The Emi Lost & Found Series

  “Everything okay?” I had asked Chris, suddenly nervous to be in her presence as she turned to face me, her eyes curious. My heart sped up when our eyes met again.

  “It would be better if she would leave,” he answered.

  “Shut the fuck up, Chris,” she fired back, her beautiful eyes impassioned and angry. Feisty one. “It’s a free country.”

  “Just get the hell out of here!” Chris yelled back.

  “Hey,” I said sternly to him, grabbing his arm. He shook me off.

  “Butt out, Jack,” he said.

  “I’m Emi,” she said, a smirk on her face as she held her hand out to mine. “Chris’s little sister.”

  “Chris’s sister,” I repeated her, sighing, my throat dry. “Of course, I see the resemblance now.”

  “Jack, was it?”

  “Yes, Jack Holland.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” She fluttered her lashes, her smile causing her dimples to grow deeper. “Can you get me another drink?” she asked, handing her empty cup to me.

  “Emi, come on...” Chris argued.

  “Chris, it’s okay. I’ve got this.” He looked at me, hard, but eventually relaxed his shoulders and nodded. He trusted me implicitly, even back then. “Sure, the keg’s out back,” I told her, nodding in the direction of the patio, inviting her to follow me, hoping that she would... nervous that she would. I knew immediately she wasn’t old enough to drink– her brother wasn’t either, after all– but my conscience wasn’t going to win this fight. I would have done anything for her in that moment.

  My hand was shaking when I handed the cup back to her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” I expected her to walk away at that point, but she hung around me, looked at me, waited for me to talk. She raised her eyebrows at the silence between us. Normally confident and self-assured, I was stunned to find myself completely speechless.

  “You’re sweet,” she had said. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more private?” I looked at her sideways, my jaw dropping, completely unsure what she was suggesting. This wasn’t my first fraternity party. I knew the game, even if I wasn’t one to play it. She picked up on my bewildered expression and turned an adorable shade of red. “To talk,” she laughed. “Just to talk.”

  “Of course,” I swallowed, leading her back through the house to the front yard. We walked just far enough down the street to escape the loud music and sat down on the curb. She sat about a foot away, but angled her knees toward me.

  “Any pesky little sisters, Jack?” she asked, playfully pushing my arm like any annoying sibling would do to irritate another.

  “Actually, yes. Kelly’s six minutes younger than me.”

  “A twin? That’s cool,” she smiled. “Do you have twin superpowers?” she asked, taking a drink of her beer. Her casual demeanor immediately began to relax me.

  “Superpowers?” I laughed. “I wouldn’t call them superpowers... but we have a pretty close relationship. There may be a sixth sense there sometimes.”

  “Chris and I are typically much nicer to one another,” she explained. “We got into a fight earlier. I wanted him to drive me to Mom’s for the weekend, but he wouldn’t because of this party.” She rolled her eyes, punctuating her sentence.

  “Oh,” I responded, surprised that she was still with me.

  “I warned him I’d come when he told me not to. He didn’t believe me. I mean, asking me not to come was like an open invitation, right?”

  “To a pesky little sister,” I said, nudging her shoulder, “yes. But as a good older brother, I probably would worry about Kelly being at one of these parties, too.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said, but her eyes didn’t convey the same confidence as her words did. She looked so cute, so young, so innocent.

  I nodded at her, smiling. “I’m sure you can.” I agreed– to placate her– and hoped what I said didn’t come across as patronizing.

  “I can!” she repeated.

  “Okay, you can,” I laughed. Her lips formed a lustrous pout and she crossed her arms as she glared at me flirtatiously. “Typical little sister.”

  “So is it just you and... Kelly?”

  “No, I also have two younger brothers.”

  “So you’re the oldest.” She nodded, thoughtful. “I’m the youngest.”

  “I know,” I told her. “Your brother is my little brother in the fraternity. He’s mentioned you and your older sister before.”

  “What has he told you?” she asked.

  “Just your typical family fare. What confounds me is what he hasn’t told me.”

  “What’s that?” she questioned me, curious.

  “He didn’t tell me how adorable you are.” My confidence was coming back.

  Even in the moonlight, I could see the pink rise to her cheeks. She raised her eyebrows and looked up at me, fluttering her eyelashes, laughing off my compliment quietly. “Um, what year are you?” she changed the subject, averting her eyes to the ground.

  “Mmmm...” I hesitated. “It’s my fourth year, but by credits, I’m only a junior.”

  “Too many parties?” she teased.

  “No,” I laughed. “I’ve got a full-time job, too. Just busy.”

  “Oh,” she said, more silence following. “So, in freshman orientation, why don’t they tell you to stay away from the dining hall?”

  “No, you misunderstood. The food in the dining hall is freshman orientation. Our cruel way of hazing the fish,” I joked with her. “Seriously, though, yeah, I’m pretty sure the disgusting mildew smell in there poisons all the food...”

  “I know, right?” she laughed. “I got sick both times I ate there. Now I’m resigned to eating microwaveable noodles.”

  “There’s a great sandwich shop just off campus,” I had told her. “Really inexpensive. I eat there a few times a week.”

  “Cool,” she said. “Maybe you can take me there sometime.” She nudged my shoe with hers.

  “I would be happy to.” She was now gaining confidence, too, as my eyes got lost in her gaze.

  “Cool,” she repeated, her eyes locked onto mine, lips slightly parted. Everything around us went silent, faded into the night. I was completely caught off guard, absorbed by her, desperate to kiss her, but I couldn’t move. “So,” she said nervously, shifting slightly, “do we really have to completely evacuate the on-campus apartments every time some idiot pulls the fire alarm?”

  “The joy of living on campus,” I contemplated, mentally berating myself for letting the moment pass me by. “I don’t miss those days. My friend and I got an apartment after our freshman year. We’re still scraping by, but it’s so much better for my sanity... and sleep.”

  “I can’t wait to live on my own,” she said.

  “You have a roommate?”

  “Three,” she groaned. “Four girls in one tiny, two-bedroom apartment. Who, in their right mind, would think that’s a good idea? Four girls. I mean, come on. I’m pretty easy-going,” she said, “but even I’m having a hard time with it.”

  “Not getting along with them?”

  “Well, two of them are science majors– I’m an art major, by the way– and it’s like we speak completely different languages. The other one, Teresa, she’s cool. She’s a journalism major. She’s rarely there, though. In fact, I’m surprised she’s not here. She constantly goes out.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Honestly,” she smiled, “this isn’t my scene.”

  “And what’s your scene, Poppet?” Poppet?

  She laughed quietly, a little surprised at how I had addressed her. “Poppet?” she asked with a wide smile.

  “Yeah. Poppet,” I answered, not exactly certain why I actually allowed the word to slip from my mouth. “Like, a little doll.” Her cheeks again turned a bright shade of pink as she looked at me questioningly. “It’s an old British term of endearment. My grandfather used to call Kelly that. I don’t know, it ju
st came out,” I tell her apologetically.

  “No, it’s okay,” she assures me. “I like it. So, um, what’s my scene? I like art shows. Live music in small clubs. Museums. Places I can get lost in my own head.” She shrugged shyly. “Not lost in a crowd. Tonight, I’m just here to piss off Chris. Speaking of which, I’m not doing a good job of that if he can’t even see me. Wanna go get a refill?”

  “Sure,” I said, helping her up. I couldn’t help but smile as I followed her back into the house, through the living area and back on the patio near the keg. The most beautiful girl I had ever met had chosen to spend her time with me. She was funny, too, and our conversation was comfortable, easy. I couldn’t wait to take her to lunch someday in the near future. She wanted to go, she had suggested it herself. And I couldn’t wait to kiss her. I ruefully wished I could have those seconds back.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told her, my hand on the small of her back, my lips close to her ear so she could hear me over the music.

  “Okay.” She bit her bottom lip, blinked her green eyes quickly. I went in search for her brother. I had to talk to him. I knew there was an unspoken “guy code” about dating someone’s sister. I wanted to let him know that I was interested. I didn’t think he would mind.

  After ten minutes of searching the house, both inside and out, I gave up, wanting to get back to Emi. She wasn’t where I left her, so my search shifted from Chris to his little sister. I eventually found her, sucking down a jello shot and playing a game of quarters in the living room with more of my fraternity brothers. As they explained the rules to her, I noticed they were being quite liberal with them, making the game impossible for Emi to “win.” Her mind, already a little foggy, wasn’t catching on to the fact that she would be the one taking most of the shots. I rolled my eyes at my friends, a term I used loosely to describe them that night as I watched them take advantage of the vulnerabilities of the girl who had singled me out... or at least I thought she had.

  She looked up at me, smiled briefly, but continued with the game, taking shot after shot. Frustrated, confused and angry, I went into the kitchen and started trying to clean up some of the mess that had been made. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, watched the crowd around her grow. Realizing my efforts of cleaning were fruitless and not wanting to watch the scene in front of me, I grabbed a bottle of water and started to go upstairs.

  I met Chris on the stairway.

  “Russell said you were looking for me?” he slurred.

  “Yeah, uh,” I stammered, “I was going to talk to you about your sister, Emi.”

  “She still here?” he asked.

  “Playing quarters downstairs...”

  “Shit,” he muttered. “You left her alone?” I followed him as he rushed back downstairs into the living area. “That’s it, Emi,” he said, pulling her up by her arm. “This is my sister, assholes,” he said to our friends. She just giggled at him, a self-satisfied look on her face. She had achieved her goal of pissing Chris off. “I should have just taken you home. Come on.” He took her out the front door. I watched closely from the window, making sure he didn’t try to drive in his condition. He took out his phone and made a call, then told her to stay at the picnic table near the front door.

  “He’s on his way,” I heard him say to her as he came back into the house, immediately joining the crowd. I couldn’t stand to see her alone, now crying, on that bench. I took some water to her and decided to keep her company while she waited for her ride.

  I remember how I felt when Nate showed up and ushered her into his car. I can remember the physical pain I felt when she walked away from me that night. As much as our recent conversations have hurt me, it’s all tolerable if, in the end, she’s with me forever.

  Surely she’ll meet me at the airport in the morning. Surely, she will... and even as I make these assurances to myself, a pang of doubt rests in the pit of my stomach, and keeps me awake for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Time for another round,” I tell the obliging Dallas bartender. “Another top shelf scotch, if you don’t mind.” He gives me an empathetic smile as he pours the drink for me.

  Emi was the reason I was driven to drink the last time I had isolated myself in a hotel bar. That was the night she came back into my life. This could be the day she walked out for good.

  Still in shock by the fact that she didn’t show up at the airport, I take a slow and deliberate drink, savoring the flavor and the numbness the beverage brings. “Can I borrow the phone again?”

  I had planned to stop by the cell phone store before heading to the airport this morning to get a replacement, but I wanted to be there to greet Emi when she showed up. I had stopped by a florist shop instead, still making it to the airport with nearly three hours to spare. I had watched the concourse all morning, wishing I had a phone the whole time. I gave the daisies to the woman at the terminal before I got on the plane. She said I had made her day... how that moment ruined mine.

  Now, I was glad I didn’t have a phone. I’d never been one to drunk dial– or for that matter, I’d never been one to allow myself to get drunk anymore– but today was an exception. If I had my cell phone, I’m certain I would have called her multiple times today voicing every emotion that I’d experienced at the time it happened: sadness, disappointment, anger, shock... things would have been said that I would definitely regret later.

  The bartender hands me a cordless phone, and I pull my brother’s card out of my wallet for the second time today, dialing his number.

  “Hello?”

  “Yeah, Stevie,” I say, concentrating hard on the words in an effort to avoid slurring them. “It’s Jack.”

  “Jacks, when are you coming over? We’ve been waiting.”

  “Yeah, I know. You know, I checked into the hotel, and I don’t know, I’m just not feeling well... I think I’ll just stay here for the day and come by tomorrow.”

  “But, Jacks–”

  “No, man, really, I’ll call you in the morning. I gotta run.” I hang up the phone before he can convince me to come over... or coerce any information out of me. When I spoke to him earlier, I didn’t have the guts to tell him that Emi didn’t make the trip. This was not a conversation I was looking forward to having with my youngest brother, the one who had questioned Emi’s feelings for me from the first time he met her.

  I wonder what she’s doing right now... is she upset at all? Is she at peace with her decision? What will she do with herself? She chose him over me... she chose the memory of a man... even the real thing wasn’t good enough for her.

  Will another man suit her better, later in life? I had believed I was the best thing for her, all these months. What a fool I had been. An arrogant fool. I believed that everything happened for a reason... I believed that we were meant to be together. We were meant to be together. I allow the thought to linger in my head for a few minutes. I still have a hard time believing that we aren’t.

  Is this it? Maybe she just needs more time. Maybe she’ll come around... but in all honestly, shouldn’t her answer have come quickly, been ready to be spoken aloud as soon as the question was asked?

  Him or me?

  Had it been the other way around, Caroline or Emi or any other woman for that matter, I knew the answer from the moment I met her. Emi. It was always Emi. It always would be Emi. But now what? The thought of my life without her now is too painful to even consider. Sure, life goes on, but how happy can that life be?

  Suddenly, I begin to feel such immense loss, and I can only compare it to what Emi went through when she lost Nate. It’s not the same, I know, but the situation still just seems beyond repair. She had lost him forever, with no hope of returning. I’m beginning to feel the same about her... and she was hopeless for so long.

  But she went on to love again... just... apparently not enough.

  Was there hope that I could even love another woman? And if I could, could I ever love her enough? Love her more than Emi? I h
ave to talk to her.

  “Where’s the nearest cell phone store?” I ask the bartender, feeling my brain not functioning at its full capacity. I just want to talk to her in private, beg her, convince her to stay with me, even though I know I should let her go. I can’t be without her. Does she really have to love me more? Was it fair to ask? Can I be second best? Is that good enough for me?

  A part of me believes I’m not that guy... who would settle to be that man, the consolation prize. But if it means I end up with her, with the love of my life– even if I wasn’t hers– I would do that, wouldn’t I?

  And then would that be fair to her?

  “It’s about six blocks south on this main road,” the bartender tells me. I pull out the keys to my rental car and begin to walk off. “Did you want to close out your tab?” he calls out after me.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. Yeah...” I shake my head in an attempt to clear it.

  “Why don’t you get a bite to eat first?” he suggests. “Maybe offset some of those drinks...”

  I laugh quietly to myself, recognizing that I’ve had too much to drink and am not likely making good decisions. Getting on the road would not be a good decision. It would be the absolute worst.

  “Sure,” I tell him, sitting back down. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. The burgers are good here.”

  “Sounds fine,” I say, uncaring. “And some water, please.”

  The things I would do for her; had done for her. The sacrifices I was willing to make, all for her. Ending up with Emi was always the only thing that mattered to me.

  I rub my forehead, feeling the headache coming on already. I’d been drinking since we took off from JFK. I’d only had two drinks on the plane, but made up for lost time in this bar. I would be hurting tomorrow, for sure... just not sure if it would be the headache or heartache that would hurt me more.