The Emi Lost & Found Series

  “What time is it?” I whisper to her.

  “Two-thirty,” she answers in a hushed voice.

  “Are you just now coming to bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were you up so late?” I put my hand on her bare knee, and trace my fingers up her leg.

  “Your brothers and Renee took me dancing.” Steven dancing... this doesn’t make sense.

  “What are you wearing?” I ask, wondering if I’m still asleep, dreaming.

  “Nothing,” she says coyly. Her answer awakens me, and I turn over to face her. “How are you?” she asks.

  “Not bad,” I answer, feeling only a lingering, dull headache. “Pretty good, actually. You smell good.” I inhale deeply, taking in her clean scent. I run my fingers through her wet hair. “Did you just take a shower?”

  “I did.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her.

  “You can’t even see me. You haven’t even opened your eyes.”

  “I don’t have to see you to know that.” I move my hand to her mouth, feeling her smile. She kisses it, then takes one of my fingers and closes her lips around it. “I can feel you,” I add as my other hand travels the length of her naked body, goosebumps rising on her skin along the way. She begins to unbutton the dress shirt I never took off.

  “Have you been sleeping all this time?” she asks. “I kept thinking you’d call me, wondering where I was.”

  “I guess I was. I didn’t sleep at all last night... did you have fun tonight? Did you really go dancing?”

  “We had a blast... It was Matty’s idea... Renee and I had to twist Steven’s arm to go, but he finally gave in. We went to Ghost Bar. Matthew was my date, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “Your date, huh?” I gently massage her breast, my eyelids still heavy with sleep, my body feeling as if it’s on auto-pilot, just doing what it wants to do– has to do– when she is with me. “I’m a little jealous, I think.”

  “Well, you kiss better, if that means anything,” she says. My eyes open wide, and I can barely make out the smug look on her face as my vision adjusts to the darkness of the room.

  “I kiss better?” I ask. “My brother kissed you?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she says nonchalantly.

  “My gay brother... kissed... you?” Maybe I’m not awake.

  “Yep,” she says again.

  “Tell me how he kissed you.”

  “Well, we were out on the balcony, overlooking the city, and there was this awesome breeze, and this driving beat coming from the dance floor inside... and I said, ‘This is just one of those moments when you want to kiss someone, you know?’ And before I knew it, he kissed me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” She stops me as I try to roll over onto my back, struggling to understand what’s going on.

  “Am I really awake? Are you really here?”

  “You are touching me... you wouldn’t be able to do that if I wasn’t here. And I wouldn’t be able to do this to you,” she says, her right hand finding its way down the front of my boxers. I stop her hand, wanting the rest of the story before I allow my desire for her to take over.

  “Wait... now, show me how he kissed you...”

  “You really want to know?”

  “You said I was better...”

  “You are... alright, I’ll show you. You be me. I’m Matty. Just lie there.” I start laughing at her request.

  “Just lie here? I guess I’m not too worried.”

  “Shhhh... okay, so say my line,” she says excitedly.

  “What?”

  “Say what I said...”

  “Ummm... it’s... something like, ‘hey, it’s pretty out here. I need to be kissed.’” Immediately she presses her lips to mine and holds them there for a few seconds before making a smacking sound as she pulls away.

  “You’re marginally better than that,” she teases me playfully.

  “So he didn’t kiss you like this?” I hold her head in my hand as I brush her lips lightly first, then kiss her deeper. My other hand pressed to her breast, I can feel her heart rate rising, quickly.

  “No,” she says, breathless.

  “What about this?” I ask, my tongue parting her lips and tasting her breath on mine.

  “God, no,” she says with a gasp.

  “And he didn’t do this, did he?” My hand travels down her body, in between her legs, feeling her reaction to my touch, her response setting off sparks in every part of my body. I pull my hand away quickly to shrug out of my shirts, wanting to feel her warm skin against mine.

  She moans quietly. “I’m not sure, can you do that again?” Her good hand grips at my boxer shorts and pushes them down. I pull them the rest of the way, kicking them off.

  “He better not have,” I warn humorously as I lift her leg, draping it over my body, and touching her again, slowly, methodically. Her breathing comes faster. “Come here,” I whisper, pulling her closer. Her hard cast bumps my elbow, the nerve endings shooting fire up my arm.

  “This thing gets in the way,” she whispers apologetically, waving her bandaged arm.

  “Here...” I tell her, pushing her back into the bed, setting her arm gently by her side and settling my body in between her smooth legs. “Just lie there.” We laugh together at her earlier command to me. “I’ll take it from here.”

  I wake up before Emi the next morning feeling great, refreshed, not hungover at all. Quietly, I take a shower and get ready. I leave a note for Emi on the nightstand before taking her cell phone and heading out to run a few errands.

  She is ready by the time I return two hours later.

  “I was just about to call you to see if you could bring me something to eat...” she says when I walk in.

  “Well... I got you some breakfast,” I tell her, handing her a container of fruit that I picked up from a local market.

  “Perfect, thank you,” she smiles as she sits, cross-legged, on the unmade bed.

  “Water or Diet soda?” I ask, offering her either.

  “Diet soda,” she says after biting off a piece of a strawberry. She holds the rest of it, feeding me the fruit.

  “Thank you,” I say, kissing her.

  “Thank you. Where’d you go?”

  “The market, obviously... and I got a cell phone so I can check the seven messages that have been left for me. I’ve already read the twenty-eight texts...”

  “Sorry,” she says as her cheeks turn pink. “You don’t have to listen to the voicemails.”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t wait. Your texts were incredible. I’m never deleting them.” She rolls her eyes.

  “And I got some wine for Steven and Renee... and I got you this.” I throw the ubiquitous turquoise box in front of her.

  “Seriously?” she says.

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Tiffany’s is never nothing,” she argues.

  “Will you just open it, or do I have to do it for you?” She drops her fork and grabs the box, carefully pulling on the ribbon and lifting the lid. She pulls out the silver chain and studies the pendants, a silver “e” charm partnered with a gold open heart charm.

  “You have my heart, Em,” I tell her.

  “You are far too good for me. I don’t deserve any of this.”

  “Yes, you do, Emi... but I thought you could just put those charms aside and put this on the chain for now...” I pull the engagement ring out of my pocket and hold it out for her. “You know, if you still want to go through with this...”

  “Oh, Jack,” she smiles, crawling off the bed to claim her ring.

  “I’d really like you to wear it.”

  “I want to wear it. I will wear it!” She fumbles with the necklace, but can’t open it with her hand in the cast. She hands it to me, watches me unclasp the chain and pull the other charms off of it, replacing them with her ring. I place the other pendants in the box and tie it back up. “Can I put it on you?”

  “Of course.?
?? She pulls up her hair and turns around as I fasten it around her neck, kissing the clasp as I set it down.

  “I love you,” I whisper in her ear. She abruptly turns around to kiss me.

  “I love you.” She smiles, wide. “More than anything.”

  “Alright, finish your breakfast so we can go over to Stevie’s.”

  “I’ll take it with me, let’s go,” she says as she grabs her purse, fruit and soda. “Remember, act surprised.”

  “I’ve already called them,” I tell her. “They know I know.”

  “But they made me promise...”

  “Emi, they’re just happy we’re together and not fighting. They don’t care that I know.”

  She pouts briefly, then shrugs and follows me out the door.

  As soon as we enter Steven’s house, Emi finds Renee and pulls her off to the side, whispering something in her ear. My parents embrace me, holding on a little longer than necessary. My mother’s eyes greet me with sympathy. I just kiss her on the cheek and smile.

  “Jackson, honey, we’re so sorry,” she says quietly so no one else can hear.

  “Don’t be, Mom,” I tell her. “We’re here to figure all that out, and we’re fine. It’ll all work out fine. Just trust that.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

  “I couldn’t be better. Emi and I are getting married, and that’s all I need. Anything beyond that is just icing on the cake. I’m just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” She nods. “If anything, congratulations are in order.”

  “Jacks!” Matty and Steven call out to me in unison, rescuing me from the unnecessary sorrow my mother feels the need to convey. “We’re going golfing, tee time’s in an hour,” Steven says. “Let’s go, men.” I glance briefly at Emi.

  “Shopping,” she states, still huddled in secrecy with Renee. “I need to get some things, so Renee’s going to take me and your mom to the mall. Go golf your heart out.”

  “Is this the surprise party?” I ask.

  “Party’s tonight, honey,” my mom says. “We’re just going out to dinner... reservations are at eight.”

  “Alright, then,” I say, walking toward Emi. “Kiss for luck?”

  She holds on tightly to my shirt, pulls me to her and kisses me softly. “I don’t need luck for shopping,” she smiles.

  “Of course not. Do you need any money?” I whisper in her ear.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “I make my own, remember.”

  “I was just offering,” I tell her, throwing my hands up. “Have fun today.”

  “You, too.”

  “So,” Steven begins as we walk leisurely on the fairway, “what the hell happened yesterday?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “Fuck you, Jacks, don’t lie,” Matty says.

  “Matthew,” my father lectures as he walks past us to the tee. “Language, please.” My brother rolls his eyes.

  “Very mature, Matty,” I add. He backhands my arm. “It was a little misunderstanding, that’s it. Everything’s fine.”

  “Were you drunk yesterday?” my younger brother asks.

  “I had a few drinks.”

  “Were you fighting?”

  “A little.”

  “She says you gave her an ultimatum... she was so upset when she missed her flight. She called Kelly in tears...”

  “Well, I was pretty upset she didn’t meet me at the airport, as well. I thought she chose not to, though. Hence the drinking...”

  “Jacks,” Matthew says. “She loves you more than anything. Every time she mentioned your name last night, her face just lit up.”

  “So she told you what the ultimatum was?” I ask him.

  “She told me,” Matty says as Steven walks to the next hole with my father. “She’s chatty when she drinks,” he laughs. “She understood why you were upset... and she felt bad for dragging her feet. But she loves you, and she wants you to marry her... soon...”

  “Good to know,” I smile. “I want the same thing. I just wish it were that easy.”

  “It is that easy. It’s gonna happen. And you’re going to need a best man,” my brother states.

  “I hope I will,” I laugh, musing over the options. I’d only considered this briefly before.

  “Is it Chris?”

  “It’s a toss-up,” I explain. “But in the end, man, it’s you. I would love for you to be my best man– if there’s a wedding.”

  “I thought we just established there would be.”

  “Sorry, you’re right. Of course we’ll get married.” Of course I can convince her that we can– and will– have children. “I mean a big wedding. I don’t know what we’ll do.”

  “Well, I’ll be there, big or small ceremony.”

  “Alright.”

  “And more than anything, I want to plan the bachelor party!”

  “Yeah, maybe you should get with Chris on that one...” I say with mocking unease, but truly a little uncomfortable with what my brother’s idea of fun might be.

  “You jackass,” he says, “a little trust here, okay?”

  “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, guys!” Steven yells. “Matty, you’re up!”

  “Coming!” he yells as he walks to the tee.

  Later that night, after dinner with my parents, brothers, and Renee, Emi is quiet as we walk toward the rental car.

  “So you’ve just always been this way?” she asks as soon as I close my door.

  “What way?”

  “What Matty said at dinner tonight...” I remember back to the toast my brother had made to me for my birthday... and for our engagement. My brothers had been telling stories about our youth.

  “Okay,” Matthew began, “so growing up, Jacks was always the good one. He never got into trouble, excelled in school and sports, and was always involved in the community.

  “Even with all of his activities, he always had time for Kelly, Stevie and me. Only two years separate us in age, but he was always years beyond me in wisdom. I don’t know how he got that way, but it’s just how he’s always been.

  “Jacks was the first person I came out to. We were actually on our way home from a double date. I had just graduated from high school, and we had seen ‘While You Were Sleeping’ with a few girls from Jacks’s school. After the movie, we stopped at a restaurant for dessert.

  “I’d known I was gay for years, was even teased about it on occasion, but high school is hard enough as a ‘straight’ kid. I wasn’t brave enough to live it as myself.

  “Anyway, after we dropped the girls off, my brother pulled over on the side of the road before taking me back home. He asked me if I had noticed what our waiter at the restaurant had been wearing. I listed everything, in explicit detail– the guy was hot, I’m not gonna lie– down to the brand of sunglasses he had peeking out of his shirt pocket. They were Oakleys, by the way. Jacks then simply said, ‘And what was your date wearing?’

  “I had no idea. I stammered around an answer... I couldn’t even get the color of her blouse right. He didn’t make me say it, though. He said the words for me. ‘So, you’re gay.’ It wasn’t a question. It was hardly a statement. He shrugged his shoulders and started the car, turning it around and taking me back to his apartment. We talked all night, came up with a game plan to tell Mom and Dad...

  “Anyway, long story short, the evening after I told my parents, Jacks came home with some laundry. I had called him an hour before, told him that it wasn’t going well. My parents were both in shock a little, didn’t really know what to say... So, our mom, being helpful as always and wanting a distraction from the heavy news, offered to wash his clothes for him.

  “All of a sudden we hear this screech from the laundry room: ‘Jack!’ she yelled to my father. ‘We have a bigger problem on our hands!’ She comes into the living room where we’re all sitting around watching TV and she throws down a baggie of pot on the coffee table.”

  My siblings
and parents were all giggling, having heard this story many times over the years.

  “‘That was in Jackson’s pants!’ she yelled, pointing to the drugs. Mom and Dad were so pissed!”

  “And Jacks just sat there and took it... owned up to it. I couldn’t count how many times they told him they were disappointed in him. And he apologized, acknowledged it was stupid, but strung them along, telling them it wasn’t hurting anyone...”

  Emi had looked at me, surprised and laughing. I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

  “That just made them more angry... and he carried on the charade for weeks. Over that time, my parents got more and more used to the idea of me being gay... realized it wasn’t a problem at all, was nothing compared to their good son’s drug use.

  “Of course, it was oregano,” Matty said. “But my point is... yes, there’s a point... that Jacks was always the one to protect us all. He would do anything for us, even if it meant tarnishing his own reputation to save ours. He is the most generous person I have ever met.

  “Emi,” he ended with a special message for her, his eyes warm, “you are the sweetest, most beautiful, most precious woman to walk into his life. He recognizes how fragile you are, and he thrives on taking care of people... so let him take care of you when you need him. Lean on him. Don’t ever be afraid to ask him for anything, because you give him purpose. You give him life.”

  I allow my thoughts to linger on his last statement before returning to her question. “What way?” I ask Emi again in the car.

  “Have you always been the one who does everything? Or do you take care of me because you think I’m fragile?”

  “I don’t think you’re fragile... maybe delicate is a better word?” I smile at her, run my thumb along her cheek.

  “Please watch the road,” she says to me, her voice concerned.

  “Of course,” I say, putting my hand back on the steering wheel and turning my eyes to the highway. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me. You know, I can take care of myself.”