Lost and Found: Book One of the Emi Lost & Found Series

  I knock on her door a little before seven, and she answers in a stunning turquoise dress that compliments her mocha skin. Her hair is pulled back. She looks perfect. We kiss briefly as she welcomes me into the apartment.

  “How was your day?” I ask her.

  “It’s better now that you’re here,” she says. “It was a rough day. I met a new client… his story just broke my heart.” I look at her, the corners of her lips turned down. I walk over to her and hug her.

  “What’s in your pocket?” she asks, feeling something pressing against her waist.

  “Oh, just a little something,” I shrug.

  “What?” she smiles.

  “Maybe a couple little somethings… to make your day better… ” I pull the box out of my pocket and hand it to her. She unwraps it, carefully untying the bow and removing the paper without tearing it. I open the small velvet box, and the diamonds sparkle in the light.

  “Nathaniel,” she says, “they’re beautiful! Can I put them on?”

  “Please do,” I smile, glad to see her cute dimples and her eyes light up. I feel a little better, knowing I’ve made someone happy today.

  “Is there an occasion for these?”

  “Well,” I say, kissing her, “I got some good news today.”

  I tell her about the opportunity, and she says she’s happy for me. She’s a little apprehensive about me going to LA and Las Vegas, not thrilled that we’ll be apart for so long, but she’s supportive of the job. I tell her I’m sure I can fly her out for a weekend, if she wants to get away. That seems to make her happier.

  “Listen, Kiersten,” I start. “I just want to let you know that I, uh, stopped by Emi’s today… to tell her about the job. I didn’t want you to think I was hiding anything from you… I hope that’s okay.”

  She stands in the kitchen, looking at her feet.

  “Kiers–”

  “No,” she says, cutting me off. “What are these, really?” she asks, touching her earlobes. “Is this guilt?”

  “Absolutely not,” I tell her, shaking my head.

  “I asked you not to see her,” she reminds me. “This is just not okay… ”

  “Come on, Kiersten. This was big news… she’s supported my career from day one. I had to share it with her.”

  “You went behind my back and saw the one woman I asked you not to see!”

  “Why are you so threatened by her?” I ask, somewhat appalled by her tone, trying one last time to talk some sense into her… to get her to allow me to talk to my best friend again. I can’t forget the look on Emi’s face, and it’s tearing me up inside. “I haven’t seen her in months! There is nothing going on between us.”

  “We’ve been over this, Nate, I don’t want to have to explain this again. It’s me or her!”

  When she puts it like that, it just seems completely unreasonable. “Kiersten, seriously… don’t give me ultimatums like this, please. Just trust me.”

  “No,” she says. “It’s got to be me or her.” My heart breaks as I listen to this even though it’s nothing new. I ignorantly thought she might reconsider. As she stands in the kitchen, I walk to her living room and sit down on the couch, my head in my hands.

  I don’t want to have to make this choice. Knowing Emi’s open to reconciling, I can’t cut her off completely, can I? Even though I made the promise to Kiersten to try, I never actually believed I’d keep it up– especially after Emi and I had started to talk again. I just figured it would be until she built up some trust in me. She’s had a month to do that. The ultimatum makes it quite clear that this is going to be a more permanent decision.

  She walks into her room and closes the door. After about fifteen minutes, she comes out, dressed in some plaid cotton pants and a t-shirt. My eyes follow her as she goes back to the kitchen and grabs a soda. She sits down at her dining room table and takes out a file folder, begins to read, avoiding any eye-contact with me.

  I go back to considering putting Emi in that “friend” category. It was getting easier every day, until I saw her today. Now, though, Kiersten is demanding that I demote her even further. Will I be able to do it? Do I like Kiersten enough? If I consider that I’ll never have a chance with Emi, why would I want to continue to torture myself by talking to her, seeing her, even? I either make this commitment to Kiersten, which I think I’m ready to make, or I destroy a pretty good relationship for a woman I can never have.

  If I was ever going to make the break from Em, this was the time. Work would keep me consumed for months. It would be a plausible excuse, for sure. Maybe we would just naturally drift apart. It may be good for me to have some time away from her. Maybe the time apart would be good for her, too. Make her find someone else to rely on. The thought of her finding someone else nearly makes me sick to my stomach. But it is selfish of me, isn’t it? She should find someone else. Someone that she could love, who could give her what she wanted. I am clearly not that person for her.

  I sigh heavily. This is very likely the toughest decision I’ve ever been forced to make.

  “Kiersten,” I begin. She closes her work, which she obviously wasn’t able to focus on anyway. “I actually did talk to her today about our situation. I told her that I needed some time away from her. I want to make this work between us, okay?”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  We don’t make love that night. She sleeps peacefully as I recount the many memories of Emi… and ponder the thought that there may never be any more. I don’t sleep at all.

  ~ * ~

  A week and a half goes by quickly as I ready myself for the temporary move. At Kiersten’s one night, my phone vibrates in my pocket while she’s making dinner. Emi. Inside, I smile, am excited to see that she’s calling me, but I can’t answer. I decline the call and put the phone back in my pocket. No less than fifteen seconds later, it vibrates another time. Discreetly, I pull it out and look at the caller ID again. Emi. I decline the call once more. We go through this one more time before I decide it must be something urgent.

  “I left something in my car,” I tell Kiersten, grabbing my keys and kissing her on the way out. “I’ll be right back.” I hurry down the stairs and make my way outside her building where the reception is better.

  “Em, what’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Oh, hey, Nate,” she says cheerily.

  “Hi. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” she answers.

  “Emi, what did you need?”

  “Oh, right,” she says, her tone now serious. “Did you know you left one of your sketchbooks over here?”

  “When?” I ask, not remembering ever taking one to her place.

  “Well, I guess technically I borrowed it one night a few months ago, but nevertheless, I have it. You probably want it back.”

  “I’ve got plenty others,” I answer. “How are you?” I ask after a few moments of silence pass.

  “Fine,” she tells me.

  “Good,” I respond, feeling she’s not, but trying to stay as detached as possible. “I have to go, Em, okay?”

  “So you don’t want to come get it?”

  “No, keep it,” I encourage her. “I wasn’t missing it.”

  “Okay,” she sighs. “Did you see that mixed-media exhibit we were interested in seeing is coming to the Filmont Gallery next week?”

  “No, I didn’t, Emi. I really do have to go.”

  “Alright,” she says, disappointed. “Bye, Nate.”

  “Bye.”

  ~ * ~

  The following weekend, I get a few more calls from Emi. She doesn’t leave any messages, though, and not a single text. I eventually turn my phone off since Kiersten and I are spending the weekend at my apartment. On Sunday afternoon, while Kiersten is knee-deep in a case, I decide to test out a new painting technique I had been working on in the spare bedroom.

  “Hey, baby?” Kiersten says from the doorway.

  I turn down the music, still staring at the canvas. “Yeah?” r />
  “Someone’s here to see you.” I quickly spin around to see Emi standing a few feet behind Kiersten, waving at me.

  “Emi,” I say surprised, glancing immediately back at Kiersten. She glares at me angrily. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought your sketchbook back,” she says pertly.

  “Em, I told you the other day I didn’t need it.” I set down my brush and walk past both of them to the kitchen sink to rinse off. “God, um, Kiersten, this is Emi. Emi, Kiersten.”

  “Yes, we just met,” my girlfriend informs me coldly, crossing her arms in front of her chest as I dry my hands.

  “When did you tell me you didn’t need the sketchbook? I thought you said you did,” Emi says. She scratches her head.

  “No, when I called you back I told you I didn’t need it,” I blurt out, catching myself one second too late.

  “You called her?” Kiersten asks.

  Emi answers “yes” at the same time I respond “no.” Fuck. “She called me last week, I thought something was wrong.”

  “So that’s a ‘yes,’ then, isn’t it Nathaniel?”

  “Nathaniel?” Emi says in a mocking tone.

  “Emi, cut it out.” I want to argue with Kiersten, but realize it’s pointless.

  “I thought we had an agreement,” my girlfriend adds to me.

  “Yes, we did,” I tell her. “We do.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emi interrupts as she sets the sketchbook down on the island. “Have I done something to offend you or something, Kiersten?”

  “Em… ” I warn her. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into.

  “Actually, yes,” she raises her voice. “You are in my boyfriend’s home, and there is not room for both of us in this apartment.”

  “Wow, okay,” Emi says, unfazed. “Even if I stand over here?” she taunts Kiersten by stumbling into the living room, close to the television. Her inability to stand still in one place lets me know she’s been drinking. A lot.

  “Emi! What are you doing?” I ask her, biting back a smile. She moves about ten feet in the direction of my bed.

  “Is this far enough?” As Kiersten’s glare follows Emi around the loft, Emi makes eye contact with me. I can tell she’s not going to make this easy.

  “This is who your best friend is?” Kiersten asks. “This is who you were fighting for?”

  “You fought for me, Nate?” she asks, stunned. “Really?”

  Kiersten whips her head around to me. “He lost,” she says.

  “Emi, we talked about this,” I say to her, recognizing the severity in my girlfriend’s voice. She is not finding this funny at all. “Kiersten and I… um… ”

  “Kiersten and I do not want you here,” Kiersten says. “I believe that’s what he is trying to say.”

  “Are you, Nate?” Emi asks. Her eyes plead with me. Kiersten’s shoot daggers.

  “Yeah, come on, Em.” I walk over to her and take her gently by the arm to lead her out.

  “Don’t do this,” she whispers to me.

  “Emi, please.” She yanks her arm away from my grasp.

  “I have a few things here I’d like back,” she says as her eyes begin to water, her cheeks flush bright red. Kiersten begins to gather her things from the table. I can tell it’s going to be one or the other… possibly both.

  “Come on, Em,” I say, getting frustrated with her. “Kiersten, please, stop. I didn’t invite her here, I swear. She’s leaving. Right, Emi? You’re leaving.”

  “Right, Nate. Right-o.” She pulls open my desk drawer and takes out a few of her swatch books, slamming it shut once she’s retrieved her items. Next, she goes to the closet and pulls out a black concert t-shirt.

  “That one’s mine,” I argue.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, yours is the red one. That one.” I walk her back over to the closet and pull out her shirt, hold it out to show her the design. “You got it because of the illustration, remember? It reminded you of that street artist we met at Union Station. Remember?” I grasp at the thin threads that still hold us together at this very moment, just waiting for them to snap. This is just like a break-up… I fucking hate this.

  “I remember,” she whispers through tears, walking away and throwing the black shirt back at me. On her way out, she stops at an end table and looks at a small framed painting.

  “Emi,” I stop her, see her mind calculating.

  “That’s Clara’s,” she argues, picking it up.

  “We did that together,” I tell her about the finger-painting her niece and I had created one afternoon when Emi was babysitting. “She gave it to me for my birthday last year, Emi. She even scrawled my name on it.”

  “Trust me, she wouldn’t want her Nate-Nate to have it now.” She grabs it and tucks it into her bag, throwing open the door. “Who the fuck are you?” she spits the words at me.

  I follow her into the hallway.

  “You know what, Kirstie, Kristin, whatever your name is,” Emi says, turning on her heels and yelling back into the loft. “I don’t know what you’ve done with my best friend, but this guy? Nathaniel? Fine. Take him.”

  “Stop it,” I say to her quietly.

  “Who are you? And where is the Nate I know?” she screams loudly in frustration, literally stomping her feet. “The Nate I know wouldn’t let some woman tell him how it was gonna be. He wouldn’t kick his best friend of twelve and a half years out of his apartment!” She puts an emphasis on the word “kick” by kicking the doorjamb, scuffing it with her boot.

  “You,” she says, pointing at my girlfriend. “You have ruined a perfectly good guy. Congratulations. Take your prize. You win.”

  “You’re being a real bitch,” I mumble to her as she starts to walk away, having a difficult time understanding her behavior– and an even worse time believing that I just called her that.

  “I’m sorry, you’re whose bitch?” she retorts, squaring off against me in the middle of the hallway. Neither of us move, her eyes challenging mine; mine, hers. Finally, boiling over with anger, I go back into the loft and slam the door shut.

  “Fuck!” I yell loudly, throwing the t-shirt on the floor as I navigate my way through the apartment to the window. I watch until I see her leave the building. She struggles to wipe the tears from her eyes as she carries all of her belongings. Marcus follows her, is seemingly trying to talk to her, but she just walks quickly away from him, around the corner, out of my life.

  Is this really what I want?

  “Sometimes we have to give up things that aren’t good for us,” Kiersten says calmly, putting her hands on my shoulders and kneading softly. Emi is bad for you, Nate, because you want her and you can never have her. Move on. It’s for the best.

  “Yeah, I know.” I hope I’m convincing to her; I’m not so sure I’m convincing myself.

  “Thank you,” she adds, putting her arms around me. I turn around and take her into my arms, kiss her, hope that I will soon feel better about this decision.

  At night, she does everything in her power to keep my mind off of anything but her… and it works, if only temporarily. Thankfully.

  ~ * ~

  Over the next week, I continue my research at the apartment. I’ve done some sketches and feel like I have a pretty good grasp on what I want to do with the LA club. Once I get there, I’ll know for sure if it’s going to work. I have packed about half of my things. My supplies are boxed up and ready to be shipped. I decide that I’ll do the painting in Los Angeles. Shipping costs for a large piece of art would be outrageous, and the worry that I would have to live with while waiting for it to cross the country in the back of a semi is too much for me to bear.

  Of course, the more time I spend in LA, the harder it will be on Kiersten and me. I promise to fly her out once, if not more often. I know it’s going to be a challenge. I’ve never been in a long-distance relationship. I’ll miss the intimacy, for sure. We have become very close. Ever since the day Emi came by the apartment, Ki
ersten and I have spent every night together. It’s been nice because I haven’t had a free moment to think about Emi.

  That will all change when I get to LA, though, and don’t have the constant distraction of Kiersten’s mocha skin, her amber eyes, her firm stomach, her breasts… and her lips… her mind-numbing lips. God, how I’m going to miss her touch. She’ll definitely have to visit more than once.

  In my rush to leave New York, I’m having to multi-task as much as possible, and tonight, I’m breaking a rule. I’m taking my mother out to dinner so we can say our good-bye before my trek across country. Kiersten will be joining us. I want to spend as much time with her as possible, and I figure, since I’ve made the decision to be with her, I might as well introduce them this evening. I’m not really even nervous. I know Mom will like Kiersten. She’s smart, classy… confident. Everything she would want for me.

  Kiersten, on the other hand, is terrified. I pick her up at seven-thirty, and she seems to be completely out-of-sorts.

  “Calm down,” I laugh easily. “She’s harmless. She’s gonna like you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do,” I remind her. “You look stunning.” Her diamond earrings sparkle in the light. She sighs and remains quiet as we drive to Mom’s favorite French restaurant. When we arrive, I massage her tense shoulders as she walks in front of me into the restaurant. “You’re going to be fine.”

  Mom is already seated and waves at us to join her at her table. She stands up to hug me first, then my beautiful date. It’s an awkward hug. Kiersten is completely stiff, feigning a smile, completely not like the woman I know. I kiss her neck and whisper in her ear, “Breathe. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Kiersten, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” my mother says, completely overjoyed that I’ve brought a woman to meet her. She couldn’t be more welcoming, more accepting.

  “Thank you,” she answers. “You, too.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

  “So, Nathan tells me you’re a lawyer?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kiersten says. Silence spreads out before us.