Emmy & Oliver (24 page)

W
hen my parents and I got to Oliver's house that night, though, his mood was different, like someone had dimmed a switch. “Hey,” he said, opening the door. He was wearing a collared shirt like the one he had worn on the TV interview, but a different color this
time.

“Hi, Oliver!” My mom beamed. “Here's the salad, but it needs to be chilled because otherwise the lettuce will wilt and . . .” She trailed off as Maureen came around the corner. Oliver glanced down and took the bowl from my mom without saying a word, ducking back toward the kitchen as Maureen bustled toward us. Her face was tight, her mouth pursed, and she gave us a smile that wasn't exactly convincing.

“Hi,” she said. “C'mon, come on in. Sorry, we were just . . . getting ready. You are so sweet to bring the salad! Oliver, can you—?”

“Got it!” he yelled back, and I glanced up at my dad. I could tell from the look on his face that he felt the same way I did:
this is going to be a long, long night.

Not quite sure what to do with myself, I followed Oliver into the kitchen while Rick came in with a beer for my dad and our moms disappeared around the corner. “Hey,” I said to his back, since he was making room in the refrigerator for my mom's (unnecessarily enormous) salad bowl. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he said, but his face was as smooth as Maureen's had been pinched. He wasn't quite looking at me, either, his eyes going over my head or past my arm.

“Hey,” I said again, this time softer, and I reached out to grab his hand. “What's wrong? You're being weird.”

“You are,” he said, trying to duck away from the question, but just as I was about to press the subject, the twins came bounding into the room, a hyper duo of wet hair and
The Little Mermaid
pajamas.

“Emmy! Emmy!” they cried, and I dropped Oliver's hand just as he turned away. “Emmy! We got a new Barbie!”

“She has brown hair like us!”

“Emmy Emmy Emmy!” Nora pulled at my shirt. “Play Barbies with us, 'kay? You can have the new one.”

“I can't, twinsies,” I said. “I have to eat dinner and hang out with Oliver. I'm off the clock tonight.”

“You not s'posed to call us ‘twins' anymore,” Molly informed me, even as she wrapped her skinny arms around my waist and tilted her head back to look up at me. “We're not twins, Mommy said. We're
invididuals
.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oliver hide a smile, which made me feel a little better. “Oh, really?” I said. “Invididuals, huh? You sure about that?”

“Mommy
said
,” Nora repeated.

“Nora, Molly.” Maureen came bustling into the kitchen. “Come on now, it's bedtime.”

A chorus of protests rose up, but Maureen just flapped her hands at them, like they were baby birds in a nest. “No, no, you know the rules.”

“But our friend is visiting!” Nora cried, pointing at me.

“Don't point,” Maureen said. “It's rude. And you can see Emmy tomorrow.”

I nodded at them. “Totally. Besides, you two see me all the time. I'm
boring
.”

Molly and Nora both glared at me as they started to slink away, a betrayer to their cause. “But Oliver has to read the story!” Molly suddenly said, turning around and pointing at him.

“Don't point!” Maureen cried. “Does anybody listen to anything I say anymore?”

“Kind of hard not to,” Oliver muttered, but Maureen was too far away to hear him.

“Oliver! You do the story tonight!” The twins (excuse me, the “invididuals”) had let go of me and were now hanging on to him, and over their heads, Maureen gave him a pleading, tired look.

“You do the voices!” Nora said to him, and Oliver gave the same look right back to his mother. It startled me a little to see how similar their reactions could be. I don't think either one of them realized it, though.

“Oliver, do you mind?” Maureen murmured. “Please?”

Oliver looked at me. “Mom, what's Emmy going to do while I'm up there?” he asked, even as Nora started to climb him like a tree.

“Set the table,” Maureen replied. “See? A solution for everything.”

Oliver sighed and rolled his eyes, then shot me an apologetic look. “Okay, monsters,” he said, and they cheered. “First one upstairs gets to pick the book.” The girls took off, their feet making thunder-like noises on the stairs as they raced to their room.

“You do the voices?” I asked him, not even bothering to hide my smile. “Are you just a big mush?”

Oliver blushed. “This isn't the sort of detail that I wanted to be made public,” he said.

“I might die of adorableness,” I said. Maureen had followed the girls upstairs, yelling about brushing teeth and washing hands, and now it was just Oliver and me in the kitchen. We hadn't been alone since Saturday afternoon and I tangled my fingers together with his, pulling him a little closer. “Do a voice for me,” I said. “Go on.”

“No way in
hell
.” He laughed and started to pull away when I leaned in. “Forget it. Nope.”

“Come on!” I teased. “Is it cute? I bet it's really cute. Do you do Olivia's voice? Angelina Ballerina's? Oh my God, you do
Angelina
?” I said when he blushed. “This is
too cute! I'm dying. No, wait. I have to text Caro and then I'll die.”

“Do
not
text Caro!” he said, diving for my hand as I reached for my phone. “Come on, Em. I need some dignity. Please.”

“Oli-
ver
!” one of the twins yelled from upstairs. “We're waiting!”

“My audience is really demanding,” he said, pulling away from me even as I continued to giggle. “You're not really going to text Caro, are you? Tell me you're not.”

“I won't,” I said. “I promise. Your Angelina Ballerina secrets are safe with me.”

He hesitated just before leaving the kitchen, then ran back to me and kissed me fast. “Hi,” he whispered. “Didn't have a chance to do that yet.” Then he disappeared, yelling, “I hope you
invididuals
are happy now!” as he took the stairs two at a time. I pressed my hand to my mouth, waiting for a moment in the now-quiet kitchen, and then went to find some place mats.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

O
liver and I ended up not sitting next to each other at dinner. “Sit at the head of the table,” Rick said to Oliver. It was pretty obvious that Rick was trying to be nice to Oliver, being generous and treating him as “man of the house” or whatever, but Oliver just sat down and didn't respond. Rick looked like he expected Oliver to say
something
, but when he didn't, Rick's face fell a little and he turned away. Maureen sat down at the opposite end, closest to the kitchen, and my mom and I sat on one side while Rick and my dad sat on the other.

I have to say this about the twins: they may be small, little, and noisy, but when they're around, there are rarely any awkward silences, and suddenly I found myself
wishing that they were at the table with us.

“I hope you all like chicken,” Maureen said, reaching for the salad bowl as my mom started to pass the main course. “I know, it can be so blah. I really should have just let Elizabeth cater this one,” she added, nodding at my mom.

“It's nice to have a night off!” my mom said.

Oliver and I shared a quick, desperate look. Adults making small talk for the next two hours. Joy. I'd rather be doing homework.

We made it through most of the chicken and salad. Oliver ate silently, nodding his thanks when my dad passed him the basket of rolls, and glancing at me every so often. I did the same on my end. “So, Emmy,” Rick said, “how are college applications going?”

I looked up mid-chew. So did Oliver.

No one else seemed to notice, though. “Rick,” Maureen laughed. “Honey, most kids are starting to hear from the schools they applied to. The application process was a while ago.”

“And Emmy's going to community college for at least the first year,” my mom added. “I'm not sure I'm ready for an empty nest, to be honest!” Everyone laughed at that, even as her words made the chicken start to rise back up in my throat. Another year with a nine o'clock curfew, another year of lying to my parents about surfing, about sneaking out and staying at Caro's. Even though I was already living that life, another year of it felt unimaginable.

Maureen said something about Oliver starting to get college information already (“I guess the publicity is good for something, right?”), but Oliver's eyes were locked on me. He raised an eyebrow and gestured a little with his fork, and when I just shook my head in an “I'm fine” gesture, he paused for a minute, then spoke up.

“I think Emmy should go away to college.”

My fork fell to my plate.

“Well, it's a little late now,” my mom said, laughing.

Oliver just shrugged. “I dunno. I just mean, she's smart, you know? Like,
really
smart. And she's responsible. She could go away to school. And you know, maybe she should.”

I sat frozen. If he said anything about UCSD, I would kill him and then the whole discussion would be a moot point because I'd be going to prison, not college.

“Oliver.” Maureen didn't even try to hide the edge in her voice. “You don't tell people how to raise their kids.” She smiled at my parents. “Sorry, you two.”

“I'm not,” he said, and Oliver wasn't hiding the edge in his voice, either.

Maureen just gasped. I hadn't realized that the two of them shared the same stubborn streak, but now, sitting across the table from each other, it was like an invisible current connected them. For the first time since Oliver had come home, ironically, they seemed just like mother and son.

“I'm not,” Oliver said again. “I just think Emmy doesn't need to be so protected, that's all.”

The conversation was taking a dangerous turn and I instinctively gripped the edge of the table, hanging on for the ride.

“Are you doing this because I grounded you?” Maureen finally exploded. “Is that what this is? You want to embarrass me in front of our friends because you think I embarrassed you?”

“That's right,
Mom,”
he said. “It's all about
you
. I forgot.”

“You were late!” Maureen cried. “You were late coming home, and Keith is still out there somewhere and—”

My mom started to stand up. “Maybe we should go,” she started to say.

“No, Elizabeth.” Maureen gestured to my mom to sit down. “Please, stay. Sit down. This conversation is over.”

But now Oliver was standing, too, his napkin balled up in his hand. “Do you
really
think he's gonna kidnap me again? Is that what you think?”

“I don't know!” Maureen yelled, and now she was standing, too. My mom sat back down reluctantly, then reached for my hand under the table. “I didn't think he would take you the first time, but guess what? He did!”

“I'm almost eighteen!” Oliver said. “What, do you think he's just going to drag me away somewhere? I'm five inches taller than him!”

“You are?” Maureen blinked. She seemed to sag a little and her lower lip trembled for a second, but then she regained her composure. “Oliver, listen to me. Keith committed a crime, a big one. He is a
criminal
. He is not to be trusted. You need to accept that.”

“Stop talking about him like that's all he did!” Oliver shouted. “He raised me, okay? He taught me how to ride a bike, he took care of me when I was sick!”

“He was an alcoholic!” Maureen cried. “I had no idea if you were
hungry
, if you were
starving
. . .”

“Dad never drank!” Oliver said. “You think you know everything and you don't! I was
fine
!”

“What if you got sick? Do you think he would have taken you to an emergency room
or a hospital? He didn't even take you to the
goddamn
dentist!”

“He and I were there, Mom. You weren't!”

“I looked for you!” Maureen screamed, and now she was crying. My dad's face was pale and Rick was standing up now, too, a reluctant referee. My mom's grip on my hand was iron tight, and I was pretty sure I was hanging on to hers the same way.

“I spent every day looking for you!” she continued. “All of my money! All of my time! I tried to find you!”

“Yeah, well, you
didn't
.”

“Hey!” Rick said sharply. “That's enough, Oliver. You're putting your mom through hell, you know that?”

“Why is this always about
her
?” Oliver yelled back. “Everyone acts like it was
my
idea to disappear but actually, I'm the one who decided to come
home
!”