The Emi Lost & Found Series

  “Get your hands off her, Jack.” I hadn’t noticed her brother’s car in the driveway... hadn’t noticed he was standing next to his car... hadn’t noticed his wife looking at me from the backseat, disappointment written all over her face.

  “I’m not going to hurt her.” I don’t heed Chris’s advice. “Would one of you mind telling me what the hell is going on?” I demand, dismayed.

  “That’s what we’d like to know,” he adds, stepping cautiously toward me.

  “Look at you!” Emi continues to yell, surveying the room. “And let go of me!”

  “Emi,” I state firmly but calmly, trying to pull her face to mine so our eyes meet. “Emi, breathe.”

  Before I know what’s happening, she pulls her hand back and punches me, hard. I let go of her, shocked, touching my face in disbelief. Chris holds Emi’s arms down before she can hit me again, which I can tell she wants to do.

  “God, Emi,” Chris says, shocked at her physical outrage.

  “Fuck, Emi, what the hell are you doing?” I say loudly, turning to walk away from this angry woman shooting daggers at me with her eyes. As soon as I say the words, though, I turn back around to see her expression change from anger to worry to confusion... and I realize I’ve never used such harsh language with her. I honestly don’t even know where it came from.

  “Watch it, Jack,” Chris warns me. “She came to talk.”

  “Well then I suggest you let us do that,” I tell him.

  “I don’t want to talk to him,” Emi says adamantly, turning into an embrace with her brother. As I sit down on the edge of the club chair, touching my jaw, Chris and I stare at each other from across the room. Without words, I plead with him to let Emi and I work this out, whatever this is.

  “You need to talk to him, Emi. I’m sure he can explain.”

  “I can.”

  “The wine glasses?” she yells, turning away from her brother and walking toward me aggressively. “The lipstick?” What? “The fact that you’re half-naked? Jazz music? The fact that a woman answered your phone and said you were too busy to talk to me, your fucking fiancée?”

  Shit. When did that happen? “Let me explain.”

  Chris backs out the door, shutting it behind him, an obvious move to get Emi’s attention. She groans loudly in frustration. “I don’t want to hear your fucking explanation!”

  I sit quietly and look around the room, seeing it how she must see it. I raise my hand to my lips and rub the spot where Caroline had kissed me, red staining my finger.

  Shit.

  It doesn’t look good.

  “Who is she?” Emi asks, pacing back and forth in front of me in my living room. “Oh, god, is she still here?”

  “Are we back at square one, here, Emi? Is there no trust between us at all?”

  “Apparently not!” she says.

  “What in the world have I done to you to earn this sort of treatment?”

  “Let’s start with the woman who was here with you today!”

  “Alright, it was Caroline.”

  “Your ex.”

  “Exactly. My ex. As in ex-girlfriend. As in I’m not seeing her anymore. As in I haven’t seen her nor spoken to her in years.”

  “Ex-fiancée,” she corrects me. “I guess she and I will have something in common.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Draw your own conclusions!” she yells.

  “Whatever,” I say, not wanting to dignify her comment, hoping it is the anger that’s making her say such nonsense.

  “So you’re saying nothing happened with Caroline?”

  “I am.”

  “Then explain the lipstick.”

  “She tried to kiss me. I pushed her away.”

  “What’s with the wine?”

  “We were thirsty, and she asked for wine. I thought I would be a good host and offer her some.”

  “And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

  “Because she ended up throwing the wine at me when I asked her to leave, Emi, that’s why. My shirts are in the washer, I can prove it if you like.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Why do you think I’m lying to you? Damn it, Emi, who do you think I am?”

  “I don’t guess I know you at all anymore,” she says.

  “Sure you do,” I stand up, taking her by the shoulders and stopping her pacing. I look directly into her eyes, holding her face in my hands so she can’t look away. “I’m a good man, Emi, who loves you and would do anything for you. I’m the man who’s been there for you through the worst year of your life. I’m the man who has waited, patiently, every day, for you to love me... enough. I am the man who thought he could make you happy, the happiest woman in the world.

  “You think you don’t know me, but I think you’re just afraid to really know me... to really feel for me.”

  “Oh, really?” she asks.

  “Yeah, really, Emi. You know what I think? You want me to draw my own conclusions? Well how’s this? I conclude that you will come up with any story you create, any excuse, as long as it means you don’t have to move in with me, or marry me, or commit to me in any way. That’s my conclusion.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Is it, Em?”

  “It is... and stop turning this on me! You’re the one who had another woman in your home today!”

  “Right. Come on, Emi, it’s not as if I was unfaithful to you. I mean, what do you think happened here today?”

  “I. Don’t. Fucking. Know. Why was she here?”

  “You want to know why? Here’s why. She’s changed her mind about me. She, for one, knows what she wants and is ready to commit herself to me, today. She wants it all, my love, the house, the children... finally, she came around,” I say sarcastically. “And I could give a shit because I don’t want any of that... not with her.”

  “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

  “Well, then, you may want to look closer. You’re seeing what you want to see. You’re not seeing how it really is.”

  Emi stares at me, speechless, as I challenge her, unblinking. She sits down on the sofa and holds her left hand gingerly in the palm of her right one. “I hurt my hand,” she states, her tone still angry.

  “You hurt my jaw,” I tell her, going into the kitchen and preparing a bag of ice for her. I hold her hand in mine, examining it carefully and noticing the swelling of her knuckles and her thumb. “You shouldn’t tuck your thumb in when you punch someone,” I tell her, setting the ice down on her hand and conforming it to the swollen spots. “It could be broken, can you move it?”

  “It hurts, I don’t know.”

  “Fine,” I say, leaving her to sulk. I assume my position again on the chair. “Emi, why don’t you trust me? Why don’t you believe me?”

  “You know, you’re one to talk,” she says. “You act like it’s just me that’s lacking trust in this relationship... but in the end, isn’t it you, doubting me?”

  “I have every reason to doubt you. Without even knowing the facts, you throw the ring back at me. Throw around the commitment I’ve made to you like it means nothing at all. You’re so quick to just assume that I messed this up. Are you looking for an out? Looking for me to screw this up so you have a good reason to walk away?”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  “I’m tired of fielding questions only you have the answers to. ‘Why won’t Emi move in with you? Have you picked a date? Why not?’” I say mockingly.

  “Emi won’t move in with me because she feels the spirit of Nate in her apartment. And the date? Oh, she’s going to get back to me when she decides whether or not I’m the one she wants to be with and not the ghost she’s currently living with.” My words shock even myself, truth laden in every syllable.

  “Jack...” she pleads, surprised.

  “Just stop, Emi. You know it’s true.”

  “It’s not true,” she argues softly, but I can tell that she, herself, is not convinced. Her eyes are unsure.
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  “Isn’t it?”

  “No,” she whispers. “Why are you bringing him into this?”

  “In my eyes, Emi, he’s always been here. In some capacity, he never left you. Or you never left him behind.”

  “I’m committed to you,” she vows, on the verge of tears again. “I said I’d marry you, I want to.”

  “They’re all words, Emi. Just meaningless words if there’s no action to back them up. And need I remind you, you still haven’t made up your mind if you want to marry me now. That ultimatum’s still floating around out there...”

  “No, I do...”

  “I want a family, Emi. I’m not giving that up.”

  “I know, but–”

  “Shut up, Emi! No buts, not anymore! You either love me or you don’t! I need a decision. I can’t continue down this path. Every day, you hurt me a little bit more. Every day you can’t decide–”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, first looking down then angling her entire head to the floor. “I love you, Jack.”

  “You have a strange way of showing it sometimes.” Her head snaps back up as I touch my face where she hit me.

  “Oh, god, Jack. I’m sorry. Where is the ring? I do want to be with you. Maybe I overreacted...”

  “Maybe? I’ve done nothing wrong here,” I tell her.

  “Okay. I see that now. Look, I’m sorry if you think I treated our relationship carelessly. I obviously overreacted. Where’s the ring?” she asks again, her eyes now focused on the foyer.

  “You threw it at me, Emi. I guess it’s still on the front porch.” She gets up quickly, setting the ice pack aside as she opens the front door and begins to search the ground for it. I put the ice on my jaw, waiting for her to return. In truth, my ego hurts more than any physical pain.

  When she doesn’t come back after a couple of minutes, I stand in the doorway and inspect the ground. Chris’s car is no longer in the driveway. Emi has now moved her search to the flower bed on the side of the porch. Her tears have returned, her sobs audible. She barely uses her swollen left hand. I can tell it’s really hurting her.

  “Come inside, Emi. Take the ice, I’ll look.”

  “It’s not here,” she cries. “I can’t find it.”

  “Just come in and put the ice back on your hand. Let me get my keys, we’re going to the emergency room.”

  “No, I’m fine, just let me find it.”

  “Emi,” I start, waiting for her to look up at me. She mouths the words ‘I’m sorry’ when her eyes meet mine. I walk around the porch and help her up. “Don’t worry about it, Emi. We have bigger things to worry about.”

  “We have to find it. It’s important.”

  “No, Emi. It obviously wasn’t important to you when you threw it at me.” She cries harder, and I feel bad letting those words escape. I bring her inside and sit her down on the couch, putting the ice pack back on her thumb.

  I go upstairs to put on a shirt and some jeans, and take a quick glance at myself in the mirror, wiping off the rest of the lipstick left there by Caroline. My jaw still red, I realize I don’t have to worry about whether or not she can take care of herself... without me...

  “I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says as she sees me coming back down the stairs. “And I’m sorry about the ring.”

  “Do you love me enough, Emi?” I ask abruptly. She barely nods. “I mean, what’s really holding you back here? What is this really about? Is it kids? Do you really think you’re not meant to be a mother? Is it because I’m controlling? Because I try to make good decisions for us? Or is it really that you can’t let him go, completely?”

  “Jack, I love you,” she asserts.

  “But do you love me more than him?” She looks down at her hand and repositions the ice. “If you can say yes, then I’ll buy you another ring... ten more rings... but if you can’t... then... I can’t...”

  “That’s like comparing apples and or–”

  “No, Emi, it’s not.” I cut off her rationalization. “It’s comparing two men, two lovers... and you can’t have us both. You can’t have it both ways. Do you love him more than you love me? Just answer that.”

  I pick up my keys and wallet, shoving them both into my pockets, standing in front of the door, ready to leave as soon as she tells me she loves me more.

  “I love him different than you,” she states.

  “That’s not fair, Emi,” I tell her, frustrated.

  “It’s not fair for you to ask me that, either. It’s not fair because he’s not here. He can never be here.”

  “Fine, then. If he was still here, who would you choose? That’s a fair question to ask, isn’t it?”

  “No,” she says, mad. “It’s not.”

  “That’s it,” I tell her. “It really shouldn’t take you this long to answer. I’m taking you to the ER. I’ll call your brother and tell him to pick you up there.”

  “Jack, don’t...”

  “Emi, let’s go. I’m sure your thumb is broken. We’ll talk about this later.”

  “Do you promise?” she begs.

  “If I promised, would it mean anything to you anyway?” I swallow hard, watching her wide eyes pool with tears. I turn away quickly toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  My response just makes her cry more.

  “Alright, Chris is on his way,” I tell Emi in the waiting room, carrying a clipboard to her so she can fill out her information. After putting her phone back in her purse, I hand her the paperwork, but she waves her swollen hand at me. Of course she hurt her left hand, the one she writes with. I just want to go home. “Fine.”

  Emily Clara Hennigan. 5/18/78. I fill in her address, recalling the street number from the awning over the entrance to her building.

  “What’s your zip?”

  “10128.”

  Self-employed.

  “Who’s your insurance?”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “You don’t have– of course not. Too bad we’re not married,” I say sarcastically, wondering if she has the money to pay for her own medical bills. Can I walk away from her? From this?

  None. Chris Hennigan. 212-555-3552. Brother.

  “You’re not my emergency contact?” she asks.

  “I’m leaving as soon as he gets here. Might as well be a relative.”

  “Jack...” I continue to ignore her pleas to engage me in conversation, focusing on the paperwork in front of me.

  “Any known drug allergies?”

  “No,” she says, swiping at a tear. After we go over the list of pre-existing conditions, I take the clipboard back up to the reception area.

  “I think I do,” Emi says quietly when I sit back down, my knees bouncing in nervous anticipation.

  “You think you do what?” I can’t even look at her, the sad expression making it difficult for me to remain strong, detached, angry... and I have every right to be angry, for once.

  “Love you more than him.” I exhale sharply, wanting to laugh but failing to see any humor in her answer.

  “You have to know it, Emi. You can’t just think it.” I stand up as I see Chris walking toward us down the long hallway. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Jack, please don’t leave.”

  “Emi, I still have to pack. I have to go.”

  “Are we still going to Texas tomorrow?” she asks, hopeful. I take a deep breath, a million thoughts racing through my mind.

  “I’ll tell you what, Emi. If you decide that you know that you love me more than him in the next eighteen hours, you can just meet me at the airport. I’ll have your ticket with me. The flight leaves at twelve-thirty.

  “And if you don’t come... then I guess we’ll have a lot to discuss when I get back next week.”

  “Hey, man, you okay?” Chris asks me as I square off with his sister.

  “I’m pretty sure her thumb is broken.” I ignore Chris’s concern and Emi’s cries for attention.

  “But, Jack, I love you,” Emi pleads as I turn toward the ex
it. “Jack, don’t!” she yells. “I’m sorry, please don’t leave me...” I continue through the automatic doors, afraid to turn back. Afraid to see her pale green watering eyes, red with tears. Afraid to see her pained expression. But I’m most afraid that something she’ll say or do may actually convince me to stay... and I won’t allow myself to be hurt by her anymore.

  I still hear her crying, even after the doors shut behind me.

  After packing for my trip, I lie restlessly in bed, unable to sleep, wondering if I did the right thing by leaving her with Chris in the hospital. I can’t continue to be strung along if she can’t commit to me. But I can’t imagine my life without her, either. She was my future from the first moment I saw her.

  She had only gotten more beautiful since that night in college. I had seen her across the room when she walked in, alone. She seemed out of place, her eyes scanning the room. While all the other girls were dressed in tight sweaters and short denim skirts, she was wearing overalls that swallowed her small frame whole, a long-sleeved concert t-shirt and her hair... my god, her beautiful red hair... in short, spiky pigtails. She reminded me instantly of a cherished doll my sister used to play with, her skin so fair and smooth. Yes, she was out-of-place, but by far the most natural looking girl there. One of my fraternity brothers immediately handed her a beer, and she whispered something to him.

  Her smile grew wide, her expression relaxed as he pointed to someone behind me. Her grin was quick, was radiant, and I actually felt disappointed when she waved to Chris and started approaching my friend. She walked right past me, and her green eyes, as vast as the sea, met mine for the briefest of moments. Her soft, porcelain cheeks turned pink as I smiled back at her. My body angled toward her, watched her as she passed, as she made her way to Chris. He finally saw her... and rolled his eyes at her.

  She drank the first beer quickly as I heard him ask her why she was there. It was too loud to hear her quiet answer. He told her she shouldn’t be there, suggested that she leave. I couldn’t imagine why Chris, a friend who was always fairly civil to people, would be talking to this beautiful girl in such a way. I was drawn to her. I wanted to stand up for her. I approached them, angry with my fraternity brother, at the disrespectful way he was talking to her. Was this an ex-girlfriend? I had to know the story here.