103
Marcus glares at Sarah as he leaves the apartment, his bag over his shoulder as he heads out. She throws him a haughty look and turns back to me on the couch; they have been arguing over something pointless, and now he is going to work. Apparently, this is normal for them.
We’re huddled together under a warm quilt, drinking hot chocolate; my emotions are calm finally. I haven’t been able to tell her everything, there is too much to tell, too much to explain, and I am still unable to just open up, even to her.
Baby steps.
She knows the basics of the story, how things built up to the last few days in the hotel room and having sex with Jake, then the appearance of Marissa and the final breaking of my heart on that horrible flight home.
“What was it like?” she asks. There’s nothing on her face except curiosity, maybe. Trying to understand me, understand
what I’m feeling. “Sex with him, I mean.”
“Amazing. Terrifying. Heartbreaking,” I answer honestly because that’s what having sex with him was like. To fall so deeply under his spell, even though I knew it would go nowhere, the realization that I can never wipe it away and that it will haunt me for an eternity. No one will ever compare in any way. Jake – the ruiner of women.
“I can’t get over the change in you, Ems,” Sarah points out, her eyes wide with awe, squeezing my hand across my lap. “I feel like I have my old Emma back, but somehow, she’s different too. There has never really been this version of you. Despite the heartbreak, you seem somehow better.”
“New version?” I quiz, confused, smiling a little.
“Teenage Emma, only less aggressive.” She shrugs. “And yet so very changed, emotional, open and honest, even warm,” she giggles apologetically.
“You make me sound like I was awful to be friends with,” I chide softly, guilt coursing through me again. I lower my lashes, ashamed that I’ve been this way toward her for so long. And so blind to it.
“You have your charms, Ems. You’ve no idea the allure you have, even when you’re acting the ice maiden.” She smiles. “There’s always a hint of something more in you like it’s just out of reach. I can see why Jake would pursue it. That elusive prize, always dangling out there, that door sitting ajar, waiting to be opened.” She grins at me, my face flushing with her version of how she sees me. It seems disconnected from who I am and who I think I am. My mind reels.
Is she right? Does Jake see something worth chasing, worth holding on to, and figuring out?
“My messed-up brain,” I grimace sadly, and she smiles back at me gently, her eyes softening with understanding.
“Have you ever just come out and told him how you feel? He may surprise you,” she coaxes, placing a hand over mine again.
Why have I never done this? With Sarah, I mean. This female bonding, sharing our problems, being authentic, and letting someone else figure out my heartbreak with me. That shoulder to lean on.
Because I’m incapable of showing people that I’m capable of being hurt, defensively protecting myself, always hiding. Jake has stripped me of my armor, slowly and surely.
“It’s too hard,” I admit sadly. “I’m scared all the time, Sarah. Scared of what he’ll say, scared of what he’s thinking and feeling. He’s complicated. He sleeps around; he has women in every city we go to, always at arm’s length. He doesn’t do love, and I couldn’t bear his rejection.” The words slice me open; I can’t think about these women he has sex with. The pain is too acute. She’s observing me, sipping her cocoa and thinking.
“You think he wants to be with that girl, though? Marissa?”
“I don’t know; they have history. He seemed angry at her, but then he still brought her home with us and left the airport with her.” The tears burn my eyes, and I push them down. I shift to cross my legs under the throw and cradle my mug closer to regain my equilibrium, feeling like the warmth is soothing me somehow. I can’t analyze what is there between them; it’s too painful.
“How did he take the news about the baby?” she pushes gently, but I just shake my head and shrug. I am bewildered about all of that; I’ve barely let my brain process that whole mess.
“He didn’t seem happy. He closed up; Jake wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. He can’t even commit to a girl, let alone a baby,” I sigh sadly.
Isn’t that where all my self-doubt comes from?
No, my self-doubt has always existed, constantly gnawing at me and reminding me how worthless I am in the grand scheme of things. Having a father reject you, and a mother who eternally puts her own needs above yours will do that to a person. I’m a broken mess.
I push it down hard. Sarah sighs heavily, mirroring how I feel; there isn’t anything much to say on this subject. We’ve dissected it all endlessly through three mugs of cocoa.
Finally, after a brief reflective silence, Sarah cuts in.
“Your mom keeps leaving messages on the answering machine. She knows you’re never here, and I know she has your cell number, so I guess she’s not trying to contact you directly.” She pauses, hesitant for a second. “I spoke to her briefly. She’s doing well; her nurse is taking care of her.” She smiles at me gently. Sarah texted me all this before and hadn’t been surprised at my non-responses to her messages. I remain impassive, making it clear my feelings have not changed.
“Did she mention her new boyfriend?” I say through gritted teeth and slide my mug onto the table, too full of many hot drinks, with nausea rising. Sarah raises an eyebrow, then lets my comment pass. I haven’t told her about Ray, about what happened in Chicago. I will, I promise myself, tell Sarah everything, just not right now. This is all new to me, sharing … talking.
“Are you going to talk to her?” she asks instead, her bright blue eyes focused on my face. I avoid her gaze, looking at my hands in my lap, shaking my head.
How can I ever talk to her again? How can I ever go back there?
I have so many emotions about my mother, conflict, love, and hate. It’s not something I can evaluate anytime soon, especially not with all this new chaos overtaking me. Ray, Sophie, my past, her past, it’s all one massive ball of string waiting to unravel, and I don’t have the energy or the inclination to go there anymore.
“What about the little girl?” Sarah asks, as though reading my mind. I had briefly told her, via text and the odd call, about Sophie when all that happened.
“She’s doing well. She’s going through the process of being awarded a protection order, so she can stay with her new family without fear of being returned home. Her father will be prosecuted. She’s in counseling,” I sigh at Sarah. I have been keeping tabs on Sophie through Leila, Jake’s mother, and Sophie herself by email. Jake told me his brother seems to have taken her under his protective wing, and she seems to trust him, which is a good sign.
That damned Carrero charm.
“You did for her what someone should have done for you, Ems.” Sarah is so direct and spot-on that I inhale lightly. I snap my eyes to hers. I want to deny it, brush it off like old Emma would return to cold and controlled ‘no one hurts me’ mode, but I don’t. I bite my lip, push away the force of emotion, and nod painfully.
“I know.” It sounds so sad, and it hurts me. Sarah’s eyes widen, moisture glazing them; she knows how hard my acceptance is, how far I must have come to even admit this to her. She has seen the years of denial, bravery, and fight in me. She knows me better than anyone in the world, well, maybe except for Jake. He has even carnal knowledge now.
“Promise me something,” she soothes with a shaky tone, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek.
“What?” Right now, I wouldn’t deny her anything. I’m responsible for her sadness, and it’s aching inside of me.
“You won’t go back to hiding it all. I want you to talk to a professional; take this further, Ems, regardless of what happens with Jake.” There’s bravery in her eyes. She’s waiting for my reaction, pushing to see if I am old Emma after all. This is a request she’s made many times over the years, the same one Jake made, which sent me into a rage and had me accusing him of thinking me crazy. I bristle. Old Emma's habits are hard to kill. I stiffen as the defensive response forms on my lips impulsively, but I take a steadying breath, exhaling slowly to calm my reaction.
“I’ll think about it.” It’s all I can promise her. I note the delight in the depth of her eyes and her celebratory smile as she realizes that something huge has changed within me. I don’t think it’s something to be all that happy about, but it is what it is. Jake has ruined all that I was.
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