“It’s not me. Emma called a little while ago. Her father had a heart attack in Hawaii and, well, I guess he didn’t make it.”
“Oh my god,” her dad said, gripping the back of a chair with both hands.
“That poor family.” Her mom moved to give her a hug. Soon her dad joined in, and they stood together quietly under the arch that separated the dining area from the living room.
While their initial meeting at Surf Cup had been a bit bumpy, Emma had worked hard to win Jamie’s mom—and dad—over. Her visit in January had cemented their adoration of her, especially after Jamie told her parents the way Emma had responded to her revelation. Then again, everyone who met Emma loved her. You’d have to be crazy not to.
Jamie pulled out of the hug and folded her arms across her chest. “I want to go to Seattle. I want to be there for her the way she’s been there for me.”
“Have they set a date for a service?” her dad asked.
“I don’t know. Her mom is still in Hawaii. They hadn’t even told her brother yet. I told her to call me tonight anytime. If that’s okay.”
“It’s fine,” her mom said as her dad nodded. “I’m not sure about you going up there, though, honey. I know you and Emma are close, but they may want this to be a private, family-only time.”
“I don’t think so. Emma says she wants me there.” As her parents exchanged a look, Jamie snorted. “I can see you, you know. And I’m not an idiot, despite the general family consensus.”
“No one thinks you’re an idiot,” her father said. “But your mom is right. This is an extremely difficult time for Emma and her family. Even she may not know what she needs right now.”
Jamie swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders. “Well, I’m going, whether you like it or not.”
“Excuse me?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed as her chin jutted forward incrementally.
“That look doesn’t scare me,” Jamie lied. “I’m serious. You guys should get on board with this because I’m going to Seattle, with or without your permission.”
Her hands were shaking as she jogged up to her room, and she honestly felt like she might throw up. Out and out rebellion wasn’t usually her thing. She much preferred to slide under the radar and let her sister and mother duke it out. But this was different. This was Emma, and Emma needed her.
Upstairs she paced her room, the muffled sounds of her parents’ voices rising through the floorboards. What if she ended up phone-less and grounded for the near future? Or what if they took away soccer? Obviously she had not thought this through, but it was hard to think rationally when she knew that Emma’s heart had been broken and she was too far away to even give her a hug. Not that a hug would fix anything. But the day she’d told Emma about France, Emma had held her and soothed her tears, and something about that moment had made her feel as if maybe someday she might actually be happy again, the way she hadn’t even known she was before a stranger in a bar changed everything.
She was sitting on her bed wondering if she should text her sister when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.” Her voice sounded a little hoarse, but she told herself it was from her leftover cold, not from the dread curling through her belly. As the door opened, she pulled her knees up to her chest. How bad was this going to be?
Her parents stood together near the door, faces molded into serious masks. As in past conflicts, her dad was the parental spokesperson. Jamie and Meg had decided that he did most of the talking because he was more even-tempered and therefore less likely to get all pissed off and have to apologize later for yelling—something that might have happened a few times with their mom.
“Your mother and I have talked,” he began, arms folded across the front of his button-down shirt, “and first of all, we want you to know that it’s not all right to make threats.”
“But Dad—” she started.
“Let me finish, okay?” After a second she nodded, and he continued. “That said, we also recognize that you’ve experienced a big shock today. So while the way you spoke to us was disrespectful, to say the least, it did make us take note because that type of behavior is pretty far out of the norm for you.”
Reminding them that she had sneaked out of the hotel in Lyon would probably hurt rather than help her case right now, so she stayed quiet.
“You’re a good kid,” her dad added, his voice softening. “We know how much you care about Emma and how upset you are to be so far away when she just lost her father. It’s really quite generous of you to offer to go to Seattle for her, especially when it sounds like she asked. Given that fact, and given how strongly you obviously feel about all of this, your mother and I are willing to discuss the possibility of you going up there. We’re not saying okay yet, but we are willing to consider the idea.”
“Oh my god, thank you!” she exclaimed, relief lending extra volume to her gravelly voice.
Her dad held up a hand. “That is, on two conditions. One, that you miss as little school as possible, and two, that Emma’s mother agrees.”
She nodded quickly. “Of course. Seriously, thank you guys. I don’t think you understand what this means to me.”
Her mom was frowning, but the look managed to come off as more troubled than terrifying. “Do you understand why it means so much, honey?”
“I think so.” She leaned back against her pillows, trying to find the right words. “One of the things Shoshanna and I are working on is not letting what happened make me a victim in the rest of my life. But it’s hard when I still depend on other people so much. Meg ditches her own plans to come get me anytime I ask, and you guys haven’t gone out much in the past year. It’s like you’re afraid to leave me alone for more than a few hours.”
“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” her mom said, moving closer to the bed, “but we could have lost you, Jamie. Things could have turned out even worse than they did, and knowing that, it’s hard to be away from you. Letting you go to training camp by yourself last month was one of the most difficult things we—okay, I,” she conceded, “have ever done.”
“Then the thought of letting me go to Seattle must be hard, too.”
Her mother nodded. “It is. Incredibly.”
“I feel like this is my chance to do something for someone else finally, after a year of like, non-stop taking. You know?”
Her dad came closer, slipping his arm around her mom’s shoulders. “I take it back. You’re not a good kid. You’re a good person.”
Somehow Jamie resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her dad’s schmaltziness. “I don’t know about that, but it turns out Shoshanna is pretty incredible at what she does.”
“And to think we had to blackmail you into going to see her,” her mom said.
“I know, right?” She hesitated. “In case I’ve never said it, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” her parents said in unison.
“Now come give us a hug,” her mom added with the scowl that really did frighten Jamie and pretty much everyone else she knew.
She jumped off the bed and went to them, and as they hugged again, all three of them, she noticed for the first time that she was taller than her mom. The thought startled her, and she closed her eyes, blocking out her mother’s slightness, her father’s receding hairline, the lines at the corners of their eyes. If she wasn’t a little kid anymore, that meant they were aging, too. Emma’s dad was—had been, she corrected mentally—only a year older than hers.
“Is this what you guys do when I’m not at home?” her sister said from the hallway.
Jamie turned sideways and peered at her. As soon as Meg saw her face, she set her clarinet case down and stepped into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Emma’s dad died,” Jamie said.
“Oh, shit. I mean, crap. Sorry, Mom.”
“That’s okay. It is a shitty deal. Family hug?”
Meg sighed as if terribly put upon, but she joined in anyway. “How did it happen?”
�
�Heart attack.”
“Poor Emma. You’re going up there, aren’t you?”
“Totally. We just have to figure out when.”
“Good. She’s going to need you.”
“I know.” Jamie refrained from giving her parents a told-you-so look, seeing as they had already agreed to (maybe) let her go.
Normally family hugs made her feel safe, protected, loved. But today, there was something missing. Or rather, someone. Today her heart was split between her own family and Emma’s, and no amount of hugging could ease the ache.
Her cell rang after dinner, and she hurried to grab it from the kitchen counter, almost ignoring it when she saw it wasn’t Emma. At the last second she hit answer.
“Hey, we’re doing dishes, so I can’t really talk.”
“That’s all right,” Amanda said. “I wanted to see how you were feeling.”
“A little better.”
“Good. Will you text me later?”
“Yeah, maybe. Although I think I’m probably going to do some homework and go to bed.”
“Oh.” Amanda hesitated. “Well, are you going to your game tomorrow?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I thought you were sick?”
“Not that sick,” she said before she thought about it.
Jamie could almost hear the other girl thinking: Sick enough to cancel our date but not enough to miss soccer? And the thing is, she would have had a point.
“Look, I gotta go,” Jamie said quickly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Fine,” Amanda said, and hung up without another word.
Jamie returned her phone to the counter and went back to drying dishes. She probably could have handled that better, but she had enough on her mind right now without having to worry about Amanda’s feelings. They’d only been going out for a few weeks and already the girl had “passed Needytown on the way to Clingsville,” as Angie, her U-16 teammate, had said in an email the other day.
“Was that Amanda?” Meg asked, retrieving a large wooden spoon from the soapy side of the sink.
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
Jamie didn’t respond as she tucked a colander away in a cupboard.
“I said, huh,” Meg repeated a little louder.
“Huh, what?”
“You didn’t tell her about Emma’s dad?”
“No. Why would I?”
“You guys are dating, aren’t you?”
“We’re hanging out. It isn’t serious.”
“Have you not seen the way that girl looks at you?”
“It isn’t serious.” Jamie shot her sister a look. “Let it go.”
Meg held up her soapy hands. “Okay, okay. No need to hit me with game face. Usually it’s eerie how much you look like Dad, but then you make that face and you’re like Mom’s twin all of a sudden.”
Before France, Jamie had always believed she was more like their dad. But in the last year of working with Shoshanna, she had come to realize that she, like their mother, was made of sterner stuff. That was one good thing about surviving the assault and moving on with her life: She knew now that she would always be okay. Emma, on the other hand, was still in the early stages of loss, and it probably felt like a nightmare she couldn’t escape. That was why Jamie wanted to be in Seattle. Emma needed people around her who could help her recognize that even though she felt awful now, she wouldn’t always feel that way.
People around her—all at once Jamie wondered: Had Emma told Justin about her father before or after she called Jamie? She hadn’t mentioned him when they talked, but that didn’t mean anything. Jamie dropped her towel, frowning. Maybe Emma didn’t need her there, after all.
“Hello,” her sister said, flicking a few drops of water at her. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“No, sorry. Just thinking about Emma.”
“Are you going up for the funeral?”
“I think so, assuming they have one. I don’t really know yet.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in Portland over spring break for a tournament?”
“That’s right. I could combine the trips. You’re a genius!”
“Naturally. But will your coach let you play if you miss practice?”
“I don’t think he would bench me for going to a funeral. Besides, would you risk the wrath of Mom if you were Pete?”
“Good point.”
Later, Jamie closed herself in her room and tried to do homework. Next week was mid-terms, and then it would be spring break, which was when her travel team was headed to Oregon. Portland was only a few hours from Seattle. Emma always called the city “Seattle’s mini-me.” Jamie leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, wondering what Emma was doing. The fact she couldn’t text or call her was driving her crazy. Patience had never been one of her stronger suits.
Sleep, on the other hand, she could do. An insistent vibration under her right elbow eventually woke her up. Groggy, she blinked at her bedside clock. A little past midnight. Why was her cell…? Emma. She scrambled to answer.
“Hi,” she breathed into the phone.
“Hi,” Emma murmured back. And then she began to cry.
Jamie hugged one arm across her chest. It literally hurt to listen to Emma crying. “Hey,” she said softly, “it’s okay. You’re okay, Em. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma managed through her sobs. “I haven’t cried at all, but then I heard your voice…”
“Em,” she repeated, “you don’t have to be sorry. I wish I could be there with you.”
“I do, too,” Emma choked out. “You have no idea how much.”
Her heart seemed to rise in her chest, even though she knew Emma’s admission was more about her dad than it was about her. “I guess it’s a good thing my parents said I can come, then.”
“What?”
As Emma’s sobs abated, Jamie told her about her confrontation with her parents. “I thought they would ground me but instead they gave in. On one condition: that it’s okay with your mom.”
“I’ll ask her tomorrow. They—I mean, she caught a red-eye out tonight, so she’ll be home in the morning.”
“What about…?”
“He’s coming with her. There’s something called an escort fare, I guess. So that’s what they’re doing.” She paused. “I have to stop saying ‘they,’ don’t I?”
“Not yet. Not with me.”
“Are you really coming up here?”
“Of course. Remember, I was prepared to run away if I had to.”
“Your parents must love me about now.”
“They always love you, you know that. Especially now—that’s why they’re letting me come see you.”
It wasn’t only her parents who loved Emma. But she couldn’t exactly tell her that, could she? Though she supposed she’d already come perilously close to doing so on the phone earlier. Her heart swooped again as she remembered Emma’s response: Me, too, Jamie.
“Still,” Emma said, “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“Why not? You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t think it would come to that in my family.”
“Why? Because you’re the princess and everyone bows to your wishes?”
“I was going to say because I have my own frequent flyer miles. Anyway, why be a princess when you can be a queen, right?”
It was an old joke between them, and for a moment Jamie thought she heard Emma laugh. The sound morphed almost immediately into a sigh.
“How’re you doing, really?” Jamie asked, staring up at the familiar shadows her bedside lamp cast across the ceiling.
Emma told her about her night—how she called her mom so that they could give Tyler the news, how Ty took off crying and Emma had to chase him down the street, how they sat through a painful, awkward dinner with the Chandlers who had known them since Emma was eight and Ty was four and yet seemed at a loss as to how to handle this particular crisis. After dinner,
Dani and Sian came over for a little while, and then their mom called again to let them know she was about to get on a plane. Emma’s aunt, her mom’s older sister, would be flying in from Minnesota the following morning, too. Emma had volunteered to pick them up—she needed something to keep her busy other than babysitting her brother.
“Did your mom mention a service of any kind?” Jamie asked. “My parents were thinking maybe I could be there for that.”
“She said something about next weekend.”
An entire week? She didn’t want to wait that long to see Emma.
“He wanted to be cremated,” Emma went on. “He donated his organs, too. Mom says his corneas and kidneys already went to people who could use them, so that’s good. Obviously not his heart, though.”
How could she be so matter-of-fact about the redistribution of her father’s organs? But then again her parents were both medical professionals, and she’d said she and Ty practically grew up at the hospital where they worked together.
“Did you know there was anything wrong with him?” As soon as the question was out, Jamie recognized how ridiculous it sounded. Emma would have told her if she knew.
“No, but I guess he and my mom were aware there were some issues. I don’t know all the details. I’m not sure I want to, either.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Emma’s breath whistled into the phone. “This all feels so surreal, like it’s a dream, or maybe a movie—I can practically hear the soundtrack. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do.”
For a while the previous summer, Jamie had listened to a song called “Damaged” over and over again, the dark melody and scarily apt words offering the perfect accompaniment to her frame of mind. When Shoshanna learned of this habit, she’d suggested Jamie burn a CD of songs more along the lines of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” and Christina Aguilera’s “Can’t Hold us Down.”
Maybe she should burn a copy for Emma. A little girl power never hurt anyone. And speaking of girl power…
“Did you end up seeing Justin tonight?” Jamie asked.
Emma hesitated. “Well, no. I haven’t actually told him what happened.”
“What?” Jamie rolled over on her side so fast she bonked her elbow on her math textbook. “Ow.”
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