"I know. You cured me, right?" my voice was heavy with sarcasm.
"Emma, your fear was never heights." I scrunched my eyes, not following. "What were you thinking when you were looking down at the water. What was going through your head?"
"That there was no way I was going to jump."
Jonathan chuckled. "Besides that."
"That I was going to―" I stopped. He saw it in my eyes as the unspoken words caused my heart to falter.
"Emma, what are you afraid of?" Jonathan asked again, studying my face.
"I'm afraid of dying," I breathed, hearing it out loud made my chest hurt and my eyes sting with tears. I blinked them away. Jonathan pressed his lips together and bowed his head.
The falls crashing into the pool in the distance filled the silence. Neither of us said a word. We both knew where this fear stemmed from, and I wasn't convinced there was anything that could be done about it. She was never going to let me feel safe again, even if she couldn't reach out and kill me.
33. Consequences
"Would you like a cherry on that?" the girl asked in a low flirtatious voice.
"No, that's okay," Jonathan answered, not fazed by her ogling.
I stifled a laugh as I sat on top of the picnic table with my feet on the bench, watching the entire transaction. Jonathan returned with the two sundaes in his hands, and I could hear giggling behind him. Two of the girls working the ice cream stand couldn’t keep their eyes off him, whispering and laughing as he walked away.
"You have a fan club," I teased, taking the sundae he offered to me. "They must recognize you from the ads."
"Funny," Jonathan returned with a sideways glance as he sat on the bench beside me.
"Or maybe they think you wet yourself," I laughed, nodding toward his jeans where his wet boxers seeped through.
He smirked. "That's probably it. You know you're going to leave a wet ass mark on the table when you get up, right?"
I leaned to the side to reveal the dark wood mark under my damp jeans. "Oh well."
"What time do you have practice today?" Jonathan asked before spooning in a mouthful of ice cream.
"Three-thirty," I told him after pulling the spoon out of my mouth.
"We'll head back after this."
It was the first time I'd thought about returning to Weslyn, and a swell of nerves enveloped me. I should've at least texted Evan before I left. My phone was in my car, so that wasn't possible now.
"Are you worried?" he asked, reading my tense expression.
"I have some explaining to do," I sighed.
"With Rachel? She won't even be home."
"No. With Evan," I explained glumly. "He's probably been freaking out all day since I didn't show up at school."
"Oh," Jonathan pursed his lips and nodded. "What are you going to say?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "The truth I guess."
"And he'll be okay with that? That you spent the day with me?" Jonathan appeared shocked.
"Why wouldn't he?" I responded, not at all concerned. "He trusts me, and it's not like you and I have a history or anything. I mean, we're... friends."
"Yeah," Jonathan smirked. "You're right. I guess I probably wouldn't be as okay with it if I were him. But I don't trust very easily either."
His last sentence echoed through my head, and it all suddenly became clear. "You have a hard time getting close to people, don't you?"
"Yeah," Jonathan answered, contemplating my question, "I suppose I do. No one really gets me, and I guess I'm afraid―" He froze. I waited for him to say it, knowing it was on the tip of his tongue. His stunned eyes slowly turned to stone and his jaw tightened. He wasn't going to say it.
Jonathan stood up and tossed his sundae in the trash before striding toward the motorcycle parked on the far end of the lot.
"Jonathan!" I called after him, but he didn't slow down. I threw my ice cream away and ran after him. "Jonathan!"
I caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "Jonathan, stop."
"We should get you back so you're not late," he said dryly.
"Look at me," I coaxed, still holding his arm as he kept his back to me. "Come on, please."
He took a deep breath and turned toward me with his eyes to the ground.
"You can tell me," I comforted. "Jonathan, what is it? What are you afraid of?"
"You know what I'm afraid of," he countered defensively.
"Did you?" I questioned in return. "I mean before now, did you know that's what it was?"
Jonathan raised his eyes to meet mine. They were soft again, but edged with pain. He shook his head. I realized my hand was still on his arm and I slid it down to his hand and squeezed it gently. He looked down at the gesture and smiled faintly before I let go.
Instead of stopping at the bike like I thought he would, he continued to the wooden fence that lined the parking lot and leaned against the top beam.
"It makes sense," he murmured, resting his hands on the wood on either side of him. "I mean, I haven't been in a real relationship since Sadie, not until Rachel―and that wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. I mean, it was never supposed to be a relationship. That's probably why we couldn't stay together after she told me she loved me. I couldn't do it."
"You didn't love her?"
He shook his head, lowering his eyes.
"What happened with Sadie?" I inquired cautiously.
Jonathan didn't raise his head. "I proposed to her toward the end of our junior year at Penn State."
My heart skipped a beat, not expecting this revelation. "She said no?" I probed when he stalled for a moment.
"She said yes." His dark eyes rose to find mine. The sadness trapped in them captured my breath. "Two weeks later, I walked in on her and another guy."
I didn't know what to say. But it was all making sense, the reason he couldn't get close to any one, and his need for a simple and predictable life. He feared loving someone and being hurt again. It explained the impenetrable confident façade that kept him at a distance.
"I lost my mother and brother. Sadie was the only one who knew how much it destroyed me. And after what she did to me… I never let anyone else in. I've never trusted anyone to get that close. Well, except..." Then he looked at me, and my cheeks reddened. "I mean, it's different," he corrected quickly, "You and I have this weird connection, it's not like..." He didn't finish.
"Of course," I finished for him, nodding adamantly. "We get each other. That's all."
"Right," he agreed with a crooked smile. "Well, it looks like we are pretty pathetic after all. We spent a gorgeous day dwelling on unconquerable fears. You're never going to want to do something with me again."
"Sure I will," I laughed. "As long as you don't try to cure me again."
"Done," he smiled in return. "Wait. Will the school call Rachel about where you were today? I don't want to make things worse for you with her. I know how she can be."
"I can handle her," I told him. "She's kind of avoiding me right now anyway."
"Why do you put up with it? I have to be honest, I don't really understand your relationship."
"Neither do I," I answered truthfully.
"Emma, has she ever said anything nice to you, you know, like she's proud of you or that she loves you for that matter?"
"I don't want to talk about her," I muttered, picking up the helmet. I was still confounded by all that I'd learned in the past twenty-four hours, and I preferred not to think about her until I had to. "We should get going so I'm not late for practice."
Jonathan nodded and picked up his helmet.
The closer we got to Weslyn, the harder it was to push away the questions that my mother had left unanswered. I still didn't understand what she meant when she said she didn't leave me with Carol and George. I was always told, and thought I remembered, that she shoved all of my things in a black garbage bag and dropped me off on their doorstep in the middle of the night. If she didn't do it, who did? And why didn't she come back for me?
That triggered Jonathan's question―did she ever tell me she loved me? It should've been easy enough to remember, being told I was loved, especially by my own mother. Mothers told their kids how much they loved them all the time. Even Carol would gush over Leyla and Jack with affection, letting them know they were loved.
I may have had a hard time recalling my childhood, but I always knew my father loved me. I never doubted that for a second of my life. But did my mother?
By the time we arrived on Decatur Street, I couldn't think of anything else. Thoughts of who my mother was in my life and why I was trying to build any sort of relationship with her, swirled in my head. I knew my efforts were driven by guilt. I didn't understand why she was set on trying.
Jonathan slowed drastically right before the house, causing me to look up. Rachel's car was in the driveway. My chest spasmed in panic.
Jonathan pulled to the sidewalk and stopped for me to climb off. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he offered as I took off my helmet. "Do you want me to come in with you?"
"No," I replied, hoping she wasn't looking in our direction. "That will just make it worse. You should go."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"I told you, I can handle her," I stated calmly, despite the churning that was devouring my insides. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I'd soon find out. I stepped back and watched him pull away. Then I took a deep breath and walked toward the house.
Rachel was sitting on a chair on the porch, and when I got closer, she stood and waited for me.
"Where have you been?! Who was that on the bike? Why didn't you call us? Do you have any idea what we've been going through all day?!" she accosted, her voice elevated with her hands on her hips.
I slowly climbed the steps and gathered myself to try to explain, hoping she'd understand why I needed to get away for the day. I clasped my hands in front of me and looked from the boards up to her reddened face and opened my mouth to speak...
Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. "Omigod, you were with him! That was Jonathan, wasn't it? I was right. There is something going on, isn't there? How could you do this to me? Do you even care about me?"
I pulled my brows together in astounded disbelief. I took long drawn breaths to control the fire erupting inside of me.
"It's none of your business where I've been all day, or who I was with," I snapped, causing her to pull her head back in shock.
"What are you talking about?" Rachel countered. "Of course it's my business. I'm your mother."
"No you're not," I scoffed, feeling the tendons along my neck tighten. "You never have been. Don't think you can be now."
"Why are you talking to me like this? What did he say to you?"
"This has nothing to do with Jonathan. This is about you. It's always been about you―what you want, how you feel, who you want to be with. Have you ever once thought about me and what I'm going through? Do you care?"
Rachel's mouth opened in shock.
"Do you ever consider what I go through every time you drink too much, or disappear to a bar to come home whenever you want with whomever you want?"
She stumbled back at my attack. The angry fire spread through my veins, consuming me. I remained unaffected by the stunned look on her face or the tears forming in her eyes. My voice grew louder. I was blinded with fury, and I couldn't hold back even if I tried.
"You've never thought about anyone other than yourself my entire life! Do you even love me? You probably never wanted me. That's why you left me with them. Do you have any idea what she did to me? Do ever think about it? But that would mean you'd actually have to stop thinking of yourself for one minute!"
I took a step toward her and she shrunk beneath me. The fear in her eyes fueled my rage. My hands shook as I clenched my teeth. I was unable to reel myself back in.
My entire body was engulfed in flames when I yelled, “I don't understand why I'm here! You're not a mother, you never have been. I don't need you.
"Besides, you're too consumed with my father's death to care about anyone else. Why do you keep obsessing over a man who never loved you?"
The sound was loud, and the sting was hot on my cheek. My head rocked to the side with the force of her hand. I slowly lifted my head and stared at her, snapped out of my spiraling rage. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked like she was about to collapse.
My entire body trembled. I hadn’t realized I'd been crying, but the corners of my eyes were raw from the flow of tears.
"Emma?" I heard behind me and spun around. Evan was coming up the walkway. "What's going on?" He looked more distraught than I'd anticipated. As he got closer and saw the red mark on my face and our stunned expressions, the worry turned to anger. "What happened? Did you hit her?" He glared at Rachel who was still too shocked to speak.
I wiped my cheeks and faltered down the steps. "I have to go."
"What?" he questioned in disbelief. "Emma, where have you been all day? Why didn't you call me? What just happened here?"
"I didn't have my phone, and I'm so sorry," my voice was shaky, the repercussions of my brutality starting to settle in. "I have to get to practice."
"Really? You don't look like you should be driving anywhere. You need to talk to me."
I stopped and took a breath. My eyes pleaded for him to understand. "I will, I promise, but I can't right now. I have to go. Don't you have a game?"
"Yeah, but―"
"Evan, go to your game. I can't right now. I'm going to be late for practice." My hands shook uncontrollably. I glanced up at the porch, but she was gone. "I'm staying at Sara's this weekend. Come over tonight, okay?"
I started to walk away, but he rushed up and blocked my path. "I can't let you leave like this. What happened?"
"We got in an argument," I explained, swallowing hard to keep the guilt at bay. I didn't want to think about it. I might crumple right there on the driveway. "Please. Please, let me go to practice. You can follow me there if you don't trust me."
His eyes narrowed. "What?" he questioned angrily. "Emma, this has nothing to do with trust. I was worried about you. You've been more withdrawn lately, and yesterday you start questioning whether you should exist or not. I was afraid something happened to you today. That you..." He couldn't finish. The pain on his face captured his words.
I bit my quivering lip and closed my eyes. "I am so sorry," I muttered softly. "I can't believe I did this to you. I just needed to get away for the day, to figure things out. I should have called you. I'm so, so sorry, Evan." I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him against me. But I was afraid to reach for him, because it would've destroyed me if he pulled away.
"Okay," he said to himself, nodding, not making any move toward me. "Okay," he repeated, looking me in the eye, nodding again like he was trying to accept my words and figure out what to do next. "Go to practice. I'll see you at Sara's tonight." He turned around and strode toward his car without another word, and without touching me.
I continued to my car, shutting everything off. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I just needed to get away from this, and I knew practice would distract me long enough to calm me down.
I backed out of the driveway before Evan was in his car. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see him standing by his door, watching me drive away.
I swiped at the tears and wrapped my fingers tightly around the steering wheel. This was my fault. This was all my fault. And now I had two hours to figure out how to fix it.
34. Confessions
"Emma, what the hell is going on?!" Sara demanded fervently from the other end of the phone. "What happened to you today?"
I sat in my car coated in sweat, having pushed it to the extreme during practice―to distract and punish myself. I emerged prepared to make amends.
"I know, I was completely stupid today," I responded with a heavy breath. "And now everyone's angry
with me. I just got out of practice and will be over after I pick up clothes for the weekend. I promise I'll tell you everything, okay?"
"Yes, you will," she stated firmly, letting me know that she expected the extended version of the story. "I'll see you in a little while then."
I hung up and found a text waiting from Jonathan, You okay?
I have some major damage to fix, I answered.
I pulled out of the lot and headed to the house, not sure if Rachel would be home or not. I wanted to prepare myself either way, unsettled by both scenarios.
My phone beeped while I was driving. I glanced over at it to find, It was my fault. I can try to explain if you want. I am really so sorry Emma. Mad?
When I pulled into the driveway, I responded with, I knew what I was doing, not your fault. Not mad, but need time to make things better. Talk soon.
Just as I was about to open the door, my phone chimed again. My heartbeat picked up when I placed the phone to my ear, "Hi."
"Hi," Evan said so quietly I could barely hear him.
"I'm at the house picking up clothes for the weekend. I'll be at Sara's soon," I told him, my voice soft and cautious.
"I don't think I'm going to Sara's."
My heart twisted and I closed my eyes.
"Why?" I breathed.
"I think I need time away too," he explained in a quiet, even tone. My eyes filled. "Emma, I know you haven't been honest with me." A lump lodged in my throat. "I don't understand what's going on and why you can't tell me, but I know that you've been having problems with your mother. I knew when she called in the middle of the night at Sara's, and I saw how upset she was with you over that sweater. I saw what she did to you the night of her birthday, and I knew she was the reason you left Jill's party. And now this."
My breath shook as I listened to him, his insight crushing me.
"Emma, you're not letting me in... again. I can't... If I'm part of your life, then you can't keep shutting me out."
We were silent for a moment. Guilt strangled me, and I choked on every word that attempted to surface.
"I'll be back next Saturday. We'll talk then."