. “I haven’t turned my phone on since we left. I don’t know if he’s tried calling or contacting me.”
“Turn on your phone.”
“Not yet.”
“Humor me,” she says as she sips a pretty pink drink with an umbrella. I roll my eyes and get my phone out and turn it on. It takes a few minutes, but it eventually turns on, and messages start coming through left and right.
Mason: I’m so sorry.
Mason: I’m an asshole.
Mason: I love you.
Mason: do u think carole baskin killed her husband????
My face screws up in confusion at that last text.
“What?” Drew notices, and I show her my phone. She starts laughing. “Homeboy got drunk.”
“Great. Just what he needs.”
“If I recall correctly, you were also rip-roaring drunk that first night as well.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t text him. He probably texted all the girls he knows.”
“Okay, now you’re just looking for unlikely reasons to get angry right now.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes at her as we order and talk more about other things. I’m so thankful for her. She’s my built-in best friend and the best gift my parents could’ve ever gotten me. Another text comes through.
Unknown: Hi Emery, It’s Tristan, Mason’s brother. Sorry you had to find out this way. About me, and about Mason.
“Holy shit.”
“What?” Drews attention snaps to me from her phone.
“Tristan texted me.”
“Who?” She looks genuinely confused.
“Tristan…Ah, you don’t know this part.”
“Wait, there’s more, and you didn’t tell me? What is wrong with you? Girl Code.”
I roll my eyes. “I got an anonymous letter six months after Derek died. The guy talked about his addiction and relapsing, and it was absolutely crazy while being the most perfect thing to distract me. Long story short, I wrote back, and we started exchanging letters. Those letters got me through some dark spots, and not only that, they are the reason Mason and I started talking.”
“Why was I not informed of this?!”
“I didn’t tell anyone. Mason didn’t even know. I originally met Mason at Mezzo when he bought me coffee, but I basically made a fool of myself. Tristan, which I now know his name, told me to take a chance when I wasn’t coping well with Derek. So, when I walked into a diner one morning and Mason was there, I sat next to him, and the rest was history. Mason was my friend first before anything else. One of the best friends I could’ve asked for—”
“Besides me,” Drew interrupts with an obvious look on her face.
“Yes, besides you. But it was a friendship that just ended up becoming more once it felt right. I didn’t push it—I waited patiently, and it was beautiful. Anyways, Tristan got my information from a file Mason had on me after the accident when he wanted to check up on me, I guess. Tristan decided to write to get stuff off his chest, not thinking anything would come of it.”
“This is some reality TV drama, how the hell do you get involved in the craziest shit, yet I’m the wild child?”
“I don’t know, but I wish I knew so I could take my name off the list. I’m over this crap,” I say before I look back down at my phone, staring at the text from Tristan.
Me: How is he?
Tristan: He’s hurting. Beating himself up.
Tristan: How are you?
Me: Hurting.
Tristan: Are you safe? He’s been going crazy trying to find you.
Me: I’m safe. My sister Drew and I went out of town for a few days. Needed to clear my head.
Tristan: Good.
Tristan: Would you consider having lunch with Mase?
Me:…
Me: I don’t know. I’m still really hurt, Tristan.
Tristan: I totally understand. Would you by chance have lunch with me? I might be able to help you understand Mason a little bit. Or at least why he did what he did.
Me: Hmm. Okay, I’m willing to hear you out.
Tristan: Thank you, Emery.
Me: I’m mad at you, too. For listening to him when he told you to stop writing. I thought something bad happened to you.
Tristan: I know. I’m really sorry.
Me: Thanks. We’ll be back in town tomorrow. We can hit the food court at the mall on Sunday if that works for you.
Tristan: That sounds perfect. There’s a bomb Chinese place right inside there. Want to meet there at like one-thirty?
Me: Sounds great.
Tristan: See you then.
Me: See you then.
Tristan: Mason says he loves you.
I don’t respond to him, leaving it at that.
“I’m meeting Tristan for lunch at the mall Sunday. Maybe I’ll get some more answers on why Mason was a big bag of dicks.”
Drew spits her water all over me.
“Wow. That was cool. I was wanting a shower,” I say as I grab napkins to wipe off my face and shirt.
“Sorry, I’ve never in my life heard you say b
ag of dicks. It threw me off. But anyway, what do you think he’d say that would change your mind that I haven’t told you?” she says as we take care of our bill. I wait to respond as we navigate through the restaurant. The moment I step outside, the cool, salty breeze blows against my skin, wrapping around my body. Drew and I walk down to the water, taking the long way home.
I take in a deep breath, contemplating Drew’s question. “I don’t know. You’re assuming what Mason would say. I feel like Tristan actually knows it. If that makes sense.” Kicking the water that chases my feet, I try my best not to make eye contact.
“I guess so.” We’re silent on the walk back, and Drew stops to look at the dark ocean. Her salty hair is wavy and messy, and it’s perfectly her.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask her, and she bites her lips, contemplating on telling me what’s bothering her. My hand rests on her shoulder. “Hey? What’s going on?”
“You don’t really want to hear about my problems.” She chuckles, and now she’s the one kicking the wet, heavy sand.
“Oh, I’d give anything to think about problems that aren’t mine.”
Drew laughs, and we plant our butts in the sand in front of our rental. The crashing tide soothes both of us—we’ve always loved the water. “I’ve been seeing a guy. On and off, nothing really serious, we were just having fun.”
My brows pull together, wondering where she’s going with this. If someone hurt her, I’ll lose it.
She continues, “We had a pregnancy scare.”
My jaw drops. “Holy shit.”
She chuckles at my language before her face drops. “Yeah.” Her head cocks to the side as she rubs the back of her neck.
“Was this why you were crying outside when I found you that day?”
Drew nods. “I can’t articulate what I felt because there were so many things. At first, I panicked. Like where the hell is my period? I was two weeks late, Emery. My body is like clockwork.” She takes a deep breath. “You know me—I’m an overthinker. So, when I saw the barely-there-faint-line, I started thinking about all these things, and I almost started getting excited. A life inside of me? A little girl or a little boy, it didn’t matter, I was actually surprised by how excited I was.” Drew rubs the back of her neck as she takes a deep breath. “When I told the guy, he freaked out. He started throwing things, kicking things, yelling, and screaming. I was terrified he was going to take it out on me next. God forbid the baby.”
My hands shake in anger as my jaw clenches together. “I’m going to kill him.”
Drew smiles. “I wanted to, too.” She looks down, twisting the turquoise ring decorating her finger, the same way I do when I’m nervous. The lump in her throat makes it hard for her to get the words out. “I miscarried that night.”
My heart drops, and I cover my mouth. “Drew, no. Oh, I’m so sorry.” I wrap my arms around my sister as she steadies her breathing before she looks up, wiping her eyes.
“Honestly, this was a blessing in a weird way.”
“What? How?” I ask, confused.
“Seeing how he reacted scared the hell out of me. I don’t want a man like that in my child’s life.”
I nod in understanding, but she speaks up before I have the chance. “But that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, and her eyes water as she looks up at the stars.
“I had a gut feeling something was wrong. So, I made an appointment to make sure everything is in okay condition.”
Fear grips my throat. “Is everything okay?”
A tear falls down Drew’s face. “You know me. I’ve always had extremely painful periods, and I never thought anything of it. But they did an ultrasound, and I’m going to have to get a laparoscopic procedure done because they think I have a severe case of endometriosis.”
“Oh no. Oh, Drew—”
“My chances of getting pregnant or being able to stay pregnant are slim. It’s going to be really hard.” She breaks down into tears, and I hold her in my arms as I rock back and forth, running my hands through her hair.
“I love you so much. I’m so freaking sorry. I’m so sorry,” I say as I cry for my sister.
She sniffles, pulling herself together as she wipes under her eyes. “Mom and Dad don’t know, so don’t say anything.”
“Have you been going through this alone?”
Drew shrugs, and I squeeze her knee. “Hey. No more. You have me. Don’t ever feel like you can’t tell me something. It doesn’t matter what I go through, I’m here for you.”
She smiles through her heartbreak and leans her head on me a while as we watch the waves. I won’t move until she’s ready. It’s not long before I hear her speak up. “Wanna go watch smutty movies and look up hot guys?”
“Is that a serious question? Duh.” We both hop up, dusting ourselves off before settling down to watch movies, eat more junk food, and laugh at memes. It feels like the sister nights we used to have back when she would go through a breakup or Derek and I would fight. Although now our problems are much larger, it kind of feels normal.
It’s exactly what we needed.
wanweird—an unhappy fate
Emery
My nerves hum with a foreign nervousness when I think about actually meeting Tristan today. I’ve told this man things I would’ve never told him had I known I’d be meeting him one day, but here I am. Getting out of bed, I stretch and put on my robe before going to the kitchen to make a light breakfast. After popping some bread in the toaster, I mash an avocado to spread on it and grab a pan to cook the eggs. I Like Him by Princess Nokia plays through the kitchen, and it puts me in a sassy mood as I bop to the fridge and grab the eggs. The cracking of the shells fall in sync with the music, and once they are done, I scoop the eggs onto my toast and put the pan back on the burner.
The savory, salty bite to the eggs and avocado with the crunch of the toast hits the spot.
“I made your favorite. Don’t let your ghost drool get on my food.” Smiling, I chuckle to myself, but an eerie feeling casts over me, igniting goosebumps down my back. My brows bunch together as I rub the back of my neck, something feels wrong—but I shake it off as I throw the plate in the sink and shuffle back to my bathroom to get ready for the day. After a long, much-needed shower, I do all the self-care things from moisturizer, a mask, painting my nails—you name it. I’m in need of a pick-me-up before I start my makeup.
Get out, Emery. Now.
The mascara drops from my hands as I whip around, looking for him. His voice louder than I’ve ever heard before, I could’ve sworn he was right here with me. A nervousness lays over me, and with my phone in hand, I check the house but don’t see anything. It’s so silent in my home, you could hear a pin drop. I walk back to the bathroom and finish my make-up, but my mood is off at the unsettling feeling I have. After blow-drying my hair, I curl it into soft beachy waves and decide to hang in my robe and watch some TV before I change. Always a creature of habit, I play The Office in the background and decide to light a candle since I can’t stand the smell of eggs. Grabbing my favorite fall candle off my coffee table, I head to my kitchen and grab a lighter from the junk drawer next to the stove. Yes, I am the girl that lights fall candles year-round—sue me. Pointing it down into the glass jar, it won’t light.
“Erg. Dumb thumbs.” I can never get these to light. Taking the lighter out of the candle jar, I glide my thumb over the starter, the zip of the circle not producing anything. I try again, and the lighter finally ignites. But the last thing I remember is the loud whoosh of air blowing me back, throwing me over my island before I smash my head into the hardwood floor.
I should’ve noticed the low hum of the flameless burner under the pan.
I should’ve noticed the smell of gas.
I should've listened to Derek.
The loud creak and crackle shakes me awake. The smell of smoke assaults my nose, and the throb in my head feels like the chug of a train—loud and unforgiving. The moment my eyes open
, they burn, and I can’t see anything other than flames through a thick cloud of ash and smoke. Blood has trickled down my head from the impact, and everywhere I look, I see double.
My lungs are full of smoke, and I can’t help but cough. But with every inhale, more smoke fills my lungs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to focus. Think. I keep my head down, and when I peek up, my vision has cleared, but I still can’t see anything other than flames and smoke engulfing my home. The loud rumble of the fire accentuated with the shattering of glass and the beams of my home breaking in half distracts me from any rational thought. But the heat of the flames lick my skin, and I know I need to move. My entire living room and kitchen is taken over in the orange and black abyss, so I try to army crawl to the hallway. My bedroom door is open, and it’s already being overtaken by the sea of flames.
Coughing, the burning in my chest is unforgiving, and I know I need to be fast; I don’t have much time if I want to make it out of here. Tucking my head down into the crook of my arm on the floor, I try to take a few breaths before I stand and try to run towards the sliding glass door at the back of my living room. Just before I get there, the ceiling falls through, blocking my access. The heat of the flames singe my skin, and I peddle back. Even the hardwood floor is hot.
My only option is the front door, but the entire hallway is littered with small flames, coal, and ash. My hands shake, knowing what I have to do. It’s about a thirty-five-foot dash through flames. I'll have to run through barefoot, but if I want to make it out alive, I don’t have any other choice. I kneel, trying to take a couple more breaths.
Another small explosion sounds from Derek’s office, and I scream, completely overwhelmed and terrified. My hands shake in tune with my body, and I feel myself getting more lightheaded with each second that passes. My chest and head are heavy from the smoke, and I close my eyes.
The Best of Me Page 17