Chapter 89


    “Teenage Emma, only less aggressive.” She shrugs. “And yet so much changed … emotional … open,


    and honest … even warm.” She giggles with an apologetic expression.


    “You make me sound like I was awful to be friends with.” I chide softly, guilt coursing through me again.


    I lower myshes, ashamed in a way that I’ve been this way toward her for so long. 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’s


    so disconnected with who I am. Who I think I am, and my mind reels.


    Is she right? Does Jake see something worth chasing, worth holding on for, and trying to figure out?


    “My messed-up brain.” I grimace sadly, she smiles back at me gently. Her eyes softening with


    understanding.


    “Have you ever juste out and told him how you feel? He may surprise you.” She coaxes, cing a


    hand over mine once again.


    Why have I never done this? With Sarah I mean, this female bonding, sharing our problems, being real


    and letting someone else figure out your heartbreak with you. 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 … feeling … He’splicated, he sleeps around … He has women at 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 watching me


    carefully, 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 tug at my eyes and I push them down. I shift to cross my legs


    under the throw and cradle my cup closer, in a bid 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


    really 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 isn’t ready for that kind ofmitment. He can’t even


    commit to a girl, let alone a baby.” I sigh sadly.


    Isn’t that where all my self-doubtes from?


    No … My self-doubt has always existed, always gnawing at me, reminding me how worthless I am, in


    the grand scheme of things. Having a father reject you and a mother who eternally put her own needs


    above you 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 cups of cocoa.


    Finally, after a brief reflective silence, Sarah cuts in.


    “Your mom keeps leaving messages on the answer machine … She knows you’re never here and I


    know she has your cell number, so I guess she’s not actually 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 text me this all 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 beau?” I grit my teeth and slide the mug on the table, full of too many hot


    drinks with nausea rising. Sarah raises an eyebrow, then lets myment pass. I haven’t told her


    about Ray … About what happened in Chicago. I will, I promise myself to 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’m avoiding


    it, looking at my hands in myp, and I shake my head.


    How can I ever talk to her again? How can I ever go back there?


    Ray … Sophie … My past … Her past. It’s one huge ball of string waiting to unravel, and I don’t have


    the energy or the inclination to go there anymore. I have so many emotions about my mother, so much


    conflict, love, and hate. It’s not something I can evaluate anytime soon. Especially not with all this new


    chaos overtaking me.


    “What about the little girl?” Sarah asks as though reading my mind. I 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 via Le, Jake’s mother and via


    Sophie herself, in 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.


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    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


    snap my eyes to her, inhaling lightly. I want to deny it, want to brush it off like old Emma would, return


    to cold and controlled, “no one hurts me”, but I don’t. I bite my lip, pushing away the force of emotion


    and nod painfully.


    “I know.” It sounds so sad it hurts me. Sarah’s eyes widen, moisture zing them, she knows how hard


    my eptance is, how far I must havee 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 into hiding … I want you to talk to a professional … Take this further, Ems …


    Regardless of what happens with Jake.” There’s bravery in her eye, she’s waiting for my reaction,


    pushing to see if I really 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 used him of thinking me crazy. I


    bristle, old Emma 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, noting the tion in the depth of her eyes, the celebratory


    smile at the realization 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.


    * * *


    I help Sarah clean the apartment inpanionable silence for the rest of the afternoon, we talked


    ourselves out and there’s nothing more to say. I have so much to process on my own.


    She keeps catching my eye and shaking her head at me in awe. I don’t think she can really ept that


    this is how I am now, as though she keeps waiting on the old Emma to jump out and throw herself into


    commandeering, emotionless mode, again. Pull out some tight tailoring and my iPad checklist. Her


    attention unnerves me, but I don’t want to freeze her back out again, she deserves more. I deserve


    more.


    I keep checking my cell obsessively, but he doesn’t call or text; every time I see the nk screen, I die


    a little more inside. I long for one of his song emails, a message, anything! I understand his silence,


    she’ll be with him, he has a lot to think about, talk about; he’s mad at me, he’s overwhelmed. It doesn’t


    make this any less painful and it feels like eternity.


    I spend an hour going through emails and work files, before throwing myptop aside listlessly. I’m


    trying not to focus on him, on her, what we did. It’s like trying to turn back the tide in a way, and my


    head is my own worst enemy. I can’t even begin to dwell on what the future holds, my job … Jake and


    a baby … Seeing him again. like I’m in an alternate universe while sitting here in my own apartment,


    yet it looks so different to me. The whole atmosphere has shifted since I opened up to Sarah. I feel like


    I’m home for the first time since I moved here, that this ce feels like a safe haven from the outside


    world.