Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) (29 page)

“Em, please. Don’t do this. I can’t stand to see you look at me like that. I swear I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

“For years, you’ve let them say those hateful things, turned a blind eye to their hatred and that makes you no better than them. They are your parents. They raised you. No matter the circumstances surrounding it. They loved you. Provided for you. Now one of them is fighting for his life . . . being punished for what? Loving another human being?”

“I know.” His head hangs, his shoulders slump. “I didn’t know.” His voice strained and trembling, I concentrate to hear.

“Maybe you didn’t know what they were planning, but you damn sure knew what they were capable of.” I’m sweating with the heat coursing through my body. I don’t know this person. All the years spent with him, loving him . . . down the drain in one senseless act. I warned him years ago, begged him to stop being the weak person he was becoming, but his damned desire to fit in, to play football won. His moral compass was so fucking skewed, and for what? “I don’t know who you’ve become. I want the boy who took me fishing, the boy who taught me how to ride a four-wheeler, and the boy whose heart was bigger than his need to fit in. God, how I want that boy . . . but he’s gone.”

His hand darts out quickly grabbing my wrist. “Don’t say that. Please, I’m here. I’m still that boy. I’ll do whatever to prove that.” His voice is hoarse, choking in pain. I see it all over his face, but I can’t be swayed by the falsehoods he believes. He may not believe the words, the actions that happened tonight, but I can’t stop the disappointment I feel in him.

Not again.

“No, you aren’t like them. In some ways, you’re worse. They are uneducated bigots. You . . . you grew up in a home with love, trust, patience. You had it all and because it was different from what they knew, what they believed you allowed them to tarnish it and refused to defend it. I don’t care if they would have listened. You took a love that a parent gives unconditionally, and you turned it ugly. They didn’t set conditions on their love for you or each other, but you had a list of them. I don’t have words for that. I don’t know you anymore, and I wonder if I ever did.”

“Em, you don’t know what it’s like. You dance to your own music. I can’t do that. I’ve tried to distance myself, and I had. Until tonight.” I won’t be swayed by his pleading tone, the unshed tears shining in his beautiful, soulful eyes.

“No, William. Don’t use that excuse on me. Is your family different? Sure, if you want to label it, but that’s the issue . . . labels. Labels on everything. Love, social status, clothes . . . and friendship. I labeled you my best friend, but in truth, you are a stranger. And now that I know the truth, you are the last person I’d ever be friends with.”

I see the flash of anger in his eyes. “It’s so easy for you, Emma. Daughter of Lucas and Phoebe, their love defied all odds, you were the miracle child born to two loving parents who wanted you. Yeah, you understand everything I’m going through. Everything I dealt with is foreign to you, so don’t stand here pretending to understand.” That stings. I’ve had it easy, I’ve taken it for granted, but the violence I witnessed tonight has forever jaded me.

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me. My parents wanted me, and I’m to be punished because the person who gave birth to you didn’t? Please, get over yourself. You had two people choose you, above all others, and love you. They still love you even if they are disappointed in your choices; you are still their entire life. What you fail to understand, not because of biology, but because of who you are . . . you are their choice every fucking time. Want to tell me now how pathetic your life was? Get off your pity train and wake up. I never thought the word selfish would describe you, but fuck if that word wasn’t coined for you.”

“Selfish? So all the years I let you tag along so your feelings weren’t hurt, I was being selfish? All the times I held your hand over some stupid crisis you were having, every year your mom went to the doctor, and I waited by your side until the news came back, your ninth grade dance, my prom, creating a bubble for you when you lost Nana . . . yeah, doing all that for you makes me selfish. I was your first kiss, your first lover, treated you with respect, and that makes me selfish? You’re typical Emma, living in her own world, seeing things how you want them to be . . . and we all know you’re never wrong. Instead of placing blame on me, you need to take a long look at yourself and place some of that blame where it lies.”

Ice floods my veins. Each memory he threw in my face was something I held close to my heart. I thought it was us forging our relationship, making memories, experiencing life together, but he acts like he tolerated those things, whereas I craved them. Yearned for them. They were me. I thought they were us. My hand immediately reaches for my necklace . . . infinity. What I thought I had found at a young age. My throat aches, revolting against me trying to swallow. I meet his eyes for a brief second, but it hurts.

Lies.

Broken ties.

The ending.

I look around the waiting room, memorizing the burgundy tweed couch, matching chairs. Sterile. Just like our relationship. All the warmth has bled out, and all that’s left is aloofness, an aura of death. I step back, needing distance from this person I loved my entire life. That’s a lie; I loved who I made him to be. Not this person in front of me. I cling to that necklace, meet his eyes. Tugging as hard as I can, the chain breaks, and I let it flutter to the ground. I turn to flee with the sound of him calling my name ringing in my ears.

I can’t be here. As pissed and disappointed as I am at him, he still holds my heart in his hands. It was his to nourish or crush, and he just fucking demolished it. My dreams. My beliefs. My reality. My future. I gave it all to him, and he ruined it. I know we both had a lot of growing up to do and nobody ever knows what your future will bring, but I was pretty damn sure no matter what path my life took, he’d be in it . . . every step.

I look to my parents and follow them outside, each of us needing fresh air. My mom’s eyes red-rimmed, my dad’s face stoic, but eyes shrouded in pain. “Any news?” I try to steel my voice, but my quivering chin gives me away. My parents open their arms, and I fly into them.

“James is still in recovery, but they think there will be a full recovery. He has a lot ahead of him, but he’ll be fine.” I sigh in relief. At least he’s going to make it.

“I’m going home. Call me if there is any change.” My dad nods and my mom pulls me closer.

“You okay?” Her whisper tickles my ear.

“No, not even close,” I admit. I bury my face in her chest and let go. Soaking her shirt, my body shaking, the relief of James surviving the brutality of it, the witnessing of the heinous act, my friendship ending, my relationship gone, my heart crushed. It was all too much.

“Let Daddy drive you home, please. I don’t want you driving like this.”

I shake my head, “I’ll take a cab, but you need him here with you. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I love you, Butterbean.”

“I love you.” I look at my dad. “Both.”

His fists are clenched, jaw ticking, “We’ll be home after we see him. Call if you need anything.”

I nod. “Dad, don’t.” I know he wants to seek Will out, and that won’t help anything. Emotions are heightened, and Will has been a part of my dad’s life since he came home . . . everyone needs to step back, work towards the future and let the anger dissipate.

“I’ll keep him in line.” My mom’s voice breaks my determination.

“Promise?” Nobody else needs to be hurt in this. We’ve all suffered enough.

“Yes.” Her assurance settles me.

“Mom, I think this is one of those defining moments you talk about. I thought I’d had them before, but I don’t think they were real. This . . . this feels different.”

Her eyes penetrate my gaze, and I see hers flood with tears. “I think you’re right baby, and I have a feeling things are going to get worse.”

“How?”

“You’re my daughter. I know you. Just know you have our support, no matter what you choice you make. Let me say I’m gonna miss you.”

I hadn’t voiced what I was planning. “What?”

“Emma, it’s written all over your face. It won’t be the same but go fly. You clipped some wings today, and you need to find if you can soar without them or if they’ll regrow.” She kisses my forehead. “I’ll be home in a bit to help you pack.” I look up at my dad, and he doesn’t try to hide his tears. He just nods at me, and I take in a calming breath.

“I think I’m okay to drive.”

“I agree. While you have the internal struggle you are gearing up for just remember regret is something you will have forever. Do what you need to do, but make sure you say what you need to say.” She hands me her keys.

“There’s nothing else to say, Mom. It was all said.” I see her close her eyes and a lone tear escapes.

“Okay, see you when I get home. Love you.”

“Love you both.” I make my way to her car.

I’d made my mind up the second he acted like I was an obligation instead of a desire. I may not have articulated it, but it was a done deal. I couldn’t continue in the cycle he was pulling me into. I was better than this. Deep down he was better than that. And in my mind, we deserved more than what he discounted us to.

I look at all my mementos and know I won’t take them. I open my drawer, and the one photo I never displayed stares at me. I trace his face with my fingers, feeling the scruff caress my palm, feeling the abrasion against my neck the way I did that day. My heart seizes, my breath catches, and I fall against the hard floors, the pain to my knees an afterthought. Nothing can compare to the pain ripping through my limbs. One by one I feel they are being ripped from my body, discarded and forgotten.

After my pity party, I stand, resolved to do this and pack. I stare back at the picture and pick it up. I won’t rip it; I want to remember so I won’t believe in someone as much as I believe in myself. Once I’m satisfied I have everything I need, I pull up airlines, still in limbo where I’m going. I close my eyes; play eenie meenie and decision made. Purchasing the ticket, one way, it’s all handled. Tomorrow morning I’ll be in a different state, have a different goal in sight, and I’m a different girl than I was two hours ago.

Every relationship evolves, changes as each person grows and ages. Ours did, but it didn’t morph into what he described. Not for me. Tonight I said goodbye to what might have been.

But not him. I refuse to tell him goodbye, closure is overrated. I swore I’d never say goodbye to anyone after Nana . . . to my family I’ll see them soon, to him I give nothing. He has it all, and I don’t want it back.

My mom crawls into my bed. I wasn’t asleep and heard her and my dad’s argument. I didn’t understand all of it, but it centered on me leaving. “Mom, is Dad upset with me?”

“No, he’s upset you are so much like me.”

“What?”

She leans back and gets comfortable, pulling me to her side. “It’s time you heard our story.” I listen with rapt attention, the parallels uncanny, the pain palpable, the ending a fairytale.

“Wow. I knew bits and pieces, but hearing it in its entirety makes me thankful for you both.”

“All roads lead you back where you began. Remember that. It may take years, but you’ll eventually have to face this and stop running from it.”

“I’m not running.”

“Oh sweet girl, yes you are. You’re setting Olympic records with the speed. It’s fine. I don’t fault you, I told you that story so you would understand things aren’t always what they seem. You have to read between the lines. Had your dad made a different decision that day, we wouldn’t be where we are. It took a long time for me to forgive him, but when I did, it was with a whole new understanding. Pain pushes us to rash decisions, not always the wrong choices. I wish you’d wait and listen to what he has to say. He’s not innocent but he’s not guilty of what you are accusing him of. He made poor choices, but don’t we all?”

“I thought you said you supported me?”

“I do. I will. I just don’t want you going into it blind. This is going to change your life. I want you to be prepared to let this part go.”

“I’m ready to find who I am.”

“We never know who we are. We know our desires, our pains, our personality, but we don’t ever know who we truly are. We all search, we all grow, we all develop in every stage of life. I don’t want you to stop growing. This isn’t the end of your story, Emma. You’re starting a new chapter.”