Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) (14 page)

“She’s taking this so hard,” Luke sighs.

“I don’t know what to do for her.”

“You’re doing a great job, William. I want to thank you for all the support.”

“She’s my Nana, too.” Maybe not in the biological sense, but in every other way it matters, she is my grandmother.

“I know, Son, and I hope you know she would be proud of you today. It’s in there somewhere. Trapped. Lost.” His voice trails off.

“No doubt.” I look over my shoulder when I think I hear Emma but she’s not in sight. “I’m thinking of deferring my scholarship or giving it up all together. I can do two years here at community college. I won’t have to leave Emma.” I know it’s a risk, and I’ve weighed all the pros and cons. I don’t trust Brian and Seth, but if they are at school it should be safe. If things heat up, I’ll ask for help, let them all know what’s happened.

“No.” Em’s voice startles me. “You aren’t giving up your scholarship, your chance to play ball, your education. I won’t let you.”

“Emma—” I begin.

“I agree.” Luke grabs my attention. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told my daughter. I know this is hard, so many variables, but it isn’t either of your burden to carry. You are kids, and I want you to fulfill your dreams, live your life, go to school, play ball. Leave the caretaking to us. She’s my mother, and I’ll be damned if I won’t give her the same care she gave me all those years ago.” I don’t think Emma realizes she is shoving her dad to the wayside as she tries to barge in and handle her Nana. He is struggling to do right, do what his heart is telling him to do through all the pain. He wants to take care of her, not out of obligation but from love. Admiration. Respect.

I nod and turn to Emma. “Let’s go.” I’m going to try to talk to her tonight. She’s wearing blinders and isn’t seeing anyone else’s perspective in this. I hope she’ll listen. Our drive is silent, both of us lost in thought. Nana, me leaving, her school load, the guilt, the pain, the sacrifice. It doesn’t seem like it’s worth it in this minute, but I push the doubts back and focus on the big picture. Both of us getting an education, me playing professional ball, starting our own family . . . I see it so clearly and have to keep that motivation.

I go check in and come back to get Emma. We make our way to the room and both collapse on the bed. “We need to talk.” I stroke my fingers down her arm and clasp her hand.

“Okay.” She doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Ems.” I press for her attention.

“Just get it over with. I don’t know why you brought me to a hotel to dump me.”

“Babe, listen to me. I’m not dumping you now or ever. You need to relax.” Her eyes snap to mine, fire blazing in them. I know she is winding up to hand me my ass, but I’m happy to see anything other than sorrow in her vision.

“Don’t be an ass. I’d love to relax. Perhaps a mani and pedi. Oh wait, my world is imploding. My Nana is off her fucking rocker, my dad is going to have a heart attack from the anxiety and pain, you’re leaving, my mom is busier than ever at the studio. Holly is with Andy and taking a three-week cruise with his family, so when I find a chance to relax I’ll jump right on it.”

“You done?” Sometimes it’s best to let her burn hot and sputter out.

“Yes.” Her tone tells a different story, but I’ll try.

“I wanted to talk to you about your dad and Nana. I saw something tonight I don’t think you’re looking at. He’s close to breaking, that’s all you see, but he won’t. He needs to be the main one to care for Nana, and being in a constant battle with you for that title isn’t helping matters. That’s his mom, Ems. He feels helpless as it is, but having you take over and fight him for the responsibility is making him feel worthless.”

I watch her face crumble and feel like shit for being the one to bring her the pain, but she has to see it.

“I think I knew that, but I’m trying to protect him. As much as it hurts me, I know it kills him. If I can save him one ounce of pain, I want to do it.”

“That’s not the way this works. Does being with her all the time, caring for her, ease any of your pain?” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t for him either. You’re going to feel it regardless of who takes care of her. That’s the part of this you have to accept. Each memory that disappears, each fit thrown, every time she forgets your name . . . it’s going to hurt, and nothing you do or don’t do will change that. I wish I could fix it, take it all and carry it myself, but I can’t. You have to fight through it and continue doing what you’re doing but relinquish some of that to your dad.”

“I feel like every day I say goodbye to her. She’s still here, still breathing, still looking like my Nana, but then her eyes search my face trying to place me, or she forgets a memory I’m reciting to her, can’t recall my name, screams at my dad or mom, pushes me from her room . . . I lose her everyday, and it never gets easier.”

I bring her in close and hold her. “I know, baby. I know. I don’t think it will get easier. Some things you may get used to. The repetitiveness, the questions, those are easy to overlook, but the big things…the memories, the love . . . those may disappear from her mind, but they are in her heart, and they need to stay in yours. You have to find an outlet for how you feel, or it’s going to crush you, and you won’t be good for anyone.”

“I love her.”

“She loves you. You know in here,” I place my lips over her heart, “you are her entire world.”

“I need you.” Her mouth crushes to mine, and I know she is trying to escape all the thoughts swirling in her head, and for now I’ll be her outlet. I’ll give her anything she needs, and if it’s my body, our connection, that will allow her to escape this hell, I’ll gladly let her use it and give her control.

Each kiss fuels the fire.

Each moan stokes the embers.

Each thrust threatens to create combustion.

Each whispered word of love fans the flames.

Until we extinguish it together.

I hold her for hours after, basking in the afterglow and wonder how the hell I’m going to get through the next two years with sporadic visits.

Her touch is the balm to my scars.

Her voice is the calm to my storm.

Her love is my entire existence.

Chapter Fifteen

Emma

Find an outlet he said. Slow down my dad said. You’re too thin my mom said. Get out of my room Nana hollered. The thoughts hammer through my head, overtaking the music blasting in my ears as the pounding of my heart mimics the thudding of my running shoes as I lap the track mile after mile. This is a fucking outlet. I run in the morning. I run after school. I run after a breakdown from Nana. I run after the five-minute phone calls I get from William. I keep running in search of my place. Never finding the solace I’m seeking. Never finding answers to all the questions swarming in my head. They’re all unanswered.

William comes home today, and I feel so disconnected from him. Six long weeks. I know his schedule was grueling, and I could hear how tired he was when I talked to him . . . for the full five minutes he was allotted. My life here feels like it’s been on a constant loop, replaying the horrid days on repeat. I can’t stop the reel from starting over. Nana’s medicine isn’t helping, she likes to slap and has recently taken up biting. I hear my mom and dad discussing a memory care facility, and I cry myself to sleep every night. I cancelled the celebration we have every year for my birthday. I know it’s selfish robbing my parents of this day, but I feel like being a brat. My cupcakes won’t be made by Nana, she won’t give me an elaborate, over the top present that will send my dad in a tizzy, and my parents have enough on their plate. I told them we’d celebrate it when things calm down. I don’t think they will, but I can let them off the hook without guilt and pushing me to change my mind.

Brett is picking up the slack at the office for my dad, and James is taking additional classes for my mom because Nana can’t be alone any longer. Week after week passes with more and more clarity as to what we are up against. I can’t fight it for her, my parents can’t . . . she can’t. It just is. I hate that saying. I get there is no cure, some medicines work and sometimes shit happens and we roll with the punches. Lately, I want to dole out the punches instead of taking hit after hit. It’s been harder without being able to run to William and hide. He’s my escape, and he’s absent. I find myself in his room night after night, clutching his pillow, stealing a shirt to sleep in. Brett and James never say a word, just watch me with sadness as I trek in their door and hibernate in his room for hours. They stopped asking if there was anything they could do after the third week. Two weeks ago James gave me a bottle of his aftershave, and I’ve doused my sheets and pillows in it. I find myself holding the bottle in front of my face and just inhaling.

He’s my drug.

He’s my fix.

He’s my cure.

He has to be because I can’t do this without him. The problem is that I
have
to. He has two weeks at home before football season starts for him and school for both of us. It’s like hell week for me . . . Groundhog Day style. Get up, go to school, eat, do homework, cry, sleep, and repeat. Oh, and run. Miles and miles. Time and time again. I seek the abyss that eludes me, each time running farther and harder than the last. My outlet doesn’t beat back the onset of emotions that flood me at each bend in the track, each verse playing in my ear sparks another image, a fleeting moment etched in my mind but disappearing in another’s.

It seems to be a never-ending cycle, and I’m out of ideas how to fix it. One thing running does is make me weary at the end of the day, so I fall into a fitful sleep. I figure three hours of interrupted sleep is better than the zero I was getting. The cramps that assault me when I’ve pushed myself too far help me focus on something other than the ache in my heart. The shin splints shift my focus again. That’s what I work towards; the onslaught of physical pain to numb me to the brash truth that my world is careening out of control.

I get to my door at the same time his truck pulls in his driveway, and I’m running across my yard, crossing the street, throwing my body into his. His eyes light up as he captures my waist, his lips assault mine, passion spikes my blood, and as he picks me up, my legs wrap his torso in a vice grip. I don’t want to let go. “Hey, baby. Miss me?”

“Every second,” I tell him, my lips not wanting to stop for conversation. I need to feel his heart beat against my chest, his breath mingle with mine, his love match mine.

“You’re all sweaty. Where were you?”

I pull back on a pout. “Running.”

“What?”

“You told me to find an outlet. I did.”

He studies me with his eyes as his hands contour my body. He surprises me when he tosses me in the air and catches me with ease. “I feel that. Seems like you’ve been running too much. You barely weigh anything, Ems.” I sigh and roll my eyes. Not him, too.

“Nope, it’s just that you’ve bulked up in camp.” I’m not exaggerating. The boy left here built. He came home defined, built, and broad. His chest muscles on display as his shirt is drawn taut, his biceps flex as he adjusts me in his arms. I splay my hands between us and run my fingertips across his abdominal muscles. I feel them jump at my touch and feel the ridges, the hardness, my own personal road map.

“Go take a shower and be ready in an hour. I’m gonna clean up and unpack.” He places me back on my feet and runs his hands through my hair dragging my mouth back to his. When he breaks apart, we are both out of breath. Patting my ass, he encourages me to do as he said. I don’t want to be gone all day, but I can’t deny the need to be with him. I’ll make sure to call and check in with my parents to see how Nana is doing.

Summer school ended, so the next two weeks I am free to be lazy with my man before sending him off to college. I don’t bat my eyes at the other girls; I know he’ll be faithful. I’ve never doubted that. I worry he will get caught up with Brian and Seth, but I have to give him credit. They haven’t influenced him since he signed with Southern. Things have been smooth sailing, or I’ve been too focused on other things to notice if they’re not. I’m running the brush through my wet hair after the quickest shower when the screaming starts.

I pull my robe tight and hurry to the cause. My Nana is sitting in the recliner, throwing whatever she can grab at my mom. “Let me go. You can’t keep me prisoner here.”

“Nana!” I hurry in front of her, and as her hand connects with my cheek, my mom yanks me back.

I’m in shock.

Never has she raised her hand to me. I rub the sting and feel the heat under my hand.

“You people just can’t take people for your cult. One of you will drive me home right now.” I meet my mom’s eyes and see fear and heartbreak.

“Nana,” I try again.

“I don’t know who you are, and quit calling me that. I hope the police find you people. This isn’t acceptable. You can’t kidnap people.”

“Okay. I’ll go get your stuff, and we’ll take you home.” Mom backs towards the front door and never takes her eyes off Nana. I look down and see Nana has her shoes on. If I could get them off, I know she wouldn’t try to leave. We’ve had a few incidents with her wandering, and if we hide her shoes, she won’t leave the house. I bend down to see if I can maneuver them off, and she kicks out at me.