"I guess I wasn't sure he'd understand," I confessed with a sigh.
"Like Jonathan does?" Sara finished the thought. I nodded. "Give him a chance."
My phone chimed. I looked at the screen and then to Sara with wide eyes.
"Who is it?"
"Rachel," I said, completely stunned. "Should I answer it?" Sara shrugged with a grimace of uncertainty. I missed the call.
She followed up with a text, Where are you?
I showed Sara the text. "She doesn't know you're staying with me?"
"I don't remember if I told her, or she may not remember. But why does she care?"
"I don't know," Sara answered, just as perplexed.
I decided to text back, At Sara's.
I left it at that, and she responded, OK. I shook my head in confusion.
“Okay, enough doom and gloom.” Sara stood up. “We’re going to check out prom dresses,” she declared with a vibrant smile. She observed the dread on my face. “Don't worry. He'll forgive you before prom. Come on. I'll make it fun.”
Sara pulled me from my seat. She excitedly led the way through store after store. She picked out the most obnoxious dresses and modeled them for me, determined to make me laugh. And I did. Exactly as she intended.
~~~~~
Sara jumped on the couch, attempting a split in the air while striking the electric guitar. I knelt on the ground, leaning back with the guitar raised above my head, letting the ear splitting sound reverberate through the amp. The song we were supposed to be playing along to blared over the speakers.
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention, and I turned to find Anna at the top of the stairs, screaming, "Emma!"
I stood and removed the guitar strap from around my neck. Sara noticed my change from rock star to worried girl before catching sight of her mom. She hopped down from the couch and shut off the amp and the music.
My ears were still ringing when Anna announced, "Your mom's on my phone." I froze mid-step. "She's worried about you. My phone's downstairs in my room."
I followed Anna downstairs, glancing back at Sara's concerned face before I disappeared. We entered Anna’s bedroom, where her suitcase lay open on her bed. She'd been interrupted from packing for the trip that she was leaving for in an hour. The cell phone was next to the suitcase.
Anna picked it up and said, "She's right here," to Rachel before handing it to me. She walked past me, closing the bedroom door behind her.
"Hi," I said cautiously.
"Emily?" Rachel confirmed in relief. "Are you okay? I didn't know you were staying all weekend. I haven't heard from you."
My brows crumpled in confusion. "What?"
"Did you tell me you were staying there?" she asked in her nervous rush. "Did I forget? I'm so sorry. I probably forgot."
"What's wrong with you?" I shot out. "Why are you all of a sudden worried about me?"
"Oh," she sighed, sounding disappointed. "Are you still mad at me? I'm so sorry I overreacted on Friday. I shouldn't have thought that you would ever do anything to hurt me. I was upset. Are you really mad?"
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it, completely speechless. Who was this woman? Even if she didn't remember what she’d said to me that night because she was so drunk, she had to have remembered what I said to her―how much I hurt her.
"Emily?" she called out to me.
"I'm here," I answered, devoid of emotion. "I'm staying here this week. It's vacation anyway, so... I'm staying here." I couldn't tell her I was moving out. I wanted to. I meant to. But I didn't.
"Okay." Her voice sounded strained. "Well, I guess I'll see you next week."
"Yeah," I breathed before I hung up, too confounded to say anything else.
"Well," Sara demanded when I appeared at the top of the stairs. I didn't acknowledge her, too baffled by what just happened. "Emma," she urged impatiently, "what did she want?"
"I have no idea," I murmured in a daze. I sat down on the couch next to Sara and told her what happened.
"So she doesn't remember?" Sara questioned skeptically. "I really doubt it, Em. I bet she wants you to think that so you'll move back in again."
"But why would she do that? She doesn't even want me." It didn't make sense, but I'd come to the same conclusion as Sara.
"I have no idea," Sara agreed. "Maybe you should talk to her."
"You mean I should break up with her," I corrected. "I can't believe I need to have the we're over talk with my own mother. How depressing is that?"
"She can't keep hurting you and using you like an emotional punching bag. It's messed up. How many times do you have to forgive her before she destroys you?"
I knew she was right. It was only a matter of time before she got drunk and did something devastating again. I just didn't understand why she kept pulling me back in, making me feel like she wanted me when, during her vodka-induced proclamation, she’d confessed that she wished I was never born.
"I'll come with you," Sara said from beside me. "I'm not going to let you do it alone."
~~~~~
Sara drove us to the house the next evening after my soccer game. I still hadn't figured out what I was going to say when we pulled in behind Rachel’s car.
"You don't have to come in," I told Sara as I slowly unbuckled the seatbelt, my heart beating so fast I couldn't think straight.
"Uh, no," Sara countered adamantly. "I'm coming in with you."
I took long even breaths as I approached the door, trying to remain calm. It was useless. I was a wreck. Sara stayed by my side and opened the screen door for me. The front door was locked, so I used my key to let us in.
We didn't make it very far into the foyer before we both stopped. The house was a disaster. Sara and I scanned from the kitchen to the living room speechlessly. Plastic red cups and glasses were abandoned on just about every surface. Bottles littered the floor, along with bowls of chips and empty boxes of pizza. The stench of stale beer and old pizza made our noses scrunch in disgust. It was ten times worse than Sara's house after the anti-Valentine's party.
"Looks like Rachel had a party," Sara observed, stepping carefully over the cluttered floor and into the living room. "Or two."
"What the hell?" I muttered in disbelief, wondering when this happened. I ran up the stairs, expecting to find her in rare, or not so rare, form in her bedroom―but it was empty. I turned to head back downstairs and my mouth dropped open. "No way."
My door was open and my bed was unmade. "Oh please, no," I shook my head. "I can't believe she let―" I was afraid to finish the sentence.
Sara appeared behind me. "We are so burning those sheets."
"It doesn't matter," I resigned with a heavy breath. "I can't live here anymore."
"Uh, of course not," Sara scolded. "When between the car and entering the house did you decide that you were going to do that?"
"I didn't," I fumbled. "I just―"
"Live in a world of denial," Sara finished sternly. "Em, look around and open your eyes. She's not going to change."
"I know," I breathed, the disappointment heavy in my voice. I sunk down on the top step and pressed my elbows into my knees. The little bit of hope I'd held on to after the conversation with Rachel yesterday had slipped away as soon as I’d opened the door.
"I'm sorry, Em." Sara sat next to me and leaned her shoulder against mine. "I don't mean to be so harsh. I just don't want you to get hurt anymore. She doesn't deserve you."
My eyes welled and I nodded. I knew this was it. We weren't fixable. The disappointment made my chest ache as I swallowed hard. Giving up went against my nature, having never done it before. I could faintly hear the hopeful thoughts forming, that maybe she could change. I pushed them away before they got too loud.
"Let's go," I finally declared, standing with Sara.
The front door opened, and Rachel appeared in the doorway, laughing, with her arm strung around the waist of a guy with blond hair and a large smile.
She looked up to see us. "Uh, I thought you were going to be away this week."
"I am," I said, moving past her with my shoulders pulled back―barely giving her a glance. "I'll be back next week to get my stuff."
"Emily!" she called after me from the porch. "What do you mean? Don't be angry with me. I'll clean up, I promise."
Without looking back, I got into Sara's car. I held it together while Rachel could see me. After we pulled out of the driveway and started down the street, I crumbled in half and cried. I knew I never was, and never would be, who she loved. And whether she deserved me or not, it was still painful to admit.
36. Restless
"I was just thinking about you. Can't sleep?"
"No," I answered softly.
"I didn't want to wake you, so I was waiting to call you tomorrow."
"Well, it is tomorrow," I offered with a slight grin.
"Barely," he laughed lightly. "I'm glad you called."
"I was afraid you wouldn't want to hear from me."
"Emma, I always want to hear from you. It's when I don't that makes me worry."
"I'm sorry. Really, I'm so sorry for not telling you what was going on with my mother. But I want to. I want to tell you everything."
"We'll talk when I get back, okay? For now, I just want to know you're all right."
"I'm better."
"The two a.m. call is convincing," he returned playfully.
A smile crept across my face. "I'll be able to sleep now that I've talked to you."
"So will I."
"Will you still call me tomorrow?" I requested, not wanting to sound too desperate.
"Yes, I will. You should try to get some sleep now."
"Okay," I whispered. Before I hung up, I called, "Evan."
"Yes, Emma."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
I hoped I hadn't dreamt the call when I woke the next morning. It stirred, faint as whispers in my head, not seeming real. But when I looked at my call history and found his number at two eleven in the morning, I exhaled in relief.
"Wow, is that a smile I see on your face, Emma Thomas?" Sara teased when she walked in the room. "Did you actually have a nice dream for once?"
"Uh, no," I countered. "I talked to Evan last night."
"Really? What did you talk about?"
"Nothing much. It was late, but he promised to call me today."
"That's good," she returned with a smile. "He can't stay upset with you. He's kind of pathetic that way."
"Sara!" I balked. "He's not pathetic."
She smirked and continued to her closet.
"I can't wait for the next two months to be over," I sighed, lying on my back and looking up at the skylights with a pillow hugged to my chest. "Are you coming out to Santa Barbara with Evan and me this summer before school starts? I'm pretty sure Jared knows the guys we're staying with."
I waited, but Sara didn't respond. "Sara?"
She emerged from the closet with her mouth contorted. She couldn't look me in the eye, so I knew she had something to tell me that she didn't want to. "Sara, tell me."
Sara took a deep breath and pressed her knees against her bed, her face already apologizing for whatever it was she was about to say. I braced myself.
"I didn't accept the offer to go to CCA in San Francisco." My eyes widened in shock. We'd been planning to go to college in California for what seemed like forever, and her acceptance to California College of the Arts was perfect. We’d be near each other while I was at Stanford.
"I'm going to Parsons."
"New York?" I uttered as my mouth dropped. The disappointment left me speechless. I'd never been without Sara since I met her, and being so far away from her for college was impossible to wrap my head around. I didn't respond for a moment, needing to get over the blow. Then I took a step back and released the part that was about me.
Parsons was closer to her family... and Jared. And it was one of the best fashion design schools in the world. She watched me carefully, waiting for my full reaction. I finally looked up at her with tears in my eyes and a proud smile on my face. "I'm going to miss you. But Sara, I'm so happy for you." The worry disappeared, replaced by a stunning smile that lit up her eyes.
"Really?" she confirmed, walking around the bed. "You're not mad?"
"Mad? I'm not going to lie. I'm sad we won't be together, but I want this for you. Parsons is amazing, and you deserve to go there."
Sara sat next to me and gave me a hug. It surprised me at first, but I wrapped my arms around her and held her with my face buried in her hair. She squeezed me tight, not making a move to release me. A tear escaped down my cheek as I kept holding on, almost afraid to let go. I couldn't imagine my life without her.
Her voice heavy with emotion, she murmured in my ear, "I'm coming out to California for the summer, until school starts." We slowly separated. Her eyes glistened with tears. "We'll see each other every break. And I'll email you and text and Skype everyday; it'll be like I'm there with you. And you'll have Evan, so you won't be alone."
I grinned at her assurances. "I know. We're always going to be friends."
"No. We're always going to be sisters." Sara smiled and wiped away the tears that moistened her cheeks.
"Besides, there's so much to look forward to in the next two months," she expressed jubilantly, trying to laugh away the sadness. "We have prom, senior week, graduation. Emma, I know right now it sucks for you, but everything's going to get better―especially now that you're moving back in with me. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you'll get through this―you always do. And you may even enjoy the last couple months of your senior year."
I nodded, running my hand along my damp cheeks with my lips pressed into a smile. A mixture of emotions fueled the tears. I’d lost my mother (again). And now Sara… She truly was my sister in every way, and I was so proud of her. Everything was changing so fast. I hoped it wasn't going to change too much.
"That was quick," Sara noted when I returned from speaking with Evan, after anxiously awaiting his call all day. I sat down next to her at the kitchen table.
"He just wanted to say hi before it got too late," I explained quietly, using the tongs to lift the fettuccine out of the bowl and set the small mound on my plate. "They were on their way out to surf, so the guys were waiting for him."
"He's still a little off, isn't he?"
"A little," I admitted, poking at the pasta with my fork―not even considering taking a bite.
"He'll be back in a few days," Sara encouraged. "I'm sure it's hard over the phone. It will be different in person."
"I hope so," I sighed, playing back the awkward strain in our conversation as we searched for anything positive to say. There wasn't much to talk about until he heard what I hadn't told him over the past couple of months. The missing conversations separated us further than the distance between Connecticut and Hawaii.
"What should we do tonight?" Sara asked, trying to distract me.
"Don't you have to get up early to go to the airport?"
"We can make it an early night and just watch a movie," she suggested. "Besides, you could use the sleep." She smirked teasingly. There was no denying the repercussions of sleep deprivation, especially with Sara. She just had to look at me to know how long it had been since I'd slept―and it had been awhile. With the buildup of drama and anxiety, sleep was a turbid mirage.
"Are you going to be okay staying here by yourself?"
"I was thinking about asking Casey if I could stay with her since we have soccer together," I told her. "Evan's back Saturday, so it would only be for two nights."
"That won't be bad," Sara mused. Then she grinned wickedly and added, "You seem pretty positive that you're staying over at his house on Saturday night. You're not all that worried he'll forgive you, are you?"
I shrugged sheepishly. "I'm hoping I can convince him."
"Oooh, Emma," she chuckled. "I have rubbed off on you."
"Sara,"
I gaped, "I'm not going to seduce him so he'll forgive me. Besides we're not having sex until next month."
"What?" Sara laughed in disbelief. "You've planned it?"
"Yeah," I admitted, my cheeks reddening. "We have a sex date for the night before prom."
Sara laughed harder. "You two kill me. How in the world can that be romantic, planning to have sex? Where's the lust and passion?"
"You don't know Evan," I spurted without thinking, then turned crimson when Sara's mouth dropped open. "Okay, what movie are we watching?"
I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of her breath from the bed next to me, hoping it would lull me to sleep. Sara inhaled and exhaled in long easy breaths. I could predict the next draw of air. But then it stopped. I waited, but she didn't breathe in again.
I opened my eyes and rolled over onto my back, listening intently. I inhaled quickly when the silhouette appeared next to my bed.
"Sara?" I questioned. "Is something wrong?"
She didn't move. Maybe she was sleepwalking. I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to focus on her and asked again, "Sara?"
When my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized it wasn't her. I kicked my legs to remove the blankets, but the more I kicked, the more tangled they became in the bedding. Then I couldn't see. I'd sunk beneath the blankets and everything was dark. I pushed at the sheets but they sucked in tighter around me. Then she gripped my neck.
I choked and coughed, trying to pull her hands away, but they were too strong. I kicked and shook my head from side to side to get out from under her claws, but it was no use.
"You don't deserve to live," she grunted.
I grabbed onto her wrists and pried them loose, screaming, “You've already killed me!"
My hands were on my throat when I woke. My breath was heavy and my heart was pounding fiercely. The room was dark and I could hear Sara breathing in the bed next to me. I pulled back the blankets and crept out of the room. Sleep and I weren't going to find each other tonight, and there was no point lying there, staring into the dark.