“But what?”
“Well, he did give me a ride home last night...”
“And?”
“And I’ll probably see him again next week, to go talk to Caroline again. That woman who knew my mom...”
“But–” Surprise and confusion in her eyes. “I thought you said you were done with that?”
“Look, whatever you or anyone else may think about her death, I still have questions. Questions that Caroline may be able to answer.”
As I say this, I realize it’s true. Even though Caroline obviously believes it was suicide, I haven’t quite given up hope. “I need closure on this. And as my friend, I’m asking you not to say anything about this to Sebastian. Alright?”
She studies me, gauging my expression. She’s silent for so long that I think she’s going to refuse. Finally, she nods. “Fine, I won’t say anything, but for the record, I think this is a bad idea.”
“Noted.”
“So this means that you’re still with Seb?”
Thinking about him, I feel a twinge of unease. Last night was awful, and not just because of what happened after the party. I keep picturing the look of savagery on his face when he attacked Caiden.
Maybe it would be better if Sebastian and I split up. I mean, I’ve never really thought about him seriously. He was just someone I could relax around and have fun with. Someone to pass the time. Callous, but true. It might just be better to end things now, before he gets hurt.
I glance down at the promise ring on my hand. His whole face lit up when he gave it to me. He was so hesitant. Unsure. Vulnerable even. Maybe I should give him more credit. He tries. Maybe it’s me that doesn’t try hard enough.
I try to imagine what it would be like if we broke up. Would I miss him? Absolutely. We’ve only been dating for a year, but we’ve been friends long before that. Seb, Olivia and I have hung out together almost as long as I’ve lived here. They were the ones there for me when my world fell apart...
When I started dating Sebastian, things really didn’t change that much. We all still hung out, did stupid stunts, had a good time. It didn’t seem that serious. But now, apparently, he wants to take things to the next level. Maybe I should at least give it a try. Give him a real chance.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I haven’t talked to him since last night...” Maybe he’ll break up with me. That thought it surprisingly painful.
“Oh, believe me, I know. He’s been calling me all night. He’s been going crazy trying to find you.” She makes a face and I laugh, releasing some of the tension. “Would you do us all a favor and call him back, please? And next time you go off alone with some psycho guy, bring your cell phone so you’re insanely worried friends can get a hold of you?”
I look around for my phone and remember it was on the floor last night. I pick it up and see that I have fifteen missed calls and even more texts, most of them from Sebastian.
“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding...” As I’m scrolling through my messages, the phone starts vibrating, Seb’s picture flashing on the screen.
“And that’s my cue. Oh, and do you mind if I sleep over tonight? I don’t know how long I’ll be out and your house is easier to sneak into than mine.”
Distracted by what I’m going to say to Sebastian, I nod. “No problem. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
As soon as she leaves, I hit the answer button
“Hello?” My voice is gruff with nerves and pent up emotion.
“Hey.” He sounds so dejected. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Guilt pinches my stomach. We sit there for a few moments in silence. I can’t think of anything to say.
“Are you with him?” Sebastian clears his throat. “Caiden?”
I expected him to sound angry or accusatory, but he just sounds sad. It makes the guilt that much worse. I caused this. Not intentionally, but it’s still my fault.
“No, Sebastian. I’m with you.”
“Are you?”
“Of course. Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the ring...”
“Seb...” I don’t know how to explain my reaction to it without hurting him further. “I was just surprised. I love it. Really. It was very, um, thoughtful. Look, I’m sorry about what happened last night. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“So what was it then?”
Unable to tell him the full story without looking crazy, I decide to give him a partial truth, like I did Olivia.
“I got sick,” I tell him. “I’ve been dizzy all day, and with all the drinks, it was just too much. I was trying to get to the bathroom, but I kind of...passed out, I guess. I don’t know. My vision went black and I fell, practically at Caiden’s feet. He helped me get outside. I didn’t even know who it was until a minute or two before you came out. Nothing happened with him.”
I can hear his slow, deep breathing on the other end of the line. He doesn’t say anything for a minute.
“Seb?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay?” Silence again.
“Yeah, I guess. You’re telling me the truth?”
“Yes. Nothing happened. I got sick. He helped me. End of story.”
“Alright.”
“Alright? That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
I don’t know, but I don’t like him sounding this way. So defeated. “How about you explain your little psychotic break?” I ask angrily, determined to get a reaction out of him. “You know, the one where you go all ‘I’m-gonna-kill-you-for-touching-my-woman,’ and jumped Caiden?”
A part of me realizes how unfair I’m being, but I don’t feel like being fair. I want him to react. To say something.
“You were drunk and sick, and he was all alone with you! What did you expect me to do?”
Well, at least he doesn’t sound depressed anymore. I’ll take an angry Sebastian over a hurt one any day. “Hmmm, maybe ask me? Maybe listen when I try to explain, instead of going all Othello on me!”
“Em, if I think some guy’s messing with you, I’m not gonna pause to ask questions. I’m gonna take him down.”
I want to say that his plan to ‘take him down’ didn’t exactly work, but stop myself just in time. His injured pride would demand that he hunt Caiden down just to prove his manliness or something, and I don’t want to antagonize him that much. So I say nothing.
I hear him huff through the phone as I stare out my window at the rain. It’s picked up again and is now a steady patter on my roof.
“Alright. I’m sorry about not listening to you, okay?” His belligerent tone when apologizing almost makes me laugh, but I keep my voice sarcastic.
“Yeah, you really sound it.”
“I should have listened to you when you said nothing happened,” he continues, grinding his teeth.
I stay silent, waiting.
He lowers his voice even more, almost whispering. “Sometimes I have trouble controlling my temper. When I thought about you, sick out there, with him... I just lost it.” He lowers his voice even more, so I have to strain to hear him. “You were drunk, defenseless. He could’ve been doing anything to you, and nobody would've known.”
“You were trying to protect me?” I ask, flabbergasted. “I just thought you were jealous...”
Huh. I was right. I haven’t been giving him enough credit.
“Of course I was jealous! But that didn’t come until later, after you left. When I realized you knew exactly where you were and who you were with.”
“I’m sorry.” And this time I mean it. I really do. I had no idea what he was thinking. “But nothing happened. I’m not attracted to Caiden.” Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I’m glad he’s not here to see it. “I’m attracted to you. I’m with you.” My voice is steady, sincere.
There’s a hitch in his breathing.
“Good.” He clears his throat. “Are we still on for tonight?”
I r
ack my brain for what we had planned. I’ve got nothing. “Are we going out to dinner?”
“Your birthday surprise, remember?” A hint of teasing enters his voice.
“Oh, yeah.” He mentioned it yesterday morning, but so much has happened, I completely forgot.
“Would you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow? I’m not feeling so great today. Plus, my dad just got back, so he’ll probably want to have dinner or something...” I trail off. I want to see Sebastian, but I need some time to process everything first. I have so much to think over.
He’s silent a moment. “Sure. We can do that.”
“What time are you picking me up?”
“How about 5:30?”
“Perfect.” That’ll give me more than enough time to get my head back together.
“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
We both stay on the phone for a few seconds, unwilling to hang up.
“I love you, Em.” The line goes dead.
Unable to move, to even breathe, I keep the phone pressed against my face until a loud beeping begins.
“If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial again...”
I jump like I’ve been asleep and quickly hit the end button. What was that about? We’ve never used the L- word before. I don’t know how I feel about this new development.
When did my life become so complicated?
Chapter 7
I spend the rest of the day hanging around the house and trying to relax. My dad comes in at six, early for him, and we order a pizza. While we’re eating, I study him. He’s still wearing the white collared shirt and blue striped tie he wore to work. His wavy blond hair is smoothed back and gelled, making him look sleek and in control.
Did he know what my mom was? What I am? I find it hard to believe that he could have been married to her for so long and not have known. Since we don’t usually spend much time together, I’ll have to pump him for information while I have the chance. I have to be careful how I phrase it though. I can’t just come out and say I’m a witch. If he really didn’t know about mom, he’ll have me institutionalized. I decide to start with something innocuous.
“Hey dad?” I ask, focusing my eyes on my pizza.
“Yeah?” He mumbles around a big bite of pepperoni.
“Do you know where grandma is?”
He stops chewing, his dark brown eyes sharpening, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Grandma died, Em. Years ago. You know that; you were at her funeral.”
“No, not Grandma Greenwood. I mean, mom’s mom... My maternal grandma. I know grandpa died when mom was young, but she never talked about her mom. Why not?”
He looks like he’s just been sucker punched. “Your mother and grandmother didn’t get along...” He glances away, hiding his expression.
“But she must have told you why they didn’t get along, right?”
“Em... do we really have to discuss this now?”
“When would be a better time, dad?” I ask sarcastically, my anger, never far away, bubbles up to the surface. “Should I schedule a meeting through your secretary? Maybe she can pencil me in for some time next month?”
He glares at me, but my jab has its intended effect.
“Your grandma cut your mom off when she told her she was marrying me,” he answers, spitting the words out. “She didn’t approve of me, and they’ve never spoken to each other since.” He gets up and stomps toward the kitchen, clearly ending the conversation.
“Do you know where mom grew up? Maybe her mom’s still there?” I ask quickly, before he can escape.
“Why?” He asks with his back turned to me. “Your loving grandmother hasn’t wanted anything to do with you your whole life. Why do you think she’d want you looking her up now?”
His remark stings, as he meant it to, but I don’t give up yet. “Do you know the town or not? Look dad, I just want to know who she is. Maybe ask her some questions about mom. Is that so horrible? Is it really such a crime to want to know about my own mother?”
“Your mother’s dead. She left us. What else do you need to know?”
“She didn’t leave us! Not on purpose...” My voice breaks.
He spins to face me, his face turning crimson, his dark blond eyebrows drawn close together over his stormy eyes.
“Your mother killed herself! She did leave you! She left us both! When are you going to accept that?” He turns his back on me and flees down the hall and out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Tears pool in my eyes and I angrily wipe them away. Fine. If he won’t give me any answers, I’ll find them on my own. I storm upstairs into his bedroom. I know he keeps important documents in a fire safe box in the closet; all I need to do is find the key.
I walk over to his dresser and open the first drawer. I search underneath the piles of neatly folded boxer briefs, trying to ignore the ick factor of rifling through my father’s underwear. My fortitude pays off. At the bottom of the drawer is a small key. I greedily snatch it up and run to the closet. The small gray safe, little bigger than a shoebox, is in the back.
I bring it over to the bed and try the key, but it won’t turn. I struggle for a minute with it, hoping it’s just stuck, but eventually I’m forced to give up. There’s no way this is the right key. But why hide a key in his drawer if it isn’t important...
I race down the stairs to his office and examine his metal filing cabinet. It has two drawers and at the top is a small keyhole. I know he always keep this locked. I try out the key and it turns easily. I open it, hoping that the other key will be in here somewhere, but when I look in the drawers, I’m confronted with ream after ream of paper.
There are endless files: his projects at work, tax return information, receipts, credit card statements... I am overwhelmed by the sheer volume of paperwork to wade through. I sit back on my heels and huff in exasperation. How am I going to find anything in here?
I close my eyes and think for a moment. An image starts to form... I see a small white envelope stuck in the back part of the drawer, behind the files. My eyes snap open and jam my hand into the back. I feel a thin piece of paper with my fingertips and grab it. Inside is a little silver key. Finally!
I run back upstairs, tripping in my haste. As soon as I put the key in, I know it’s the right one. I open up the box and see more folders. My birth certificate is in the first folder and I scan through it.
“Emerson Greenwood - Date of Birth: October 9th.... Mother’s name: Elizabeth McByrne... Mother’s Birthplace: Ashwood Creek, VT.”
I get a piece of paper and write the information down. I don’t know how long my dad will be gone, but I’m betting that I have a little more time left. I search through a few more folders and see their Marriage Certificate. Curious, I look through it, and freeze. They were married on November fifteenth – over a month after I was born...
They weren’t married when they had me? Was I a mistake? Is that why my grandma didn’t approve of my father? Did he knock her up and was then forced to marry her? There’s too much I don’t know about my mom. Nothing is adding up.
I look at her birthplace again. Ashwood Creek, VT. I’ve never been to Vermont, even though it’s only a few hours north of here. We’ve moved around a lot, but we’ve always stayed in Connecticut... Maybe if I drive out to Ashwood I might find some answers. Someone there might remember her.
I put everything away exactly where I found it and take another shower to relax. I’m exhausted. All of this emotional upheaval has really drained me, especially since I didn’t get any sleep last night.
My father doesn’t come home. I feel a moment’s guilt about blindsiding him the way I did, but I shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for asking questions about my own mother. I fall asleep around ten, but am jolted awake a few hours later as Olivia stumbles into my room.
“I left a blanket and pillow for you,” I yawn, laying back down and pointing to the air mattress on my floor. “How was t
he date?”
“Ugh,” she grunts. “Don’t want to talk about it. So, you and Sebastian all good now? Everything perfect in paradise again?” She asks, changing out of her mini skirt into sweats.
“What paradise are you living in? When has anything been perfect?”
“Well, you have to learn to take it where you can get it. I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m the one with no boyfriend to speak of and two crappy dates in a row. All you had was one tiny fight. And a pretty funny one too, if you think about it.”
“Yeah, the whole night was one big comedy, Liv,” I say sarcastically.
“Hey, do you know how much I’d pay to have two hotties fighting over me? You have no idea how good you’ve got it.”
“Oh shut up and go to sleep!” I laugh, before passing out into a blissfully dreamless slumber.
Chapter 8
I wake to the smell of Starbuck’s Caramel Latte.
“Mmmmm,” I moan, reaching out to take the cup before I’m even fully awake.
“Come on babe, time to get up.”
Sebastian’s voice. What’s he doing here? Cracking one eye open, I blink in the semidarkness. The flashlight on his phone casts strange shadows on the walls. “Go away. Too early.” I roll over, pulling my comforter up under my chin.
“Come on, sleepy head,” he croons, wafting the coffee in front of my face.
Lifting my head, I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you kidding? It’s not even light out yet.”
“I have coffee... Sit up and I’ll give you some.”
Reluctantly, I pull myself into a sitting position and take a life giving sip of the Latte he offers.
“Mmm, that’s good.”
“Told you. Come on, you have to get dressed.” He tries to get me to stand up.
“I’m fine. I’m dressed.” I protest, standing up and stumbling toward my door. His laugh stops me after a few steps.
“What’s so funny?” I grumble.
“Nothing.” He chuckles again. “I just thought you’d want to wear pants, that’s all...”
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